So if the equanimity with which one approaches impending disaster is an indicator of your maturity and skill, perhaps we are progressed from the clueless newbies of so many years ago that were baffled by something as simple as a blown fuse or burned out pump.
Last weekend we were determined to get out, and we did. Our thoughts were to get to Cuttyhunk perhaps, because we had at least two more trips to Block Island planned later in the summer (including one this weekend) so we didn’t want to keep repeating the same trip.
So Cuttyhunk it was.
The weather forecast spoke of mostly clear weather with “scattered thunderstorms, some severe” around the area. When we left the sky was clear. At some point I looked up and noticed the sky was…not.
The original plan was to stop in Potter’s Cove on Jamestown and drop the hook, anchoring for the night before leaving in the morning for Cuttyhunk. Potter’s Cove does not always provide the best holding ground though, since there is grass on the bottom in places and our trusty CQR anchor is not so trusty in grass. With the possibility of “some severe thunderstorms may bring high winds and hail” we figured I’d get about 20 minutes of broken sleep all night waiting to drag, so we put in Newport and picked up a mooring for the night.
We also debated skipping Cuttyhunk because the weather was calling for a wind shift to a 5-10 knot Northerly wind over night Saturday. Cuttyhunk’s anchorage offers ZERO protection from a Northerly wind and it can be choppy and uncomfortable. But we figure less than 10 knots of breeze, it would be bearable so we pressed on. The next day, as we were preparing to leave we looked up again and discovered the weather misbehaving. Thick, deep fog was rolling across Newport. By the time we reached Goat Island at the edge of the harbor it was pea soup.
PROOF #1 – Fog no longer phases us. Really, it wasn’t so bad. Sure visibility was a few hundred feet. But we were making sound signals, minding the radar and keeping sharp eyes and ears peeled for boats. And fish traps, which were conveniently placed in a direct line between Brenton Reef and the first buoy you aim for on the way to Cutty. No wind in this fog, but no close calls at all, either.
Arriving at Cuttyhunk we found it to be completely fogged in. We drove far enough in to see the moorings, then anchored by GPS in a place we’d previously anchored and held well. Preparing for lunch at anchor, we noticed that the freezer was no longer frozen…not a Good Thing, although on a weekend it’s not nearly the disaster it would be on a longer trip when you have more than a few burgers and a lasagna in there. I opted to fix the thing after lunch, and suspected it would take more time to get access to the refrigeration units (under the bottom level of the shelves under the counter) then to fix it, if a fix was possible.
After eating lunch (gently warmed burgers on a grill that wouldn’t get hot…another problem) we were hailed by what appeared to be an Official Boat from the town of Gosnell on Cutty. We figure it was the Harbor Master (or “Wharfinger” in Cutty-speak); it was his contention that we were “anchored in the middle of a channel” and should move. Far be it from me to argue with the guy, if we were in a channel then the entire anchorage was a channel…but we opted to move since some of his points were valid about being anchored in the fog.
While pulling the anchor we had some…difficulty…with the windlass. Apparently the chain piled up in the locker and backed up on the deck and the windlass sucked in a second wrap of chain around itself. This is potentially a Very Bad Thing, since the windlass is capable of generating tremendous force and removing things like fingers and toes that get in the way. And more importantly we have a 105 pound anchor attached to a 13mm (half inch) chain which weighs something like 3-4 pounds per foot of length. There is a LOT of weight and drag on the thing. Trying to hoof this thing on board by ourselves was not working so well, since there were a couple of hundred pounds of gear to haul out of the water and we’re not that strong.
PROOF #2 – we were able to disengage the fouled windlass in the fog without removing any fingers or limbs, screaming, or hitting anything.
PROOF #3 – while we lost main power to all the instruments, winches, etc.
Really.
What we did was hand the wheel and the Chartplotter/GPS to our twelve year old son and say “Keep us in deep water, and don’t hit anything while we go work on the windlass.” Major props to the kid, he was scared spitless but he did a bang up job without complaint though I think he might have had the shakes for an hour afterward.
In the mean time us adults started trying to unscrew up the windlass. We thought a little back and forth action while tugging on it would enable us to work the chain loose. What it allowed instead was for us to blow the main fuse to the 24V house panel.
PROOF #4 – I was able to figure this out, find a suitable replacement fuse and restore power in a very few minutes, though we thought we’d lost it again and proceeded to solve the problems anyway.
With the power back on we figured a way to get the anchor on board.
PROOF #5 – We jury rigged a way to haul up the gear with a dock line run back to the primary winches. Ten years ago I probably would have taken a hack saw to the anchor rode.
Once the anchor was back in it’s seat on the bow it was easy to pull the now slack chain out of the windlass, and reset the anchor. The power was fixed (but I turned off the main switch for some reason after I fixed it) and I settled in and fixed the freezer.
PROOF #6 – It DID take less time to fix the freezer than to remove all the junk and shelves on top of it. A couple of years ago I would have fed the lasagna to the seagulls and called a repair man when we got home.
I did have an advantage because I’d suspected that it broke the same way the refrigerator broke a couple of weeks back. There is a raw water temperature sensor in the line from the thermostat, and they were looking a bit corroded around the connections. By passing the sensor, which is only there to protect your compressor against a pump failure and not required for operation, was a matter of disconnecting and reconnection a couple of wires. I have a sensor the the fridge to install, I guess I need another one.
This is the end of our scrapes for the trip with one small exception which led to a learning experience and a new operational rule for us.
We did have a nice walk around the island, and planned to come in early for breakfast at the Cuttyhunk Fisherman’s Club, which is one of the best places to eat breakfast, ever. The food is decent, but the view of Martha’s Vineyard is breathtaking. They could be mixing dog food into the hash and you may not notice it because you are looking at the view. But they don’t – the food is good too.
The last thing to come back and bit us was planning on breakfast. Bad move really, because when the wind went North it didn’t do 5-10, it did 15-18 and this did amount to some 2-3 foot swells. While those in and of themselves are bearable, climbing down into a pitching dinghy behind a huge and fearsome looking pitching boat to connect the davit lines is no picnic. Neither is climbing back onto the big boat from the dinghy.
PROOF #7 – We did something dumb, and learned from it.
The new rule is if there is ANY chance of anything but calm weather in a protected anchorage the dinghy comes up, especially if we are planning on leaving anyway. It takes a couple of minutes to do in the dead calm, and can be re-launched in as little time as well. Just laziness and poor planning on our part that found me in the pitching dink trying to get it hoisted in the chop.
Lest all of you think this past weekend was disaster on disaster – let me assure you that we actually had a nice weekend. We had a GREAT sail back – a 20 mile reaching leg at high speed, and a nice stop at the Quonset Air Show on the way home. More on all that later.
