Tug of War

A recent series of mistakes on Imagine created a medical emergency that could have resulted in injuries far worse than they were.

Playing tug of war with one of the two lines towing the dinghy while under way was not a good idea,  Two weeks later, I type this column using two thumbs.  Injuries on both hands slowly and painfully continue to heal from rope buns that tore away skin and tissue below.

The first mistake was not removing the outboard motor from the light gray dinghy before leaving the still waters of  Raccoon Cay for South Side Bay in the Ragged Islands, nearly 15 miles away.

It was calm. The waters were clear and flat.  Skies were blue. The sun was bright. Yes, both my husband and I know better than to rely on visual, and even predicted, weather.

The wind picked up enough to unfurl the head sail.  We motor sailed along at five knots. The dinghy, with its outboard tilted upwards, started to bounce as wind driven waves began to form.  Would it tow better if we let out some more line?

The second mistake was not dousing the sail and slowing the boat as we lengthened the lines.

Mistakes three and four included not grabbing my sailing gloves and not cleating off the line before husband, Ed, began to feed line out.

Mistake number five, and perhaps the biggest mistake of the morning, was attempting to play tug of war in an effort to hold the dinghy while the boat sails along.

Never, never hold onto a line under that kind of load. You will not win!  I was lucky to escape with fingers intact as a result of this misadventure that occurred  miles away from other boats and medical care.

Ed quickly notices the plan is not working and drops the bow line while I looked away in an attempt to cleat off the stern line.  This pulled the dinghy on a broadside tilt. It begin to swamp.  Ed shouts. "Let go!" I do, but not before the line rakes through my  hands. The damage is done.

Ed stops the boat and furls head sail.  I unclench and try to ignore my bloody hands. I grab the boat hook as we turn to retrieve the barely floating dinghy. Ed climbs over the stern to secure and bail the wayward rubber boat, I run below to quickly rinse my hands and cover six fingers and my palm with bandages.  

Pain shoots down my wrist and up my arm.  Ed continues to bail the dink as he runs the outboard to counteract any immersion issues.  He does not yet know the extent of the rope burns.

With two good fingers, I put Imagine in gear, slightly above idle.  We move along at 1.5 knots as we get back on course.  Ed climbs aboard.  With stern mounted davits, Ed lifts the dinghy, with motor on.  If only we did that earlier?

We anchor.  I fill a bowl with sterilized and cooled water from the water maker. I soak my hands, adding ice while swallowing ibuprofen for the pain.  I refuse to give into tears as I look at my battered hands knowing the first aid supplies stowed on the boat will have to suffice.

Ed covers the open burns with prescription burn cream, wrapping my hands loosely with non stick pads and gauze.  Later I take some leftover pain medication from a previous outpatient surgery and try to rest.

At 5:00 p.m., Ed tunes into the Do Dah Net via the Single Side Band radio.  When they  ask for emergency or priority traffic, Ed asks if anyone can recommend treatment.

A physician on the catamaran Salty Paws is listening.  On another frequency, he asks questions.  Ed emails photos.  While skin has been removed with some fat tissue, the injury will not require us to head for Nassau any the nearest hospital, nearly three days away by boat.

There is a small clinic on Ragged Island with a nurse on call if infection sets in.

Another boat, five miles away,  hears Ed on the radio, and offers additional burn cream.  Marilyn, the first mate on Discovery, is a retired pharmacist.  The following day, Ed moves Imagine to Hog Cay anchorage where Discovery and three other boats are anchored.

The ritual of soaking hands and dressing the wounds three times of day has begun.  Ed has taken over all the galley chores.  He's learned to make bread.  "It sure looks a lot easier from where I sit," he says.    "Where do all these dishes come from," he asks?

A week after the initial foray into the category of dumb mistakes, Ed takes me to shore  for  a walk on the beach. We are waved over by a couple on the catamaran, Carina.

Cathy, a retired registered nurse, who has experience with burn patients, examined my hands and explained that the pink line beginning to form around the circumference of the wound was healthy tissue coming back and that burns heal from outside in.  She also sent us home with a care package of additional dressing material.
The feedback and concern of other boaters was amazing.  Doctors, nurses and pharmacists on boats are priceless.

The experience serves as a reminder to stay alert and not to get lazy when it comes to safety.  A friend  on another boat, said that my experience, encouraged her to dig out her own sailing gloves to keep nearby in the cockpit.  "I've  been lucky," she said.

