Saturday, January 11, 2020

Georgetown, Exuma, Bahamas
23.31.167N
75.45.466W

I guess you’ve noticed that I haven’t written in the last couple of days.  Sometimes it takes a while to get back up on that horse that bucked you.

Wednesday night was one where you needed seatbelts for the bed due to the wind howling for all it was worth but we held fast and woke to where we had anchored ourselves for the past week; which is always a good thing.  Thursday, we had 25+ steady winds with gusts over 30 but we weren’t worried as we had already ridden out one frontal passage so the one we were presently going through hadn’t been a big concern, although Dale had added an additional 10’ to our anchor chain. 

He sat in the cockpit making sure all was well with the world but came in about 11am and sat at the salon table with me. He hadn’t been in more than a few minutes when there was a loud crash.  I looked out the salon window and saw a boat’s bow heading into us a second time.  We both jumped up and ran outside.  I asked the man on the boat what had happened but Dale had already sussed out that it was us!  Our anchor had dragged, or in our case, had completely let go with the strong winds, and we blew down on the other boat.  We had left our keys in the ignitions for just such an emergency, so I ran to start the engines and move away as Dale started bringing in our anchor.  However, our anchor chain caught theirs and actually rode all the way up to their bow.  Dale is yelling at me to stop drifting back and to come forward toward them but the man and his wife are yelling in German as we were too close to them to maneuver.  Somehow, between the two of them, they were able to detangle the anchor and we were able to back away.  We turned to go around them, and back to where we had been (or very close to it) and anchored again.  The man was dead set against that and announced to the entire harbor via the radio that we were once again over his anchor as he had 150’ out.  I’m pretty sure we were nowhere near that close but we hoisted anchor again and moved over some more and anchored again.  All of this in 25+ kts of wind with everybody and their brother watching.  Not fun. 

We hadn’t even turned off the engines when the man dinghied over and started by saying that with a big boat like ours, we’d better have insurance.  Dale asked him several times if everyone on his boat was ok.  Apparently, they were but he had a dent in his aluminum rub rail, another in his toe rail and a scratch in his gelcoat.  He kept saying that you couldn’t pound them out, that the whole thing had to be replaced.  Dale was so calm about the whole thing, I was livid.  He never asked if we were ok, complained that our anchor was too small, that we didn’t have enough chain out and we better have insurance.   I ended up calling our insurance company to file the claim immediately because the man demanded that we give him our entire policy and all of our boat documentation.  When I tried to explain that he didn’t need all of that to file a claim, he became extraordinarily rude demanding “you don’t tell me what I need, I tell you what I need”.  I became afraid that we wouldn’t be able to get him off our boat.  Once I had the insurance agent on the line, he seemed to calm down with assurances that they would contact him directly. 

We weren’t the only ones to drag, we heard at least 3 others were in the same predicament.  Interestingly, the next morning the cruisers net warned everyone that during the high winds, to please give boats a wide berth as the anchors are already stretched to their max and extra waves might dislodge them.  Later, one of the resorts radioed that their boat was having trim problems and wouldn’t be able to pick up its passengers.  Dale and I have gone over and over what might have happened as this has completely dashed our confidence in our anchoring skills, but how do you go from being well set for over a week in gale force winds to completely out--not dragging--completely out, in a manner of minutes! I know what I’m beginning to think.  During our crisis, we didn’t have time to look around at anyone else. 

For the next 2 days we sat anchor watch.  Every two hours for 48 hours, we took turns making sure we didn’t drag again.  Plus Dale added the kellet to our set up which keeps the anchor chain down right up to the boat.  Today, although we hadn’t budged, Dale wanted to move us again as he felt we were too close to another boat; if we dragged again, we wouldn’t have time to start and move before we’d be down on them as the winds are still in the mid-20 range.  I didn’t realize how scared I was of starting the engines and moving again until he said that.  Thus, the horse analogy.  In what I can only describe as a panic attack sensation, we hoisted anchor, moved up and little to the right and set again.  Once set and the bridle was attached, I backed down on it up to 2000 rpm on both engines; it didn’t budge.  Dale put the kellet on and we settled in to watch again.  Later, a 52’ Lagoon catamaran came inside the harbor and passed very close to our bow, I told Dale that if he hadn’t put that kellet on, they would have snagged us, as he was that close.  We haven’t moved all day, there’s no one near us (our choice, not theirs) and I think we might actually go to bed tonight instead of keeping watch. 

In the meantime, our psyches are damaged.  In 30 years of sailing, I don’t think we’ve ever felt this way before but we’re both licking our wounds and trying to work our way through it.