Tales from the CDCR: 6) That Sinking Feeling . . . .

[Charles Brennan]

It was definitely not the best of CDCR weekends, weatherwise. 
The winds and waves were slamming us around, pretty hard.
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Nor did it help that my sole pair of glasses had gone over the side    and my SIL was calling out GPS coordinates to me, so we could sail the courses required.
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After the race, I had originally planned to go to Boca Chita Key and overnight in the harbor.  (Out of all these dreadful winds!) 
But the weather seemed like it was rapidly dwindling all my options. 
No Name Harbor on the southern end of Key Biscayne was looking far more attractive and would be easier to get to the next day's race start and would be easier to get home, if things really started falling apart.
It would also be likely crowded, so if that was the case, I'd probably have to anchor up by West End on Key Biscayne because in this unrelenting wind, I needed to be in the lee of SOMETHING! 
In the few minutes I spent mulling my options, I managed to get blown across to the west side of Biscayne Bay.  Ouch!   
So we started slogging our way east and north to Key Biscayne, that was only a promise and a compass number currently, and not anything you could actually SEE.

Ya know . . . . .
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It must be . . . . .
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PURE HELL . . . . .
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Ashore, on a day like this . . . . . .
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Good thing I'm out SAILING!! 
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After about an hour of this, I did something I have never done before: Turn on an engine, when there is an abundant amount of wind all around me.
I thought about some of the sanctimonious posts I've made over the years,  chiding people who fired up their motors to get themselves out of a jam, when there was plenty of power in those sails.
My problem was that the wind was on my nose and was so strong, that I had to pinch very close, not to get blown around one way or the other.  And of course, pinched that tight I could only make maybe half a knot.
I was wet, sore, tired, a little beat up, had a mild headache from functioning without glasses    and wanted nothing more in all the world, than a safe, snug, harbor to chill out in; who knows?     Maybe even change into some dry clothes.
In weather like this I usually just drop the hook and wait out the storm.  I knew this one wasn't going away and might in fact, get much worse, so it was either Move or Die. 
I moved.

So, swallowing my Pride and choking down the smug words of my past, I rolled up the main and fired up the motor and headed into the teeth of the winds and rains.
Uhh . . . . .  are we having Fun yet?? 
Next Problem:  Winds on the nose.
Shouldn't matter under power, should it? 
Unless the winds are so strong you can't quarter on the waves. 
Normally, I quarter waves and wakes from powerboats etc and roll harmlessly over them.
Today, when I tried that, the wind was so strong it would blow the nose of my boat around and put me beam on to the seas. 
Who in the Hell, "Rounds Up" under power?? 
So I had no choice but to hold the boat nose into those screaming winds and pound and slam and bang, over every wave in the Bay.
I heard later that there were 6 foot waves in the Bay, but I never saw any bigger than about four feet.   
Hardly saw any UNDER four feet, either.   
I could tell when a squall band came across.
When it rained, the hull went BANG; when it squalled, the hull went WHAM!! 
All while the Horizon played a strip-tease with me.
I can see the condo high-rises in the center of Key Biscayne! 
And now I can't. 
I could see them on and off, for what seemed like forever.
Are they EVER going to get closer!?? 
I knew that once in the lee of Key Biscayne, I could escape all this relentless slamming.
But no, the GPS said 1.5 knots when the wind was screaming and 2.5 knots when it was only raining, so I took chill comfort in the numbers telling that me that ultimately, I could win this race.
But I was tiring of the effort.    Especially with my right arm, tied to the motor tiller and throttle. 
Many times, the rudder would not move the hull back into the wind fast enough and would start heading me and I would have to yank the motor tiller against the stiff setting I normally keep it on, so that it stays pointed where I want it and I can steer with only the rudder.
Today, all the constant forcing it one way or the other, was taking a toll on my wrist, my forearm, and my shoulder. 
That was nothing, compared to the violence going on inside my brain.

