Rock Strike!

Sunday, 7 August 2016

HW 1151 4.0ft
LW 1713 0.4ft
Sunny
Temp 85(F)
Humidity 56%
Bp 1016 hPa (rising)
Visibility 10mi
Winds SW 6-10kts, gusting 16kts
Trip: 2.5nm; 3hr 15min


Today was a comedy of errors.  I had received an email in my newsfeed from the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute announcing their annual "Science Stroll" on Water Street.  Fun for the whole family: tour the NOAA research vessel 'Bigelow,' see the famous submersible 'Alvin,' visit science displays, touch tanks, and other activities.  The Admiral said, "Let's Go!"

The email attachment from WHOI included an advisory that parking in Woods Hole was limited.  I suggested we go early, and be there for the opening at 11:00am.  So we woke the kids around 8:00, with plans to go out to breakfast.  It took my 14-year old step-daughter almost an hour and a half to get ready; and once she put on her makeup, she refused to apply any sunscreen (despite the doctor warning her that her skin was very pale and she need always to wear a strong sunblock when outside).  By 9:30, we were finally on our way.

Persy's Place: a resounding "Meh....."

Our first comedy vignette was the stop for breakfast at "Persy's Place," a family-owned business on Rt. 6 near the town of Buzzards Bay.  There were so many selections on the menu!  When we go out for brunch, I always try to order something from the genus Eggus Benedictus, but even I had half a dozen choices.  I settled for "California Benedict" (avocado and tomato), with a side of home fries.  Sounded great, but tasted disappointing.  The eggs were cool and undercooked; the potatoes were hard and undercook.  Lee-Ann and Dylan also did not like their breakfast; Lauryn enjoyed her French Toast, but how can you mess up French Toast?  The waitress came us a coupon for a free entree on our next visit, but we had decided we were "one and done" with Persy's Place.  Good service; Poor food.

My step-son looks up the "cheats" for everything.....

The second act of our comedy came after breakfast.  The Admiral ordered everyone to use the bathroom before we set out for the Woods Hole, just in case we got stuck in traffic.  The kids protested (as usual), but resistance is futile.  The boys went first, and left the girls at the table.  When we returned a few minutes later, the girls were gone.  We assumed they had gone to the restroom without awaiting our return.  So, courteous gentlemen that we are, we sat back down and waited for them.  And waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Finally, after ten or fifteen minutes, I turned to Dylan.  "I wonder what is taking them so long.  Do you think Lauryn is pooping?"  "I hope not," he said.  "That takes her forever."  Finally, I pulled out my cellphone and called Lee-Ann.  "Hi, Dear.  You girls almost done in there?"  "What? We are in the car."  "Oh.  We thought you were in the bathroom."  "No," she explained.  "Lauryn refused to go."  Just yesterday Dylan had asked me what was the definition of "Double Standard."  Now we had a chance to review with a real-life example.....

Act III was set in Woods Hole.  After navigating the back roads through Sippewissett to avoid the Falmouth Barbarians, we arrived at 10:45 and grabbed what looked to be the very last available public parking spot on Water Street.  I was so psyched!  We parked, fed the meter (yes, even on a Sunday), and headed off down Water Street for the Science Stroll.  There were lots of people walking around, but no exhibit booths.  The WHOI Welcome Center and Gift Shop were closed.  The Touch Tank building was closed.  The docks were closed.  There was no research vessel 'Bigelow,' nor the submersible 'Alvin.'  What the heck?  We walked and walked, but found nothing except other people walking around and looking confused.  Finally, back at the Water Street Drawbridge, I asked the bridge operator what was up with the Science Stroll.  "It was yesterday," he said.  Whaaaaaaaaat?  The email I received from them said Sunday, 11:00-3:00.  "Really?" he said.  "Well, someone messed up.  It was yesterday."  The kids were not disappointed.  Lauryn likes science, but not marine science.  Dylan just wants to catch Pokemon.  We got ice cream and everyone was happy.  Sort of.....

Email attachment from WHOI about the Science Stroll -- what is wrong with this picture?

