Hurrying in a hurricane
Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2007 3:48 pm
The name is Dean. Hurricane Dean!
And he's the meanest guy in town.
Yesterday evening the wind died completely, even though the hurricane's center was going to pass some 150NM to the North. Anyhow, I had all ready to receive him with two anchors out, but that doesn't mean the rest of the sailors in Chaguaramas bay were also prepared...
In the night, swell from the gulf of Paria started coming in into the bay from the South. Even in the usually sheltered area of the bay the boats started to jump as wild horses - nice enough to rock me into a sweeter sleep but terrible to anyone tied on the docks... And I would have slept late into the morning if I hadn't been woken by a foghorn just beside my boat!
Cracking the eyes open, I saw that there was light, but the sky was dark and rainy. The foghorn blew again, and someone called my name.
Pablo, from the Morabeza. No. Pablo, on the Morabeza! Two days before I've gone out to the gulf with him to test his new engine, and it wasn't quite well, so he was one of the poor souls on dock purgatory.
Used to be, at least, because he had cast off and was desperately calling me to help him move the Morabeza to a mooring. I got my oilskin and managed to go into the dinghy without being tossed into the water by the wild motions of both the Stardust and the dinghy, then into Pablo's boat.
He explained that his cleat had been broken from the fiberglass hull by the swell, and as a single-handed sailor he couldn't steer and get the mooring in this kind of weather. No problem, let's go!
He turned the boat around and headed for the nearest mooring, which we missed because he couldn't stop the boat with the wind from behind. When I suggested that he should go into the wind, he said that there wasn't enough room to maneouvre because the next boat was too near. Second attempt, the same. Third attempt, the engine stopped.
Oh, yeah! A boat that had been on the ground for some months, without sails and sporting a brand new, non-working engine! Oh, did I mentioned that he had received his new 70m of chain just the previous day? As you can imagine, it was still on the deck, waiting to be attached to the anchor...
What wan one do in such a situation? No drive, no anchoring gear, heading into a crowded anchorage and with a rough sea and strong(ish) winds? Yes, one drifts! The shackles were all in the construction area Pablo called his cabin, so there was no way to fix the anchor. Still, all was not lost: the Pilot boat was passing not far.
Anyone remembers about me mentioning a lost anchor and a pilot boat? Well, it were the very same bastards, and true to shape, they saw us in distress, saw the signalling, and went right on as if we were saying hello!!!
It was up to us. While he tried to find them without being buried under all the stuff he had lying around, I took his mooring lines, tied them together and was going to belay them to the anchor when we ran out of time: we were going head-on into the Tigressa's beam!
I called out to Pablo and went to the bow to push with my feet - risky business when the boats look like broncos in a rodeo. The boats got closer, and... whatablow! In a magnificent move, the Morabeza jumped high and clawed the Tigressa's wooden gunwhale with the hawsepipe's three plates. The Tigressa reeled as her trainer shouted in horror, and the referee got in the middle to separate the figh... oops! I was talking about boats, right?
So! Having left its mark on the first boat on her way, the Morabeza headed to the next victim. Pablo finished attaching the line to the anchor and threw it overboard. Saved? No! The anchor grabbed, turned the boat around, and guess what? We were just side by side with another fiberglass 35ft. boat, the Imagine.
By then, the Imagine's owner had already seen what had happened and was desperately putting out his fenders. Some other sailors were lowering their dinghies to come to the rescue, and while we tried to keep the boats apart, they passed a long line on a mooring and brought it to us, so we could finally secure the boat.
After a bit of thanks and apologies, things calmed down and I managed to returned to my boat. I've taken my breakfast and am writing this with one hand while holding the table with the other, least I topple... I imagine this is the kind of motion that got Hornblower seasick in Spithead.
And he's the meanest guy in town.
Yesterday evening the wind died completely, even though the hurricane's center was going to pass some 150NM to the North. Anyhow, I had all ready to receive him with two anchors out, but that doesn't mean the rest of the sailors in Chaguaramas bay were also prepared...
In the night, swell from the gulf of Paria started coming in into the bay from the South. Even in the usually sheltered area of the bay the boats started to jump as wild horses - nice enough to rock me into a sweeter sleep but terrible to anyone tied on the docks... And I would have slept late into the morning if I hadn't been woken by a foghorn just beside my boat!
Cracking the eyes open, I saw that there was light, but the sky was dark and rainy. The foghorn blew again, and someone called my name.
Pablo, from the Morabeza. No. Pablo, on the Morabeza! Two days before I've gone out to the gulf with him to test his new engine, and it wasn't quite well, so he was one of the poor souls on dock purgatory.
Used to be, at least, because he had cast off and was desperately calling me to help him move the Morabeza to a mooring. I got my oilskin and managed to go into the dinghy without being tossed into the water by the wild motions of both the Stardust and the dinghy, then into Pablo's boat.
He explained that his cleat had been broken from the fiberglass hull by the swell, and as a single-handed sailor he couldn't steer and get the mooring in this kind of weather. No problem, let's go!
He turned the boat around and headed for the nearest mooring, which we missed because he couldn't stop the boat with the wind from behind. When I suggested that he should go into the wind, he said that there wasn't enough room to maneouvre because the next boat was too near. Second attempt, the same. Third attempt, the engine stopped.
Oh, yeah! A boat that had been on the ground for some months, without sails and sporting a brand new, non-working engine! Oh, did I mentioned that he had received his new 70m of chain just the previous day? As you can imagine, it was still on the deck, waiting to be attached to the anchor...
What wan one do in such a situation? No drive, no anchoring gear, heading into a crowded anchorage and with a rough sea and strong(ish) winds? Yes, one drifts! The shackles were all in the construction area Pablo called his cabin, so there was no way to fix the anchor. Still, all was not lost: the Pilot boat was passing not far.
Anyone remembers about me mentioning a lost anchor and a pilot boat? Well, it were the very same bastards, and true to shape, they saw us in distress, saw the signalling, and went right on as if we were saying hello!!!
It was up to us. While he tried to find them without being buried under all the stuff he had lying around, I took his mooring lines, tied them together and was going to belay them to the anchor when we ran out of time: we were going head-on into the Tigressa's beam!
I called out to Pablo and went to the bow to push with my feet - risky business when the boats look like broncos in a rodeo. The boats got closer, and... whatablow! In a magnificent move, the Morabeza jumped high and clawed the Tigressa's wooden gunwhale with the hawsepipe's three plates. The Tigressa reeled as her trainer shouted in horror, and the referee got in the middle to separate the figh... oops! I was talking about boats, right?
So! Having left its mark on the first boat on her way, the Morabeza headed to the next victim. Pablo finished attaching the line to the anchor and threw it overboard. Saved? No! The anchor grabbed, turned the boat around, and guess what? We were just side by side with another fiberglass 35ft. boat, the Imagine.
By then, the Imagine's owner had already seen what had happened and was desperately putting out his fenders. Some other sailors were lowering their dinghies to come to the rescue, and while we tried to keep the boats apart, they passed a long line on a mooring and brought it to us, so we could finally secure the boat.
After a bit of thanks and apologies, things calmed down and I managed to returned to my boat. I've taken my breakfast and am writing this with one hand while holding the table with the other, least I topple... I imagine this is the kind of motion that got Hornblower seasick in Spithead.
