Ok, on to Sandy
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| Travelling Soul facing down Sandy |
Some of you might be wondering why we didn’t have the boat
hauled out of the water and put up on blocks. It is a decent question, but we
didn’t do it this time and won’t do it next time for several reasons. First, it
cost money. For our sized boat, it is about a BU. True, our insurance company
would pay for ½ of it, but that’s still that’s quite a bit of money. Moreover,
we were not in Sandy’s path and if we had Traveling Soul hauled every time a
hurricane came within 500 miles, we wouldn’t have any money left to spend on
repairs. Sure, there were predictions that in Deltaville we might get 50 MPH
winds and have four feet of surge, but we had already weathered 40 MPH winds in
the Bahamas and weren’t particularly worried about 50 MPH and a super high tide.
Now if they had been predicting 100 MPH and ten feet of surge, it would have
been a different story. But come on guys, if you can’t handle 50 MPH winds and
a four foot surge – with plenty of warning AND while sitting in a marina – you
probably shouldn’t be living on a boat.
Perhaps more importantly, many of the local boaters have
longstanding arrangements with marinas in the area to haul their boats
automatically in case of a storm. When you add to this the fact that many or
most of them had already made reservations to have their boats taken out of the
water over the next couple of weeks for the winter, you discover that there are
simply not that may lifts are available to haul non-local boats – especially
when they are as big as ours.
Knowing what we know now would we haul the boat next time?
Nope. The storm was, as predicted, 50 MPH winds with a four foot surge. Our boat handled it very, very well. We did
learn some lessons, though. In fact, that is one of the reasons for this
particularly entry. In addition to letting everyone know how we fared, in
addition to continuing to chronicle the adventures of Traveling Soul and her
intrepid crew, we are using this particular entry to organize our thoughts so
we can draw some decent lessons for the next time we stare into the abyss – AND
I want to practice my especially dramatic writing about which I will warn you
with an occasional DRAMA ALERT.
Ok, so on Wednesday after the work on the boat was finally
completed, we heard about Sandy and decided to wait her out on a day-by-day
basis. From all indications, it seemed we would k now something by Friday or
Saturday. At this point, I have to tell you that we were still hoping to get
out of Deltaville by Sunday or Monday. By Thursday afternoon, though, it was
becoming increasingly clear that Sandy had chosen her direction and that,
though we were not directly in her path, she was going to give us some
problems.
(DRAMA ALERT) But we were not going to let Sandy run
roughshod over us; not us, your intrepid Traveling Soul adventurers. We would
point our bow into the wind, tie ourselves to the dock and force that damn
storm to confront us head on. We might not be able to stop her, but we could
slow her progress by a fraction of a fraction of a mile per hour so our fellow
cruisers could be better protected. Yes, we would do our part for the human
race. So … how’s that?
Friday morning
On Friday, we put fuel in the boat (that has nothing to do with
the hurricane, we just needed fuel) and moved Traveling Soul to a new slip. In
the old slip she was broadside into the wind and was pretty much open to the
elements in all directions. In the new slip her bow faces into the wind and she
is located between two covered sheds that have both made it through Irene and
Isabelle. Although we still have a substantial northerly fetch, we are hopeful
the sheds cut down any wind which has either an easterly or a westerly component.
We are port side-to and, on Friday morning, put a total of six lines on the
boat – one from the bow to the dock, one forward spring line (so the boat
doesn’t move forward), two aft spring lines (since the wind is going to be
pushing us backwards, the aft spring lines should prevent us from moving in
that direction), and two aft lines – one to port and one to starboard. We also
put on four fenders, one each opposite the pilings on the port side of the
boat. When I asked one of the marina employees if there was anything else we
should do, he suggested we take down our canvass. Lord, I don’t want to do
that, so we are going to give it a day or two and see if the forecasts get
better or worse.
Ok, so once the boat was in position and fairly well
prepared, we spent the rest of the day talking to Grover and Judy, watching
several episodes of “30 Rock,” and trying to figure out exactly what this damn
storm is going to do.
Early, early Saturday morning. (I almost always wake up at
0300 or so – especially when there is weather – and walk around the boat seeing
what I can do. So, early, early is about 0300.)
