Do you smell smoke?

CB 14 June, 2007
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A couple weeks ago me and Tawn were gonna sail north to Port Ludlow, which is a small town in a well protected harbor about 25 miles north of us. We took off on a Sunday morning with a little wind directly out of the direction we needed to go, but no matter, we had plenty of time. I did want to get there before 6pm due to tide. Anytime after 6 and we would not have been able to get in the the inner harbor and anchor, the tide would have been to low to get in there.

We tacked back and forth for a few hours until we reached Apple Tree Cove, where the wind died completely. No bother, we just turned on the engine and started motoring there, with the intension to sail if the wind decided to pickup again.

Click here for a map if you care to follow along

About an hour later, just as we were approaching Point No Point, Tawn ducked down below to check on the battery charger gauge, (We had been having some trouble with the charger lately). When she got down there, she yelled back up that the gauge was reading 17+ volts!!! AcK! Not good. She quickly started shutting things down, so the batteries did not get ruined by overcharging them. As I was shutting down the engine, she yelled back up again that she smelled smoke and saw some coming from the engine compartment. Second only to a hole in your boat, a fire is the worst thing.

After getting everything shut down and the boat pointed and drifting in a safe direction. We started checking systems. The smoke turned out to not be a “real” fire, but an electrical wire that burnt up. Which is what that particular wire is designed to do in certain situations to prevent the altenator from burning up. But why did this happen?

We were a little over halfway to where we were going and did not exactly know what the issue was, so we decided to turn around and head home. We did not know the problem, so we could only sail home without the engine. Luckily for us, the wind pickedup and we had an awesome spinnacker run home. Along the way we called some other boating friends and they helped me diagnos the issue. And come up with a work around so we could use the engine to get back into the dock.

The next day, we figured out that our regulator had died on us, which resulted in the altenator overcharging the batteries. The ‘fire’ was a result of the batteries being shut off before the engine was. But that was why that wire burnt up, it is there to handle accidents like that. So there was no damage done and all is fixed and working now. Granted, fixed and working means $500 less in the bank account for a new regulator and other misc. parts, but that is just the way it is.

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Shitters fixed. Lets go sailing! (CB)

CB 2 May, 2007
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I’ll spare you the details of our head (toilet) repair. Just know that it is now fixed and working as it should, things go in….and stay in! Yeeaaahh!

So to celebrate we decided to get away from the dock and go for a sail. Not a big trip, just a quick trip north to Kingston. We had’nt been up there in close to a year, and it is only about 10 miles away. But since we are in the Puget Sound that ended up taking us 3+ hours. We did’nt want to turn on the engine at all, but the wind absolutly died and we had no other choice.

We were going to anchor out, but the word it that the holding in Apple Tree Cove is not so good and it very exposed. Plus the fact that we did not tow the dinghy with us, helped us make the decision that we would just go into the marina and grab a slip.

Took a quick walk into town and grabbed a burger and a beer or two at a bar called “The Filling Station”. The food was actually really good. We had never gone into this place before, for what ever reason.

We got up late the next morning hoping we would get a downwind run with the Spinnacker home, but the wind had shifted over night and was now blowing out of the southeast….Shilshole marina is exactly southeast of Kingston……Grrrr. Oh well, still had a good sail home, only had to tack 4 times. The winds were really light though.

Map there and back.

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Anchor Retrieval Expedition ’07 (A.R.E) (CB)

CB 19 April, 2007
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Ok, this story took place a couple weeks ago, the last weekend of March.

It all actually got it’s start late last summer. August 2nd to be exact. To summarize, last August during our vacation in the San Juan Islands, we sailed into Blind bay on Shaw island to see our friends Scott and Angie on thier boat “Ghost”. Scotty had somehow gotten his anchor absolutly stuck on the bottom. Despite our best efforts, we could not break the anchor free. The only option we were left with was to cut his anchor chain and mark the spot with a buoy, with the wishful promise of returning one day to retrieve the anchor.

