No way to learn about
anchoring tied up to a
dock ... so out sailing I go ...
Night 1:
Pull in to a nice little anchorage sheltered behind an island. The place is empty so I have all the room I need, and nobody to watch me screw-up. But just then a topsail schooner arrives, and despite being crewed by schoolkids effortlessly anchors itself. I locate a nice spot - 15ft of
water, is that enough? Heck I don't even know if my
depth sounder is calibrated for
water under the
keel or total water depth! Probably should have thought of that before I left. But I only draw 5ft and although it's near high tide, the tide will only go out about 7ft tonight, so that should be plenty. I release the
CQR anchor from the bow roller, and start to feed out chain. I get to a mark on the chain - I probably should have measured how far apart these marks were before I got to this point too! well it's probably either 10m or 50ft, so lets guess 10m to be safe - so I keep letting out chain until 3 markers are out - that should be about 6:1
scope in the worst case. Is that enough
scope?
Uneasy sleep ... keep waking up ... is the
boat ok? has the
anchor dragged? Check
GPS ... no, the
boat is exactly where it was. The
wind starts to pick up until it reaches a dizzying 15kts, and a few waves refract round the island and start to gently rock the boat. I wake up again ... "There's a storm blowing out there! I must be in trouble!" But no the boat hasn't moved, and once I'm awake it doesn't really seem that windy. Bump!! Bump!! Bump!! "Oh no, the tide's gone out, that's the
keel hitting rocks!" No, that's the
dinghy bumping against the
hull, besides there's plenty of water. "But not if I've dragged!" There's maybe 15kts of
wind, and now at low tide I must have 10:1 all chain scope ... check the
GPS, the boat hasn't moved. Bump!! Bump!! Bump!! "Am I sure it's the
dinghy and not rocks? I'd better go out to check" So I open the companion way and go outside. The boat is sitting low in the water, and the bow is almost submerged, the sudden realisation that my boat is sinking sends a jolt of adrenaline through my body strong enough to wake me up ... I'm still in
bed, that was just a dream ... Bump! Bump! sounds like the dinghy ... check the GPS, the boat hasn't moved. Finally morning arrives, after a fretful nights sleep I look out - "surely those rocks are closer than they were last night?" Check the GPS once more ... no, the boat hasn't moved - it spent all night in exactly the same place, it didn't even swing on the anchor.
Night 2:
This time the anchorage is a nice secluded cove, all the best spots are taken up by boats on permanent
mooring balls, so I'm anchored a little further into the middle in water about 35ft. I let out what I think will be 5:1 of chain, and backed down with the
engine. The anchor set ok, but it left me perilously close to the only other anchored boat. So I hauled in the chain, moved away a bit and tried again ... this time good, so I turn in for the night. Periodically checking the GPS during the night - the boat behaves itself again, and I sleep well.
This
anchoring game isn't such a big deal after all. But the
VHF weather broadcast had a different opinion. "Environment
Canada has issued a severe
weather warning for the Southern Gulf Islands, winds SE 40 gusting to 50 knots." Mother Nature was about to up the stakes.
Throughout the afternoon the winds picked up. The boat tugged at the anchor, but held fast. Until about 2:00pm, a larger gust of wind and ... oh ... that didn't feel right!! Check the GPS, yes I'm skidding across the anchorage at about 1kt! yikes!! The first thing I think of doing is to let out all the rest of my chain - I really should have done this last night, it's not like this storm wasn't
forecast - this gives me about 7:1, and fortunately the anchor re-sets and holds. There then followed tense waiting as I watched out the window, and down at the GPS to see if I was still holding. That was when I realised the GPS actually had an anchor drag
alarm. Setting the
alarm relieved some of the panic, but not the worry. Sure enough about an hour later ... BEEP! BEEP! ... I was dragging again. Not sure if adding even more scope would help again, I did it anyway. At the end of my chain is a length of
rope, so I let out about 30m more of
rope. Again the anchor re-set. The boat swung around a lot more in the gusts on the rope rather than just the chain, and the stretch in the rope softened some of the gusts. After a fretful 2 hours of worrying about what I would do next time it started dragging, the wind started to calm down, so I hauled in the anchor, and motored back to the upwind side of the anchorage to start again.
Night 3:
The night was mercifully calm (relatively), as was the morning, but this storm was ready for round 2.
Night 4:
Again 40-50kt
forecast, but this time if anything happened it would happen in the dark! With my anchor alarm set, with all my chain out and a bunch of rope, I tried to get some sleep with the wind screaming through the
rigging, and the sudden boat movements as the gusts hit. BEEP! BEEP! Periodically the alarm would sound, but checking the GPS, that was just the boat swinging acceptably as the wind shifted.
By morning it was all over, the anchorage was calm. Talking to the man at the
fuel dock I suggested that I perhaps hadn't picked the best season to learn about
boating, to which he replied "I don't know, anyone can safely anchor here in July and August. Last night is about as rough as it gets round here - It's just going to get easier for you from now on." I hope he's right.
Two nights later arriving back at my dock - in the dark - nervously dodging the unlit moored boats outside the marina, I locate my entrance, and narrowly missing an unlit jetty(distances seem so different in the dark) I make the approach to my dock ... but I completely mess up the turn ... I try to steer back into the fairway, but it's too late I'm heading straight for a piling ... hard astern!!! The propwalk pulls me nicely against the side of the dock ... stepping off I just walk the boat back a few paces and she's home (but backwards). Anyone watching might have thought it was deliberate - until they saw me panicking that all my fenders and dock-lines were on the other side of the boat!