|
|
| Close Call in Puget Cove by Bill Sassaman Easter 1996, and the Hyakutake comet was expected to streak spectacularly across the sky. Donna and I headed for Puget Cove on Chatham Island near Victoria, knowing that we'd be able to appreciate the comet's splendor more fully by escaping the filter of the city's lights. We set our course for Puget Cove on our 34' steel ketch Emrys. We had sailed - and anchored - her in our home waters of British Columbia, and offshore to Mexico, through French Polynesia, north to Hawaii, and back again. Her steel hull and 4'2" draft allowed us to gunkhole in some pretty tight places and Puget Cove is tight. Our two friends, Bob and Pat, and their weekend boat guest, Larry, met up with us at Puget Cove on their Endurance 35, Farsite. Pat had broken her leg a couple of weeks before, and while fairly agile on her crutches, she was unable to negotiate the companionway easily or do anything but steer to help run the boat. Larry had never sailed before, scarcely knew the bow from the stern, and was legally blind. To make it easier for both boats to stay in a tight anchorage and to visit, we decided to raft together for the night. Donna and I had the more tested anchoring system on our boat and were able to set up the anchoring for the two boats with a 45-pound CQR on chain rode. We set up the scope at about three to one in 30 feet of water. The five of us enjoyed a potluck supper on Farsite, listened to a fraction of our friends' impressive CD collection, and swapped remembrances of anchorages visited together over the years. Our friends were planning to head south in a couple of years, so while we sat in the cockpit watching the sky turn dark, we continued our ongoing conversation of cruising to far-away places, people and boats met along the way, and what had worked and not worked for us, both individually and as couples. The sky was black velvet pin-pricked with stars, no moon. The air was chilly with a breeze from the west. We were bundled up in the cockpit, watching the sky. We had a beautiful view of the comet, leaving us in awe of the universe and our place in it. Mission accomplished, we bid our friends goodnight. It didn't take long to fall into a deep sleep, lulled by the rocking boat and fresh air. Not more than a half hour later, we were shocked into wakefulness by banshee winds from the northeast, blowing about 45 knots. Cold outflow wind from the interior of the province. The two boats banged against one another. The howl of the wind and the movement of the boats let us know before we were able to fly out of bed and into the cockpit that we were in trouble. The boats had already started to pull anchor. The wind screamed through the rigging. The distance to the lee shore was no more than 100 feet, with small rock cliffs flanking a hundred feet of sandy beach. And I had no clothes on. I started the motor. The waves crashed on the cliffs behind us. Donna grabbed something warm for me to put on, then went forward to bring up the anchor. Bob climbed into Farsite's cockpit and ran forward to give her a hand. I struggled into my sweatpants and windbreaker. Farsite draws about 5½ feet and was aground broadside to the wind. Emrys was still afloat on the shore side, protected from the wind by Farsite. We had less than a foot of water under us and very little time. I pulled on socks and rubber boots and threw on my life jacket while Donna and Bob made the anchor fast. Pat couldn't get up the companionway with the boat pitching so violently. She called the Coast Guard in Victoria to notify them of our plight. Up on deck, Larry didn't know how to help and felt very unsteady on his feet. The wind continued howling. The boats grated on each other. One of the lines holding the boats together came loose, allowing the sterns to part. The bowsprits came together and tore at each other as the boats moved at different rhythms. The mast stays banged against one other, threatening to break the spreaders. The cold wind screamed through the rigging. Since we were still afloat we made the quick decision to try to get Emrys to open water. We got the boats untied, bending one lifeline stanchion and tearing up the lifelines on the port side of Farsite before I gunned the engine and headed straight toward the rock cliff, turning just before we hit and cutting between it and Farsite's bow. We made it, bumping the bottom only a couple times and miraculously missing all rocks. We put our nose into the wind and headed out towards the other side of the cove before we let the anchor down. I felt like we had just won the lottery, having thought we'd lost our boat for sure. I jumped into our inflatable dinghy with its 4-HP outboard and went over to our friends while Donna stayed on anchor watch with the engine running. The Endurance (Farsite) was slowly being pushed further on shore. Bob loaded their stern anchor, a 25-pound fluke with about 30 feet of chain and several hundred feet of nylon rode into the dinghy. I took the anchor back behind Farsite about a hundred feet and dropped it in 30 feet of water. Larry tightened up on the anchor with one of the sheet winches until we were afraid something would break. Slowly the boat turned until the bow was facing the beach with the wind directly on the stern. At least this was stopping Farsite from being pushed higher on shore and gave us a sense of hope. We next loaded up the main anchor, a 45-pound CQR with 60 feet of 5/16th chain and several hundred feet of rode, and took it behind the boat beyond the stern anchor, and dropped it. Bob pulled on the bow anchor with the anchor windlass while Larry kept the sheet winch cranked tight on the stern anchor. I took the dinghy to Farsite's bow and pushed. The boat started to move backward. Pat had finally worked her way on deck and started the engine as soon as there was a bit of water under the keel. We got the boat out to deeper water and both anchors back aboard and were discussing where to re-anchor Farsite just as the Coast Guard showed up in their large inflatable. After a quick discussion, our friends decided to go, with the Coast Guard as an escort, to Cadboro Bay where they were able to anchor safely. We decided to stay right where we were until morning. At first light we were up and pulled our anchor to head back to Victoria's Inner Harbor. The wind was still blowing hard and cold. As we pulled out of the Cove I looked back to see four Coast Guard personnel standing on the beach checking on us. We put up our double-reefed main and sailed downwind with the falling tide, past Discovery Island, around Trial Island, and into the Inner Harbor. All was right with the world. We later learned that our friends had sustained several thousand dollars damage. It had taken them almost two hours to get into Cadboro Bay, battling the wind and breaking seas to the north of Chatham Island. Had they to do it over again, they said, they would have set their anchor in Puget Cove with us. We have been in some tight places in the nineteen years we have lived aboard. Never have we come as close to losing our boat, our home as our close call in Puget Cove. |