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Dragging Along - The
Importance of Ground Tackle
4/26/01
Blaine Parks
‘Charbonneau’ shook us awake as what sounded like a jackhammer
reverberated down her hull, beginning at her bow and ending amidships. I
leapt over Janet and out of the bunk.
After throwing on some shorts, I ran up into the cockpit afraid of
what I would find.
Janet wasn’t far behind me.
Howling winds and cold air greeted us as we climbed into the cockpit.
A quick survey of our surroundings gave no clues as to what caused
that horrible noise.
There were no other boats close enough to have hit us and,
thankfully, the Bridge of Lions was no closer now than when we’d gone to
bed. It
was 1:30 AM.
We were now wide-awake.
The wind had been building earlier in the evening as a high pressure
system moved into the St. Augustine area.
We had gone from a light southeast wind earlier in the day to rainy
conditions with strong northerly winds by late afternoon.
With a north wind, our St. Augustine anchorage provided very little
protection from wind or swell.
By the time we had rechecked our anchor and headed for bed, we were
experiencing wind gusts of over 25 knots and short, choppy 3 foot seas.
As our heads hit our pillows, we knew tonight was going to be another long
night at anchor.
It didn’t help that St. Augustine’s Bridge of Lions was only a
few hundred yards south of us.
We still remember watching a small boat break loose and hit the
bridge during our last visit to St. Augustine.
The sounds that woke us up brought that memory back in vivid color.
I hoped we weren’t about to find ‘Charbonneau’ in a repeat
performance of that disaster.
Once in the cockpit I began searching for the cause of the horrible noise,
I made my way forward, crouching down against the gusting winds and
holding on as ‘Charbonneau’ pitched several feet in the air before
crashing back down again.
If I hadn’t been there when we’d set the anchor, I would have
sworn we were in the middle of an offshore passage and not anchored in
what was a beautiful, flat anchorage less than 24 hours ago.
The nylon snubber was still taking the strain off the anchor chain,
the chafe gear on the snubber was still doing its job, and it appeared
after several anxious minutes that ‘Charbonneau’ was not dragging her
anchor. However,
the anchor chain disappeared into the water and then seemed to be pulled
under the boat.
That explains the noise; we had been pushed over our anchor chain
by the strong winds, which were opposing the ebbing tide.
The chain had dragged all along our full keel.
I made my way back to the cockpit and gave Janet the good news.
Sitting in the cockpit, relieved, we began to take in the scene around us.
The fifteen or so boats in the anchorage were all moving very
erratically.
Boats, including ‘Charbonneau’, would be caught in the wind’s
grip and thrown forward at 2-3 knots until the anchor chain was completely
played out and the boat quickly turned around.
When the wind let up for a moment, the strong ebbing tide would
hurl the boats in the opposite direction.
The whole anchorage was chaos.
Each boat, all with varying hull shapes, behaved differently.
Boats often raced toward each other, stopping only a few feet from
colliding with each other.
Finally, we watched helplessly as two boats near us did actually collide.
One of the boat’s crew must have already been awake as they were
in the cockpit seconds after the crunching impact.
We’re sure the other boat’s crew was rudely awakened just like
we were.
Only in their case, it was an actual collision and not their boat
riding over their anchor chain.
The two boats drifted apart almost as quickly as they had collided.
Both crews turned on lights and searched their boats for damage.
After witnessing the collision, Janet and I decided it would be best for
us to spend the rest of the night in the cockpit.
It was just a short thirty minutes later when Janet and I were up
on ‘Charbonneau’s’ bow helping fend off a boat that was drifting
down into our bowsprit.
The boat’s captain and I frantically pushed our boats apart as
Janet used inflatable fenders to keep the two boats from damaging each
other. As
with the other boat, it was all over in a matter of seconds.
No damage to either boat.
Before the night was out, there were three more collisions between the
anchored boats.
One of the collisions involved the two original boats and lasted
for ten minutes as we heard crash after crash when their hulls kept
colliding.
The two crews fought to keep the boats off each other, but Mother
Nature was winning this battle.
Tempers began to flare as each crew blamed the other for the
collision.
From our standpoint, it was hopeless to find fault.
Mother Nature was just testing us again – and we weren’t doing
so well.
By 4:30 AM, the tide had switched and the strong winds had died down a
little. As
the anchorage regained some normalcy, boats all lying in the same
direction, we decided to get some sleep.
Janet and I both struggled to fall asleep as each new noise
prompted us to get up and look around.
Watching those boats collide and having a near miss ourselves had
really put us on edge.
At some point, we must have dozed off.
I reluctantly got back out of bed at 9:30, leaving Janet to get a little
more rest.
The dogs and I went through our normal morning routine of my
feeding them and then all of us enjoying my breakfast as I ate in the
cockpit.
With the exception of the winds building again, there was little to
confirm that last night wasn’t just a bad dream.
