Two Salty Dogs avert disaster

Photos:
1. The happy crew of the Island Bear BEFORE New Years Day.
2. The Island Bear under tow by the pair of dinghy "tugs."

New Year’s Day dawned with a deafening silence in the densely populated Great Harbor on Jost Van Dyke, broken only by the sound of a lonely dinghy winding through the anchorage on the way to the Island Bear.

For this story we have to back track a little to a week ago, or so when we were doing Laundry at Crown Bay Marina and met a young man from Canada, Jonathan Henley (19, Film Major). He and his parents are on holiday sailing a 54’ Monohull, “Sea Breeze” and we had crossed paths with them earlier in our sail. He is a very articulate, charming rogue with many entertaining stories and a knowledge of a variety of subjects. He was impressed that Emily is at the Coast Guard Academy and they made plans to meet up on New Years at Foxy’s.

When we found Jonathan on New Years Eve at Foxy’s around 9pm he apparently had already begun his celebrations. As a result, Jonathan managed to get amazingly drunk well before midnight and fell asleep in the chair at our table. Emily and MJ ended the evening dancing with the locals – two young men from Jamaica. Fearing for their honor (or perhaps just being parents), we pried them away from the packed dance floor a few moments before midnight.

Now, with that detailed background we can rejoin the intrepid crew of the Island Bear in the early morning hours of January 1st following the party at Foxy’s.

We were still anchored amongst the throngs of boats and quite delighted that our anchor held and that no one had dragged their anchor into us. Jim had placed the fenders on both sides of the boat to provide a final barrier to wayward boats as the eastern swells had picked up and it was another rocky and rolly night. (Note: Lara had gotten up at 5am and noticed the boat behind us had dragged more than 300 yards to the west and they were trying to re-anchor for the forth time in 24 hours – this time attempting to re-anchor in the dark).

We were on the upper deck (Emily still asleep) drinking coffee, discussing the events of the night before and grateful for our steadfast anchorage when the lone dinghy made its way to us. It was before 8am and there was Jonathan motoring up to our boat looking surprisingly chipper considering his “condition” a few short hours before!

He requested permission to board the Island Bear and tied off his dinghy to the stern cleat and joined us for breakfast and coffee. He had come by to apologize for his behavior at the party the night before. While we didn’t think he had acted in an inappropriate manner (other than his extraordinary level of intoxication), he wanted to try and correct the poor impression he made on us (as well as obtain Emily's contact information). We had a few more laughs and he motored off back to White Bay (about 10 minutes by dinghy) where his boat was anchored.

We started our engine, pulled up the anchor in the freshening wind and started to make our way through the many boats around us. Almost immediately, Jim noticed that the motor sounded different – it was a deeper exhaust note than usual. He quickly confirmed that the engine was not putting out any water and we knew this was trouble. To prevent the motor seizing completely, Jim yelled, “We’re losing the engine. We have to get the jib up”. I have to say that we worked like a fine team (Jim working the sails and Lara at the helm) as we threw up the jib, shut down the motor and sailed amidst a bevy of multi-million dollar mega-yachts (including Eric Clapton’s!) without hitting anything. No doubt God’s hand was upon us.

Out of the Harbor we were met with strong winds (confirmed to be 17-20 knots by the weather man the next day) but we stabilized our situation and were able to discuss our plans. We knew that we risked significant and catastrophic damage to the engine if we ran it with no water cooling but we also discussed that we were prepared to run to its death it if we had to in order to avoid a worse fate.

With Lara at the helm and the girls in the salon (out of the way), Jim went below to try to raise someone on the radio… “Sunsail, Sunsail, Sunsail….. this is Island Bear” – over and over again. Nothing. As you may recall we had reported our antenna troubles earlier in our adventure and were given an auxiliary antenna – one that stuck on the hatch by a suction cup. Even with this very low tech solution, we weren’t able to communicate reliably with anyone.

We then remembered that our cell phone worked intermittently as we got closer to the US Virgin Islands. We pulled out the SunSail book, looked up the phone number and waited until a tack brought us close to St. John’s. The connection was terrible, however after multiple disconnections and about 6 attempts we got through to them that we needed help. Initially, Jim agreed that we could sail into Soppers Hole and pick up a mooring ball and they would be waiting for us. We had gone into the Harbor under sail one other time and he felt we could pull this off again.

By now the winds were 15-20 knots, with higher gusts, and coming directly at us. We were tacking back and forth toward the narrow opening between Tortolla and Great Thatch Island. Each time a tack would take us close to Great Thatch our cell phone would register three bars – enough for a poorly connected call. We would call and give them an estimate at when we might be able to make a straight run into the cut between the two islands and round the corner into the harbor.

During the first tack we found ourselves on a collision course with a Catamaran under motor. (It should be noted that boats under sail have right-of-way over boats under power). As we got closer and closer we figured he would certainly alter his course. When we were very close we noticed that THERE WAS NO ONE AT THE HELM. They were on autopilot and the Captain was down below. Just before we were about to tack, Lara let loose with an ear piercing whistle (the kind that you make with two fingers in your mouth) and their Captain came running up on deck to change course. He passed about a boat length behind us carefully avoiding any eye contact.