(DRAMA ALERT) I heard the sound of rubber grinding against
the side of the boat at about 3AM. It is that sound you hear when you rub two
balloons together, but deeper and more ominous. (In another place, at another
time, I would have described the sound as kind of like that of a machine gun –
and you would have known what I meant. But here, now, skillful mariner and
observant author that I am, I was pretty sure it wasn’t pirates.) Once I dismissed that thought …
I was afraid that it was our rub-rail scraping against the
rain-sodden wooden pilings – which can make a similar eerie sound. I checked my
anemometer and, though the wind was 25MPH gusting to 35, I donned my trusty
rain jacket and ventured forth. It turned out that some of our fenders, which
are about 24” long, were catching the piling on the last 4” or so of the rubber
– making a deep, rubber against rubber sound. It wasn’t close to either the
rub-rail or the hull. That was good, but I would need to move the fenders a
little.As I went around the boat, I made a mental checklist of what I would need to do in the morning. First, I would need to add some fenders – after all we have eight, we might as well use all of them. Second I wanted to tighten the aft line on the starboard side so it will hold us off the dock more effectively. Third, I wanted to tighten some of the spring lines (both fore and aft) so the fenders would stay in one place relative to the pilings and would stop making that rubbing sound. In addition to making the checklist, I also logged on and tried to determine where the storm was and where it was going. It looked like it might be going a little further north than I had feared – but not far enough north to make us happy.
Saturday Morning
As I got coffee in the captain’s lounge, I looked around and
noticed that nearly all the boats that are left in the marina had taken down
their canvass. I didn’t like it and I knew Ann wasn’t going to like it, but I thought
we better take ours down too. It is bound to reduce windage substantially. We
did, and it wasn’t as complicated as we had thought. The real test would come
when we put it back up.
After coffee, I checked the items from my 0300 list: tighten
the aft starboard line, check; adjust the spring lines, check; add four
fenders, check. I also decided to two more lines, one at the bow line and another
forward spring. We now had two bow lines, two forward and two aft spring lines
in addition to the two aft lines; that gives us a total of eight lines out
overall. The average breaking strength of our ¾ inch nylon lines is 16,700
pounds, and the safe working load is 2,500 pounds each. So, no matter how you
cut it, our boat wasn’t going to float away from the dock. We would have put
out more lines, but I was running out of places to tie them. Instead, we dedicated
two more ¾ inch lines to act as a reserve; we would keep them in the salon and
use them if, when and where necessary.
When we added the extra fenders, we wanted them both to
reinforce the fenders we had, but also to extend the effective length of the
fenders. So, rather than stacking them directly on top of one another, I offset
the bottom one by about six inches, so it stuck out from the top one. That way,
instead of having the fenders cover 24 inches, they covered about 30. It seemed
to work reasonably well.
We found out the Grover and Judy found someone to haul their
boat, so they are staying Saturday night and then heading up to the DC area. They
came by and asked if we wanted to have a pizza-hurricane party that evening
with everyone else that was staying. Did someone say party? Of course we would
be there.
Saturday Afternoon.
That afternoon the dockmaster told us that when the water
came up over the top of the fixed docks (that included us), they were going to
shut off the power. If the water was going to be over the dock AND there wasn’t
going to be any power, we figured we probably shouldn’t stay on the boat. We started
looking for a motel room for Sunday night and Monday night, which, we figured,
would have the highest tides. Deltaville has only one motel within about 15
miles. There are other places to stay, of course, but they are B&B’s. The
cost of “The Deltaville Dockside Inn,” was reasonable and was within a mile of
the marina, so we decided to go ahead and stay there – despite the less-than-glowing
reviews on “Trip Advisor.”
Not to get ahead of myself, but when we told some local
boaters that we were staying at the Dockside Inn, they raised their eyebrows
and kind of shrugged but didn’t say much. That probably wasn’t a good sign, we
figured, but what the hell, we were only going to stay a couple of nights and
were going to spend most of our time at the marina watching after Traveling
Soul. When we mentioned our plans to Grover, however, he said that he had considered
staying there a few weeks earlier, but had found a review on the web where the
reviewer showed off the bedbug bites he had received at the Inn. At that point, we ran, not walked to Ann’s
phone to find one of the B&Bs nearby that could take us. The good news was
that none of the B&Bs in the area were busy (we should have been able to
figure that out – who, in the name of heaven, would book a B&B along the
shore in the midst of a hurricane?) so availability wasn’t an issue. Anyway, we
made reservations at the Edentide Inn near Deltaville. It was about three miles
from the marina, but it was the closest we could find. Moreover, they offered
to transport us to and from the marina as necessary. In the event, it turned
out to be a wonderful little place that we would recommend to anyone.
Later that day, Jack Dozier (the marina owner) as well as just
about everyone who worked for him came by checking boats. I didn’t count, but
my guess is that there were only about 40 or so boats left in the marina. Many
(most?) of the full time marina residents had left. It seemed as if they had
long ago made arrangements to have their boats hauled their boats out of the
water when hurricanes threaten.
DRAMA ALERT: Us? Ha! We scoffed at the danger. We had no
intention of moving from Deltaville or of abandoning our boat. Whenever we saw
small groups of people quaking in their boots in anticipation of the Storm, we
tried to embolden them and to pass on some of our courage. “Bring it on,
Sandy,” we taught them to say. “We’re ready for you!” We told others to repeat
the mantra, “We are boaters and friends of boaters. We will NOT be intimidated
by a mere Category 1 ‘cane!”
