MUTUAL FUN - A SAILING ODYSSEY

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Thursday, September 30, 1999
I write this in retrospect as I couldn't possibly have written about this day while underway. It was one of those days that make sailors wonder if they will ever step foot back on their boat if God will only let them off of it. I tuned in weather for the day and was shocked by the weather report for our area. Rain, some heavy at times with seas 6-10 feet and winds 20-35 knots with gusts up to 60 knots. OK, they had my attention. This was a gale storm and was supposed to start at 11:00am and last until 3:00pm. I relayed all of this to Bob and we immediately made alternate plans to seek refuge, as the Cape Cod Canal was still 50 miles away. It seems like everytime we set out, the wind is on our nose and we are unable to sail and have to motor or at best, motorsail, with just the staysail. Today was no different. We were making terrible time because the seas were big and the wind on our nose. Roughly 1-3 knots instead of the 5 knots we counted on. 50 miles meant another 10 hours at least and we had already been sailing 24 hours straight. I had about 3-½ hours' sleep and Bob maybe 4, as he's a better sleeper. The rough seas made it impossible for preparing any kind of decent meal so we were living on oatmeal, bread, cheese and bananas. We decided to sail for a town called Gloucster, Mass. We were 14 miles away which was about 7 hours. By now, it's 11:00 and I'll be darned if that gale didn't start right on time. The wind started blowing 30-40 knots (on our nose, of course) and the seas kicked up to HUGE. We figured the waves were as large as 30 feet. By now, we have given up any idea of sleep, the autopilot is off and we need to hand steer. We have the staysail up and the motor on. One of us is at the helm while the other is below, changing clothes, getting warm and ready to come up for another ½ hour of torture. The person at the helm is cold, wet and tired from trying to steer in these conditions. We aren't on any strict watch schedule at this point; more like the person who has the most strength or stamina at the moment. While Bob had been down below, I got my first 30 footer. It slammed into the bow, knocked my cup of tea over the side and slapped me with a face full of cold, salty water. The first time it happened, I found it mildly amusing. Hours later when it happened for the 6th time, Bob was in the cockpit with me and he said he wishes I could have seen my own face. He watched the wave come over the side; slap me full of cold water, a look of what just happened register on my face and my face crumbled into tears. I can't describe appropriately how I felt at this point. It wasn't that I was scared the boat couldn't take what was happening, it was my endurance was almost completely depleted. That was very scary. We were tired, cold, wet and terribly uncomfortable. I really didn't think I could go on.
September 30 - day from hell continues. We near the island that is Gloucster but Bob is confused by the two huge towers up on rocks. Bob calls the harbour master and asks for specific directions. He is told to go the exact opposite of what his GPS, that he programmed with the Glouster waypoint, is telling him. I asked him to go below and ask again for SPECIFIC instructions. Bob does and comes up with a smile on his face. His old trusty GPS was right on again. We sail in between the two towers on rocks on the right and a ledge of rocks on the left. At least in Massachusetts they put buoys in front of rocks. In Maine they mark them on the charts and if you don't pay attention, you could run right into them at low tide or in fog. As we are coming out the backside of all of these rocks, all of the sudden our engine goes dead. It's amazing what adrenaline can do. I popped up there so fast and prepared to raise more sail. We put the boat in neutral and start the engine again. It starts but stops in gear. It dawns on us that we've run over a lobster pot. Sure enough, we can see it down there tied up in the propeller. And we're near rocks. We are so tired that we don't have the strength to work this out for ourselves, even if it was possible, and we called the Coast Guard. They ask many questions and then tell us to drop an anchor, which we do. We're in 60+ feet of water but we do. They ask more questions such as why don't we sail in and we tell them that we are unable because we're exhausted from being in the gale. They deem us non-emergency and tell us to listen to the station we're on and maybe someone will offer help. Well isn't this just what we wanted to hear? Bob decided to get into the dinghy and try to cut the line himself. This might have been slightly feasible if we weren't in 6-foot waves, if he weren't so tired, if he were 20 years old and if he was a member of the Coast Guard. In other words, it wasn't a good idea at all. He immediately got soaked from the waves and that was cold water. The stern of the boat kept bouncing