I have been in this kind of weather many times.  I've even been in worse weather in OPBs, several times.  It suddenly occurred to me, that whenever I was in this kind of weather, I was ALWAYS doing my damnedest to get OUT of this kind of weather. 
Not heading into the teeth of more of it.   
Slogged and slammed and occasionally WHAMMED!!    Onward and eastward, until I could finally see the cell tower and the Key Biscayne Light house and knew I was either getting closer, or the weather was abating.
Just ahead on the horizon, I could see the glorious flat slick of lee waters, tantalizing me in the distance, since they never seemed to get closer.
I wondered if the Sun was going down soon, I had had no reference point all day, except for the color Gray.
Sure wish I could read my watch. 
I slammed and whammed and bammed eastward and finally reached the blissful, peaceful lee waters off Key Biscayne.
I mean RIGHT OFF Key Biscayne!  The wind was still whistling in my rigging, but the wave action was a blessed relief. 

Looked for No Name Harbor, went too far south, back-tracked north until I tripped over it and entered it, only to find my travails far from over.  While there were only a half-dozen vessels in the harbor the winds were still fairly strong and the seawall that you dock at, to sign in was to leeward.  I asked Ed to go below and get some fenders.  Docking was a challenge, to keep from being slammed into the concrete seawall but I congratulated myself on a creditable job, by holding the rudder and the motor stalled just next to the seawall,  until Ed could get the bow line tied to a cleat.  With the motor off, the wind tried to drag us down the length of the seawall and occasionally against it.  Figured we'd repair the damage, sort out and re-organize the boat and have some dinner.  Maybe turn in early.

Ed said: "There's a lot of water in the boat." 
"No Clue, Sherlock!!"    I thought to myself.  "It's only been raining Cats and Dogs, all Freakin' DAY!!" 
Ah, well, wouldn't be my first sub, with a little bilge-water dressing; we'll just pump it out and have some chow.
I looked inside.
"There's a LOT of water in the boat!!"   
Ed: "Yeah, that's what I said!" 
Wow! We musta took on a lot of water!   
I remembered seeing green water coming in over the tops of the coamings several times, but didn't remember any getting into the cabin.
Especially, not like this. 

The waterline by the limber holes on either side of the centerboard trunk was several inches deep there, where it's SUPPOSED to be dusty! 
Several inches deep and getting deeper! 
Having recently fixed an annoying leak and seeing my boat remained nice and dry inside for the past several trips, I had neglected to repair my hand bilge pump, when the seal got shot.
And my hand bailer had gotten a crack in it, and I hadn't been to a marine store to get another one, although it was on my list for the next trip to the store; one for the RIB and one for the sailboat.
A sponge is all the bailer I ever need any more.
Until now. 
I had a red plastic squared-off bucket that I could use for serious bailing, but this looked like more than a sponge job and less than a red-bucket job.
I was shocked at myself; I seemed to be making bad decisions, lately. 

I drafted a sandwich tray from the ice chest and pressed it into service.
Kept dumping the water into the cockpit and wondering    if it was raining in harder and faster than I was bailing overboard.
After we got the levels down on both sides it was still slowly seeping up higher.
Ed was a little discouraged,    but I had expected that, because I knew the storage lockers were likely flooded as well, since every thing on my boat drains to the bilge, which is also the sole.
So I fully expected the bilges to fill back up and they did.
Bailed them out and also had a flash-back from a zillion Coast Guard Auxiliary Courtesy Safety Inspections.
"You know sir, in an Emergency, you can use your flare kit container as an emergency bailer!" 
Every one of them always told me that, like it was This Year's Revelation, while I universally ignored them.
"Hmmmpph! I got a hand pump, a sponge, a hand bailer, what do I need to take apart my flare kit for?" 
Uhhhh . . . . .  for the times you DON'T have a hand pump and a hand bailer handy, THAT'S when, you NITWIT!!     
Dumped the flare kit contents into the dry goods basket and started bailing out the lockers, so that Ed could get the bilges under control.
And he did! 