ANOTHER DRAMA ALERT: Later that day, Ann and I were on the
dock walking back from the Captain’s Lounge and we heard a weird sound: Clickety-Clack.
Clickety-clack. Clickety-clickety-clackety-clack. Oh my God, it couldn’t be,
could it? For an instant – just an instant – Ann and I both had a Stephen King
moment. Could Sandy be … could Sandy be … after us?
Ok, so maybe it had nothing to do with an anthropomorphized
hurricane. Docks are usually not made of one solid piece of wood, they are built
with slats that have ½ inch or so between them. The waves come at the dock at
something of an angle. So as the water slaps the underside of the plank they
make a click or clack sound. When the wave slaps the underside of the slats in
rapid succession, it sounds like Clickety-Clack. Clickety-clack. Clickety-clickety-clackety-clack.
Alas, it wasn’t the hurricane – this time. Instead, Sandy was saving her evil
for later. Read on.
At about 1730 Grover and Judy had pizza delivered to the
captain’s lounge. They are a great couple who are a lot of fun. In addition to
Grover and Judy, there was Ann and I, of course, and Chuck and Fabin. Chuck and
Fabin live on board their Defever 48. They have stayed at Dozier’s this summer
where Chuck has served as the temporary dockmaster. He and Fabin were on a much
more exposed slip than we were, but they were tied to a floating dock – so
their dock could never go under water and did not need to have their
electricity turned off. They were going to ride out the storm on their boat. In
addition, they had a car and offered to take us wherever we needed to go.
Saturday night we stayed on the boat and Ann and I both got
up during the night to check on the boat. Ann’s focus was on what was going on
inside the boat, while I checked the fenders, lines, pilings, etc. on the
outside. We made all the little adjustments and fine-tuned our preparations.
Sunday Morning
By Sunday morning the wind started picking up a little –
probably 30 MPH gusting to 40 and it had begun raining. It wasn’t raining that
hard, but the wind was propelling the raindrops hard enough that when they hit
bare skin they really stung.
Sunday Afternoon
As Ann and I talked about going to the B&B, it became
clear to both of us that I wasn’t going to be able to sleep well wherever we
went. Eventually, we decided that Ann would go to the B&B, and that I would
stay in the captain’s lounge where I could get up a couple of times during the
night and check on the boat. The next morning, if everything was going well,
she would stay at the captain’s lounge while I slept at the Inn. Provided, of
course, we could get a ride back and forth.
I should have mentioned earlier that one of the MAJOR
lessons we learned from Sandy is that the next time we are in the path of a
major storm, we WILL rent a car. Dozier’s marina has courtesy cars that you can
borrow during the day but they are not available after hours and, even then,
they do not want you to go more than two miles from the marina (the distance of
the grocery store). During normal times that is okay, but for several reasons,
not the least of which was our desire to get to and from the Inn, we could have
used a car.
Anyway after Ann went to the Inn, I continued my Traveling
Soul vigil. Of course, since I could not spend every waking minute watching the
boat, and since the Captain’s Lounge had a nice TV – the quality of which was
really wasted watching the Weather Channel – and since it was Sunday afternoon I
figured it was okay to rest my eyes by occasionally watching just a little bit
of football. After football I went back to watching the boat … OOPS!… I meant to say that high tide was scheduled for about 2300. I had no intention of walking on docks that were under water, so I decided I would check on the boat at 2200, before high tide, and again at 0100 after high tide. I would check again at around 0400 (or so) and at 0700ish. In each instance, when I checked on the boat I would make sure the fenders were positioned correctly and were doing their job (adjusting if necessary), I would check all the lines and make sure they were tight enough without being too tight, I would go aboard and look for leaks around the windows and other places where we had had problems in the past, and I would check on the bimini. The bimini is the canvass “ceiling” to the flybridge. While we had taken down most of our canvass and isinglass the day before, we had thought (mistakenly as it turned out) that the nearby sheds would protect our bimini. Every time I got on the boat I would hear a flapping from up above and knew it was bimini. Anyway, I got into the habit of checking it and, in fact, tried to tie it down. It didn’t work.
0700 Monday
During my 0400 check I had noticed that the wind had changed
direction and that the boat was no longer being pushed into the dock, but was
being pushed away. In fact, it took some effort to pull the boat close enough
so that I could get on. When on board, I checked the bimini and noticed that it
was starting to chafe and to tear exactly where I had tied the lines earlier.
Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea after all.