around and threatening to knock his lights out. He was way too tired to be working with a knife in a rubber dinghy. In any case, the Rockport Harbour Patrol is out to us in a matter of minutes. There is a nice man named Scott and a nice woman named Rosemary. They watch Bob for awhile and assess the situation. They deem Bob incapable of doing the job and heard the conversation over the VHF so they know we're tired. Scott jumps over into the dinghy after Bob makes his way back aboard our bouncing boat. He also tries to cut the line but can't pry it off the prop. Scott asks permission and comes aboard like he's playing on the monkey bars. He's full of pep and walks around the boat like he was raised on one. With Scott aboard and Rosemary on the patrol boat, we decide that we will sail the boat into Rockport with Scott's help. Bob went up front to raise the anchor. He steps on the windlass and finds that there is so much pressure form the waves and the weight of the anchor that the windlass is pulling the chain up 5 feet but letting back out 2 feet. So, Bob does what he has warned me at least a dozen times not to do. He tries to help the anchor along with his hands. I am at the helm and I hear this cry from Bob. Now, knowing Bob as I do, if he even makes a sound and there's blood, he's really hurt. I felt nausea set in and shouted up to him, "how many did you lose?" Any accident having to do with a windlass is almost certainly going to result in a loss of fingers. I saw blood flying and Bob looking at his hand. Scott was up there and I had noticed that Scott had a couple of fingers missing from one hand and he didn't panic. Bob walked back to me with his hand up and I thought I might lose it. We got him below and gauze on his fingers and thank heavens he had all of his fingers. Scott radioed the Coast Guard and we now became an emergency. Scott is trained in EMT and determined that if Bob wanted, he could stay with the boat as compared to being taken off by the Patrol boat and taken to the hospital. The blood was clotting although Bob looked a little rough around the edges. The Coast Guard arrived and all of this shouting started taking place, as these 6 men (none was over 25 years old) are trained military style. A command is given and the next repeats and then the next and so on. I helped Scott with the lines the best I could but I found myself to be slow and clumsy. Bob kept trying to pop up and help or just watch the action but we kept shoving him back down on the couch. It really was an interesting sight. By now it's dark, we've been out there about 4 hours, the Harbour Patrol boat has its lights flashing, the Coast Guard boat has its lights flashing and we have our running lights on. They all work together beautifully with Scott still on our boat to get us towed into the harbour. Rosemary is still out on the open patrol boat where it's very cold, just watching and circling around. There are people watching, as I found out later, from another sailboat caught out in the gale coming from the opposite way we were. Instead of going 1-2 knots, they were flying at 14 knots. But there were 7 men aboard that boat! Scott and Rosemary took Bob to the hospital and then came back to let me know he was going to be OK and to tell me of a restaurant where I could pick up dinner. Instead, I opted for the yacht club shower and made soup. Bob came back to me with 2 bandaged fingers. The pinkie on the right hand is broken and that and the next finger are a bit mangled. He has to walk around with it up in the air. We ice it 4 times a day and the doc gave him antibiotics since we'll be out to sea. Maybe.
Top of Page Wednesday, September 29, 1999
Boothbay Harbour Maine to Cape Cod Canal
Here I sit on my 2:00-4:00pm watch, able to write because our autopilot is up and running like a champ. Today has held a bit of anxiety for me because it is the first time just the two of us have sailed around the clock. Weather report was for a mild day with winds between 10-15 knots and seas 2-3 feet. In the afternoon, things are supposed to deteriorate to higher winds and higher seas. We left Boothbay at 9:00am, one hour late due to my being cold and scared and needing more warm bunk time. We have decided to have 2-hr. watches; 2 on and 2 off. I took Bonine for seasickness and told Bob the only thing I don't like about Bonine is they keep me awake. After my 10-noon watch, I went down below, curled up and fell asleep. As ever, my credibility is at stake. It is now 3:00pm, the sky behind and to port is powder blue and grey. To starboard is all grey and ahead is dark grey and darker grey. It's cold. I have 4 layers on top and 3 layers on the bottom, fleece socks and boots, a headband, hat and mittens. Seas are spunky with large waves smacking into the side of the boat, then sort of retreating, shaking their head as if confused by the impact and moving on. A small bird with an orange belly, blue/black top and white stripes on its beak landed on the boat to catch its breath.
