Beautiful morning, and we were both up early with anticipation for setting off on the long trek ahead. We busied around the boat getting ourselves and items ready to set sail.

You ever have one of the days, where everything you try to do, even the simplest of task is just impossible to not screw up and you just want to scream/cry/tantrum like a 3 year old? Yeah, today was one of the those mornings for me. It started with sitting in our saloon, I was reading one of our travels books and trying to map out our route, when the pipping hot coffee mug that I literally had just made, decides to topple over onto my feet and legs (yes, IT decided to. I didn’t knock it over on myself) I don’t usually vocally react to pain, but jeez, I had just pulled the hot water off the stove and it was BOILING hot. Needless to say, I started screaming both out of pain and frustration of losing all my coffee. A bit later, I was making chicken and tuna salad for later on lunch/snacks. It’s next to impossible for me to be down in the galley while underway, both with the rocking of the boat throwing you side to side and my sea sickness still bothering me. Our galley isn’t u shaped, so there isn’t much to wedge yourself against to brace against the movement of the boat and still have use of both hands to cook. Additionally, I am still getting somewhat seasick and going down usually puts me over the edge in feeling nauseous. So prepping meals ahead of time to minimize the amount of time I need to be down to get items from the galley has been a necessity before longer than 4+ hr passages. While I am prepping, I spill the lettuce all over the inside of the fridge and floor as well as squeeze tuna “juice” on my sweatshirt as I am opening the can. I can’t think of anyone in the history of ever that isn’t majorly upset when they get tuna can liquid on their shirt while making tuna. Not making any friends smelling like that…except for cats, yes maybe new feral cat friends?

Anyway…..I become a bit of a petulant child when I have mornings like this—think PigPen, but a storm of curse words and negativity instead of dirt. Well, maybe in this instance since I haven’t showered, include the dirt as well. I was really ready to leave and get on with the day, leaving this crap morning behind.

Around 9:30, we are ready to lift anchor and hopefully get out a bit ahead of schedule. Our buddy boat, LAMANEE was already off and headed out from the anchorage. Typically, when we anchor, Jay is at the helm and I manage the anchor at the bow of the boat. Like, any other day we assume our positions and I start to lift with our windlass (electrical mechanism that lifts and lower the anchor+chain) I maybe pull up about 20 yards, when the chain starts to pull really hard. I yell back to Jay to move forward a bit, and tell him I think something is wrong, as usually the chain doesn’t pull that hard. He eases the boat forward and I try again with the chain, it lifts another 10 yards and then pulls again, this time REALLY HARD. So much so that some of the chain pulls out from the windlass. For those of you unfamiliar with what the heck I am talking about, the windlass is this kick-ass piece of equipment that makes lifting and lowering our 55lb anchor and equally heavy chain up and down (Think like a bike gear gripping the chain as it lifts and lowers the chain—sort of) Due to the weigh of both chain and anchor, you can imagine that this piece of equipment is really freaking durable-Popeye post a can of spinach strong! So to have the chain pull backwards thru this gear like mechanism, it was a bit startling. I yell back to Jay that something is definitely wrong now. He comes up and sees the chain pulling as the ow is being yanked towards portside. He tries lifting, with the same result, the chain pulls, then slackens as the boat is pulled by the chain, followed by a really hard tug on the chain, and then the chain is pulled backwards thru the windlass, making this terrible grinding sound of metal against metal. Trying to stay calm, I know that our anchor is stuck on something. How bad, I am not sure. Jay says exactly what I am thinking and then calmly goes back to the helm telling me he is going to use the weight of the boat to try and unhook the chain. A few attempts prove fruitless, more grinding of the chain in the windlass and flexing of the bow with each attempt to “pull” her free. I am still at the bow of the boat watching the chain and monitoring the bow as Jay works the helm. However the terrible sounds the chain and windlass are making, along with the massive flexing of the boat’s bow, I am scooted further back and sitting really low, waiting for either a chain to snap or a piece of metal to come flying off the boat (this is the first time I have ever dealt with a really stuck anchor like this)

Jay comes up to the bow of the boat and hooks the chain with a harness — a really thick rope with a badass and BEEFY metal hook on the end. Basically transferring the tension of the pulling chain from the windlass to the rope and hook, so we don’t damage the windlass and gaining a better grip with the rope/hook. He tells me he is going to try and pull again hoping this harness will help. I’m too scared at this point to say anything, so I just nod and stay glued to boat. Jay pops into gear and the chain starts to pull, then goes completely taut and the metal starts to grind. The bow of the boat flexes and makes this awful crack/groan and I hit the ground. Something is going to break. In a matter of seconds, but also in slow mo—the rope snaps and flies back towards the boat. I’m wide-eyed and clutching a nearby cleat—yelling for Jay to stop. He turns the motor off and the tug of war temporarily stops. He comes up to the bow, swearing up a storm.

