A roller coaster ride thru hell
May 28, 2013 – May 29, 2013
11:15 am, Larry motioned the ‘anchor up’
signal from the bow of Soulmatie and I turned hard to starboard, circled around
and headed for the channel. Our journey
had begun. What the next 16-20 hours
would hold for us was an unknown. My
anxiety level was at a peak and I said a silent prayer for a safe voyage.
Offshore weather forecast for the next 24
hours … winds from the E at 15-25 knots, seas 5-7 feet with a 6-8 second
wave period. Once we get off the
island banks and into the actual ocean waters, there should be a nice roll to
the waves and although we are heading directly into them, we will adjust our
speed and try to attain a nice ride … gently up one side of the wave and down
the other in the 6-8 seconds between swells.
For about the first 2 hours, we were still in
the shallows of the coastal waters.
When the ocean waves hit the shallows, they get broken up and
choppy. These seas were very
choppy. We knew we could not judge the
‘real’ ocean conditions until we were off the banks. It was a long couple of hours.
We started out doing about 5 knots (into the
wind). We assumed our speed would drop
some once we hit the deeper waters. We
did not anticipate this …
Out in the open seas, it was a mess. There was no rhythm to the seas. They remained choppy. Have you ever lifted the lid to your washing
machine during the wash cycle? See how
that center thingy swishes the clothes to the left, then back to the right …
continually back and forth. Well toss a
little toy sailboat into that and there you have it … that was us. We’d be tossed to starboard then back
towards port before Soulmatie even had time to right herself. Then it would be nose into a huge wave. At those times, it was hard to tell exactly
what would happen. It would depend
completely on our position as the wave hit.
Sometimes, Soulmatie was thrust skyward and as she crested the wave, she
would fall back down with a huge THUD!
Sometimes, she would remain level as the wave passed and gently slid
down the other side (those were rare occurrences) and sometimes, we would dive
bow down under the wave as a torrent of water came smashing against the
windshield of the cockpit. Then it was
back and forth, up and down … in that gyrating motion. This went on hour after hour.
We kept a log of our journey. Each hour, we would write down time,
position, bearing to our destination, distance from our destination, and
average speed for that hour.
Our total trip was 77.2 miles. If we could have maintained a 5 knot
average, it would have taken us less than 16 hours. If our average drops to 4 knots, it was going to take about 19
hours. Dropping to 3 knots, it would
take about 26 hours. But … when our
average speed hit 2 knots for 2 consecutive hours, we knew we were in
trouble. At that speed, the trip would
take about 38 hours! We had to do something!
At about 7pm, Larry turned 10 degrees off
course. We took the wave slightly over
the port bow instead of dead on the nose.
Our sail was able to stay almost full instead of flopping erratically
like it had been heading dead into the wind.
It was not comfortable but it was 1000 times better.
As the hours progressed, this change in
direction caused us to slip off course.
We watched as our track took us from only a few feet off route, to 1
mile, then 2 miles, then 3 miles. When
it hit 3.8 miles, Larry decided he had to change routes again. He gradually brought us back to within 1.8
miles while I tried to get some rest.
Heading back towards the line for our route was a rough passage.
We were motoring. We had the mainsail up for whatever stability it could provide
but it was providing minimal forward thrust.
Actual weather once in open seas, 30-35 knot winds with gusts
exceeding well into the 40’s (head on the nose). Wave height, difficult to determine since the seas were in such
disarray … waves came at us from many directions … some small and choppy, some
large and breaking. There was no actual
‘wave period’ between waves. The
seas were a mess. In addition, we were
fighting a 1 - 2 knot current against us.
We took shifts being on-watch, typically
switching off every 3-4 hours. Larry
took longer watches during the day while I tried to rest. I took longer watches at night while Larry
tried to sleep. He’s much more
successful at sleeping underway than I am.
At least he got a little sleep.
I don’t know if I got any. How
can you sleep when your body is being tossed in every direction? I’d even secure myself with pillows tucked
under my back and front to stop me from rolling but it didn’t help. It was useless.
Just as the sun peaked over the horizon,
Larry called me on-deck. We could see
that the top of the sail was shredded.
I remained on careful watch as he went out on deck to drop the sail. I hate him on deck in those messy seas but
at least he’s tethered to the jack lines.