Top of Page Friday, September 24, 1999
And here we are back at Camden, Maine getting but one more repair. Our travels from Southwest Harbour steered us to Northeast Harbour where we turned on our generator and we noticed an unfamiliar sound. Lifting up the cover to the generator we saw that one of the belts was loosing teeth. Not a happy sight but we're sort of getting used to these problems. Without the generator we are not disabled but have to turn on the engine for all of our electrical needs. So, we high tail it back to Southwest Harbour, a few miles away where there is a good boatyard owned by Hinckley. We pull in and get immediate attention but they did not have the belt in stock. They ordered it from California and had them overnight it to Wayfarer Marina in Camden. Next we went back through all of those cool-named places to a little cove called Bucks Harbour where the pizza was yummy, we got a torrential downpour in the dinghy ride back and it was so dark that we went to the wrong boat. By now, we have had about 3 days straight of rain, cold and gloom. It's time to change our luck. We immediately get underway and set sail for Castine, where we have custom-ordered a large mirror with teak frame for the main salon (living room.) We meet up with our friend David, the nice man who took me to the airport and picked me up and tipped a few with Bob while I was gone, and meet his wife Jeannine, who was also out of town. She's a really nice lady, too. Next morning we meet with the carpenter who is supposed to be installing our mirror but it has been so wet and humid that the varnish isn't drying and he needs more time. We decide to sail on over to Camden, get our generator fixed and the carpenter and his assistant will finish the mirror and drive it over on Monday. It's about a 2-hour drive. We won't discuss the cost of this mirror because it has become a real tender spot between Bob and me but I will say that the fee to deliver it to Camden was almost the amount of what I thought the whole mirror should have cost. We'll let it go, although not easily because the stock market has lost about 500 points in the last 3 days. Our sail from Castine started out with an awesome sight. We are motoring out of the long channel to Penobscot Bay when ahead in the distance we see this huge contrast of the water we're in and the water we're headed to. We are in relatively flat water, maybe a little ripple and we are headed into huge whitecaps with big, steep waves. We have been doing a lot of motoring and I'm excited because we're definitely going to be able to sail. The only question is how much sail to put up. The winds are blowing 20-25 knots in the channel! We get out there and the ride gets bumpy and we put up the staysail and away we go. It has turned out to be sunny and we hook up the autopilot, Bob moves off the helmseat and I find this little slice of heaven. In the walkway on deck is an area just big enough for my body. I get out one of our super-duper chairs and my GPS and I sit right down there in that little nook and it's about 20 degrees warmer with no wind. Pretty soon I am barefoot and down to one layer. And there I sit and soak up the long-awaited sun until….of course; something has to ruin my piece of heaven. The wind dies down to about 12 knots. We wait a little while and decide to furl in the staysail and unfurl the headsail. Great. For about 10 minutes when the wind picks again only now to 30 knots. Everything starts banging and heeling over and gets cold and there I am barefoot with only half the amount of clothes on. We get everything under control but then Bob gets nervous because we're supposed to see a red marker marking rocks and we don't see it. A few minutes later it is there and we are fine. We sail into Camden under sunny skies and a beautiful warm day. Within 30 minutes, I have my friend, Mary Morgan at my side. Off we go climbing mountains, being silly and having a wonderful time. Mary will spend the next couple of days with me and Sunday, the 26th she must leave for New York on business.
Top of Page Sunday, September 19, 1999
Last night Bob and I celebrated our arrival back into civilization by buying us a wonderful, long, shower at the Castine Inn. We are down to 25 gallons of water and we don't dare use it for any luxuries like a shower. Although, it was kinda getting to be a necessity. After, we did some laundry and had dinner at Dennet's; Bob's hangout while I was gone. David joined us after our meal and the boys had a few beers while we all jabbered. It had grown quite chilly out and Bob still only had on a tee shirt and shorts so he asked me to dinghy home. Also, the fact that I was still sober was a plus. We got home, went below and got ready for bed. Bob went back into the main salon and turned on a light after I had shut everything off for the night. I asked him why he did that and he said, "in case I have to get up fast for an emergency." I asked, "what kind of emergency could you have to get up for while we are firmly anchored to a mooring ball with absolutely no wind?" He replied, "I want the light on and I'm the captain and I should get some respect!" So there he is standing there in his birthday suit with this cockeyed smile (beer induced?) and we both started laughing hysterically. Bob collapsed onto the bunk from laughing and I almost choked on my toothpaste.
Today we awoke to a gorgeous sunny day and set sail about 8:15a.m. for Southwest Harbour, about 35 miles southeast of Castine. I am writing this in the cockpit. Our route has been: Castine down past Cape Rosier to Buck's Harbour through Eggemoggin Reach across Jerico Bay to the York Narrows and through Casco Passage to Blue Hill Bay across to Bass Harbour Ledge up north through Western Way to Southwest Harbour. Although I don't expect many of you to know these different areas, they are an awful lot of fun to say. Especially, Eggemoggin Reach. We've gotten a lot of mileage out of that one today. Its just stunning scenery here. From beautiful blue water to rocks and ledges and hills and mountains and everywhere, conifer trees. The contrast between the water and the sand-colored rocks and the green of the trees is breathtaking. The temperature on land is probably 70 degrees but I am decked out in sweat pants and tee shirt, sweat shirt, all under cold-weather pants, vest and hat. We are having fun dodging lobster pots and thinking of filling the tanks with fresh, good water for that next shower. I wonder what we'll have for dinner tonight. All of those lobster pots are sure making me hungry.