Over the winter we would get togather have a few beers/rums and retell the lost anchor story to each other or any innocent bystander that happened to be standing too close. At some point between the end of September and the beginning of March a plan was hatched to retrieve the anchor. That plan, along with more than a few others for retrieval trips were suggested and forgotten about. Some time in March a solid plan had come togather. Emails were sent, phone calls made, and work schedules updated. We decided to do it.

Initially there were to be 12 expedition team members, but as with such things, the final epiditionary force numbered a solid 4. We forged on none the less.

When “A Day” finally arrived, me and Scotty left Seattle early (10:30am) to get up to Shaw island and setup base camp. Dave and Rich would follow later in the afternoon with the dive gear and dinghy, which was all packed into and on top of Rich’s truck.

We got camp setup in no time and the first beers of many were opened. We made a few important logisitical decisions, such as which tree would be the designated “Pee tree”. This is an important step in setting up a base camp on any major expedition, trust me. We got the firewood gathered and a fire built, as well as scouted out the beach below the campsite. Not one beer was spilt at all during this crucial initial phase. Not even the one I was carrying as we climbed down the cliff from the campsite to the beach below.

Dave and Rich arrived to a well found camp and we settled in for a long night of bullshitting, beer drinking and music. Dave and Scott on Guitar, Rich on the Ukelallee and me on Harmonica. Oddly enough we did not see any wildlife at all the entire weekend. Not sure if it was due to our “music” or that Shaw island just does not have a raccoon problem.

After pounds of bacon and eggs cooked over the fire we headed to the dive site. While Dave and I got our dive gear sorted out and put on. Rich and Scotty took the dinghy out to the spot where Scotty thought the Anchor should be. They returned just as we were suited up and reported that they found the bouy we left last summer and that it was still attached to his anchor chain. Scotty even brought his underwater video camara and was able to spot the chain on the bottom and that is was drapped over some sort of cage.

Suggested dinghy load limit be damned, we all loaded into the dinghy along with all the dive gear and puttered out to the site of the anchor. We had so much wieght in the dinghy, that water was pouring in over the sides and well as through the centerboard hole in the bottom like a fountain. After me and dave slipped over the side in to the water, Rich started bailing like mad.

We followed the buoy line down and spotted not a cage but an entire sunken 50 foot fishing boat. We did not expect that. The Anchor was jammed underneath the keel of the boat and the anchor chain was wrapped up and around the front of the boat. We were able to unwrap the chain easy enough. But getting the anchor it’s self unstuck from the bottom of the boat was a real pain in the ass. Pushing and pulling on it kicked up a huge mess of silt and mud with made it impossible to see what we were doing. We worked at it for awhile then surface to formulate a new plan and go back down and try again. I was able to attach a line to the anchor with a D-ring and we used the dinghy and engine to try and pull the anchore free but that did not work. After that we needed a break and a new tank of air. So Scotty towed us back to shore.

Once on shore, Rich headed back to camp in the truck to get the fire stoked up so we could warm up when we were done. Me, Scotty and Dave headed back out for a second dive. We were actually going to just go out and retreive the line and reattach it to the buoy and write it off as a failure. But once out there we decide to get the anchor not matter what.

This time instead of pulling from just one side of the boat. I went on the Starboard side and pushed as Dave went to the port side and pulled. The anchor popped right out after a few minutes of effort. SUCCESS!!! We surfaced and Scotty pulled the Anchor up and into the Dinghy. High Fives all around. A quick dive down to try the float to the boat as a warning to others and we headed back to shore and camp.

We talked to a local that lived across the road from the beach and he told us that boat sank about 5 years ago and has been there ever since. It is not marked on any charts, so I informed the coastguard and NOAA of it and hopefully it will be marked on future charts.

We headed back to camp to warm up and celebrate our success, with more music, beer and chili!

What a great weekend!! And as always, I have pictures, but have not uploaded them yet.

