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Category: Sailing Tales
They knew a storm was headed toward the Bahamas, but the Florida coast offered no place to hide. As part of their preparation, Michael demonstrated the procedure for heaving-to to crew member Bernie.
Sea Venture’s usual sail configuration of back-winded jib and centered mizzen allows her deep belly to fore-reach without really creating a slick. The slick is what tempers wave action; a hove-to boat will barely slip forward, usually at no more than .5 knots, keeping her from reacting to every whim of the wind and sea. It’s also a tactic we’ve used when we were just too tired and needed a break. This time Michael set Sea Venture up with only the centered mizzen.
Our weather guru agreed with the National Weather Service that the storm probably wouldn’t reach Sea Venture, then off Cape Canaveral, until quite late. He suggested Michael and Bernie eat well, get some rest, make sure Sea Venture was ready for the storm, and then continue heading north as the main cell approached them from the southwest.
It came up suddenly much earlier than expected. Michael had already reefed the mizzen. The electronics were in the oven, he and Bernie were safely tethered in the cockpit, so all they had to do was center the mizzen and tie the wheel hard over.
He used the sat phone to call me when the wind was only blowing 36, before it climbed to 40 knots and approached 50. I could barely hear him on the satellite phone, but I was glad to hear his voice. What a different experience from the mess off Costa Rica. He asked me to pull up the infrared satellite pictures so I could help him understand the path and breadth of the systems.
Lightning flashes exploded around them, and we prayed for protection from its rampages. During what we thought was a lull between systems, he took off northward again and eventually got out from under the southerly system. Around 11PM, with lightning threatening in the northerly cell, he once again hove-to so that he wouldn’t sail into it.
He maintained position until the light show seemed to ease. By 10AM, they were nearing Jacksonville. By this afternoon, they’d crossed into Georgia.
seaventure
Latitude:30.78326
Longitude:-81.1257
GPS location Date/Time:05/15/2011 16:13:59 EDT
In three years sailing Mexican waters, visiting Mexican medical facilities, getting to know Mexican folk, Sea Venture’s crew experienced nothing but gracious smiles and helping hands. The same held true in Central America, and even more so in Grand Cayman where, “Mon, how can I help you?” was the rule.
An hour into US waters? Not the same experience at all.
Michael and crew found an anchorage off Key West this morning. Michael went forward to ready the anchor and gave the helm to an experienced crew member whose job was to turn toward the place they just crossed and chosen for SV’s overnight stay. Suddenly, she went hard aground.
Michael couldn’t back her off the bar, so he was readying the dinghy to act as tow boat when a flat-bottomed skiff approached. The men, locals, said, “Run into trouble, huh?”
“We’re aground, yes.”
“You want we should go call a big boat to get you off?”
As they had a large motor on their skiff, Michael said, “It wouldn’t take much for you to toss us a line and pull the bow to the side. She’ll slide off then.”
“Well now,” one said, looking at the other and scratching his whiskers, “seems like you’ll need to throw us a bone if we do.”
“A bone, of course,” Michael said.
They tied to the bowsprit, and in two minutes, SV was again afloat. Michael went below and came up with $40. That seemed appropriate for a two minute tug.
“What’s this?” said one man angrily. “We start at $10 a foot.”
“You didn’t quote a price,” Michael replied. Wanting to keep peace, he fetched additional funds, grossly overpaying.
The second fellow, instead of thanking Michael, said, “We come all the way out here, missing our Mother’s Day breakfast, and this is the way you treat us?!”
I picture Michael’s brows raised, his shoulders squared in military splendor as he said, “I don’t remember calling you. You chose to come out here to see what you could get.” I wonder if he growled at them.
When he phoned to tell me the story, I suggested he move the boat elsewhere, perhaps into a slip for the night. He won’t want to leave her unoccupied when they check into the country tomorrow.
In Mexico, if a panga owner helped us, he was thrilled if we gave him batteries or a soda. And he’d be smiling instead of cursing.
Welcome to the US of A. I hope this is not indicative of future boating here. I’d hate to imagine the country we call home full of such mean-spirited watermen. Though, if I remember correctly, the only theft we experienced since buying SV in 2003 came at the hands of an American in the Delta of California, another boater, we assume, who seemed to think we wouldn’t need our nightscope or a portable GPS or even our teak cupboard doors. Or perhaps he espoused a more communistic theology: what was ours was also his. (We certainly ran into that attitude when my uncle’s main caregiver stole all his money. She wanted, ergo, she could take. Well, she’s now cavorting with other inmates.)