Top of Page Friday, September 17, 1999
Last night was a tough one for Bob but I decided that I had enough chores and that he could have the responsibility of making sure we stayed anchored. He was up and down many times during the night, checking and mopping. We held fine. This morning brought more of the same but as afternoon wore on, the winds diminished. The rain tuned down to a constant drizzle. Still, we were unable to go above except under the protection of the canvas. Bob bailed out the dinghy but that was the extent of exercise we got today. We spent much time in a 2-ft. dry space in the cockpit, simply for the fresh air. The weather report promised higher winds and more rain at night. It's now night and we have higher winds and more rain. Gusts have hit 30 knots (times 1.1 to figure mph) and the rain is a constant drain on one's brain. We are both getting cabin fever and would be doing a lot better if the cushions weren't all wet and we had more space to spread out. Bob has just found himself a new nest and he is reading with a cup of coffee in the aft berth. There is still one dry space on the settee (couch), where I am sitting now at the nav station and thank the heavens, our bunk is dry. And really, really warm. Bob spent most of the day holed up in there but I complained of having to mop up all day just to get him up and moving. A little psychiatry on the old captain. We made a wonderful dinner of pasta, chicken, corn, tomatoes and mushrooms mixed with a splash of virgin olive oil and sprinkled with Parmesan cheese. As we sit here, you would swear that we are sailing away but here we sit anchored in 20 feet of water. Our water supply is low and we heard from several sources that the water in Castine is not good. With full bellies and a promising weather report of sunshine tomorrow, we will make it through the night and hopefully move back to civilization tomorrow. We will put all of the cushions along with rags and towels on the decks and off to shore we will go because heaven knows we could use a good shower!
Top of Page Thursday, September 16, 1999
I have returned to my nest after an unexpected 5 days in Toledo. Thursday evening I left Bob perched on a barstool while I went back to the boat. I decided to check e-mail and I had 9 messages waiting. I began my slow routine of reading through them when I read an emergency message from my sister, Sharon. It said to call home. I read through another one and then the next was from my mom. It said "emergency. Call home." By then my heart was pounding pretty good and I dinghied in to shore and called home to find out my father had passed away. He was in the hospital visiting someone else when he noticed chest pain. He went to the emergency section and not long after, he had a massive coronary. It was quick and over fast. I flew home on Friday, the 10th, attended the funeral and flew back on Tuesday. Bob made friends with this really nice guy named David. David has a beautiful 35-ft. Hinkley sailboat. He has a new home in Castine and also a home in Florida. David graciously offered to drive me to Bangor airport, which we gratefully accepted and was also, kind enough to pick me up. Bob stayed with the boat and was a huge comfort to me upon my return. Today is Thursday, about 6:00 p.m. and we are holed up in a hurricane hole called Smith Cove near Castine, Maine, awaiting hurricane Floyd. We moved the boat this morning from a mooring in front of Eaton's Wharf where we were pretty cozy but in direct hit of nasty weather. Predictions are for 25-35 knot winds and heavy downpours. The wind is starting to pick up a little from the 10-12 knots it was earlier this afternoon. We have numerous leaks in the boat that at times like this, make it a priority to look into. Leaks are a real pain as you need to ascertain from where they originate and then probably take off handrails or other supporting gear and caulk or epoxy, put everything back together and maybe you fixed the problem or maybe not. In any case, here we sit in our little home with plastic bags, sponges and towels catching the drips. Sometimes it just drizzles and sometimes it pours. The waiting for hurricane Floyd is a little scary but also fun. Yesterday we spent 3 hours emptying the lazarette (storage area in cockpit) so we could remove the storm anchor. Bob emptied everything out and then climbed in. What a sight to see a 6'4" person in a 3 foot by 3 foot space. And the anchor was mounted on the back wall. He got his shoulders in and looked up at me and said, "I'm stuck." After a few attempts, he wiggled himself out but every muscle group in his body was cramping. So, you know what that meant. Down I went into the 3x3 hole and me with claustrophobia. After I got the anchor dismounted, I got out and we couldn't get the anchor out. Several attempts later, Bob proposed that I dismantle the fine carpentry job we had done in Florida and I took the partition apart. Of course, being claustrophobic, I had to get up and out of the hole every few minutes. Plus, I'm no spring chicken either and my knees were pretty achy in there. Several times the skin on my leg got caught on a metal protector piece on the sidewall and I had to disengage my own flesh. I got the whole piece dismantled and that darned anchor still wouldn't come out. We decided that they must have put that sucker in there prior to installing the generator and water-maker. By now it's getting dark, the hurricane is getting nearer and we must get this job done. I didn't think there was any way that I was going to be able to manipulate this 45 pound anchor on my own, get it back in place and remount it. Out of complete necessity, that was exactly what I did do, then screwed and bolted the partition back in place and VERY slowly unfolded myself from that little hole. Bob put everything back in, said I did a terrific job and promised me a nice dinner. I had lobster, sweet potatoes, rice, carrots and double chocolate cake for dessert. Bob paid the bill giving me a pat on the back and a "you earned this one" smile. In any case, we have a very nice $150.00 anchor in the lazarette; where it will live out its life in uselessness. We have borrowed a storm anchor to ride out the hurricane but we will have to buy a new one. Wonder where we'll store it?