Posted in Adventures, CB, Maps, Scuba, Weekend trips | 1 Comment

At least nobody saw that right? (CB)

CB 19 February, 2007
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I wrote this story last year about this time for a contest in 48 North, which is a free sailing magazine here in the Pacific Northwest. The contest was to write an article about an anchoring issue you may have had on your boat, good, bad or otherwise. I ended up tieing for 3rd place or honorable mention. I thought I’d repost it here for you guys to read. Click here for the other stories that were submitted.

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This story took place a few summers ago, on our 27 foot Catalina “StrangeCrew”.

Tawn and I decided to invite a few friends down to the boat for a Saturday afternoon sail, some cocktails followed by a nice relaxing evening anchored out in front of the Seattle waterfront listening to the Indigo Girls at one of the “Summer Nights at the Pier concerts”.

Things started out fine, everyone we invited accepted. And on the afternoon of the party we shoved off right on time from our slip at Shilshole Marina and motored out into Shilshole Bay. We raised the sails, killed the engine and set a course for Elliot Bay. Somewhere along the way Tawn finds a relatively private moment to voice her concerns about what my plan was for anchoring. This was actually a valid concern, considering the fact that in the two years we had owned the boat, (our first boat) we had never anchored before. She also pointed out that we did not have a working depth sounder on board either. There may have also been something about me being an idiot but it was windy that day and I probably just misunderstood her.

Fast forward just a bit. We just finished dropping all sails and firing up the engine. One of my buddies digs the anchor and rode out of their storage spots and with Tawn’s help, gets it all rigged up and ready. While all this is going on, I’m looking for the perfect anchoring spot. Which, at this point in my anchoring career consist of the spot on the water with the fewest boats near it. There are no such spots of course, but undaunted I pick a area nicely triangulated by two large and expensive powerboats and a sweet 40-foot sailboat. OK this is it, this is as good as spot as any. How hard can this be? I wondered. Just drop the anchor over the bow and back down onto it until the boat stops. The wind picks up a little. I yell to Tawn on the bow to drop the anchor. She does, the wind picks up a little more and the anchor keeps dropping, all the rode has played out and is now at the bitter end, which is made fast to the Sampson post on the bow…..You didn’t really think this was gonna be a “We forgot to tie the anchor off” anchoring story did you? Come on, give me a little more credit than that. Back to the story, having never anchored before Tawn yells back to me, “I think it’s on the bottom??” Which I think sounds about like the sort of thing one would say at this point in time. So I do what all the books about anchoring tell me I should do, I put the engine in reverse and wait to stop moving backwards………and wait……..and wait……..oh crap! We’re not stopping and that big shiny (expensive) power yacht is getting REALLY close. Ever so lovingly to Tawn I say, “What did YOU do wrong?” Granted saying this in front of 6 of our closet friends, 15-20 people on neighboring boats, and oh yeah, 500 or so concert goers, who are watching our antics while waiting for the concert to start, may or may not have been the smartest thing to do. But now was not the time to worry about that. I had a boat to anchor.

My buddy hauls the anchor up, I reposition the boat and we try again. With the same results, only this time I do the hauling and dropping and Tawn is manning the helm.

On the fourth or fifth try, Tawn has a brilliant idea, why doesn’t someone yell over to one of the other boats anchored nearby and ask them what the depth is. Genius, shear genius, why didn’t I think of that?…oh wait…I can. I acted like I didn’t hear her and yell over to one of the other boats anchored nearby and ask them what the depth is. She knows I’m full of it, but for the sake of our friend’s comfort, she lets it slide……or did I actually pull it off? One of the other boats must have been having some sort of trouble also, because I faintly hear over the wind someone’s wife on another boat calling her husband an idiot. Sound really does travel on water. But I digress; we get four different responses from three different boats on what the depth is that range from 45 feet to 98 feet. Thank you?!

By this time I’m sensing some distress coming from the guests onboard…..what do to……what to do? I know now how the rest of the great nautical heroes through out the ages must have felt in similar situations, alone at the helm in the heat of battle or in some uncharted corner of the world in the middle of a storm. How would Lord Nelson handle this I thought, what would Captain Cook do. Capt’n Ron HELP ME!!!!