The Admiral was determined not to have wasted our day.  "Let's get home and go to the beach," she said.  Cue giant moans from her kids.  "Do we have to????  We always have to go to the beach!!!"  Jeez, I tell them, most kids in the world never have a chance to see the ocean, let alone swim in it.  "So?" they said.  "Lucky them!"  *Sigh*  First World Problems; "White whine."  We left the Cape early enough (before noon) to miss most of the traffic.  Back home by 1:00pm, we rushed to get ready for the transition.  As it turns out, the kids had no objection to swimming off the boat at anchor -- they just didn't want to sit on the sandy beach.  Whatever.  The Admiral and I packed food and beverages, and everyone was ordered into their swim suits.  Then we waited in the car again for Lauryn, another 90 minutes.....

I could not bring the boat to the dock because the stern of M/V Dockblocker was too close to the dock and obstructing access again.  Instead, we had to make several trips with the dinghy.  Finally, at 2:30pm, we were aboard the boat and making ready to get underway.  The tide was high, which meant our usual spot at Long Beach would be submerged.  The winds had picked up a bit, too, and Long Beach is rather exposed to the afternoon southwesterlies that come across Buzzards Bay.  As an alternative, we opted to anchor in the lee of Great Hill, protected a bit from the winds by the headland.  It wasn't far -- only about a mile -- and we could get settled quickly and make the most of the afternoon.

There were already a dozen boats anchored there, and we picked our way closer toward shore to drop anchor around 3pm.  We had a great time.  We swam, we jumped off the boat a couple of times, I tied dock lines to the "noodles" so the kids to lounge around in the water and not float away, I scrubbed the hull clean again.  Then we climbed back aboard and had some snacks of plums, Honeycrisp apples, and Jalapeño/horseradish cheese.  Dylan was in a rare mood, getting all "First Mate" on me.  "We should all talk about what to do if someone falls overboard," he suggested.  Turns out he had been reading and memorizing the instructions on the Lifesling cover.  He explained how to use the orange throw-bag line, and how to drop the red and yellow cushions in the water to mark the spot were someone fell in and to give the victim something on which to cling.  He recounted how I anchor the boat, reversing a bit after I drop the anchor to ensure it sets properly -- he's been watching!  The little man has learned half a dozen knots, and practices them.  He likes taking responsibility for setting up the equipment and handling the mooring lines.  "Mom!  You're doing it wrong!"  I have to admit, I was impressed.  It is amazing what he can do when he puts down those electronic devices and stops playing 'Agario.'  Reminds me of Nikos sometimes....

The crew after a swim and a lunch.  Lauryn is so happy to have another Nalgene bottle (her third) to add to her collection.  She also has six or seven Tervis cups.  She told us that when she grow up, she wants to host a party where everyone can see her collection of Tervis cups, but she will only let the guests use plastic Solo cups....

Act IV.  I am always a bit reticent to have all four of us in the water at the same time, anxious because no one is left aboard the boat in the event that the anchor starts dragging.  The Admiral often chides me as "Safety Sam."  When we anchor, I always take a set of bearings so that I have some sense of where we should (and should not) be positioned.  When the bearings change significantly, you can bet something is probably up down there on the seabed.  I have seen other boats drag anchor at Long Beach, and I am always on the lookout for this.  The chart plotter has an anchor drag alarm, which I set at 20-feet.  But that alarm will go off even if the boat swings laterally by that amount of distance, so it is not completely reliable.  "Trust, but Verify," as Ronnie used to say.  Today, while swimming, I had the feeling that we were dragging anchor slightly -- not a lot, but enough to make me a bit preoccupied.  As the afternoon wore on and more boats weighed anchor and left for home, many of my bearing points disappeared -- it was hard to confirm whether we were dragging anchor.  (Note to self: when possible, take bearings on fixed features of the landscape, not on other boats at anchor)  A couple of times I was ready to call everyone back aboard so that we could reset the anchor, but then another boat astern of us would leave and the need to reset was no longer so pressing.  When we finished swimming and climbed back aboard, I check our track plot.  Hmmmmmmm......

