"Adventures" always seem to occur in clusters. God knows why.
It all started in Portsmouth, where a friend met me. We had planned to spend the night there, and then go sailing. But the
weather was so lovely, it seemed like a shame to stay in port. So we slipped and left and sailed off.
When I went to drop the
anchor, the
windlass didn't
work. It's a relay I have been fiddling with and must have hooked up wrong. But I didn't want us to miss our sundowners fiddling with it, so I decided to just throw out the
Fortress kedge. Calm
weather, a benign shore -- why not? And at the same time test its ability to reset in a tide change. As usual, the
Fortress set instantly and easily held a full
power reverse pull. I put up an
anchor ball and switched on the anchor light.
So we had our sundowners watching an excellent sunset, had dinner, watched a
movie (Argo), and went to
bed about 22:00. I set anchor alarms as usual and set the IPlod with
INavX next to my
bed.
About 02:00, the tide changed and the anchor
alarm went off. I couldn't tell whether the anchor was holding -- we had gone around in a loop -- never seen that before. Odd combination of tide and
wind? I jumped out of my bunk and got dressed. But it seemed to be ok so I tried to go back to sleep -- but in my clothes. As I was drifting off, I heard an
engine, and loud
music very close and getting closer. I checked for an
AIS target -- nothing. I thought about firing up the
radar. Then I heard shouting. So I ran up on
deck --
fishing boat. His
gear is tangled in my anchor line. Great. "I couldn't see your anchor light way up there!" He said.
This is particularly nice since I don't have a working
windlass at the moment. So I untied the bitter end of the anchor
rode from its padeye in the
anchor locker and led it back to one of my big
electric sheet winches. Pulled it up with difficulty -- the
fishing boat is now also hanging from it, and the tide is running about 2 knots. But the big sheet
winch manages it, and there are the fisherman's lines.
I'm trying to figure out what to do with them, when the fisherman says -- just cut your anchor line. It's tangled in my
gear, and I'll bring it back to you. Bullocks! That will be the last I ever see of that anchor, and besides that, we will be unanchored in a 2
knot tide and can't start the
engine because of all the ropes in the
water. So instead I use the trick I learned when I got tangled in that
electrical cable in
Finland last summer -- got a line around the fisherman's lines, and lifted them. Then, I put a rolling hitch on my own anchor line,
outboard of the fisherman's lines. Made it off. Freed the bitter end of my anchor line, and led it through and free of the fisherman's lines. Then released his lines. Et voila!
But it was not to be so simple. A second big ugly
steel fishing boat has come to see what the trouble is. He is hovering nearby. He gets distracted (or something), doesn't realize he's in gear, and T-bones me with his razor-sharp,
steel bow, with a huge crash. F***!
I run below to check for
water ingress -- nothing. Thank you Moody for your Kevlar skin!
The fisherman has no
insurance. I feel for him, because he was only trying to help. He proposes to wait a week, and report the incident as if it happened a week from now. He'll take out
insurance in the meantime. He lets me know that he can't pay for it himself.
Between participating in insurance fraud and paying for it myself, I will take the honest way and pay for it myself, so I decline this option. But an
inspection reveals -- to my great surprise -- that the
hull does not seem to be damaged at all. His raked bow apparently met not with the
hull, but with my
teak rail, and smashed it. But a piece of
teak rail is not going to be tens of thousands. I looked at the hull from the inside -- not a mark. He hit me right at one of my massive through-bolted and fully tabbed bulkheads, which seems to have absorbed the impact.
I called my insurance company and reported the
accident -- just in case a crack in the hull -- God forbid -- or something like that is found later. Made a detailed log entry. Will meet the fisherman tomorrow to look over the damage.
Lessons learned:
1. Never, ever again, will I rely on a mast-top anchor light. I usually leave on some lights which I have which illuminate the
salon hull
ports -- why, oh why, did I not do that this time?? I am back in my bunk, and I have my steaming light lit up besides the hull port lights. I would have left my
deck light on, but it shines right in the forecabin where my friend is sleeping.
Now have to think of something better than the steaming light for next time.
2. Always wear a knife and know your bloody knots. All that
rope in the water, rushing tide, two fishing boats -- I was lucky it didn't turn out worse. I was lucky my knots didn't fail me, and that I did have my knife on my person. This could have been much, much worse.
3. Have good insurance. Shirt happens, not always your fault, and what if the guy destroys your boat and can't pay for it?
4. Just because a mariner is a professional, doesn't mean he has good seamanship.