SHIPS LOG

[Mike Fernandez]

SHIP'S LOG

July 7.
I was leaving Knapps Narrows on Tilghman Island in the Chesapeake Bay around 5 p.m. for my 20 mile journey back to Gallego's home port of Annapolis after visiting Linda, my artist friend.
Gallego is my beautiful 1976 Catalina 22 sailboat. I had put a lot of sweat into Gallego, I had taken more than five coats of old bottom paint off of her two years earlier. I put a barrier coat, and ablative bottom paint on her. Her hull was perfect. The wood work was all newly varnished. I thought she was one of the best 22's on the bay.
The weather report called for a thunderstorm in Wash. DC and heading south. It would definitely miss me I thought. There are always thunderstorm warnings on the bay. As I was sailing out of Knapps Narrows, I saw some clouds forming on the western shore of the bay. It still looked like a normal day. I was watching two large sailboats under full sail sailing north up the bay in front of me.
All of a sudden I saw the sky turn a deep charcoal black on the western shore. I saw some lightening. I spotted a couple of silvery water spouts blazing across the bay as the black clouds made for a dark ugly backdrop. I knew it was going to be bad, I had seen black clouds like these one other time in my life, it was on a golf course near Jarrel, TX. where the whole town was wiped off the face of the earth less than 10 years ago.
I thought about what the other two sailboats I had seen were in for as I turned Gallego around, put on my lifejacket, clipped my radio to my jacket, and tried to sail back in. My boat is faster under full sail than with my 8hp motor.
I was thinking of a passage in William W. Warner's Pulitzer prize winning book "Beautiful Swimmers" where a guy who had travelled all over the world was saying how he had never seen storms come up so fast as they do in the Chesapeake near Oxford. I was only a few miles from Oxford.
Little did I know at this point this would be one of those storms, and it was about to slam into me.
I was going downwind with the sun on my back when the wind hit me long before the clouds got near me. It had been less than five minutes since I saw the first hint of a black cloud.
The boat was pitched sideways, I was out of control. The rudder could not steer because of the angle of the boat. I grabbed a hold of the boat anywhere I could as I released the main sheet and made my way to the mainsail to bring it down.
My mainsail was a ZIP sail, made in St. Michaels. I loved that sail, I could raise or lower it by myself in 10-15 seconds flat! I admit it might have taken me 30 seconds this time.
After I lowered the main, I went back to the cockpit and tried to roll up my furling genoa. I could only get 1/2 to 2/3's of the sail in. Because the wind was blowing about 50mph, it was wrapping too tightly to go in all the way.
Gallego was still leaning over too far.
I looked around to see what else I could do. I remember listening to the wind shriek through the mast stays. The surface of the bay looked like a pool of splashing mercury as the light made everything either silver or black. I could only see 20 feet, and the lightening was exploding right in my general vicinity. It was probably a good thing that Gallego was at a 90 degree angle at this time, it kept the mast from sticking out like a beacon begging for a lightening strike.
At this point, Gallego was pointing south, the wind hitting the bottom of the boat from the west.
The boat was battened down as usual when I sail long distances, but the water was creeping in the cracks.
I suspect that is why Gallego couldn't right herself.
I made two mayday calls. No response.
I was standing where a person usually leans their back while sitting in the cockpit watching my things start to float away.
The wave pressure had popped my top hatch right off the boat. That was when my things started charting their own courses away from the boat.
First it was a bucket and a couple of seat cushions, then some clothes.
At this point I said to myself "don't panic!" I was floating, and all I could do was wait for the storm to pass. After what seemed like about 20 minutes, the storm did pass. The sun came out, and the bay turned calm.
I noticed my toiletry kit floating by my head, as my water logged Standard Horizon VHF bleared out a high pitched whine that was driving me crazy. This was the first of several times I broke out in laughter from the ridiculousness of it all.
I found myself about a mile south from a rock jetty that is being built off of Poplar Island, and about two miles out from Knapps Narrows.
I looked around for a boat, but it was a typical Monday on the bay, very few boats, and none in my area.
It was about 6 p.m. at this time. I carefully circled Gallego, making sure to avoid the motor as it bobbed up and down, the motionless propellor blades still ready to slice anything that came near them, especially my head.
The top hatch frame was opening and closing now threatening to chop off fingers if they got in the way. My 500 lb. retractible keel was fully extended, but it was possible that it could retract anytime chopping off an arm or leg that got in it's way. Safest place was the bow pulpit.
I was trying to think of what needed to be done. I noticed I was drifting, so I opened the cockpit locker, pulled out my anchor, and tied it off so Gallego wouldn't drift further out into the bay.
It was a good thing I had bought 100ft of anchor rhode a couple weeks earlier from Fawcett's marine store in Annapolis.
I then realized I had a big decision to make.
I had about three hours till nightfall.
Do I hang on to Gallego, and wait for a boat to find me? What if nobody sees me, and it gets dark, and I can't see the shoreline or measure my swimming progress. I knew from the weather report the bay temperature was 78 degrees. Would I get hypothermia trying to hold on to Gallego all night?
I heard you can get hypothermia in four hours in 80 degree water.
Maybe I should go for it and try to swim to shore while I can still see the shoreline.
It was a lot colder on the hull of Gallego than in the water, but I knew from SCUBA diving I would soon start to shiver.
I decided to swim for it. As I swam easterly toward Tilghman Island, I was drifting south just a little.
After 10 minutes of swimming, Gallego was out of sight. I was making progress. I was feeling better already. My forward momentum was kept with a slow but steady sidestroke. Soon I was passing the pound nets off in the distance.
It took me about two and a half hours to swim to shore. Then I walked along the shoreline towards Knapps Narrows, always shuffling my feet, afraid I would step on a stingray as I trudged through the muddy bottom.
I came across a few little inlets, and decided to swim across them rather than walk further along the shoreline. Amazingly, only one biting fly attacked me during my walk.
I came walking out of the bushes near the Bay Hundred restaurant with four old crabbers floats I found in the weeds.
I laughed as a woman was watching me walk out of the weeds with my shoes, a lifejacket, and four floats. She was probably wondering what kind of a fool was I.
First thing I did was walk to the draw bridge over Knapps Narrows and spoke to the bridge tender to let anyone know who might have heard my distress calls that I was ok.
It was three young guys getting settled in for an evening of wrestling on the tv. The tender was a friendly young man who got me a glass of water, then called the Coast Guard, the Maryland Department of Natural Resources, and a towing company.
It all worked out very smoothly.
The tow boat came out the next morning to find Gallego upside down. Her mast was torn off, the mainsail and Genoa shredded, and the boom was in two pieces.
I did balk at the $2200 towing fee. The towing company charged me $100. a foot to right the boat, pump out the water, and tow her in two miles. They also damaged the keel mount, and the tow hook on the bow.
Insurance is a good thing!
Overall I am thankful there wasn't any little kids on my boat, and that I made the right decision to swim to shore.
In preparation for the next time, which I hope there isn't, I will have a life jacket with pockets for a knife, a flare gun, and an airhorn.

[ScottMac]

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[doc]

Y'know....

I was a commercial fisherman for a while. Went offshore, various weather in summer, spring, fall and winter here on the North Atlantic, breakdowns, this and that.....

But this yachting stuff gives me the willies.

doc...

[Mike Fernandez]

Awesome story Scott! Glad you guys made it in, it always gets worse at night.

[ScottMac]

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