Top of Page Thursday, September 2, 1999
My best day yet because Bob is due in about 45 minutes. But first, I must tell you about the wonderful day I had yesterday. I met Mary at noon. She took me to this wonderful sports clothing store where I really bulked up. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to sail anywhere but extreme south until I saw all of these wonderful warm clothes. Mary, being an expert sailor with 25 years experience here, in Maine and the Caribbean, was a great help. I especially am in love with these really warm pants that are waterproofed in the knees and the tush. Bye bye diaper rash! I got a wonderful vest and jacket and hat and long undies. I won't tell you how much all of this cost because I don't want to think about it again. After shopping, we went to this nice deli-type market and picked up humus and veggie sandwiches. The biggest grapes I have ever seen and a peanut butter w/chocolate chunks cookie to split (I ate most of it.) We took this picnic to a little cove and ate on boulders overlooking the ocean. After lunch, Mary threatened to go swimming and I had to decide whether to be absolutely insane and join her. We went back to the car and changed; Mary into diving gear and Mona into a Speedo. Mary just hopped right in there and began about a 1-mile swim while Mona sat on the rock wishing she weren't such a woose. There were 2 other families there and some were swimming so I figured if they could…. I borrowed this nice lady's swim shoes and pranced around for awhile, like you do when you're scared to death to take that leap, and then went for it. I screamed. And screamed. I hate people that scream. It's so undignified. That water was so cold that I was paralyzed. People from the rocks were yelling at me to start moving. So, I did. I swam around for about 20 minutes, trying to regain my dignity and then got out. The water temperature here in the ocean is about 52 degrees. All in all, it wasn't too bad. I'll never do it again. Mary and I then headed off for a lovely walk on this dirt path that wound around the shoreline. We heard that eerie cry of the loon and then we saw her in the water. She's so heavy. Then we saw osprey and it was dive bombing a nest, which turned out to be a bald eagle. By this time Mary was beside herself with seeing all of this wonderful nature at one time. On we went to more adventures. Mary took me to see the oreo cows that you see in the picture. thought she was kidding when she asked if I had ever seen oreo cows. They have another more mature name but we like oreo cows. From there, we drove along a cemetery when Mary slammed on her brakes and said, "Mona, they're doing it!" What she saw was a man etching her past husband's name in the huge boulder she had made into a headstone. We stopped and we got out. I moved off to a small hill to give her privacy while she watched. We were pretty pooped by then and decided to take a little break. She went home to meditate and get her messages and I to shower and rest. We met again at 7:00pm for dinner. We decided on Japanese and on the way she wanted to stop at the cemetery and see if they were through. There was a cover over the headstone but we lifted it and stood back and looked. In huge letters it read: SPOCK. 1903-1998. There was a picture of him lying on the round with shells around it and she introduced me. He was much older than Mary, of course, but what a look he had in those eyes. A gentle soul if ever I saw one. We proceed on to our dinner, which was Japanese, and I tried things that the names scared me. Everything was absolutely wonderful but you can keep the tofu, which Mary did. We parted for the night, both wonderfully sleepy. I'm sure we'll see Mary again and hopefully she'll come sailing with us. She's full of local sailing knowledge, ever so important in these foggy, rocky parts. Hope you all are well. I'll write again when we're "on the road."

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