Feeling the Spring

For the first time in five years, spring surrounds me.  Brilliant white flowers of the American dogwood tree peek from mid story of tree lined roadsides.  Purple, yellow, white and pink irises decorate flowerbeds.  Azaleas and other spring shrubbery promise that winter has packed its bags.   Pink lady slippers pop up from the loamy soil of a high story pine oak forest.  May apples found in roadside ditches peek from under umbrella like leaves.  Yep, I’m feeling the spring.

While the beauty of lush greenery of new leaves and grass pleases both the eyes and the senses, there is a price to play. The damp, cold, and cloudy days have given me a perpetual chill that only cranking up the furnace can warm.

Imagine and crew left sunny, warm Great Exuma, Bahamas in late April heading for Beaufort, NC.  After motoring for three days with no wind to fill the sails we would not make Beaufort as scheduled.  We would arrive at night in the middle of a vicious front.

The pending front with potential 50-knot winds and severe thunderstorms resulted in a course change that landed Imagine in Georgetown, SC for three cool and cloudy days. We weren’t alone.  Several other boats anchored or docked near us looking for shelter from the weather.

The skies remained gray the day we left and periodic rain cells pelted Imagine on the overnight passage.  We looked as if we were going skiing.  Bibbed foul weather pants, thermal underwear, parkas and gloves kept us dry for the most part.  Morning brought the first glimpse of sunshine in several days as Imagine made its way to Moorhead City 

 For 24 hours, we stripped down to sweatshirts as we moved through the Neuse and Pamlico rivers.  The following day covered just 35 miles before having to stop at a marina to get relief from the cold weather that seems to be following us north.

Across the Albamarle Sound, through Portsmith and Norfolk the gray skies shadowed Imagine.  From the Great Wicomoco River to Annapolis, things did not change.   Finally, as we crossed the Bay Bridge connecting the Chesapeake’s eastern and western shores the sun began to burn through the gray.  A bit of sun lingered in the sky as we anchored on the Magothy River. 

It was a Saturday when we began the last leg of most recent voyage.  The wind picked up as we maneuvered the curves of the Sassafras toward Greg Neck Boat Yard.   Overall Imagine logged 3,200 miles on this latest voyage.  Grandchildren and spring greeted us.

It was 16 days since Imagine and crew left Great Exuma.  Six of those days were weather related layover days.  Overall it took10 traveling days and 1,409 miles to make it back to our homeport.  

Kaboom!

News photo shortly after blast.

The deafening early morning bang from the explosion stopped us in our tracks.  The resulting concussion rocked the floating docks and boats berthed in nearby slips.  Debris shot skyward before raining down on the water, docks and boats.

For the young captain, who had just bought a new fishing boat, and expected a great fishing trip from Morehead City Yacht Basin, North Carolina to his home in Charleston, South Carolina, it would become a nightmare. Both he and his friend would receive extensive second and third degree burns as a result of the blast.

Only moments before, Ed had finished talking to the new owner of the 28-foot Carolina Classic fishing boat. He discovered that the young man originally hailed from Northeast, Maryland.  He grinned as he told Ed about his new purchase and his plans for the offshore trip towards home.

The blast rocked the marina just after Ed climbed back onboard Imagine. We watched our friend Vicky, off the catamaran Options, walk back to her boat berthed directly across from the ill-fated fishing boat.  The explosion occurred as Vicky approached her boat.

She quickly raced up the dock.  Her husband, Joe, standing on the deck of his boat was separated from the blast by only 12 feet of dock.   He said later that he could feel the heat and ensuing concussion of the blast. “It rocked me backwards,” he said.

From Imagine, I saw one injured man, wearing a light green-shirt, curl his arms over his head and leap from the cockpit of the white sport fishing boat.  Immediately he turned and ran back to the boat and into the cabin to rescue his friend who was caught inside. 

As he pulled his friend from the boat to the dock, dockhand Andrew Newton, who was working on the fuel dock, ran over with a fire extinguisher and began working to snuff the ensuing fire. Anguishing cries of pain erupted from the badly burned crewmember as he began to suffer the effects of the explosion. 

A nearby boater had already dialed 911.  Ed grabbed another extinguisher from an emergency dock station, shaking it as he ran to assist.  Ed arrived just as the young Newton had exhausted the first extinguisher.

