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CHAPTER 1
Houston, Texas
CHAPTER 2
Kemah, Texas
CHAPTER 3
Kemah, Texas
CHAPTER 4
Galveston, Texas
CHAPTER 5
Seabrook, Texas
CHAPTER 6
Seabrook, Texas
CHAPTER 7
At Sea - Gulf of Mexico
CHAPTER 8
At Sea - Gulf of Mexico
CHAPTER 9
At Sea - Gulf of Mexico
CHAPTER 10
At Sea - Gulf of Mexico
CHAPTER 11
Port Fourchon, Louisiana
CHAPTER 12
Cut Off, Louisiana
CHAPTER 13
Cut Off, Louisiana
CHAPTER 14
Cut Off, Louisiana
CHAPTER 15
Houma, Louisiana
CHAPTER 16
Houma, Louisiana
CHAPTER 17
Houma, Louisiana
SPINDRIFT - CHAPTER 8
At Sea - Gulf of Mexico
March 26, 2003
We are writing you from a spot in the Gulf of Mexico known as "the Green Canyon". With over 1200 fathoms (7600 feet) of blue water below us these are the places at sea where you rediscover the beauty and vastness of the ocean. But it is also here where you can have an experience the likes of which most of us only see in the movies. Such happened to us, and we were obliged to radically change our course.
After making fairly good headway for our first three days out of Houston, the fourth day greeted us with an unusually calm morning. All was still, calm. There was an eery haze, soft, quite beautiful. It no longer seemed like we were at sea, but rather on some inland waterway, or lake.
By mid morning the wind had started up again and we were off. Over the next few hours clouds started appearing to the North of us, just over the horizon. At the time we were heading south-east, towards the Florida Keys, having found it hard to maintain our original heading towards the Yucatan Peninsula. Little by little a storm moved in on us. The clouds that had been forming in the north met up with us as a storm as more clouds converged from the southwest. Suddenly we found ourselves caught right in the middle of TWO storm fronts which subsequently rendered our jib (the forward most sail) useless. Heaven, my youngest daughter and I donned our foul weather gear (expensive, supposedly waterproof jackets and pants),
put on our harnasses and tethers (strong nylon belts) which which kept us secured to the boat no matter what, or in the event either of us should be washed overboard would drag us along behind the boat so as to not lose anyone (!!!) and we prepared for the worst. I chose Heaven to accompany me as she was the crew member with the most experienc. She used to race J27 sailboats in the Galveston bay area. We sent the the twins and David to make sure all was secured down below and to stay there this time, for this storm at least.The rain began. At first it was rather nice, the eery beauty of the different shades of gray, the misty effect of the sea where it joins the horizon.....
We sailed along, under power alone as I had only that morning repeatedly emphasized to my kids how that the only danger being in a storm is being "over-canvassed" (having to much sail up) as THIS is what eventually causes the worst-case scenario of being dis-masted. This was NOT going to happen to us. (!?) We continued, under power, barely getting wet thanks to the protection afforded us by our green Bimini top, the canvas cover that covers our cockpit.
All went rather well, at first. In fact things were so smooth, our little Spindrift just plugged along staying on course, making seaway. This, it appeared, was to be only a mild little drizzle, nothing to worry about.Then I, the Captain, I, the one who should know better, made that fateful decision. I gave to order to my mate, Heaven, to unfurl the jib "just a little" so as to make better speed.
THEN, IT HAPPENED! All hell broke loose!!! The wind blew up suddenly, rain fell horizontally, literally, and felt like hail when it hit you! The wind, at 70 miles per hour pounded rudely, violently. No sooner had Heaven begun to unfurl the jib that the wind jerked the halyard (line) out of her hand and unfurled it entirely. The very thing I, the Captain had lectured my crew on that very morning was happening! We were over canvassed and the wind was starting to shred our jib with all its fury!
Now, when this happens on a sailboat, there is a very real risk of losing your rigging (the cables which hold up the mast) and being dismasted, the worst fear of every sailing captain.
