[Rhodes22-list] Outer Banks Adventure -- Day 5 of 5 -- The finalinstallment

[Bob Weber]

Bill, Thanks for bringing us along for the ride.  I guess I have to take off 
my foul weather gear now, people are starting to stare.  The folks at 
sailnet publish far less elequent stories if you would like to share with 
the sailing community at large.  You could change your name if you are 
adverse to attention.  Bob Weber

>From: "William E. Wickman" <wewickman at duke-energy.com>
>Reply-To: The Rhodes 22 mail list <rhodes22-list at rhodes22.org>
>To: rhodes22-list at rhodes22.org
>Subject: [Rhodes22-list] Outer Banks Adventure -- Day 5 of 5 -- The 
>finalinstallment
>Date: Fri, 13 May 2005 11:38:47 -0400
>
>
>Day 5:  The Long Trip Home
>
>After breakfast, I spent some time examining the rudder and trying to
>figure out a way to reconnect the lower section.  I ultimately found that
>the configuration we used the day before was still the best way to go for
>the final leg back to Oriental.  Winds had shifted around to the north so
>it looked like we would have the wind on the nose for most of the morning
>as we made our way up West Bay, across the southern tip of Pamlico Sound
>and back up the Neuse River.
>
>Soon after setting out I realized that the north wind was not a good thing.
>There were a lot of miles of fetch for the waves to build.  The weather
>forecast was better than the day before, but still called for small craft
>advisories in Pamlico Sound until the early afternoon.  We would soon get a
>taste of what small craft advisory means.
>
>As we made our up West Bay, the winds built up again to 15-20 kts (maybe
>more) but this time they were in our face or slightly off our starboard
>bow.  The wind and 3-5 foot waves coming off of Pamlico Sound resulted in
>the wettest wildest ride of the whole trip.  I thought the previous day was
>bad, but these conditions were even more intense.  Again, the close
>interval of waves was rough on the boat and crew (more so the crew).  The
>boat would ride up over the crest of one wave and slam into the trough
>before burying its bow completely into the next wave.  Water would
>literally wash over the fore deck and up and over the cabin top.  The
>pop-top deflected most of the water, but some did make its way under the
>pop-top and a little water splashed under the pop-top and up & over the lip
>and into the cabin below.  It wasn’t a lot of water, just enough to 
>dampen
>the cushions a bit.  These were extreme conditions, but some type of rubber
>gasket around the pop-top lip would have prevented any water from entering
>the cabin at all.
>
>The flared hulls once again did a good job of deflecting waves away from
>the boat, but the high winds would catch the spray and arc it back over the
>boat in a rooster tail of spray that would douse us and my beloved
>chartbook.  It became difficult to see through my sailing glasses due to
>the constant onslaught of spray.  I was really glad to have foul weather
>gear.  It was the only thing that made the conditions the least bit
>tolerable.  Sailing Buddy huddled in the cockpit over the GPS trying to
>keep us moving towards the buoys, as water would wash over him.  He even
>noted that this was all making him feel quite like a "salty sailor."
>
>Note to file:  Always buy waterproof charts, and always carry foul weather
>gear.
>
>I now understand what Gordon Lightfoot meant in his ballad of the sinking
>of the Edmond Fitzgerald where he sings, “and the waves turned the 
>minutes
>to hours”.  It seemed like an eternity that we battled these waves.  And 
>to
>make matters worse, it began to rain, although the rain was almost
>inconsequential with all the spray.
>
>The final punctuation to this voyage was the loss of my GBI anchor.  The
>extreme wave pounding at the bow had shaken my anchor loose from the hanger
>mount on the bow pulpit.  First, the anchor was hanging from only one
>hanger and pin at the bow.  A couple of minutes later, the entire anchor
>disappeared.  I feared that it was dangling from the mounting pin on the
>bow, banging mercilessly into the hull.  Sailing Buddy, feeling like quite
>the seasoned seaman, volunteered to go to the bow and check it out.  I
>didn’t have a jack-line, but Sailing Buddy tied off a safety line before
>venturing forward.
>
>Sailing Buddy had quite a time getting up there.  I would have laughed out
>loud at the comical scene had I not been struggling with the tiller and
>worrying about loosing the rest of my rudder.  He had quite a ride as the
>bow plowed and buried into a wave, then lifted him completely off the bow,
>his death grip on the bow pulpit the only thing connecting him to the boat.
>Sailing Buddy complained later that his bow ride did more damage to his
>body than anything else the entire trip.  He was very happy to get back
>into the cockpit.  For better or worse, the anchor had dropped off the boat
>and was lost.  Better the anchor than Sailing Buddy.
