It’s 20 hours and 26 minutes (8:26PM to you landlubbers:-), and I am sitting in the saloon typing under a work light only as there is a glitch in the temporary wiring setup so I had to plug the frig, microwave and work light into a dockside extension cord this afternoon. Speaking of glitches, I met a few yesterday when moving Simba from Brunswick,GA 36 nautical miles down to little St. Marys which sits on the St. Marys River, the border between GA and FL in the eastern portions of the states.
I had been checking systems on the boat in anticipation of the trip for a coupla weeks and, although I had been away from the boat up north all summer, was fairly certain Simba was mechanically sound. Two friends of mine were to make the trip with me. One, my perennial tennis opponent Juergen Christman, the other Glen Reigel whose sailboat is docked on the same pier. Both are a few years younger that I and due to arrive dockside before cast off at 0700.
I rolled off my berth at 0445, mind racing with the remaining tasks to perform preparing for departure. I checked my Email and found a message from the boatyard, received at 5:15 the night before which advised that the boatyard manager required proof of insurance before the boat could be hauled out. I found the advisory a bit late, especially because Boat US’ Seaworthy Insurance arm (higher risk) would not insure the boat for liability until a survey of mechanical equipment was performed and an ultrasound examination of the hull performed. Both were scheduled to be performed next Monday at the yard once I was hauled. This conundrum appeared to be of the cart before the horse genus. Fifeen minutes before scheduled departure time, at 0645 hours, I called the yard accountant/secretary to so advise. I then called the manager to raise the same gripe. He said that he believed the insurer would issue the policy with a rider that it was subject to favorable survey and ultrasound. With that “in hand” he would haul the boat. This meant I would have to anchor out off the yard or sit at their small dock until early next week for I would not have a chance to talk to the insurance clerks and arrange for the issuance of the policy until Monday. No problem; I was not about to cancel the day’s trip.!
We severed connections with land then, motored past the other 13 marina piers out onto Brunswick’s East River. As we needed 120 volt AC power to run the fridge and keep the 12 volt battery bank up so the instruments could function, I went below, idled the engines and engaged the port enging power takeoff which powered the massive 120 volt AC generator. As engine noise in the engine room is deafening, requiring ear protectors, I didn’t learn ‘til I went topside that the port engine was out. I returned to the engine room, disconnected the PTO, and tried to start the engine. No joy!
So we continued on one engine, making about 4 knots against the incoming tide, compared to our customary 7.5–8. We traveled six nautical miles to the start of the St. Simons channel entering the ocean, making slower and slower progress as the sea became more lively. We headed east,out the sea channel, another six miles, doing no more than 2.5 knots as the seas roughened significantly, driven by 15-20 knot winds out of the north. We finally turned south towards the St. Marys sea channel after 2.5 hours. Now the waves which had been abeam (sideways to) the vessel, were of the stern port quarter, catching us in the worst possible spot and producing a significant roll of the boat. We immediately heard bang, smash, boom as objects inside careened, slid, rolled, smashed about. Prior to departing I had secured the flat screen tv on it’s highly movable wall mount, and placed the printer on the saloon sole (floor) where there were already three file boxes, plastic crates, and cartons of books and whatnot. Now they were soon joined by the Samsung entertainment center, a table lamp, etc. What a chaotic slurry they made!
However, I never saw this mess for three plus hours as I had my hands full at the wheel. The waves built to 5-10 ft. When they caught us at a sharp angle on our port (left) stern quarter, they rolled us severely. The night before I had determined we needed to make a course of 190 degrees (almost due south) to keep us off shallow areas that extended miles from the coast. But that course created the worst possible angle to the waves and on it we rolled severely.
What we had to now do was to try to average a course of 190 degrees, steering
170-180 degrees until an especially large wave approached from astern. Juergen stood to my left with a ready eye astern. He told me when he saw a threatening wave, or set of such waves approaching, and I would swing the wheel hard to the right to try to turn us directly stern to the waves to mitigate the ensuing roll. At first Juergen would say “I believe I see a big wave coming”, but I quickly had him shorten it to simply “WAVE”, as with only one motor, and such rough seas, the boat was slow to respond to the helm so I needed to begin spinning the wheel as early as possible.
And so it went for almost four hours. I had no chance to make my customary hourly engine room check to see if engine water temps and oil pressure readings were normal, no smoke from overheated exhaust hose, etc. I couldn’t even pee, my body fortunately adjusting to the situation putting survival over comfort. At last we spotted the St. Marys inlet sea channel buoys, entered the channel, and entered the St. Marys River.
It was now less than an hour to sunset. Rather than ducking into Fernandina Beach where we could safely dock for the night, we decided to continue on to the narrow North River and up it to the boatyard, still at least two hours away. When we reached the river mouth it was full night and no moon. We had three miles to go. We ran aground in soft mud (no Maine granite ledges here!) almost immediately, but were able to back off and continued, taking the many bends wide and avoiding the shoal areas shown on the 30 year old chart while realizing it’s veracity was now suspect. We made it to within a half mile of the yard when we found ourselves again aground, but this time for a likely six hours until a high tide could lift us free from the gook.
We locked the boat, donned pfd’s, and continued on in the small dinghy, powered by an indomitable, always-eager Juergen (he’s that way as very youthful, being some two years younger than I:-). We somehow made it to the yard dock without capsizing and set off for Brunswick in my Suburban. To keep their spirits high out on those punishing seas, I had promised the crew a lavish dinner at their restaurant of choice. They had opted for Outback Steakhouse but when we climbed in the car it was past 2100 hrs. (nine) and non-fast food eateries were closed. But when we reached Brunswick we hit McDonalds where Glen downed a Double Burger and Juergen and I attacked $1 sundaes.
I dropped the crew off at Brunswick Landing Marina. They had been solid bricks throughout the journey, never complaining, always helpful. They both said they expected me to call in the morning and would return to the boat to help me bring it into the yard dock on tomorrow’s high tide in the afternoon. Dog-tired, I remained in the car and slept for three hours. I was not eager to then make the trip back down to St. Marys, but decided I could not sleep any longer in the uncomfortable car seat so I then drove back to St. Marys where I could then continue sleeping in the car. I got to St. Marys at about two, and then decided the queen size berth on Simba was beckoning so rowed back out the half mile to the boat, now blessed with the wattage of a half moon (I only ran into marsh grass once, and could have avoided that if I had rowed backwards, while looking forward, but found that much to slow-going.
Simba was now riding high and proud once again. I let out more anchor rode to ease any strain on the anchor, and headed for that inviting berth down below. However the Protestant ethic part of me once again took control. Why not just run down that stretch of the river, make the final turn, head out into the wide, inviting area off the yard, and just drop the hook, get the job finally done? In almost no time it seemed, I executed that plan and made it to bed. Simba was in it’s new home, to soon be hauled, sand-blasted and painted. Hooray! (mumbled weakly but happily as I drifted off to sleep).
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