Red Sky

Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.  We did.  We battened down as scuttling slabs of hard darkness slid close over us shutting out the sun, setting our houseboat neighbor’s sundeck chairs skittering across the deck and tripping over the rail into the water in the 35 knot gusts of needle driven rain.  It has taken seven years, but finally, it seems, perhaps we have learned to secure all decks as the wind buffets and rips, looking for a loose strap or edge of canvas to exploit.  The looser lines on the Bluewater Yacht next to us allow the flat bottom boat to horse around its slip bucking, twisting, and bouncing, like a bronco coming out of the chute.  It reins up suddenly as it hits the end of its springy nylon line then slingshots back the other way only to spring forward once again as the line takes up.  If not careful, while watching this other boat out our pilothouse windows lounging back and forth, my visual sense can confuse and trick my brain into believing it is Skinwalker moving and not the other vessel.  It is an easy elusion to have.  When the rain halts I will attempt to share with our neighbor how to keep his furniture on the boat and to secure spring lines to keep from surging fore and aft and prevent his boat from twisting like soft licorice rope from side to side.

The storm intensity has slowed.  The rain is now a soft patter.  Water trickling off the decks is a sweet tinkling as it splashes like musical notes into the bay.  The dirty humidity of the early morning is cleansed; the air is now cool and feels inexplicably dryer than before the storm.  In all its complicity nature is simple.  There is nothing stronger.  There is nothing more beautiful.  It is neither forgiving nor vengeful.  It takes no captives and has no friends.  Weather is not a creature or a god. Weather is a constant.  If we must humanize weather it is the muscle of Mother Nature.

Monday, OMG already, Monday we depart, northbound for Baltimore.  The winter of being done to by physicians is over.  Body parts prodded, pinched, cut, replaced, repaired and inspected in general, should provide another fifty thousand miles of unwarranted service.

We are leaving earlier this year so that those we have forgotten, ignored or have not met on our quick downhill trek in October will be enjoyed as we flow north gauging our progress by the receding edge of a nasty winter.  We urge those of you on our Intracoastal path who wishes to share a flagon of grog or a plastic cup of cheap box wine to put an email in our box.  Cruising, after all is said and done, is about people.

Monday.  Hmmm.  Come to think of it, all the necessary oils and waters of our girls in the engine room, Leila and Liela, have been tended and they are happy.  The ship stores have been replenished.  (Read rum, box wine and “tator tots”.)  What the hell.  I think, to keep the crew from getting complacent, we will leave tomorrow, Saturday Morning.

Bones

Urban Pirate Ship Fearless

Aka Wayne Flatt

MV Skinwalker

Its morning in the marina

Its morning in the marina.  The sun has already warmed the pilothouse. We open the doors and windows.

The sounds of the marina are clear through the quiet wet air. Water is gurgling from the shower sump on a boat next to us. The cruisers in a boat on the other side are congenially sharing pieces of news to each other from the local paper over coffee. He burnt his lip on the edge of a ceramic cup, she giggles the admonishment of caring. The dragging scrape of filp-flops along the dock announces Hojo, in her flannel jama's with shower kit in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, reluctantly easing her way to the shower room for morning ablutions. Sometimes she stays in the little room longer than others would like. Ray, the owner, brings out the leaf-blower and lays it down, probably realizing it is too early for the noise. He walks the docks instead checking lines and angle of boats in the water looking for hints of danger or a bilge pump not working properly. The burgler alarm at the tiki bar next to the boat next to us goes off suggesting the first employee has arrived to set up for a busy day of serving beer and food to those sitting out on the deck in the warm sun cooled just right by a zephyr of a breeze that the air pressure overhead will not allow to build today. Small fish break water next to the boat, a comorant greedilly ducks beneath the water seeking what comorants seek, while a lone Brown Pelican glides on a pressure wave created by pinching air between him and the water only inches below him, his wing tips dimple the water on the down stroke. Unseen runners on the road behind us hidden by the stand of mangroves talk in passing with little bumps in their voice when a heel hits the pavement. A scratchy throated dove coos in response to the vulgar grind of a garbage truck mashing its load with its compactor. The man on the back whistles to the driver and the intermittent backup warning tone attempts to imitate the dove. Lynn tells me it is time for me to help color her hair.

Nothing is happening this morning, but morning.

Bones

Home is where the heart is...

Home is where the heart is....or maybe it is just where there is a cold beer, a greasy burger and a beach.  We are the second boat in from the bar, but thats ok, we need the excercise.  The beach is across the street, (we have a private section of the beach), and surf fishing there or walk down to the pass for other fishing or if too lazy we just fish off the dock.  Manatee was next to our slip when we got up yesterday.  We hear the music from the bar on weekends, usually island, Florida theme with some old time soft rock in the weekend evenings.  Haven't gotten my grouper sandwich yet, but it will come.  Plan to spend a few evenings watching for the ever elusive green flash, which I have seen twice at this beach.

Here is a picture to prove I am not telling tall tales.

Bones

Content in Paradise

MV Skinwalker is safe!

The boat, our boat, our home is off the sand bar and safe with no apparent damage.  We have tested the running gear, trannies & props no problems.  No new vibrations or overheating.

In this type of grounding according to TowBoatUS there was a 50/50 chance of loosing the boat.  It was technically a salvage operation, but this boat us owner did not treat it as salvage but as a challenge.  It took two two boats with great effort to save our home.  These guys were terrific, sympathic, friendly and so very, very professional.  TowBoat US insurance took care of the hours and effort of the first boat and two men and we paid for the second boat and driver.  I am so proud of Lynn so handled everything with her normal aplomb--until we finished and reached the dock.