I made a command decision. I announced we would motor in closer to the piers. The water would be shallower and therefore easier to get the anchor on the bottom. The Captain has spoken!

We motor in, drop the anchor and backed down……..we stopped moving! Yep, the CAPTAIN has spoken!! A great feeling of relief washes over me…….and I hear one person up on the pier clapping. I look up and it’s a friend who’s at the concert. COOL! I’m awesome. I gloat for a bit……to myself. After all, I planned this to happen.

After a few minutes me and some of the crew decide (and by decide I mean we dared each other) to dive in for a nice refreshing swim……this lasted about 6 seconds and we all climb back aboard. The crew did so via the swim ladder. I, being the captain decided that it would be best if I climbed in via the stern, using the outboard as a sort of ladder, instead of waiting to use the official swim ladder. After all, should I die of hypothermia, who would get the boat and all aboard her home? So up and over the stern I went.

Just as we get dried off and warmed up, a power boat is going through the same pathetic attempts at anchoring that we went through earlier. So I did what anyone in my position would do, I judged him…….and none to silently either. We mocked him and toasted his ineptitude, not so he could hear mind you, but just loud enough to grab the attention of Neptune. It was a about this time that his anchor grabbed a hold of my anchor line and pulled my anchor free. I deserved it……I know that now. He promptly dropped my anchor as he motored off at a high rate of speed. And I could swear that I felt my anchor grab the bottom. I know I felt it, we were not moving at all. After all, the anchor was in the exact same spot as before. Of course it would hold, the Captain has SPOKEN! And Neptune and Tawn laughed, not loudly, but they did laugh.

“Is the pier getting closer?” Tawn said.

“What?, No!?” Said I. “Enjoy the evening and quit worrying so much” I offered.

Oh crap!! WE ARE DRAGGING ANCHOR! The Captain is Screaming.

The pier is now within fifty feet of the stern of the boat. I can almost look straight up in to the nostrils of a few hundred concert goers watching the events play out like so many NASCAR fans waiting for a crash. We bolt in to action, I run forward and start hauling the anchor up like a man possessed. Tawn fires up the engine and slams it in to forward. We are now broadside to the wharf, 30 feet away and getting closer!!

“Turn the FREAKIN tiller” I scream. I look back and she is. It is hard over to starboard and we are still going forward and to starboard towards the pilings.

With a look of shear terror in her eyes, Tawn yells to me: “Why is the boat not turning.”

The wharf is now about 20 feet way. I’m looking up at the underside of it. A sight no man on a sailboat should ever see. The pilings are opening up, they actually look like giant teeth. I feel like Luke in the garbage compactor on the Death Star…….”R2D2……Were can he BEEEEEE!!”

R2D2 is not gonna help me. I run back to the cockpit, my friends have long since disappeared below. I now have less than 20 feet before we slam into the wharf. I have a flash of insight, everything slows down, I feel like Neo in bullet time in the Matrix. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, I can feel my heart pounding in my ears. I look towards the bow and see Tawn standing at the starboard shrouds ready to fend off (god I hope she doesn’t try that). I look down into the cabin, my friends staring wide eyed back at me. I look up at the crowd……..they want me to fail. I know it.

One hand on the tiller, hard over to starboard, the other hand reaching down, lifting the engine well cover. A quick flick of the eyes tells me that the engine has been pivoted so it is forcing the boat to turn to starboard no matter what the rudder is doing. Now how could that have happened??…….OOoohh yeah……No time…….bullet time only last so long. I yank the engine over the other way, bending the outboard’s little tiller in the process. The boat spins hard to port, just like it should. And we brush by the wharf with less than 15 feet to spare and out to sea…….or at least out into the nice openness of Elliot Bay. Time returns to normal, the wharf shrinks away, R2D2 got the compactor shut down and the opening band begins to play……

Let’s never speak of this again!

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