01/22/2010, St. Augustine, FL
We checked the weather before leaving Daytona Beach on Thursday AM. We knew we were looking at a 70% chance of rain with the possibility of thunderstorms in the mix. No sweat, we had been wearing our foulies every day to help keep the cool breezes at bay, so what was a little rain? We passed under the bridge at Crescent Beach, and were under motor only, in the ICW channel, heading towards the same dark sky we had been chasing all day.
Suddenly, a wall of dark charcoal descended before us, followed by a high wind that was warmer than anything we had felt so far. "This is tornado weather." I said to Al. "Maybe we should turn back." I no more got that out when we were hit by a wall of wind and water, all coming west to east.
We were traversing north in a narrow channel, marked by pilings stuck deep in the sand. Journey was immediately turned around by the high winds, and was now heading back south. I knew we would never be able to bring her back up into the wind. We had troubles doing that in lesser storms. This was MUCH worse than anything we had ever been through before.
Al battled the tiller, trying to keep her from floundering, as we were put hard over on our side. I couldn't believe how he fought to keep Journey in the channel, as there was now way we could see the channel markers, shore or even the bridge. He was on instruments alone, and we knew they weren't exact enough to keep us away from danger.
Al noticed our speed was 11.8 MPH, and we were only about a mile north of the bridge when the storm struck! We were headed toward the bridge! We would hit if nothing else stopped us first. Like a channel marker- we still could see nothing!
I was on the "high" side, and watched as the toerails under my feet (which were flat on the side coaming) were swallowed by the water. Then the genoa track went under. And I next saw the coaming I was standing on succumb to the water. Our boat was going over, and we could do nothing to save her! I glanced behind me, into the fury of the storm, and saw the entire keel laid out sideways. My feet were in the water, IN THE COCKPIT, but I could have stood on the keel and had dry shoes!
Suddenly, right ahead, we both saw it at the same time. A dock! And another! "Turn Al Turn right NOW!" We were near the bridge, too close and running nearly into some private docks near it. I don't know how he did it, and we both thought Journey was going down right then and there, but he got her turned and we next spied a red channel marker.
"Put her out of the channel, run her aground!" We were reduced to yelling to be heard over the wind and rain. Al was my hero right then. He got Journey hard on the shoal, and we kept her in gear, as he clipped on and crawled forward to push the anchor over the front.
We huddled in the cockpit, holding each other in the downpour, until the storm abated a bit and then called TowBoat US. Capt. James came to our rescue and pulled us of the shoal. As he prepared to cast us off, I realized I had a stuck tiller! It would turn right, but not left. We then realized we had more problems than just a dangerous storm and grounding.
James took us in tow to St. Augustine, and while we were still numb and clueless, arranged a slip and haulout for us, for Friday AM. He took us to Camachee Cove Yacht Harbor for our slip. Our haulout was to be with Camachee Yacht Yard.
What on earth had happened to our cruising? Was the whole trip going to fall apart, or come to a screeching halt? A new rudder or even rebuilding ours would be financially impossible for us. The next morning, we met the marina and yard facility personnel. I have been given a warm welcome at marine facilities before, but the folks here made us feel like family. That said a lot for their establishment to us. Of course we had been through a lot, but the level of care was exceptional.
We were hauled out and much to our relief, we were able to have the binding rudder ground away from the hull edge, and we will continue on our way Saturday AM. We are both aware of how lucky we are to have our lives and our boat. The bridge operator had said the winds were measured at 60MPH during the storm. He had been concerned also, and had lost sight of us during the storms full fury.
Several marina boaters came by the boat on Friday to inquire if we were the boat that had been towed in after the storm the night before. They all expressed amazement that we were OK. They too, said the storm and tornados it spawned were as bad as they come.
| bahamas Cruise 09/10 |
|
Comments [6]
01/17/2010, gulf stream
| bahamas Cruise 09/10 |
|
01/15/2010, Exumas
| bahamas Cruise 09/10 |
|
01/15/2010, Bimini
| bahamas Cruise 09/10 |
|
01/15/2010, Bimini
| bahamas Cruise 09/10 |
|
01/12/2010, Staniel Cay
On December 31st, an event that changed my life almost didn't occur. I was one of the few chosen to race in the Island Family Regatta's class C Mixed Doubles races. Each year, visiting yachtsmen can place their name in a bowl to be picked to participate by crewing on one of four boats in one of three races for the championship Class C Mixed Doubles event. When the names were called out for the participants, mine was not called. I never the less was early on shore the morning of the race in hopes of a chance falling out of the sky, and my getting to race after all. These boats are built by the islanders, and sailing them is like nothing else on water. The sails are HUGE, way too big for the boat to balance. So balance is achieved through two means, ballast lead that is added under the floor and taken out as crew weight goes up, and the crew themselves. There are long captive boards called pries (prys) which slide sideways along the beam. The board goes all the way out on the "high" side, the crew goes out on the boards, and balance keeps the boat from capsizing. In theory, this is elementary. In practice, it is an art, and with amateur crew, mostly chaos in the making. The saving grace is the patience of the Captain, who orchestrates each crewmember by name, telling them calmly exactly where he wants them. Then it's up to the winds and luck and skill of the captain. On the morning of the race, I got my chance. It didn't fall out of the sky, but happened because a pet in Canada got run down by a vehicle. Chance is bittersweet sometimes, but I was in the first race. My sloop was BYE GULLY, owned and captained by Steven Smith. Steven and his son are the men who rebuilt the Lady Muriel, a famous and historic class A sloop who has celebrated 50 years of championship racing. I was to race under his guidance, and I did so with Distinction. It happened as we came around the second mark, in the first lap. We had to change tacks, and we were low in the boat, slamming the pries across, as the sail winged across inches overhead. The wind was up a bit and we scrambled to our places out on the board. Then I slipped, butt first all the way to the water, and was suddenly watching the boat (MY BOAT) scream away without me. Yes, my distinction was being the only person who managed to fall off their race boat that day. Each boat has a "chase" boat, a small speed boat with a crew of two. They load and offload bars of lead weight, and hold and place the anchor before the start of each race. Apparently, they also fish crew out the water like navy seals "lift one arm and one leg!" and toss same back onto the race boat in less than a minute or so. These boats really need the crew as prie-meat. We still managed to come in second for the first race, and captured second overall in the championships. Wow, if I hadn't fell overboard? Then it wouldn't have been as memorable for sure! How many people do you know who have slid of their race boat?
| bahamas Cruise 09/10 |
|