Sooooo, that wasn’t the intended outcome….and this is looking a bit worse that just a nudge of the chain and we are off. Suffice to say, we were pretty damn stuck.

Jay switches out the broken rope and replaces with another newer rope, this time bridling the anchor chain and cleated off to both cleats on bow and stern . He tells me we will try one more time, by easing the chain out and running the boat in the opposite direction. During the night, we had spun around in circles over our anchor, so the thought being, maybe we just have a snarl of chain ontop of it’s self and we just need to reverse in the opposite direction. I silently just manage a nod and a prayer.

The same process repeats itself, the chain pulls, then goes taut. The grinding of metal against metal in the windlass, despite the bridle of rope. As the boat pulls, I see the bow of the boat flex again, this time I am sure there is some damage. The chain pulls and then the rope snaps, again. I am butt down on the boat, white knuckle gripping and bent over as I am envisioning the anchor flying towards my face. At times like this, I am very appreciative of curse words. They are like the angry sailor version of mantras….oddly offering comfort in an otherwise very VERY crappy situation. I totally get why sailors are known for their terrible language.

I recalled at this moment, a conversation Jay and I had with one dock buddy, whom we had become better acquainted with before we left as they were very seasoned and experienced in traveling in and around Mexico. As with most other cruisers, when you share you are leaving/about to travel, they will run down lists with you asking you what items you have and quizzing you on the preparedness of your boat as well as offering advice on “must-haves” and things you should and shouldn’t bring. One conversation stood out, when he mentioned needing dive gear. While we are certified, we had considered getting tanks and gear so we could check out some of the cool anchorages we would visit. Plus added benefit of ease to dive on the boat, if needed. And this is what we thought, it would be a luxury, and in rare circumstances a must have. Our friend, informs us that we “absolutely” needed tanks as there are many rocks and he himself had many instances of needing to lift his anchor out under rocks etc. “You are going to be pretty upset should you be in 60’ anchor and can’t get her out.” Seriously, damn him for being right.

I think Jay and I both realize this at the same time and give each other a knowing look that the next logical step beyond the extreme of tying off a buoy and leaving the anchor until we could get gear was to free dive on it. In 58 degree water. With little visibility.

“sh*t”

When we anchored the boat, our depth meter read 20-25’, which really isn’t too too deep. But as per usual with Murphy’s law, the tide had risen and now was at 31’ Out of the two of us, Jay can hold his breath much longer than I. And he very well knew this, so there was no discussion on who would be going once we both looked at the depth meter. I wish I could say we sat and joked about this, me making a crack at him about having wished he went for the first dive “opportunity” that came up in our trip. However, at this point we were both a little nervous as to how bad this would turn out to be.

Jay being my absolute hero, dove into the 58 degree water with just his shorty on. Took a couple deep breaths, and then dove down, pulling himself down with the chain to counteract buoyancy. Seriously, he’s a rock star (in more ways than just this, but no one wants to read a gushy entry about how much I love this man—this ain’t a Dear Diary entry lady!)

One breath back up and he surfaces to tell me to raise the chain a little. It eases up with argument this time—OMG is this working?! Second breath down and he’s down again on the chain, this time staying down maybe 5 seconds longer, but felt like 5 minutes to me. He comes up and starts yelling to lift the anchor as he is swimming back to the stern; getting back on the helm. The chain lifts up with ease, and I am praying and begging the chain to keep coming up as I count the distance markers on our chain (we have colored zip ties, marking every 50’ of chain so we know how much we put out based on depth)

Five….four…..three…..two…..one……and then I see the most beautiful sight ever….THE ANCHOR COMING UP!! As I shout to Jay, he pops into gear and we are OUT!

He later tells me as I am at the helm getting us out of the anchorage and he is changing out of his wetsuit, that we had basically managed to cleat hitch the anchor chain to a massive rock underneath us. How he managed to untangle that mess in about 1 minute is amazing to me?! and seriously BOAT how in the hell did you manage a cleat hitch with the chain!?

And just an hour behind schedule we are off…..on a three day non-stop trip to Bahia Tortuga!

Holy jesus, its only morning and I am ready for a very stiff drink…..

well…it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, right?