The other issue that was working against us was that the closer we got to Great Thatch Island (during the tacking) the winds would start shifting randomly through almost 90° requiring constant trimming and course adjustments. Then as we got closer to the ROCKS the wind would die down. This left the Captain racing below to make the call while the cell phone worked and left the First Mate above watching the rocks come closer and closer. Somewhere around the third pass (and having been at this for more than two hours), the volume of the “team communication” began rising. Mutinous mutterings were also heard (and ignored!).

Let the records show that while the inexperienced (and risk adverse) First Mate fully understood that the Captain was trying to get to the harbor BEFORE dark, the frightened First Mate was also the poor slob on the helm trying to control the boat in squirrelly and dying winds while keeping her eye on the approaching rocks and listening to the Captain yell “Watch the wind!” as he was now below on the cell phone. All in all, a moderately stressful time for all concerned.

The reader must also understand that communications were difficult the entire time. The wind noise meant that you had to yell to be heard and often this was followed by a confused “What?” which was followed by an even more “emphatic” repeat of the message all to the accompaniment of increasing frustration and frayed nerves.

Meanwhile the girls were down below attached to their iPods and reading their books confident in their parents’ ability to once again avert certain peril. Note: It’s sure great to be the parents!

The winds and seas kept getting higher and higher as we neared the cut between the island. This area is also very congested with other boats making their way in to the harbor or other islands.

Somewhere along this time the First Mate abandoned her post (acknowledging the potential for future plank-walking if we lived through the ordeal) and told the Captain that HE could take the helm and HE could face the rocks and unresponsive boat during the tack and the First Mate would take on the communications and managing the lines. (The Captain wishes to note that he did this with great aplomb and skill).

After we discussed the wind situation, the First Mate made the next call to Sunsail and advised them that we were “uncertain of our ability to sail safely into the harbor” in those wind conditions and that they should prepare to meet us once we entered the cut.

We finally made it to the entrance channel and were met by strong head winds and a very narrow channel in which we made several quick tacks toward the harbor. Not long after making it into the channel we were met by the Sunsail maintenance chief (“Andrew”). He quickly attached his dinghy to the side of the boat and jumped below to check the engine. This left Jim and I to continue to navigate the crowded path to the harbor under sail. Andrew confirmed that the engine could not be used and his plan was to use two dinghies (Jim piloting one of them) to tow the Island Bear into port. We quickly furled the jib. Then, flanked by dinghies on both sides, we “motored forward” using their combined 19.6 hp!

This was quite an exciting process and the girls on the boat enjoyed it a LOT more than Jim did as he was getting beat up in the dinghy running at full bore in the driving wind with the chop and swells making it hard to actually remain in the dinghy! While under tow, in the narrow channel, we found ourselves on a collision course with a large sailing ketch (65’+) under full sail. He only altered course at the last minute as our designated Coast Guard Representative and Safety Office (Emily) stood in the bow of the Island Bear and waved her arms in a crossing motion (the universal sign for boat in distress). They nodded in sympathy as they saw our predicament and accomplished a last minute jibe and sailed gracefully past us (making it look far too easy)!

Once again, the amazing Sunsail crew performed their magic and had the water pump replaced and the engine running again in less than an hour. We had an enjoyable time with the maintenance chief (Andrew) who is a degreed maritime engineer who has been with Sunsail for the past 4 years.

It also turned out that Andrew was the young Jamacian man who was dancing with Emily near midnight (we pried her away just before the clock stuck midnight). You should have seen our faces when Andrew boarded our boat and we made the connection from the night before.

MJ told us this blog was beginning to sound like a cheesy soap opera but you really can’t make this stuff up! Sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction!

After we departed, we darted across the channel to Leinster Bay in the USVI in an attempt to end the vacation with a happier memory. The coral was non-existent but we got to swim with another sea turtle and we came across a really creepy looking eel that was mostly buried in the sand (with just his head exposed) waiting for an unwary fish (or stupid snorkeler) to blunder by. Lara was on the verge of fainting as she thought it was a Sea Snake and Emily had obtained a 3" stick and was about to poke this 3’ long snake-like creature with it.

After returning safely to the boat, we released the mooring and began to motor toward Maya Cove (the Sunsail base) with just the mainsail up as we had enough “pure” sailing for the day.

After we had been going for only about 15 minutes, the water pump stopped again, prompting a momentary panic (fortunately the mainsail was already up). Then, just as mysteriously, the pump started again after about 30 seconds. Not a good sign.

The temperamental VHF allowed us to contact Andrew who suggested that we run the motor at only 2300 rpm and continue on to Maya Cove. With great trepidation we continued on our route.

Unfortunately, with the 30+ kt headwind (and the sky darkening with clouds) this only gave us a forward speed of about 2 knots and a GPS projected arrival time of around 10pm.

Since our charter contract doesn’t allow us to be underway at night and since Lara was now wondering (out loud) how much it might cost to be airlifted from the boat, we had to start coming up with anchorage alternatives (while being hammered by the 6-8’ seas, 30+ kt winds, squalls, etc.).

After finding no space at the next marina, we decided to head to Village Cay Marina in Road Harbor and ask for a slip for the night. We pulled in just as the sun was setting and were grateful to have this day behind us.

We slept the sleep of sailors lashed to a safe harbor.