At 0700 the boat was even further from the dock than it had
been three hours earlier and it took a lot of pulling to get the boat close
enough for me to get on. As a result, I added a line to the aft-port side (that
made three aft lines, one to starboard and one to port). I had to get the new
line tight enough so it would take some pressure off the existing line. The
only way I could do that was literally to stand on the existing line until I
got a little slack, then to pull the new line tight around its cleat. Because
the wind picked up significantly even while I was performing this task, I
didn’t have much time to tighten the new line even when I was able to generate
6 inches of slack in the old one. It was
stand on the old line – generate six inches of slack – pull the new line maybe
three inches and repeat.
After all this work, the boat was probably five feet from
shore. I now had a problem – I don’t know if I could ever have jumped the five
feet from the boat to shore, but I know that in my 60’s I couldn’t. I pulled on
the line to get the boat closer to shore, then backed up to jump. But every
time I backed off, the boat recovered the distance I had pulled it. Although I
am not great at estimating distance, I am guessing that I was able to pull it
to within 3½ to four feet of the shore. Twice I was almost ready to jump, but
then stopped and decided against it. Eventually, I saw someone on an adjoining
dock coming to check his boat. I hollered at him and asked if he could give me
a hand. He was more than willing.
Between the two of us we pulled the boat to within about 3
feet of the shore. I decided this was as close as it was going to get, so I
made the leap. Actually, I made it across! However, there was a problem.
Remember that surgery I had about ten weeks ago on my Achilles Tendon? Well, apparently
the tendon detached when I jumped. In addition, I tore the scar tissue that was
keeping the tendon in place. The result was a lame boat captain and a lot of
blood.
I like to think I am pretty good at writing a blog and am
trying to improve in my ability to write drama (a task at which I am sure you
will agree that I need practice), but have I ever been very good at writing
about gore – especially when it is my own. So I am going to skip the details.
Suffice it to say Bruce Miller is the former Coastie who had the well-stocked
first aid bag that took care of me initially and who, after Ann arrived from
the B&B, had the car that got us to the Emergency Room at the Gloucester
Walter Reed Hospital. Thank you, Bruce.
After our trip to the hospital, we finally rented a car and
headed back to the boat – which, at this point, was easy to board. From there we
called my orthopedist in Northern VA and, though he could not see me Tuesday
(because of the storm), he could see me Wednesday afternoon.
Now, I know some of you are wondering why we sent you an
e-mail saying that everything was okay – except for a trifling wound to Mike –
when the trifling wound actually wasn’t that trifling. Actually the ER doctor
did not see any major issues (other than the open wound and, oh by the way, the
pain I was in!) In fact, on Wednesday my orthopedist looked at the wound and didn’t
think it was too bad, either. It wasn’t until he got me in the OR and looked
around my Achilles on Thursday that he discovered the detachment. So, here I am
back in Woodbridge, VA at Dave and Joan Wolf’s house, recovering from surgery
in a splint. The splint comes off and the cast goes on next Thursday. I wear
the cast for two months, then into a walking boot for another month. I know
this routine because I just went through it.
I know, I know you are wondering what this does to Traveling
Soul and its magnificent crew? Will they continue their trip south? Will they
make it to the Bahamas? I am not going to keep you in THAT much suspense – the
answer is yes. The real question is how we are going to do it. For answers to
that question and many more, you will just have to read our next blog.
ANN’S NOTES: I was
going to let Michael sent out this blog without my notes, but I changed my
mind.Needless to say I have had a few Zantac days. I can measure my level of stress by how many Zantac pills I have to take in order to reduce the acid level in my body.
I must share with you that especially in times of stress I
know that my family, friends and fellow boaters are always ready with a helping
hand. Michael was well cared for when he had his accident. Hurricane Sandy was
pretty much in full force, 50 mile-an-hour wind gusts, rain, and it was dark
and scary outside. Yet Bruce was more than happy to give us a ride to the
hospital and he would have stayed with us longer if we had needed him. Other
people at the marina were checking on our boat making sure our lines were
holding and secure. In addition, the people at the bed and breakfast that drove
me back and forth to the marina were wonderful. They even offered to lend me
their SUV. They also gave us dinner, homemade chicken and rice soup and grilled
cheese sandwiches. It was good comfort
food and meant one less Zantac. We are now back at Dave and Joan’s house. They
are, as always very kind.
I think we are coming up with a new set of intentions that
may get us back on track so we can still spend the winter in the Bahamas. We
have to work around a few set dates that the doctor said we had to meet.
I am excited about the thought that our son may be able to
join us in our cruise down to Charleston S.C.
Even in the middle of a hurricane all the people that came
into our lives were more than kind and only wanted to help. The universe is a
kind when you most need it to be…I am a big believer in Karma.
Just one more thing … Michael told me that I was “the best
foul weather gear he had”… that, my dear readers, is a huge compliment coming
from him…
Traveling Soul…OUT
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