We both sit there in the cockpit, totally unable to do anything to avoid it. All we could do was pray. We did.Mercifully, the Lord had the wind die down as quickly as it had started a few minutes later. The rest of the crew came out on deck and together we accessed the damage and took the necessary steps to get our little boat shipshape again as much as possible considering what she had been through.
We came to learn that not only had the jib, or portions of it were torn, but also the roller furling drum had been destroyed by the sheer force of the wind jerking on the jib. All we could do was roll it in and lash it down.
After the storm came the calm, much to our dismay. We piddle around the rest of the afternoon, sailing under the main (mainsail) only at a bare 2 knots (2 nautical miles per hour). Being becalmed is surely one of the ugliest things at sea as you get nowhere. Let me tell you, it gets real old real fast!
We decide to fire up the engine so as to make SOME headway, but it wouldn't start! Dad starts investigating the cause, opening up the engine compartment which is covered with the many things we have stowed everywhere while we are at sea. He finds nothing amiss. We open the lazarette (an aft locker, under the cockpit seats) and discover the wire has come loose off of the starter switch. David fixes it. A seemingly simple task as this on a boat, and at sea can often turn into a large feat, which it does this time, eventually taking 2 1/2 hours to complete for reasons we will not elaborate here, but which anyone that has a boat can understand.
By later on that evening things started picking up again, the wind was decent, and our spirits were high once again.
Sally went down below to make something to eat. Now, when you are at sea, and with limited refrigerator space, you stow food that keeps long. Cabbage is one of these, lasting a lot longer out of the fridge than does lettuce. So, tonight's menu will be tacos with cabbage on them.
David has to go up the mast in the bosun's chair, a canvas seat hoisted up by a cable dangling from the mast. He has to install a "baby stay" (an additional cable forward of the mast) to be able to use another smaller sail (trysail) which we hope will fill in for our useless jib. We stand there, still under way watching him sway from port, to starboard... hoping he won't get sick from all the movement greatly exagerated up there as the boat rolls.
He finally makes it back down, and the mainsail tears! We just all heard the loadest rip as it tore its entire width!Sally, upon hearing it, along with our groans and shouts comes away from her food prep to see whats happening on deck. She returns a couple of minutes later to find all of her recently shredded cabbage all over the cabin sole! (floor) The platter had fallen over with the movement of the sea. We have tacos without cabbage as there is none left and poor Sally by this time is too tired to do anything, as are all the rest of us. There is a real danger when you are at sea, both the captain and crew exhausted. THIS is when one often makes unwise decisions, dangerous decisions.
Now, up to now, we had always had someone on watch. Not one minute of the day had Spindrift not been attended, with somkeone whose only job was looking over her and the various systems aboard.
But we were so totally completely worn out, Dad decided to set out our brand spanking new sea anchor, and leave the boat to herself for a couple of hours so that we could all get some shuteye. He would get up in exactly two hours time, and take watch again leaving the twins and David and Heaven asleep below
Now, a sea anchor is a 15 foot in diameter parachute-like "anchor" you lay out off your bow (front of boat) and which in theory will keep you pointed into the wind. This makes for a smoother ride down below. It also is supposed to keep you from drifting.We had left sight of the very last of the deepest sea oil rigs hours earlier, had not seen any other vessels for over a day, and felt that we would be safe out there in the vast expanse of water, far away from everything.
We had lost our sails. But we had our water, we had our large food reserve. We had each other. And we only needed a little rest to be able to plan our course of action to be on our way. We felt safe in our little floating island, our little fiberglass "corked bottle"
Spindrift had come through rough times without taking on any water. We felt surer than ever of her integrity. We would be able to still make way under our reefed main. The tear didn't by any means put us out of commission. That, along with our trysail would get us up and running again, even if it were at reduced speed.
We went to sleep, tired, all drenched, but content.
Oh, how SWEET it was! Words simply cannot begin to describe the utter sheer joy of being able to lay down at such times.
"There are only two emotions in a boat; boredom and terror."
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