(These are continuous line run down each side of the boat from bow to
stern. You attach a tether from your
safety harness to the jack line for safety when you’re out on deck. We use this any time the seas are rough and
ALWAYS at night.) For the remainder of
the trip, we would be tossed even more violently … not having the sail to
steady us anymore. Damn!
Finally, about 8:30 am, we passed from the
deep ocean waters onto the shallower Anguilla Banks. The water went from thousands of feet deep, back to less than 100
ft. The seas calmed slightly and as we
progressed, we were finally able to reach 5 knots. The last couple of hours to shore were bearable.
We dropped the hook exactly 23 hours after
raising it in the BVI. Our 16-20 hour
trip had been extended by 3 – 7 hours.
Now remember that wasn’t 3 – 7 hours of sitting around lounging on the
beach … it was 3-7 MORE hours of being tossed violently at sea. It made for a VERY long trip.
We anchored in the northeast corner of the
bay, in 7 feet of water. We’re close to
shore. There are a lot of other boats
here but we seem to be the only ‘cruising boat’. Most of the other sailboats are marked with Anguilla as their
home-port. Wonder how far we will have
to go to actually meet other cruisers who might be headed south … or have we
missed the window completely?
After
a brief nap, Larry went ashore to clear customs. Nice … it only cost $19.00 US for us to stay thru Monday. We’re not sure how long we’ll be here before
moving on to St. Martin but I’m sure Monday will be easily sufficient.
Now here’s a story …
First let me tell you … anchoring is easy …
especially if there is minimal wind and no current. The procedure is simple.
I pick a spot where I want to anchor.
I slowly maneuver the boat a little ahead of where I want the boat to
settle. Once the GPS shows that I have
stopped, I put the engine into reverse, every so slightly, so we just begin to
slip backwards and I signal for Larry to drop the anchor. He lets out chain and watches the best he
can to make sure the anchor is going to lay properly on the bottom (flukes
digging into the sand). As we’re
drifting back, he continues letting out chain.
He puts out about 5 times more length of chain than the depth we are in
(a 5:1 scope). Then we sit and wait for
that comforting ‘tug’ as the wind pulls us tight on our chain. If it’s set good, you get that ‘tug’. If it isn’t set properly, you continue to
drag backwards. Once you feel that
‘tug’, I increase the RPM’s slightly in reverse. I watch the GPS to make sure that as I’m increasing the RPM, the
speed is sitting at zero. We are going
nowhere … our anchor is set. It usually
takes one attempt, less than 5 minutes.
As we sat at anchor tonight, we watched the
boats come and go in the bay, a few SunSail Charter boats came in (probably
from St. Martin). Wow, was it ever
comical. It was our entertainment for
the evening. The one boat tried for
well over an hour to get his anchor to set.
They were in about 11 ft of water.
They would move slowly forward into a clearing and while they were still
moving forward, the captain would tell the girl on the bow to drop the
anchor. The blond bimbo would let out
maybe 10-15 feet of chain. Sometimes,
you could tell it hit bottom, sometimes, it didn’t even make it that far. The captain would continue going another 100
ft or so forward (dragging the anchor) and then reverse. In reverse, he would just sail through the
anchorage, not letting any more chain out.
He couldn’t understand why the anchor wasn’t holding. After about his 5th attempt, he
had become the center of attention. All
eyes in the anchorage were on him. He
tried and tried again. At one point, he
gave up and moved to a different location to try. He didn’t even raise the anchor out of the water when he maneuvered
to his next spot. He just dragged it
along. The anchor chain rubbed hard
against the hull as it was being dragged thru the water. Obviously this was not his own boat or he
never would have treated it like that.
After well over an hour of this, someone from a nearby boat (who had a
vested interest in making sure the anchor was well set and NOT going to drag
into his boat in the middle of the night) swam over and assisted. He snorkeled down and set the anchor by hand
and then told the blond bimbo on the bow to let out line. She’d let out about 5 feet. He’d say … more line, let out a lot more
line. Another 5 feet would drop. Finally the guy says something like, come
on … drop a bunch of line will ya?
The girl’s reply is, I’m not a sailor but I sailed with my dad a lot
and he never let out this much line.
DUH!!! You need at least a 5:1
scope. If you are in 10 feet of water,
you want at least 50 feet of line out to ensure the right scope (angle of the
anchor in the water). But with the help
of the stranger, they were finally set.
Entertainment was over for the evening.
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