Seconds later U S Army Reserve 824^th personnel, attending a dedication ceremony in the harbor, arrived in a dinghy with five more fire extinguishers and emergency boom equipment to contain any possible environmental spill.  Local firefighters in protective gear next arrived on the scene moments later.

It didn’t take long for the docks to spill over with people, Morehead City Fire/EMS units, Morehead City Police Department, US Coast Guard, US Army Reserve 824^th, Towboat US, Atlantic Beach Fire Department, North Carolina Department of Natural Resource Wildlife and Fisheries, marina personnel, news media personnel, and of course those wanting to see what was happening.

The boat was totaled, suffering heavy damage lifting the deck from the hull. The weight of a tuna tower might have kept if from lifting more. The anchor locker cover was blown away.  The cockpit seat snapped off and rested crookedly on the deck.  A broken pole from a dip net remained stationary in its holder.  Pieces of burned rubber and teak trim floated in the water and dusted the docks.  

Vicky held onto her left ear as she picked up small bits of teak; white painted splinters and rivets from the deck of her boat.   The shock of the blast numbed her ear for the remainder of the day.  She was lucky.

The two unfortunate men, both wearing shorts and short-sleeved shirts, had extensive burns on their arms and legs.  The young captain was able to sit and make calls to family as he waited for emergency workers to arrive.  His friend, in great pain, suffered the worse of the injuries.  Inside the cabin he took the full blast of the explosion.  Ed said that he kept asking, “What happened?” 

According to the marina personnel, both men were transferred to Carteret General Hospital.  The man inside the salon when the blast occurred was listed in critical condition was later transferred via helicopter to a burn unit at Vidant Medical Center in Greenville. 

No one knows exactly what caused the explosion.  Apparently, the boat had just been fueled. After several attempts it would not start.   The investigation will probably be ongoing, according to North Carolina Department of Wildlife and Fisheries personnel who were interviewing witnesses later in the afternoon.

One theory about what caused the explosion is that the boat did not have a marine starter to prevent sparking action and at some point in the boat’s history the starter was replaced with an automotive one.  Another theory is that the bellows that blow the fumes out of a gasoline-powered boat didn’t work.  Until the final investigation is completed, it will remain a mystery.

When Newton instinctively grabbed the fire extinguisher he might have done more than just put out a boat fire.  If the full fuel tanks had ignited following the blast, a major fire could have occurred causing an unprecedented disaster.  It could have quickly spread other boats or even the marina fuel pumps located next to the destroyed boat.

An emergency is never planned.  It happens when no one expects other than a normal day.  The young dockhand, without thought for his safety, did what needed to be done.  The new boat owner disregarded his own injuries to run inside the boat and pull his friend out, preventing him from suffering more extensive burns.   I would call them both heroes.

Imagine has moved on and we will probably never know the end of the story.  We may never know the names of the victims of that tragic blast. Nether the less, our thoughts and prayers go out to the two young men as they go through the process of healing and recovery.  As we sail away, we count our blessings.

Dolphin Love

Bottlenose Dolphin swiming in anchorage

It was a dolphin love kind of a morning. It was the calm before the storm. Who would of guessed that within 24 hours a friend's boat would be in danger of floundering on a rocky reef?

Bright sunlight and light winds greeted the morning.  Boat dusting, deck and dinghy cleaning were the chores for the day.  Sipping hot green tea, we tuned on the regional weather on the Single Sideband Radio (SSB).  

According to the weather forecast the winds would begin to clock after lunch.  By late evening the front will arrive brining squalls with 45 knot winds from the north and west.

Without a cloud in the sky, it was hard to believe.  Experience has taught us that when the wind dies and the boat slowly begins to clock it is time to batten down the hatches.  In the interval we get to work.

Ed sits in the dinghy behind the boat adding water and removing  dirt and sand that always seems to multiply no matter how often it is cleaned.  As he rinses a chamois in the water, comapany appears in the crystal blue waters.

The pfft of a dolphin sounds as a mother and calf swim near the boat.  The youngster decides to check out the splashing Ed makes as he rinses the cloth. I grab the camera and press the record button as the young dolphin swims up to Ed's hand.  It does barrel rolls, swiming around and under the dinghy fot about three minutes.