In spite of the bad press and the bad behavior in parts of central Mexico, we never had to fear in the Sea of Cortez. Or even lock our doors.
Sigh.
Saturday night was exhausting on board Sea Venture: ten-foot seas and then a hard slog across a hefty current that kept forcing them east when they needed to go west. Finally, around noon on Sunday they grabbed a mooring ball off Georgetown, Grand Cayman, and awaited clearance into the country. When I spoke to Michael that night, all he and his battered crew wanted was sleep.
Which they got, until a loud clanking noise woke them. Michael looked out his stateroom hatch and saw this monster.
The Princess Line had arrived. Can you imagine this thing anchoring only 200 feet away from you? Michael got out the range finder, and, yep, his visuals were correct.
Here she is from the companionway steps as seen through the rails and past the barbecue:
Now, for another perspective. By the time Michael and crew went to shore, the anchorage had blossomed with ships.
Busy, busy place. Those double masts are Sea Venture, smack dab in the middle. The nice thing is that the cruise ships don’t stay overnight. The bad thing is that they’re noisy. I just heard this from Michael:
“Two Carnival CruiseLine traveling carnivals have anchored in the last
hour, one one either side of us, the starboard one is playing some
kind of super high energy children’s program at maximum volume over
their PA system… Joy!”
Here’s the upside: the gorgeous, gorgeous water. And the Grand Cayman officialdom: delightful. And the grocery stores: Michael salivates. And the restaurants: finally, really, really good food. Mama and I wish we could fly in to spend some time snorkeling!
Gorgeous water, oh my. Anchored in a swimming pool.
Colorful place near a color-splashed sea. This is Nene’s Marina in San Andres, where the locals hangout. Table tops are hatch covers or driftwood and the bases are sections of sailboat masts. Collected artifacts from cruising boats decorate the ceiling and walls as do various tee shirts.
A Lion Fish — anyone for dinner? (No, thank you very much.)
Erwin and Bernie look puzzled. I wonder if this is where the linen napkins and table cloths couldn’t quite make up for the mediocre food.
After fighting ten-foot seas all night, they arrived in Grand Cayman. Awaiting check-in now.
Sea Venture’s repairs waited only for my cousin, Tom McKnight, to arrive on February 19 with the new steering system bearings and mounting hardware. They reprovisioned and checked out of Costa Rica on Monday, then headed south.
Tom, being a racer, spent hours tweaking headsails. Michael assured him that Sea Venture’s regular crew adjusted sails…oh, at least every few days. Of course, that’s an exaggeration, but Tom is the premier sailor, so what could Michael say? Tom also had fun with the trappings of a cruising boat: a radar and an autopilot.
Food arrives.
After a few days at sea, they were ready for a rest. Here, at an anchorage in Panama, locals arrive in their dugout canoe to offer bananas for barter. Another brought a pineapple and some odd fruit no one recognized.
The tidal range on the Pacific side Panama is over 15 feet, and the outgoing current can be fierce. Sea Venture fought wind and current and made a measly 3 knots over ground, which delayed their arrival in the Canal Zone until the afternoon of the 28th.
It’s hard to imagine an angry sea when a scene like this appears on the horizon. Michael is slowly putting Sea Venture back together. He had 88 pounds of laundry to do, which would have taken a week to finish using our washer on board. The $44 he paid to the woman in town was worth every penny. He does keep finding surprises on board, like dust covers from some of our cherished books (Jimmy Cornell’s, for example) in the trash. Why would anyone throw those away? As I said, he’s glad to have his boat back.
Beaching the dinghy through the surf has been an adventure, but he has finally figured out how to stow and launch that heavy thing on his own. He made great friends at the Immigration Office when he discovered the women there listen to Marcos Witt. They’ve had several praise sessions, and he has become Miguel to them. The quarantine officer spent time on board, enjoying a soda and conversation with Michael. And today, Michael finally had a much-needed haircut in town before he began the process of restocking the larder.
An interesting cruise ship appeared a couple of days ago.
Passengers have to disembark via dinghy, just like the regular folk.
Michael enjoyed meeting up with cruising friends from Huatulco and El Salvador who had also found themselves slammed by the same papagayo that brutalized Sea Venture. The Danish skipper of one boat almost died out there when a wave washed him over the side. His crew stopped the boat, but they had to pull him from the sea when he couldn’t hold on to the stanchion long enough. At least he survived.