Then, the Florida Marine Patrol boat came out to take reports for
the damaged boats.
It definitely wasn’t a dream.
Janet made her way into the cockpit a little later in the morning.
We were grumbling about the required trip to shore with the dogs.
We knew from experience that we had a wet ride ahead of us.
When we went below to begin preparing ourselves for the wet ride, I
heard a couple loud bursts from an air horn and people yelling.
It didn’t sound like good news.
Blaine
and several other cruisers attempt to save this boat before it hits
the bridge. The owner wasn't aboard when it began dragging. |
Blaine
hauls in the anchor rode as the boat is being towed off the bridge --
surprise -- there was no anchor attached to the other end! |
The boat
is towed off the bridge after 20 minutes of pounding against the concrete
supports.
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Free and
clear. The boat was towed to a nearby marina until its owner could
be located.
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Back in the cockpit, I immediately spotted the problem.
A small boat had broken free from her anchor and was quickly
drifting towards the bridge.
As she passed by ‘Charbonneau’ I used our own air-horn, trying
to get the attention of anybody aboard the boat.
There was nobody aboard.
And she only had another few hundred yards before she would be
pinned against the bridge.
Less than two minutes later, a captain from a nearby boat and I were
aboard the drifting boat trying to get her anchor to reset.
We let out all the spare chain and rode in the boat’s anchor
locker – no luck.
We were still dragging towards the bridge.
I went back to the cockpit and began searching for a way to start
the boat’s engine.
The other captain jumped back into his dinghy and was trying to
push against the boat to slow her progress towards the bridge.
The wind and waves were too much.
Just as I found the ignition key and was about to start the engine,
we hit the bridge – hard.
The noise was deafening, echoing under the bridge.
The small sailboat was forced on her side as the wind and current
tried to shove her under one of the bridges 10-foot high trellises.
I was sure the mast would break after watching the impact snap one
of the wire shrouds holding the mast upright.
Amazingly, it didn’t break.
By now, we had four dinghies with concerned cruisers trying to help pull
or push the boat off the bridge.
I reached for the ignition key and prayed that she’d start.
The engine roared to life and, as I pushed the boat into forward,
the grinding noise against the bridge began to let up.
Another cruiser in their dinghy positioned themselves to help push
us off the bridge.
We were making some progress.
Then, the engine quit.
The boat was immediately pinned against the bridge again.
The boat’s hull was lodged against one of the bridge’s pillars.
It was the only thing stopping us from being swept completely under
the bridge.
The situation had gone from bad to worse.
Unless we got a tow soon, the boat would surely be a complete loss.
Almost as soon as I had the thought, there was a towing and salvage boat.
I found out afterwards that the Bridge of Lions bridge tender had
immediately called for a towboat when they saw what was happening.
Shouting above the noise, I informed the towboat that I was not the
owner, the owner was not aboard, and I couldn’t sign or enter into a
towing or salvage contract for this boat.
Once they understood the situation, they tossed me a line and asked
me to tie it off.
The boat had to be towed off the bridge.
They would work with the bridge and owner after the boat was safely
removed.
Ten minutes later, the boat was safely off the bridge.
I went back to the bow of this small boat concerned that the anchor
might finally catch as she was being towed to safety.
I pulled on the chain, hand over hand, trying to get the anchor up
before she caught.
The more I pulled, the easier it was to pull.
Something wasn’t right.
At the end of the chain where I should have found an anchor, all I
found was a shackle.
The boat’s anchor had sheered off at the shackle.
No wonder we couldn’t get the hook reset by letting out more
scope.
I climbed off the boat and into our dinghy after finding out where the
boat was being taken.
I told the salvage company that I’d pass that information to the
marina in case the boat’s owner showed up and found that their boat was
now missing.
When I returned to our boat, I was exhausted.
What had transpired in a matter of minutes still had me trembling
with the thought that it could have been ‘Charbonneau’ pinned against
the bridge.
Janet and I have always taken great care when anchoring. By learning to
sail on Caribbean charters, we learned to anchor long before we ever
learned how to dock.
The last twelve hours have reinforced some our lessons from those
early days.
Based on those experiences, we use an all-chain rode and carry the
extra weight of a 66 lb Bruce anchor on our bow.
The anchor is twice the “recommended” size for our boat, but we
find it to be cheap insurance against dragging.
We witnessed boats with an all-nylon rode sailing haphazardly
around their anchor while those with all chain were much less likely to
stray around the anchorage.
If you’re in the process of fitting out your own boat or planning to go
cruising in the future, give your anchoring gear some extra thought.
Everything from anchors, type of rode, shackles, and your windlass
selection are very serious decisions.
Practicing your anchoring technique with crewmates and
understanding how your boat behaves in different conditions are also
important.
And on those days or nights when the weather really kicks up,
don’t underestimate the value of posting an “anchor watch.”
The day
will come when the safety of your boat and/or crew will depend upon
it.
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