I'm  excited that I captured it on video, until I play it back and realize I never turned it on. I have one still image of the young dolphin's flipper.  Oh poo!  Those moments are special. At least it is a memory to share with Ed.

Anchored in a cove, surrounded by land on three sides, we watch as boats stream in looking for a place to ride out ths particularly vicious predicted front.  We know our anchor is buried after siting in place for two weeks.  We hope the boats moving in hold fast during the bulk of  the storm. It is now predicted to arrive in the wee hours of the morning.

Final Lee arrives mid afternoon and anchors 200 feet off our port side.  The boat settles in. Ed dinghies over to say hello to the first time cruising couple that hail from Gregg Neck Boatyard. Imagne stays there when we are not cruising.

By now ominous dark clouds build in the northwestern sky.  Angry and dark, the clouds continue to expand and stack.  By nightfall, the front is still six hours away. We go bed early knowing that we will be awake and on watch when the raging winds begin to blow through the previous tranquil cove.

It's 2:00 a.m. when the first gusts smack the boat.  We sit in the darkened cockpit watching anchor lights of nearby boats rock back and forth.  Everyone sees to be holdng.  In a matter of minutes the gusts have clocked 90 degrees.  This is the time that the danger of draggig often occurs.

A strong front clocks a boat fast. The quick change in direction and high gusts of winds can pull an anchor in seconds.

Our neighboring boat,  Final Lee held during the initial gusts.  Then thinking the worst was over, the captain turned off the VHF radio and went to bed.  Shortly after the squalls came through.

Still in the cockpit Ed frantically hails Final Lee.  "Final Lee, Final Lee, you are dragging,"  Ed calls.  Other boats blow horns.  The noise is lost in the howling wind.  We watch helplessly as the wind driven boat moves closer to the rocky shoreline. As it passes by, the dragging boat narrowly misses taking out another boat's dinghy.

Suddenly the wayward boat stops less than fifty feet from shore.  It's shortly after low tide. A shallow sandbar stops the boat.  The thumping of Final Lee's keel bouncing of yet bottom brings the owners from below.

Tom, from a large power boat, Cocoon II,  hears Ed on the radio and swings by Imagine in his larger dinghy and 40 horsepower engine..  After several passess by the boat, Ed boards the14-foot dinghy admidst three foot wind driven swells.

For the next two hours,  the storm and wave drenched men use lines and auxillary anchors to attempt to pull Final Lee off  the bar and keep the stranded boat from getting blown onto te nearby rocks.

At one point, with water up to their calves and the center console dinghy in danger of floundering, the men had to leave tending Final Lee to find a place to turn on the manual bilge pump.

The gusts pounded Final Lee from the side until just before daylight.  By then the tide had risen enough to pull the stranded boat free of the bar and away from the jagged iron rock.

With Final Lee reanchored, Ed and Tom were ready for a well deserved nap.

Every year boats run up on reefs, become grounded, or sink in storms.  One can never be too careful.  Final Lee was lucky.  There was a sandbar before the rocks.  There was a rising tide. Finally, Tom owned a dinghy large enough, deep enough and with enough horsepower to assist in rescuing the runaway boat.

Our little 10.5 foot dinghy with its 9.9 horsepower

outboard would have sunk in the dangerous wind and waves.

In life and on the water we need to savor the dolphin love moments.  From those moments we can gather strength weather the storms lurking on the horizon.  We may emerge unscathed if we throw in some caution, vigilance and sometimes some God given luck.

Seven Days, Sailing the Blues

The best tropical conch salad!

A Hike To The Beach - Sunday came early bringing daylight savings time, sunny skies and calm, clear, powder blue waters. Back in kayak mode, I paddle across Thompson Bay, Long Island, heading towards the white sand beach on the north shore.  After securing the floating blue plastic boat to a sturdy overhanging branch, I begin a 40 minute hike through wilderness paths of foliage, roads and rocks leading to Beach 108. 

The path curls from the beach into a well traveled wooded area, around a fresh water well, and ends at a dirt road.  After a turn onto Queens Highway, I pass a pink house on the left and an open rocky pasture with free range chickens and goats. Eight telephone poles later the entrance to the beach path, marked with a faded buoy, appears.