Here’s a shot of Playa del Coco:
And here is another sunset:
The first email arrived on the morning of February 12. Imagine me, happily unaware, opening Gmail to find this:
“Well, things have been better. Last night after dark, a huge Papagayo blew up, and we really got smacked. 38+kts 6-8 ft seas, we couldn’t head in and were fighting it hard. A big wave hit us hard on the forward quarter, and I tried to correct using the wheel. Then I heard something pop. The wheel spun freely with no result. We were really in big trouble, big seas, high wind & no steering. I rigged the emergency tiller, but that thing is a beast, it throws you all over the cockpit. I ran below and checked the linkages & found a broken cast iron bearing block bracket. I would have never thought something that massive would break.
“Anyway, we managed to stabilize the boat, but we couldn’t steer adequately with the tiller. I checked the autopilot linkage, and it still worked, so we tried to use it to drive, but the seas and wind were way too big to handle. So basically we were only able to run downwind, which was the opposite direction we needed to go. The moon helped, but after it set, the sky was black. It was a very long, tiring night. I don’t think any of us got even 1 hour of sleep.
“After daybreak we decided we were in a world of serious hurt without steering; seas & wind are still huge. I couldn’t repair the problem at sea, and I couldn’t connect the inside steering until daylight. It took a while, but we can now steer somewhat better, even though it isn’t perfect. We are about 60+ miles away from any place we can do repairs, and it is a real roller coaster bash to get there. We are burying the bow on almost every wave. We are averaging less than 2 kts. But we are making it. God is good!!
“So, we are going to put into Costa Rica to fix the steering, not sure exactly where, I’ll let you know. Probably will take a couple of days to fix, depending on what is available.”
Michael is probably one of the most capable men I know, so I trusted in his ability to cope, even though this was certainly not where he wanted to be nor where I wanted to imagine him and Sea Venture. I knew the crew had to be petrified; they’re novices, after all. Michael and I have faced big seas and know Sea Venture is a good old girl, capable of keeping us safe. I took comfort in the fact that he could steer from inside, though I knew this had to be difficult, considering that the pilothouse does not have the best visibility. And they’d had no rest.
And then, at 7:58 PM, this radio email arrived:
“We have big problems. The weather is severe, and we are having even more steering problems.
“We are currently 6:50 Central Time 10.33.00N 086.28.20W, about 48 miles out from Culebra in Golfo Papagayo in Costa Rica. We are going to try to make it into there. We are only making about 1.3 knot SOG.
“Would appreciate it if you could notify the Costa Rican Coast Guard and any other folks that might be helpful in our dilemma.”
Imagine my panic. I was sitting in North Carolina, and my beloved husband, our boat, and two frightened, inexperienced individuals were at sea. I called the local Coast Guard station, who patched me into the Search and Rescue team at RCC Alameda. They had already been contacted by a HAM radio operator in Florida — thank you, whoever you are — and had been in touch with the Costa Rican Coast Guard. The gentlemen in Alameda, CA, exemplified the best in terms of courtesy and helpfulness through that long night.
I next contacted prayer warriors across the country, who joined with me on behalf of Michael and Sea Venture. Thank the Lord for such friends and family. And thank the Lord for the Coast Guard. Once they realized that Sea Venture had an EPIRB and liferaft, they reminded me that no news was really good news. If Michael set off the EPIRB, they’d be there to rescue Sea Venture’s captain and crew. If no signal came from the EPIRD (emergency radio beacon that gives position), then Michael must still be in control.
How I longed for a satellite phone! They all had to be exhausted and yet couldn’t rest, not in those seas. Granted, eight-foot seas weren’t much when compared to some we’ve been through, but always before we’d had good steering and the assurance that all was well — even when it was miserable!
A SPOT Help Message came while I sat glued to the computer, but it lacked lat or long information, which meant it hadn’t gotten a good satellite connection. I knew that Michael had to be feeling what he would call “a world of hurt” to have sent such a communication. But I still had nothing to tell the Coast Guard. No position. No real news — except the knowledge that they were alive. The Coast Guard asked if I thought Michael wanted a tow. I told them no. If Michael could steer at all, he’d want to control things.
The next update said this:
“Well, we are still here and hanging on. Sea Venture, for the moment, is doing OK. The winds are still over 30 & on the nose, seas have moderated somewhat. We are still averaging about 1.5 kts, with 30 miles to go. Hopefully it will improve yet.” [Michael waited until he was safe to tell me that the wind consistently hit in the 40's and the wave periods were between 3 and 4 seconds, so no recovery before another one buried the bow.]
