Our last post I'm sure left you tantalized as to what was in store for Sea Sharp. The forecast is nasty but they put us in front of three other sailboats on the dock face. We know there's south winds coming but the dockmaster doesn't seem to be too concerned. Well, when we went to bed it was calm and pleasant. I was awoken around 3:30 to sudden, very strong winds. I get up and note that our neighbouring boats are also up. The wind is creating a very uncomfortable chop which is coming directly into Oriental Harbour and to our boats on the outside of the wharf face. It builds and the boats are pitching, first uncomfortably, then dangerously. The boats start pitching wildly in the very steep fetch coming into the harbour and right at us. I wake Judy, tell her to get our passports, money and the cat and get off the boat NOW. Our neighbours also get off their boats. We stuff fenders and try our best to tame the beast but you would not believe the pitching! A large, centrecockpit Beneteau, just behind us (probably a 26,000 pound vessel, is coming up so high that it comes down on the pilings and is chewing at it's large teak rub rail. A Tanzer 10.5 behind him is way out of control. The last boat is a Westsail 32. While this is a fairly small boat by cruising standards, it is an extremely heavy traditional boats. His is heaving as if it were a dinghy and his cap rail is being destroyed. There is virtually nothing we can do. There is a very large (100 foot or longer) motor vessel directly in front of me which gives me a modicum of shelter but Sea Sharp is bucking like a rodeo bronco (with full gear, she's probably close to 19,000 pounds).

There are others in worse trouble than us. When we went to bed we noted three boats anchored in the open part of the harbour. In the midst of our problems, we note that there remains only one and he has obviously dragged his anchor so he's motoring back and forth in the mayhem and restricted harbour. Finally, a coast guard boat comes into the harbour and after about a half hour, leads him out into the River where it would certainly be uncomfortable but he'd have sea room and could either find another creek or motor into the wind and wait out the morning. We never heard the fate of one of the other two boats but I will tell you later in this blog about the third.

Finally it settled down somewhat around 5:00 and we go back to bed. When we get up it is still blustery but not bad. We want to move back into the marina 'cause we hear that it's going to get bad again soon. There are numerous slips behind us which are vacant but there's some complicated political thing going on between the marina and the slip owners association. I get angry and figure I'll have to take this situation into my own hands so off I go and start threatening anyone in sight with everything from bad publicity to law suits. Finally I get some attention and arrangements are made for all our boats to come deep into the protected part of the harbour onto the fuel dock. Now comes the tricky part. It starts to howl again and some of the boats are reluctant to leave. I figure if we get enough people and can get the boats underway, it's only a couple of hundred feel to where we turn into the protected harbour. I'm the first boat and have to leave first. It's really scary, but I'm not about to get beat up on the wharf face. There are many complications however. The wind has us pinned to the dock and we are in closed quarters. If we can't make way, we'll get blown onto a bridge that is only 45 feet high so at the very least, if we could not get going forward, we'd hit the bridge and be dismasted. So, I get two guys on with me and several on the dock, removing the lines (we had many lines and various fenders, including a good Taylor fender which blew up). I goose the engine and they get me off enough to start some way. I get around the corner and it instantly goes from being wild and scary to calm and quiet. The big Beneteau is next. The Tanzer owner like all of us is scared but he's somewhat reluctant to move. To complicate it he is from Quebec and knows virtually no English. So I take charge, get on his boat, and coach him. We get him off also. His boat is heeling 30 degrees under bare poles (no sails up). Around the corner, it's calm and actually sunny.

The Westsail is next and last and with the same challenges we get him around. Good thing too, it gets even worse and the boats in the slips are swinging wildly. Boats are some tough! A piece of our blue stripe below the toe rail is chewed away but the glass is fine. The stripe is just stick on vinyl and if I can't get a match down here, I'll get my friend Sterling to make up a piece and send down to me. The toe rail has some minor bending below where it was heaved up and came down on the dock. The Beneteau has that big gash in the rub rail and some glass damage. The Tanzer, with the big rubber rub rail is fine. The Westsail has some serious but cosmetic damage to the cap rail.

The rest of the day was amazing. It calmed down and I suggested to all involved to meet at the Tiki Bar for happy hour and I'd buy a round. This included all those on the four boats as well as many who helped us. It calmed down, became sunny and warm. Everyone was in great humour and very relieved that it was over with little harm done. We take pictures and I make a short speech about the camaraderie of the boating community. We have made some great friends in a very short period of time through this unsettling event. Everyone is exhausted but giddy and it becomes a very upbeat, celebratory event. I'm sure we've boosted the wind speed by at least ten knots, the seas by several feet, and while I'm sure we were all scared at the time, now we were brave and fearless!

We invite the folks on the two Canadian boats to Sea Sharp for supper and have a wonderful evening. I really enjoy using my French with these interesting folks and Judy, those of you who know her, is not the least bit shy and participates as well. I'm amazed at how quickly we put the fear and ugliness behind and embrace the adventure and kinship.

We never knew what happened to the second boat at anchor but the third, a fellow who had travelled with us for a while named John, soloing aboard a C&C 29 had a real adventure. John, is both fearless and an eternal optimist. He has little if any sailing experience but at 50, quit work, bought this boat and set out. Anyway, his anchor dragged and he was heading towards the bridge. He slams the abutment and his backstays break. Fortunately his is a keel stepped mast and so it does not come down. We find out that his mast is 45 feet, and the bridge height is, guess what, 45 feet. So while he loses his windex he does not lose his mast. Now he's on the other side of the bridge and continues to drag until he's almost ashore and his anchor catches. I see him the next morning at breakfast, and he's upbeat and happy.

We have some lessons learned; make our own decisions about where to dock and don't rely on the dockmaster. Always have an exit plan for where to go if needed. And as my friend Mike MacDonald has been coaching me, sail your own boat. In other words don't move under difficult conditions just to keep up with the pack. I have to remind myself that I'm retired and if I don't do much any particular day, I won't get a bad performance appraisal!

Now an amazing anecdote. Our good friends Karen and Ellis have been following our progress and just happened to be googling and found a webcam for Oriental where they knew we were going. The webcam refreshes every ten minutes and looks over the inside harbour. Well, guess what? At about 11:30 AST (10:30 EST), they see the webcam page and there's Sea Sharp in full view. This was the instant that we moved into the inner harbour and were heading for the fuel dock slip where we were ultimately assigned. Truly astounding!

So, it's over, and we've moved on, completely undeterred. We've made new friends and seen both the best in people but also the foolishness of petty politics I won't go into details but this dust up between the slip owners and marina operators obviously has some ugly history and there is bad blood or something going on. While all's well that ends well, we will remember the less than ideal treatment of boaters in distress by "the system".