Um, yeah.  Looks like we were dragging anchor a bit....

Act V.  Just after 5:00pm, we decided to weigh anchor and head home.  The Admiral's mother was coming for dinner at 6pm, and we had to get the grill going.  So, as the kids settled down in the cabin to play cards, Lee-Ann and I worked to raise the anchor and get underway.  We have been practicing a procedure where she drives while I direct her from the bow pulpit, signaling more/less power, left/right direction, etc. until we are over the anchor and I can pull it up out of the (typically) muddy ocean floor.  Today that went pretty well.  Once the anchor is up, she bears away and shapes a course toward home at slow speed while I dunk the anchor a couple of times to try to rinse off the thick black mud (there is usually a lot of it).  Then I hang the anchor in its rack on the bow pulpit and bungee it down securely.  So today, I was doing just that, while the Admiral had the boat going along at a slow speed back towards the Weweantic River, when suddenly....

BAM!!!!!!!

The boat crashed into some submerged obstruction with a very loud BANG and immediately came to a complete stop.  Kneeling at the bow, fiddling with the anchor bungees, I toppled over and knocked my forehead on the bow pulpit.  I'm bleeding a little.  Lee-Ann was standing in the cockpit while she drove the boat; she stumbled and banged into the cockpit step and the tiller.  She's got big bruises.  The boat was still in gear, throttling forward against an immovable barrier.  "You've run aground!" I shouted.  "We've hit a rock!  Neutral!  Neutral!  Put it in Neutral!"  I jumped back to the cockpit to check whether she is okay.  The kids were sitting in the cabin, looking up at us, eyes as big as frisbees, mouths agape.  I checked the chart plotter.  There were no rocks or other obstructions marked at or near our position.  In fact, we should have had about 5 to 6 feet of water even at low tide, and the boat only draws 2'3" with the centerboard up (which it was).  What the.....?

I took the tiller and put the engine in reverse, trying to back away.  At first, the boat made no movement.  It seemed that we were fast atop the obstruction.  But by throwing the engine tiller hard over, I was able to work the boat sideways and off the rock.  The Admiral and I were pretty shaken up.  It had been a very hard stop.  Lauryn looked at me.  "You're bleeding."  Lee-Ann wanted me to wipe off the blood so as not to scare the kids, but my hands were still caked in muddy bottom sediment from the anchor.  I told her there were probably so many microbes in that mud that it would be unwise to touch the wound now.  Besides, there wasn't much blood.  "Dude, your blood is black," Dylan remarked.  "That was scary," Lee-Ann kept saying.  "Should we report that rock to the Coast Guard?" Dylan asked.  Lauryn handed me a Wet Wipe.

Once we settled down, we tried to review what we did right and wrong.  "Its not your fault, Honey," I told Lee-Ann.  "It was an uncharted obstruction.  Sometimes they don't know where the rocks are until someone finds them.  There is no way you could have known."  Nevertheless, we probably should not have followed the contour of the shoreline, but instead should have moved immediately to deeper water before heading back toward the river.  She probably should not have been standing in the cockpit while driving the boat (there was no need to do that at the time).  I probably should not have been up there fiddling with the anchor bungees while we were underway -- we should do that first and then get underway.  On a positive note, she did have the boat moving only at slow speed.  If she had that throttle open, there could have been serious damage and I might have been thrown overboard by the force of the impact (it was jarring enough as it was).  We did have our lifejackets on (something I insist upon whenever we are underway, whether by sail or motor power).  Thankfully, the kids were down below and not sitting or laying up on the foredeck.  Just imagine.....

Back at the mooring, the water was too murky for me to dive and check the bottom for damage.  It felt to me that we struck with the keel of the boat, which is 1000-pounds of lead.  At least this is my hope.  There might be some damage, but I think a leak is unlikely.  I went back down to the boat that evening after dinner.  It was still afloat, was not sitting appreciably lower in the water, and the bilge was dry.  All good signs.

But, holy shit, what a day..........