The Things I Do...: May 2021

Thursday, June 27th

I decided to get off to an early start, and the wind that everyone was worried about last night was already up. I had some difficulty even getting off the dock as the wind had me pinned, and I was in an awkward position for motoring back into the narrow channel of the marina. After an embarrassing 180 in the wrong direction I sorted myself out, and motored out of the marina and into Apple Tree Cove. The water in this bay is VERY shallow, even drying out at low tide, so wind and waves pile up here, making for some very confused seas. This plus the ferries churning up the water can make things interesting, to say the least. While some boats were looking forward to some "sporting conditions" for the day, I was very nervous, having sailed these waters many times before, and remembering a few times where the conditions around Foul Weather Bluff and off of Point No Point had seriously scared me. And that was in my previous boat, a Flicka of over 6,000lbs displacement! Doing it in my Montgomery 15 of only 750lbs displacement had me really nervous as I looked out at dark clouds and whitecaps. I knew the boat would be fine, I just wasn't too sure about ME!

As I left Apple Tree Cove and headed east I misjudged the ferry schedule and had to give the little Honda full throttle to get out of the ferry's way -- oops! At least I didn't get the horn blast of shame. I hate being a nuisance to those guys, they work hard to keep things on schedule, and avoid all the dumb pleasure boaters who can't stay out of their ferry lanes.

As I left the marina I had Cupcake tied up tight to the stern of Vanilla, and as rough as it was I decided to leave it that way to try to keep the dinghy under control. Once I got away from Kingston it was blowing pretty good, but everything seemed fine and I decided to just keep motoring to get through the worst areas as fast as I could. The organizers had warned us to stay as close as possible to shore. This was both to pick up the contrary current running north, as well as to avoid the potentially deadly tidal rips that give this area its well earned reputation.

I was within about a mile of Point No Point when I saw a small boat having difficulties. I immediately called the support boats to alert them to a potential problem. It turned out that the boat had lost its rudder as the large waves had lifted it right off of its pintles and gudgeons! It took 15 or 20 minutes for them to get the rudder reattached, and with the support boats aware of the issue, and no immediate danger to the other vessel, I motored on.

The closer I got to Point No Point, the rougher the seas got, and the more the wind strengthened. Waves were now into the 3 to 4 foot range, with regular whitecaps. I skirted right by the beach, shallow enough to see the bottom, making fishermen curse under their breath as they had to haul in their lines to avoid being snagged by my boat. I had no choice -- 20 yards farther offshore and the waves were truly frightening.

As I zipped past the point I realized Cupcake was in trouble, and possibly so was I. The dinghy was jumping like a wild bronco, slamming into the back of my boarding ladder and trying to tear itself apart. I had to let out some of the towline to give it room. The dinghy started lurching crazily back and forth, slamming back on the towrope, then rushing forward barely missing my stern, and risking getting the towline tangled in the prop. Ordinarily, you would match the wave pattern for the dinghy and main boat so they are both on the crests and in the troughs at the same time, but it was impossible in those confused seas, and the extra drag of the dinghy pulled me to a virtual standstill. All I could do was let out all the towline I had, and hope for the best. I looked back to see the dinghy sliding back and forth, up and down the waves in an erratic, crazy fashion, lurching hard at the end of the rope every few seconds. I couldn't worry about Cupcake though, I needed to focus on keeping Vanilla moving forward...

...and it was at that point the motor died.

Dammit! Out of gas.

My boat immediately turned beam onto the seas and started rolling heavily, while the dinghy kept pulling violently at the towline. Somehow I managed to refuel and get the motor going without getting thrown out of the boat, and I turned once again northwest and downwind, totally focused on getting past Foulweather Bluff.

(Now why it never occurred to me to raise my jib and sail under better control than motoring I will never know. I guess once you are in those conditions, your mind says, "Stay the course!" in the hopes that you won't make a bad decision, and make things much, much worse. Live, learn, and do better next time.)

What seemed like only a few minutes later I glanced back to see how Cupcake was doing...no Cupcake!!! I grabbed the tow rope, and hauled it in to find that Cupcake had somehow unshackled herself and decided she was done with my lack of seamanship, and was off in search of a better skipper. Under the circumstances I couldn't blame her. Scanning the horizon I could see Cupcake about a half mile back, bobbing like a cork, happy as you please.

At this point I nearly despaired. How was I going to turn around in those conditions and motor AGAINST those waves and wind to go get Cupcake?! (Another boat had lost an expensive oar, and had decided it wasn't safe to turn around and abandoned it. Fortunately another boat saw it and grabbed it.) I called the support boats, advising them of my situation, and letting them know I would try to go back for my dinghy. I was terrified to go back, and sorely tempted to abandon her. I set my nerve though, and swung the bow around.

The timing of the maneuver was critical, and I will say it was luck rather than skill that brought the boat around facing south again. Vanilla slammed off of every wave, and the motor was out of the water more than it was in it as the throttle raced every time the prop came out of the water. It was a wet and wild ride, but eventually Cupcake was only about a boat length away.

Now what was I supposed to do?

I didn't want a wave throwing the dinghy on top of me, or worse, making her punch a hole in the side of my boat. Luck was again on my side, and with faith in my harness and tether, I stretched out at the right moment, and as she tried to race past me I grabbed ahold of Cupcake with a death grip. The waves immediately tried to tear her from my grasp, but I was able to hold on long enough to get the shackle clipped on to the bow eye again. I let out about twenty feet of line, and turned back towards Foulweather Bluff, as Cupcake resumed her crazy, erratic dance at the end of the towline.

Whew!!

It felt as though the wind was easing off as I approached the bluff, and my buddy Arnie in his Montgomery 15 came up alongside about 50 yards away, as white-knuckled as I was. He was motoring too, so it wasn't just me choosing the arguably safer approach. Passing Foulweather Bluff the wind mercifully dropped off enough that we could cut our motors, raise our jibs, and finally sail. The sun even broke free, and we had a beautiful sail the rest of the way to the Mats Mats Bay entrance.

The entrance to the bay is unnerving and tricky. You can't even see it from the water until you are almost on top of it. There are buoys that you line up to make sure you are oriented correctly to avoid the submerged rocks which make the approach dangerous if you are not entering it just right. Then as you enter the channel, staying well to the north side, there is a sharp 90 degree turn to port, and as you make the turn you see beautiful little Mats Mats Bay, completely protected .

I quietly motored in to the northwest corner of the bay and dropped my anchor. Testing it I found it to be dragging, and pulling it back up I saw it was clogged with weeds and grass. Fortunately I had another anchor better suited to that type of bottom, so I swapped them out, felt the anchor bite as I backed down on it, then shut the motor off and collapsed in the cabin, exhausted. I made a snack and a cup of well earned coffee, then sat up on the bow until rain threatened, when I snuck inside for a nap. Safe, warm, and dry...but geez, what a day.

Sorry, no pics of the day's rough water adventure, I was a little too busy to take photos!