Harry Reasoner once wrote, after a visit to wartime Viet Nam, that helicopter pilots were a brooding lot. They all assumed that if something wasn't going wrong with their aircraft, it was about to. Well I was a helicopter pilot back then, and must have kept some of that same perspective when I converted to piloting a sailboat. And that sense of foreboding was strong as we motored up the C&D canal late one night last week. The current was against us, the engine was cranky, we were headed for a marina with a shoaling entrance. And if I let my mind wander I could conjure up some real doomsday scenarios.
My plan for entering the marina was to motor past it and then reverse course and angle in, exiting the 3 knot current that would then be pushing me forward. As I drove past and looked back over my shoulder I could barely make out the entrance as a dark hole in the bank of the canal with a few lights here and there on the boats parked to port. To starboard I couldn't see anything but the vague outline of the rip rap along the point separating the marina entrance from the edge of the canal. The narrow channel was somewhere between the two, and if I stayed in the center I would have one foot of water under my keel. So what could possibly go wrong? Or more to the point, what was the worst possible combination of calamities that could befall us?
Calamity one came when I pulled back power and the engine quit. I had been having fuel contamination problems and had just changed filters, but apparently the problem was getting worse. First things first, maintain control of your boat (aircraft) no matter what I said to myself. I called for Lisa and Evan to raise the sail so we could at least maneuver. With the main half up I checked the wind velocity. Two knots. I belayed the order for the mainsail and dropped the bow thruster. At least I could keep her centered in the channel while I attempted to re-start the engine. I turned over the helm to Lisa as I ran below to fuss with the fuel filters. While I was down there I could here Lisa attempting to call the Core of Engineers to no avail. This wasn't a mayday situation but it was rapidly approaching an emergency.
I switched filters as fast as I could and returned to the helm and re-started the engine. This worked but I knew I was in for some rough running until all the air was out of the lines. Once the engine settled down we turned back for another attempt at the entrance. This time we were able to get a little deeper into the marina's dark hole of an entrance. Deep enough to run aground. Fearing the current would push me too far to starboard I had apparently added too much cushion to port and found the mud and calamity two came true. With lots of power we backed into the canal and I stopped to take stock of my situation. I really would have rather skipped the marina altogether and motored on until daylight and out of the canal. But Lisa rightly pointed out that if the engine quit again in the canal we might not have a port of refuge at hand, so while we still had an engine running we ought to try again to find the channel into the marina. Reluctantly, I agreed.
This time I aimed for the center of the dark hole. But with my speed down because of the likelihood of running aground again, the current pushed us even faster towards the rip rap and I was beginning to form thoughts about how calamity three would play out. It took full power at the end to overcome the current and round the bend into the marina. With the depth increasing to two whole feet under my keel I felt relief. Within a few minutes we were tied up at a tee head and enjoying a much deserved Heineken before going to sleep.
The next morning we had a little lessons learned discussion over coffee. The first lesson was to pay closer attention to the current predictions. I knew we were going to be fighting a current once we got to the canal but failed to pay heed to the current in the Delaware Bay. This was unfortunate because it was as high as two knots against us for a time and it was a forty mile motor sail from Cape May to the canal's entrance. The pattern of the currents here can be a double whammy. You can fight the current all the way up the bay, only to have it reverse and then fight it in the canal as well. Since this was my third trip through the canal in five years there wasn't much excuse for getting this wrong. Other than my desire to keep on the move. It would have been days before the currents were again favorable.
Did I mention the fog in the bay? We spent the morning in the soup, barely making headway after subtracting the current from our reduced speed, preventing us from getting to the canal before dark.
Did I mention the dirty fuel? I am sure I did. As it turns out, some crud had got stuck in the fuel feed probe in the starboard tank, so when I thought I was entering the canal on a clean fuel filter, I was, but the restriction in the fuel line bit us as soon as we throttled back to idle at the marina entrance. We didn't figure this out until days later when I pulled the probes to inspect them.
So fretting a little over what might go wrong is often helpful. It helps guide preparations for those potential calamities. When the engine quit in the canal I had a plan ready. But constant worry over what might go wrong steals from the enjoyment of when things are all going right. With an older boat that is new to us we have already had, and will continue to have many exciting episodes of breakdowns, mishaps and mistakes. Hopefully we have prepared well enough to handle them. As we get better at this we may even come to enjoy them. We have already had a few good laughs over our trials and tribulations and I am sure there will be many more to come.
So Harry Reasonor had me pegged when he talked about helicopter pilots. As I write this it is 4 am and we are tied to the dock at a marina in Annapolis preparing to wait out a Nor'easter due in later today. We had planned to be in St Michaels, but that's another story. I am up at 4am because I pulled in to the dock yesterday bow first and now the wind and waves are slapping at our stern making a real racket. I should have planned better. At first light I need to turn her around and it is really tight in here. The wind and current are up and the engine is cranky. And there is a brand new million dollar boat tied up within a few feet of us. What could possibly go wrong...?