The upside of  this misadventure is that I've made some new boating friends and I have finally had the opportunity to know what it feels like to be a boat princess.  I lounge. I read. I nap. I listen to the radio.  My meals appear magically, although I do hear a lot of banging in the galley.

As far as the princess part... not my cup of tea.  And the hands, slowly they heal, with a little help from my husband, and some new boating friends.

Light and Variable

Imagine you are slowly skimming across a sparkling, unending, swimming pool blue, body of water.  The surface is smooth as glass.  The movement of a small boat putting across the surface creates the only breeze.

After nearly a month of bouncing in 15 to 20 knot winds, today's dawn brings light and variable winds.  Ed fills the dinghy tank with gas. We grab the handheld VHF, some jugs of water, granola bars, almonds and sunscreen.  

It's  a perfect day to explore new areas below and above the aquamarine waters surrounding Great Exuma.  

The Exuma Cays offers visitors an opportunity to play in some the Bahamas most pristine waters.  On this postcard perfect day, nature showcases the virtual Bahamian aquarium just below the surface of our dinghy.

Chop and wavelets often distort much of which lies below the surface on those windy days.  On windy days, which are quite frequent during the Bahamian winter months, the only way to get a true glimpse of life beneath the surface is to snorkel or dive. Today everything is visible from the dinghy.

Turquoise waters reach out to meet the deeper blue of the sky. A few pillowy white clouds moving slowly overhead reflect the blue of the water. A backdrop of brilliant greens; sea grape, mangrove and silver palm perch upon a rocky landscape along the shore.  Patches of white sandy beaches link one rocky outcrop to another.

We run the dinghy at half speed in 15 feet deep waters. Sea grass and sand ripples appear as if only I nches away.  A small sea turtle stops to checks us out.  Before I can turn on the camera, it zips away.   

Dinner plate sized cushioned sea stars seemingly stare up at the sky. Dark orange and brown in color, the slow moving sea creatures contrast vividly against  the white sandy bottom.  Joining their larger cousins, smaller thorny sea stars are sprinkled like decorations across the uneven sand.

Small schools of fish dart away as we motor close.  In front small fish jump from the water as a two foot barracuda follows in search of mid morning snack.

Later we pass over a half dozen large manta rays resting just above the floor of the bay.   One sweeps up and glides behind us before hanging a left and swimming away.

Near rocky and partially shaded shores,  long needled purple spiny sea urchins keep us in the dingy. Stepping on one of those would not be fun.  

Sea cucumbers continue to be a mystery to me.  Found  in shallow waters, they look like an oversized rotten banana from the boat.  Close up, one

can spot  ridges and bumps that do look like a dark cucumber.  It is a scavenger and related to both the starfish ad urchin. 

As the sun moves towards noon, the apparent breeze created by the forward motion of the highly cools our sun warmed faces and arms.  It is a comfortable 75 degrees.   

As we enter the tidal shallows we try to stay in a band of deeper turquoise water. When the color fades to clear and white we have to get out of the dinghy to  pull or scull the dingy into deeper water.  

Around one turn, a partially sunken  sailboat reminds us how quickly life can change.  We are sad for the sailors who have lost their boat.  We learn later that the boat sunk in a storm.  The owners were not onboard.   

A freight boat and an old barge, both encrusted with rust, sit halfway beached as testament to how devastating weather can be when summer hurricanes pass over the Bahamas.  Schools of small yellow fish and stripped sergeant majors utilize the wrecked boats as an artificial reef.

The shallows surrounding the mangroves serve as a nursery for sea turtles.  During the nearly mile trek from the mangroves back to the deep Exuma Sound, dozens of juvenile sea turtles dart back and forth  so quickly it was impossible to identify them.

The Exuma Sound flows through and around the Bahamian archipelago. It connects to the Atlantic on the northeast and southeast of the inland chain.

 

Today the expected swells and waves have given way to calm.  We shoot across the smooth sea at 15 knots.  Below in 20 feet of  water we look down into the reef.

Muted browns of elk horn and stag horn coral mix with green brain coral.  Branched finger coral grows next to gorgonians and lavender sea fans.  Along the reef, divers with spear guns also take advantage of the calm day while they hunt for spiny lobster and hogfish. 

The wind begins to clock and increase as we head back into Elizabeth Harbor.

This unexpected light and variable day was a gift.  We unwrapped it and surrounded our senses with its quiet joy and wonder.  There will always be days in our lives when the wind blows ferociously.  On those days we must remember that ahead a light and variable day of peace and beauty awaits.