A natural arched cathedral of bushes and small silvery trees create a flickering tunnel. Light filters through the leaves of the native shrubs and bushes.  The soft path, covered by fallen leaves and palm fronds, becomes rocky and harder to climb as the elevation increases.

The foliage parts and the vista is breathtaking at the peak.  A cool breeze tilts my hat and cools my cheeks.  Below brilliant blues of the Atlantic Ocean and the  yellow green of swaying palms call come on down.  I go. 

Sailing The Blues -  Monday morning is moving day.  The dinghy engine is winched up onto the deck.  Gas cans and water jugs are secured.  With anchor up and locked down, Ed raises the mainsail while I hold the boat into the wind.  The jib unfurls and away we go across the wild blue yonder.

The skies are blue.  Even the few stretched cottony clouds show baby blue from the various hues of azul reflecting off the waters to the left.  The deeper Atlantic side is royal and violet blue.  Neon blue flashes sparkle on the wavelets as they move through the sun's rays.  Aquamarines, teals, and all the blues in between show off their finery today.

Shopping - Tuesday finds Imagine anchored off Elizabeth Harbor near Great Exuma.  We listen to the weather on SSB and the cruisers net on the VHF.  It's time to get ready for the blow. 

While we won't get any of that cold white stuff, we do jump into the dinghy and head into town for bread, milk, fresh veggies, and cookies for a special treat.  It's nice to be back in port where provisioning is easy.  Boxed milk gets a little old and baking bread every three or four days is fun... for a while

A Front Blows Through - Wednesday dawns with gray ominous clouds blocking the tropical sun.  Already, Imagine has clocked with the lighter winds from the east to the south east, to south, and southwest.  Winds quickly pick up as a squall nears.  The first heavy rain drops tat tat on the scurry to shut the hatches and portholes.  We tie buckets to the deck no they don't blow away in the 30 knot storm winds.

Fresh rain water cleans tenacious salt crystal from the decks. Imagine dances from side to side swinging on the anchor as the prefrontal chaos moves through. Suddenly the squalls quiet and a steady northwest wind becomes north and northeast at 20 knots.  It was a good day to hang and begin a new book.

Hello and Goodbye - On Thursday the wind has slowed to a comfortable 12 knots out of the east, northeast.  With the dinghy down, we hop into our rubber water taxi and head to another anchorage to say goodbye to some cruising friends heading north to Ontario, Canada on Satuday. 

On the way we meet other cruisers we've met along our five year journey.  It's nice to run into George and Julie from Sequel and Mark and Kathy from Carina.  Living a life upon the sea often finds us suddenly waving goodbye and hello to friends along the way.

Celebrating Bahamian Culture - Friday finds us attending the annual Bahamian Heritage and Music Festival.  Native foods such as guava duff, conch salad and steamed snapper draw us to the colorful red, yellow and blue food booths. 

Cane barking, coconut husking, onion peeling, and mango eating contests draw competitive contenders who bring their own cheering sections.  It's a hoot to watch contestants peel a three foot section of raw sugar cane using only their teeth.  Peeling onions without a knife, with only a good grip and a flick of the wrists takes a lot of practice.

Straw work, wood carving, story telling, and games for children keep the festivities moving along until evening when the music begins.  Gospel, reggae, Bahamian, and contemporary music draws cruisers, tourists and locals to regatta park for three nights of music that runs into the wee hours of the morning.  What a great way to get to know and learn more about our Bahamian neighbors

Reaching Out to Family - Saturday rolls around with light winds and a perfect day to go gunk holing in the dinghy.  But first I need a family fix.  I call my parents just to let them know I'm thinking of them.  I call my son to hear how the nearly nine month old granddaughter is doing. The three Alloway/Mannington grandchildren and the eldest daugher make me smile.  Finally I call the middle child with a list of things to bring when she comes to visit Imagine in April.

It's been a busy week full of activities, vibrant blues, storms, culture, friends and family.  People often ask what we do each day.  The answer is all of the above plus beach combing, fishing, snorkeling, boat mainenace, jewelry making, reading, writing, meeting friends for sundowners, making baskets and exploring new ports.  The list goes on, and on, and on.