“Tried to send a SPOT this morn, can’t be sure it went. We are at 10.39.32N 086.10.56W headed 085. We are all sore and beat up. Boat is a mess inside, leaks everywhere topside. Thankfully I had the drop boards made. Wouldn’t be surprised if the crew jumped ship in Costa Rica. You might need to reschedule your trip if that happens, plus I need some repair time.
“Hopefully a more upbeat update later today.
“Thanks for the prayers, we can sure use them.”
The Alameda folk hadn’t had much luck with the Costa Rican Coast Guard, so I decided to call and chat with them myself. Between my Italian/Spanish/English and the Spanish/English at the other end, we managed to communicate, but they had not been able to reach Sea Venture by radio. I sent a Sailmail email to Michael, asking him to call one of two stations when he was within range. They never did answer him, nor did he hear their hail.
More prayer went up. I tried to find peace, but I confess, I was having a hard time. Praise music helped, but my mighty-woman-of-God status stumbled yet again while I cried to the Lord for mercy and calm seas.
Finally, mid-afternoon, I received a note saying that they were ten miles out from Playas Del Coco, Costa Rica.
And then they were there. Thank the good Lord.
During Sea Venture’s refit in 2003-2004 (and later) Michael had replaced all Sea Venture’s steering cables — as well as all other systems. But he never imagined that the beefy bearing blocks would fail — or bolt heads attaching the forward ones. Now that he has had a chance to examine the problem areas, he believes that a combination of dissimilar metal corrosion may have been the culprit, which had not been apparent during his inspections.
The crew left the next morning. Michael is glad to have his boat back — and to have it safely at anchor. My cousin will fly from here to there on Saturday to help bring Sea Venture to Panama.
Thanks to all who prayed and who wrote to ask about Sea Venture after hearing Michael on the Southbound Net, requesting help. Thanks to the net controller on the Maritime Mobile Net who notified the Coast Guard and stood by in case Michael needed him. Thanks to the Alameda Coast Guard for their patience with me and their constant interest in the situation. Knowing they were there, listening, watching, and caring provided great relief. Michael and I both thank you.
The Tehuantapec is known for high seas and big winds, but if one waits for a weather window, it can look like this:
Or this:
On their second night out, Sea Venture did have to contend with a two-knot counter current, which slowed them to five knots over ground. But once free of the current, the Lehman joined forces with whatever sails would fill and got them happily through Guatemalan waters by Wednesday. Long lines were a constant problem, as were pangas, one of which passed as a shadow in the night, unlit, merely feet from Sea Venture’s port side. Michael said his heart shot into his throat as he imagined plowing over a poor fisherman whose fiberglass boat didn’t show up on the radar and whose lack of lights made him invisible.
On Wednesday night, Sea Venture bobbed at anchor outside of the estuary, awaiting the morning and the pilot boat to lead her through the surf to Barillas Marina. Michael dropped the hook in 35 feet of water, with the boat lit like a Christmas tree in the midst of far too many pangas.
The white-water rafting splash through the breakers is not something Michael ever wants to repeat. He knew he could handle SV, but a noise from his steering cable elicited shivers: he’d heard it before, far from shore in the north Pacific, but there he’d been able to fix it mid-ocean. Here, with waves breaking over the stern and slapping the beam when they had to make a 90-degree turn, a fix would have been impossible.
But she held. They made it to the mooring ball. And suddenly, all was still. Sea Venture now sits, motionless in a windless river, surrounded by some of the nicest folk Michael has ever met.
Heriberto Pineda is the Harbormaster at Barillas and one of the most delightful and gracious hosts. He helped me arrange shipping to Sea Venture, and now has helped Michael with check-in and repair issues. Everyone with whom Michael has come into contact has been friendly and eager to please. Heriberto told Michael not to be surprised if people approached to speak to him as if he were an old friend. When Sea Venture’s crew ventured into the nearest small city, that’s exactly what happened. Yes, there were armed guards everywhere, but even they spoke and smiled. “How are you? Do you speak Spanish? Where are you from?” came from all sides.
These are the Internet palapas and the pool beyond.
The Barillas Marina dinghy dock. Sea Venture was the first of the fleet to arrive. Michael says twelve boats now fill the mooring field.
The Barillas Marina club house.
The moorings, with Sea Venture to the far left.
Michael wrote, ” Caught this little guy in a tree just outside the clubhouse. He is about 3-4 feet long including his tail. Let me get fairly close before he scampered, at amazing speed, up the tree.”
A Green Tree Iguana
Normandie
