“United States Coast Guard, United States Coast Guard, United States Coast Guard, this is the sailing vessel Silent Sky. Over.”
Warning: this one may be a bit incoherent/out of order/adrenaline-laced. I’m posting this in real time, so the next two posts actually happened before this.
We were just hit by the most severe thunderstorms either one of us has ever experienced. According to the National Weather Service, it carried winds up to 70mph, and I absolutely believe it. I’ve never heard the wind sound like that before. It wasn’t even howling… it was a freight train. It kept building, and building and getting worse. I legitimately thought we were going to die. This was literally two minutes after I saw a tornado warning on my phone… and it’s not like we had the option to take shelter. We donned life jackets and Chris went on deck to keep a watch. Fortunately the key was already in the ignition.
Silent Sky heeled at least 45 degrees, the bimini got ripped from its frame, below decks everything was everywhere. And then we were dragging. Our 33lb Rocna plowed a furrow through the mud bottom – it didn’t break free. We dragged at 3kts towards the bridge, and Chris was able to engage the engine and hold us about 150 feet off. But with our anchor down, we couldn’t make forward progress. This was pretty much all of my worst fears rolled into one.
As soon as we started dragging I got on the radio to the Coast Guard. Once they heard we weren’t in life-threatening danger and were wearing life jackets, they didn’t seem overly concerned (fair enough)… and it’s not like there was much they were going to do, but it seemed prudent to call in case things escalated farther. And I don’t exactly blame them, but Tow Boat didn’t answer my hail.
Meanwhile, there was a constant roar of thunder and we were still getting sustained winds into the 40s (we don’t know any wind speeds for sure since our anemometer’s broken). Lightning struck the park we’d been anchored off just as I had clipped off and started forward to check which way our anchor was hanging – straight back along the hull. We then realized that somewhere in all of this, our anchor had wrapped on the keel.
Fortunately we had a full tank of fuel, so we could have held position all night if necessary. I’m glad it didn’t come to that. As the very worst cell moved past, the wind changed direction, freeing our anchor. We were able to haul anchor, get the hell away from the bridge, and reset roughly where we were before. The other two boats anchored out here somehow didn’t drag – which was good since they were upwind of us. We left the engine running until the last of the thunderstorm had passed.
It’s quiet now, like nothing ever happened. The adrenaline is slowly starting to fade. Of course, I was worried sick about Jack – he was visibly upset by all the motion and noise, but he found a comfortable spot to sit. But I was literally terrified that I’d lose him if something worse happened. He’s now sitting curled up close to me resting – I think he knows I need some kitty love. I’m on pins and needles, and every time I hear the wind start to pick up even the slightest, the fear comes rushing back. Chris handled that one like a goddamn rockstar. Whereas I am flight/freeze when shit goes down, Chris just takes charge. I’m impressed as hell with his skill, clear thinking and quick reactions – without that, I’m writing a different tale.
But talk about sea stories – I think that one counts.
Here are a couple legitimately terrible “we’re still alive” selfies – one unintentionally goofy (Chris was actually checking to make sure we weren’t dragging) and one intentionally goofy (I make terrible faces). And yes, the brightness in the background is lightning.
12 replies on “Holy F***ing Sh!t”
My heart was in my mouth as I read your report! What an experience. Glad the 3 of you made it through! Now I hope you have a few quiet days.
You did everything right……the two of you…cont wait to race with you both this season….epic floater with fog last sat.
Thanks – we tried, and we were VERY lucky! Looking forward to racing with you when we get home. The Edlu seems to bring fog and rain pretty much every year, but we were still sad to miss it!
Wow that sounds absolutely terrifying! We are so happy you are ok and sounds like you handled it with a level head. I would have been a blubbering useless idiot. Paul would have been the logical one! Wishing you calmer days to come.
Good Sea story indeed. Always room for embellishment later. I’m glad your Ok.
Yikes! Horrifying!
That goodness you came out of that in one piece! When you start checking the boat it would not surprise me if you find some crazy stuff like a frying pan bent in half. Nothing stronger than the forces of wind and water.
One of the dinghy oars was popped out of its cradle (they screw into the oarlocks, so it didn’t fly off), the zipper on part of the bimini tore out, and it’s time to retire our American flag. I don’t see anything else YET that got damaged, but like you said, who knows.
WOW that is a fright. Shutterbug spent two hurricanes while I was in Key Biscayne. Both had winds over 100 knots but I was tied to a dock. I know what you mean about the sound. We had to run lines up and down the dock so we could walk and check on the other boats. Luckily we have a few generators and lots of rum and scotch.
That’s scary! Glad you were safely tied to a dock and that your boat made it through both storms safely. It’s amazing the power of Mother Nature!
So glad you are both safe. What an experience!
[…] already heard about our harrowing welcome to New Bern (if not, you’ll want to read this). That aside, we were determined not to let it ruin our experience. Surprisingly, the only real […]