I’m writing this at 0115 while waiting for the adrenalin to dissipate in my bloodstream. No blood running down the deck but it was a near thing.
I passed up several enticing and sheltered spots on the Tred Avon because strong winds are forecast tomorrow and the cruising guide says that Plaindealing Creek has good holding ground. The last thing my back needs at this point is a midnight anchoring adventure.
I was woken up by the sound of strong wind around midnight and realized from the motion of the boat that we were dragging fast enough to bring the boat sideways to the wind. By the time I got dressed and on deck, we were almost right in among the docks. I got the engine going and was just able to clear some slip pilings at the end of a dock while motoring out around the anchor rode radius. The last thing you want to do in a situation like this is run over the rode and suck it into the prop. One of the singlehander’s tricks is to always keep the rode under just enough tension to keep it in sight when motoring up to the anchor. It was a near thing because there wouldn’t have been enough room to go up the other side of the anchor and I had no one to pull in the slack motoring straight up wind.
This is when I appreciate rope rodes. I ran up so I was slightly upwind of the anchor, turned the boat towards it, and started snatching in line as fast as I could as the boat drifted down. Try that with your windlass. Sure, you can pull a boat up to an anchor with a windlass but, in this case, the windlass would have just pulled the anchor back as the boat dragged into the pilings. The plain truth of Plaindealing Creek is that the holding ground is for (insert digestive product related colloquial expression of your choice). If this is what passes for good holding ground in the bay, why are anchors even a traditional feature of Chesapeake craft?
My opinion of the holding ground was confirmed when I snatched in the anchor and chain and instantly had the title for this post right at hand, and on my pant legs, and all over the foredeck, and dribbling back to the cockpit, and all over the wheel. I had gotten what felt like a good firm set the night before with the engine run in reverse up to about 2100 rpm and was riding to over 10:1 scope.
I ran back up the creek a bit further reset. I then quickly assembled the Fortress anchor and chain set. This involved pulling the 5 gallon bucket full of the second anchor rode out of the seat locker in a hurry. If you don’t hear in my next post that I am lying crippled in my bunk waiting for medical evacuation, you will know that you have heard the last word about my back on this forum.
By the time I got the Fortress deployed, the wind had dropped to nearly flat calm. There isn’t even enough now to keep the dinghy trailing and I’ve got to go out again and tie it alongside.
Three out of the last four nights, we have had these strong blasts of wind that last for about an hour and then subside to calm. Can any Chesapeake sailors explain these to me? My best guess is that all the hot air released in Washington collects in some sort of bubble that breaks loose when the bars close and suddenly soars upwards sucking in air from a three state area.
I passed up several enticing and sheltered spots on the Tred Avon because strong winds are forecast tomorrow and the cruising guide says that Plaindealing Creek has good holding ground. The last thing my back needs at this point is a midnight anchoring adventure.
I was woken up by the sound of strong wind around midnight and realized from the motion of the boat that we were dragging fast enough to bring the boat sideways to the wind. By the time I got dressed and on deck, we were almost right in among the docks. I got the engine going and was just able to clear some slip pilings at the end of a dock while motoring out around the anchor rode radius. The last thing you want to do in a situation like this is run over the rode and suck it into the prop. One of the singlehander’s tricks is to always keep the rode under just enough tension to keep it in sight when motoring up to the anchor. It was a near thing because there wouldn’t have been enough room to go up the other side of the anchor and I had no one to pull in the slack motoring straight up wind.
This is when I appreciate rope rodes. I ran up so I was slightly upwind of the anchor, turned the boat towards it, and started snatching in line as fast as I could as the boat drifted down. Try that with your windlass. Sure, you can pull a boat up to an anchor with a windlass but, in this case, the windlass would have just pulled the anchor back as the boat dragged into the pilings. The plain truth of Plaindealing Creek is that the holding ground is for (insert digestive product related colloquial expression of your choice). If this is what passes for good holding ground in the bay, why are anchors even a traditional feature of Chesapeake craft?
My opinion of the holding ground was confirmed when I snatched in the anchor and chain and instantly had the title for this post right at hand, and on my pant legs, and all over the foredeck, and dribbling back to the cockpit, and all over the wheel. I had gotten what felt like a good firm set the night before with the engine run in reverse up to about 2100 rpm and was riding to over 10:1 scope.
I ran back up the creek a bit further reset. I then quickly assembled the Fortress anchor and chain set. This involved pulling the 5 gallon bucket full of the second anchor rode out of the seat locker in a hurry. If you don’t hear in my next post that I am lying crippled in my bunk waiting for medical evacuation, you will know that you have heard the last word about my back on this forum.
By the time I got the Fortress deployed, the wind had dropped to nearly flat calm. There isn’t even enough now to keep the dinghy trailing and I’ve got to go out again and tie it alongside.
Three out of the last four nights, we have had these strong blasts of wind that last for about an hour and then subside to calm. Can any Chesapeake sailors explain these to me? My best guess is that all the hot air released in Washington collects in some sort of bubble that breaks loose when the bars close and suddenly soars upwards sucking in air from a three state area.