We have spent the last few hours cleaning up what fell to the other side of the boat and several gallons of water intrusion through a leaking porthole, as we laid on our side, we think.  The bilges are dry again and the pumps not coming on and off.  We believe all is well.

When we finish cleaning up we are going to find a burger, several beers and a very long nap.

Thank you all for caring.  We have not read your emails yet, but will after we put our shatter egos and nerves back together.  

We are both still shaken, but now relieved.

We will be leaving in the morning back to our northbound efforts and anticipate no significant loss of time.

Bones & Capt'n Lynnie

 

MV Skinwalker in peril

Skinwalker Log, Monday, April 05, 2010, 0700 hrs

Calabash Creek Anchorage Near Little River Inlet on the AICW

My whole body is quivering with tension.  Lynn is in shock.  I am in shock.  I did something stupid and dangerous.  Our vessel is in some peril.  But, now, we are not, only the boat remains in jeopardy. Jeopardy, we have learned is not just a game show.  We sit safely in a marina.  Brian of BoatUS brought us here to his marina in Little River.  Skinwalker is lying on her side hard aground.  Six years, 25,000 miles and it has come to this, taking our chances on a rising tide.

Yesterday afternoon we anchored close to shore giving two sailboats who were already anchored there plenty of room.  It is always shallow here, but we were in closer to shore then usual at low tide. Occasionally the boat would bump into the mud bank then back off by itself.  The tide started coming in and I felt more comfortable as Skinwalker floated out in the current a little way from shore.  I monitored the tide closely aware of our proximity to the shore for a while then went to bed marking in my head that high tide would be at 0130 hours and that I should check our swing at the turn of tide to make sure we swung away from shore not into shore.  I awoke at 0330 to find the boat listing to port.  During the rising tide it had turned and stretched out its anchor chain to the flow, but it had not swung out and around on the change to an outgoing tide.  Skinwalker instead had caught and settled onto a sand bar near high tide. 

I started the engines an attempted to wiggle off with no success as the boat continued to list.  I called Sea Tow and during the course of them launching a captain and boat we all discovered our coverage had lapsed in January and Lynn had only renewed with a check by mail less then a week ago. 

Lynn called the national number for BoatUS our other towing service and we got the runaround very much like people feel when they call the coast guard with the subsequence asking of many questions, while germane, are not reassuring that anything is being done expediously.  The boat heeled more.  In frustration I called out on the VHF radio for BoatUS who answered promptly in a calm reassuring voice. They dispatched a boat immediately—the boat listed further.  It was 20 minutes the beautiful red boatUS vessel showed up and calmed us with a soothing voice on the radio even as the boat heeled more onto its beam.  Then the captained probed here and there with bright flood lights, examining looking for damage and generally evaluating the situation. 

We could walk a few feet to shore if we needed to, but we were not positive the boat would survive sitting on its side as it now was.  Adrenaline kicked our minds into warp drive and that brought fear that we contained to nervousness as we struggled to master that fear with a veneer of calm.  We couldn’t walk around the boat.  A bench was now lying on the recliners, the refrigerator was straining, bulging out of its cabinet trying to wrest free of its restraints.  Everything took five times longer to do because we were walking on the corner of the rooms where the floor meets the walls, the floors not allowing us purchase and the walls a little to steep to walk on.  Our home had turned into the a scary fun house where up seem sideways and down the other sideways.  It was disorienting.  Finally Skinwalker stopped its sideways fall at 45 degrees. 

However, water was seeping in a seal porthole and the master was taking on water so Lynn tightened the hatches further still.  Lynn & I were both disoriented.  We closed seacocks, hatches, loaded up clothes, money and one computer.  We made a rope fast to horns on the aft cleat and used that to pull or lower us up and down the back deck then used it to climb over the starboard rail and with great effort lower us down past the end of the swim platform and down further into the towboat.  One at a time we both made our way down into the towboat.  I turned around and there in front of me was Skinwalkers starboard rudder and prop high in the air.  The keel reflected light off its bright green bottom paint.  “Look how clean the bottom is” was my first thought, while my second thought marveled in disgust at the innocence of the first.  The boat was mammoth tipped on its side.  The severity of the situation soon became clear.  Stupid, stupid, stupid, how incredible stupid can I be for allowing this situation to occur.

The towboat captain has brought us to his marina as I have said.  We sit here now waiting for the tide to float the boat, perhaps, later today.  High tide is going to be lower then it was night.  Chances are we will get off, but that is uncertain at this time and in the darkness of my mind strange and horrible things are happening just now.  I am still shockly.  Who would think such a small thing would have such a great effect both physically and mentally.  Our home is not our home at least for a few hours,  Then, ever hopefully, it will be again.

I can’t throw up again.  I can’t go to the bathroom one more time.  Now it is sit, worry, wait worry and worry hope two towboats can get us off a few hours from now.  I am frightened, yet strong, yet not as strong as I should be.  Lynn is holding it together.

There wasn’t much chance of dying, unless dying of fright is really possible.  We will return at high tide and see if our home, our precious home is still there and able to re-float.  It is likely all will be well, but even the small thought of it not being well is more chilling then I would have ever thought.  We are helpless, but alive.

More to come this afternoon after we workout what needs and can be done to save our home.  Bones & Capt’n Lynnie