Which is when we noticed water flowing in through the port limber hole in the fore cabin.
I stared at the water flow, in horror and disbelief. 
There's nothing IN that part of the boat that can HOLD that much water!! It just can't HAPPEN!!! 
Except it was. 
I thought furiously, mystified at what could have started such a severe leak.
The only thing I could come up with, is where I put some ice chest tie-down brackets to hold the Porta-Potti in place, in rough weather.
Had taken especial pains to make sure the screws were no longer than the plywood was thick and couldn't imagine how the screws could have possibly poked a hole in the hull, but as Arthur Conan Doyle said:
"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."
I had a small hole created by a screw several years ago and the water seeped in, until I tracked it down and fixed it.  Could my repair have failed again? 
This was not seepage.
The adrenaline re-fueled brain kicked into gear, mentally calculating in a single gestalt of: flow, volume, weight, displacement, rate and concluded:
"We're Sinking." 

Options:
1) Bail all night and all day tomorrow.  We were, after all, able to get ahead of the leak, with a little effort.
2) Go over the side, try and locate the holes, under water, in the dark, and jam in some 5200 until proper repairs could be effected.
3) Head for home, bailing as required and put the boat on a trailer.
4) Call SeaTow and ask for a pump and a tow back to Crandon Marina.

"Ed, I hate to say it, but I'm pulling the plug on this weekend."
He nodded agreement, probably secretly relieved, because he KNEW who would be handling the boat out in the rain and the wind, and who would be  down below, doing the bailing.
I checked the fuel tank and just as I had feared, I had used up a LOT more fuel than I estimated, fighting my way across the Bay, against a fierce wind.
I added the meager 2 and half gallon Emergency Reserve tank to the main tank, judging correctly, that yeah, this might actually constitute an Emergency.
The way my Luck was running tonight, if I ran out of fuel on my way back, I'd probably sink near Dinner Key. 

Now for the hard part:  Motoring off a lee seawall in strong winds.
I got the  motor started and ready and Ed handled the lines and gave a mighty heave to the bow and I motored off just as slick as you please.
And of COURSE,    the motor stalled.
(The only thing a motor does reliably, is fail.) 
Up wind of expensive boats, sea walls, rocks and other assorted opportunities for nautical mayhem.
I frantically pulled the starter cord trying to re-start the motor.  In a trice, or maybe half a trice, we were back on the seawall with a minor scrape and Ed fended off the bow, while I fended off the stern, until he got us tied down again.
We hadn't even had time to remove the fenders, so they were still in place.
Finally got the motor re-started again  and waited until it was firmly warmed up  (like I had failed to do the first time, in my haste to get back to port)    and we set off again.

WOW!!!    Forgot how bad the winds were outside the harbor!! How quickly we get spoiled!! 
In the lee of Key Biscayne, hugging a rocky, shallow, shoreline for all I'm worth, in near-total darkness and I'm STILL heeling over at 18º on bare poles!! 
For a brief despairing instant, I wondered how bad a distinction it is, between "sinking" and "sunk".
More of a distinction than my rational side wanted to find out, tonight.
Over-tired, sore muscles screaming,    fighting the winds, the elements, the Fates, the Tides, a stiff motor tiller, a soggy boat getting soggier with each passing second,    and heading for safety, 7 long miles away.
Thought I might try something I hadn't done for many years:  Entering Crandon Marina through the Mooring Field instead of the Channel Entrance.
I didn't know how silted in it might be since I hadn't gone that way in several years, but I knew going around the spill island to the south would put me right into the teeth of the wind ripping through Bear Cut and I wanted to avoid that if I could.
I simply didn't know how much fight I had left, in me.
Got closer and closer and the closer I got, the less I liked what I saw. 
Something didn't look quite right and I was too tired to analyze what was wrong and didn't trust my judgement completely, due to fatigue.
The Calvinistic Conscience took over: "When there are two ways to do something, the Hardest Way is probably the Correct Way." 
Reluctantly, I went around the Spill Island and was not disappointed by the violence I had expected, from Bear Cut. 
But still and all, I DID get into the Marina and the comparatively calmer winds and for once, seemed to have the whole docks and ramps to myself!! 
I maneuvered to the docks and changed suddenly, at the last possible instant, when Ed went all the way to the bow, instead of staying amidships, but he hopped off and tied off the bow line, like he thought that was how you were supposed to do it.   