>
>Note to file:  Take your anchor off the bow pulpit if you expect rough
>weather, or at the very least lash it down.
>
>At last, at long last, we made the turn into the Neuse River and put the
>waves on our stern.  The farther up the river we went, the calmer the wind
>and waves became.  We were even escorted by a pod of dolphins for awhile.
>Life was good again, and we both settled into a feeling of relief and
>satisfaction that we would indeed make it back to port intact and without
>the need for assistance.
>
>Finally, and three hours behind our target arrival time, we pulled (or
>should I say limped) back into the port of Oriental.  It was 1 pm as I
>jumped on the dock and brought the trailer down to the ramp.  At the same
>time we were retrieving the Rhodes, a family was launching a West Wight
>Potter.  I certainly hoped they were going to stay near port.  Turns out
>they ended up returning before we had finished de-rigging.
>
>I will note here that an unsung hero of this trip was my outboard motor,
>the 9.9hp Yamaha high thrust.  It never failed to start and run smoothly
>and reliably despite a severely bent prop, and provided enough thrust to
>power through severe head winds and chop with the throttle only 1/3 – 1/2
>open.  It was also very fuel efficient, sipping only a few gallons a day.
>
>By 3pm we were packed up and on the road back home.  It all seemed surreal
>to be back on land with everyone going on about their ordinary day to day
>activities.  We felt like we had just returned from an epic voyage, having
>battled the elements just a few hours ago, and yet everything on land was
>so calm and quiet.  The adventure was over.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>Some Final Thoughts
>
>I don’t know if it was bad luck that beset me because I removed the old
>name from the hull of my Rhodes and have not renamed the boat yet, or if it
>was good fortune that we were ultimately safe, uninjured, and the boat
>relatively intact.  The trip could have gone better, but it most certainly
>could have gone a lot worse.  You have probably heard this before, but it
>is worth repeating.  One may complain about the cost of equipment, but when
>you need it in a pinch, that anchor is worth tenfold what you paid; that
>small nut or bolt is more valuable than its weight in gold; that rain
>jacket is worth more than a mink coat; and the list goes on.
>
>You can read about it time and time again, but I personally think it is
>good (at least for me) to experience first hand what 25kt winds are like;
>what 2-3 ft seas are like relative to 4-6 ft. seas; what 2-5 ft waves on
>the Pamlico Sound are like; what it is like to ride out a storm at anchor.
>Having done it, I know that when I am faced with these conditions  again
>that I can handle them with confidence.  Knowing that the boat can handle
>the conditions; that I have the proper equipment; and that I have the
>experience and skills will make it more of an exiting adventure than a
>fearful event.  And if I have my wife or kids or novice crew with me when
>conditions turn bad, this experience will be all that more important.
>
>I have heard that some novice sailors (or guests on sailboats) swear off
>sailing after one of the experiences like we had.  That is a sad thing
>indeed.  It is my view that such experiences can in fact be exhilarating if
>the skipper is prepared and knowledgeable about where the limits of
>tolerance are for himself and his sailing guests.  Don’t be afraid to 
>push
>the envelope as you build upon your own sailing experiences, but be ready
>and willing to pull back if you or your novice crew gets too far outside
>their comfort level.  As Stan said, the boat will survive long past the
>passengers’ breaking point.
>
>This experience also deepened my respect for the forces of Mother Nature
>and gave me a greater appreciation for the frontier regions that sailing
>can take us, even in coastal areas.  Venturing into parts unknown evokes a
>real sense of excitement, but the sea is very unforgiving to those that go
>unprepared.  Sailing Buddy is a high adventure guy that has been near the
>top of Mt. Everest, but he was awed by the exposure one places oneself when
>they venture into the ocean wilderness in a sailboat.  But that is where
>the adventure in cruising lies.  There are very few things we can do any
>more, or places we can go, where we can put our physical and mental mettle
>to the test.  If well planned and prepared, such trips make memories for a
>lifetime.
>
>So I will close with one of my favorite quotes by Oliver Wendell Holmes.  I
>think it is self explanatory.
>
>“I find the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, as 
>in
>what direction we are moving.  To reach the port of heaven, we must sail
>sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it; but sail we must, and not
>drift nor lie at anchor”
>
>
>Fair Winds!!
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