Next Problem:
Seems those winds blowing like that for a day and a half, filled up the whole Bay and the docks were very nearly awash.
Which makes it VERY hard to retrieve the boat. 
A super-strong cross-wind didn't help matters any, either.   
Finally got the boat cranked on and pulled out, only to discover I had missed centering the keel on the keel rollers. 
Backed it in again, to partially float it, while Ed heaved mightily on a stern line on the windward side.
This time it was centered. 
Then it was time for a little sleuthing. 
This is what we saw:
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Those little white "sparklies" in that pic are TWO streams of water!! 

Check the tires: Think there's a little extra weight on that trailer?!? 
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We unrigged and got road-ready as best we could with my by-now thoroughly fried brain, and instead of heading for the Interstate, headed for a gas station to pump enough air into those tires to survive the trip home with all that weight.
We got home and I was so exhausted, I couldn't even back the trailer into the driveway and simply parked the truck and boat on the swale in front of the house. 
Got a hot shower and remember nothing else.

Next morning:
Ya think this looks bad in your driveway? 
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Try dealing with it in the dark, at Cape Florida, in No Name Harbor, during an all-day Storm!     
This was with the trailer tilted down to release the rest of the trapped water I had dragged home.
"What'd'ja Bring Me, Grandpa?!?"   
"Biscayne Bay, Child." 

Wha' Happened?!??? 
You're looking at a 33 year old Manufacturing Defect.
Where the head is installed, is a plywood floor.  There is an inspection plate in the center that sits on two cleats screwed along their length with bronze screws.
Those screws go through half-inch plywood and 3/4-inch plywood cleats and stick out another half-inch or so above the one-inch space between the bottom of the cleat and the hull.
Sometime during the day I slammed so hard, one or more times, that the hull flexed and the floor flexed and drove two of the screws through the hull, punching two quarter-inch holes in my boat.
One of the two cleats was knocked loose from the plywood, because all the screws on that side snapped in half.
As nearly as I can judge from the water I saw in the bilge and the water flow I saw flowing; it must have happened no more than an hour before we tied up, at No Name Harbor.
An unfortunate collision of unusually bad weather and a poor building decision many years ago from a long-gone builder, caused me to miss the second half of the CDCR.
Which NATURALLY    had FAR BETTER weather, than yesterday!!! 
I also see a whale gusher bilge pump, in my very near future.

But, Hey!! 
1) I survived! 
2) I brought the Son-in-Law back! (BIG priority with the wife and daughter.)
3) I could write that Urchin was "sinking" and NOT "sunk"! 
4) There's always NEXT year!! 

A far Truer Story than I would have liked,
Charles Brennan

[Riley Smith]

Well, I haven't almost sunk. So far 

 Good story CB! I have a Home Depot manual edition emergency pump but have never needed it. Cheap ($40). Easy to use. Works good. Pretty efficient (2 lbs per stroke). You can move a lot of water if you're in a hurry. Simple, to fit the KISS philosophy. Note: if you have to submerge this pump it is TOO LATE

https://www.homedepot.com/p/VPC-Pump-A-Way-Manual-Non-Submersible-Hand-Pump-9136/202277592

[Captain Kidd]

Well, I haven't almost sunk. So far 

 Good story CB! I have a Home Depot manual edition emergency pump but have never needed it. Cheap ($40). Easy to use. Works good. Pretty efficient (2 lbs per stroke). You can move a lot of water if you're in a hurry. Simple, to fit the KISS philosophy. Note: if you have to submerge this pump it is TOO LATE

https://www.homedepot.com/p/VPC-Pump-A-Way-Manual-Non-Submersible-Hand-Pump-9136/202277592

Here's the one I have: https://www.amazon.com/Manual-Hand-Water-Pump-Boat-Bilge-Pump/dp/B07NK5G1MF/ref?th=1

fits nicely in the lazarette of Discipleship