We all make mistakes no matter how experienced or thoughtful we think we are. What's been your biggest? We're you out on the water under sail or power? Maybe while anchoring? Perhaps a little navigation error that ran you aground or left you somewhere unintended? Or maybe with a wrench in your hand at the dock doing some maintenance? They say confession is good for the soul. It's time to tuck away our egos and share a red-faced moment or two. Then, don't forget to vote in the Quick Quiz at the bottom of the home page. (Quiz contributed by Rick Dinon, edited by Gary Wyngarden)
- Status
OK, Rick and Fred, here goes 
May have posted this on ebefore, but what the heck, Stu Just When You Think You’ve Seen It All August 17, 2001 We took an overnight cruise on Thursday, August 16, and motored “Aquavite,†our 1986 Catalina 34, from our Grand Marina slip up to Clipper Cove in the late afternoon. We dropped the hook in about 13 feet of water. The tides were at neap with a new moon, with a high of 6.8 at about 10 p.m., and a low of minus 0.9 early in the morning. We made sure that we had enough depth under the keel for the low water, and had tucked into the southwestern corner to miss the Bay Bridge traffic noise. There were only a half dozen other sailboats at anchor, and two semi-permanently moored 25 to 28 foot cabin cruisers just south of us. We had a delightful evening and woke up about 8 a.m. to bright sunshine, and a gorgeous day. We spent a few hours doing boat chores, and planned to leave at around 1 p.m. to do some sailing. We have a 16.5 pound Bruce anchor, which we’d purchased at a swap meet a few years ago. While we have a much heavier Danforth for use when required, we use the lighter Bruce because it really helps to avoid back strain. We don’t have a windlass, and can easily pull it up by hand. It sets fine and holds well, because we always anchor carefully and make sure it’s set well. While a lot of folks think we’re crazy to have such a relatively lightweight anchor, with the usual evening wind strengths and directions here in the Bay during the summer, we’re very comfortable, and have never had trouble with the set or retrieval - until today. I’d learned a neat trick a few years about pulling up the anchor manually: don’t be in a hurry. As we were doing our boat projects in the morning, and before the afternoon breezes came up, I’d go forward and pull in about ten feet at a time, let the boat reset and then repeat this until we were just over the anchor. Then it usually comes up easily, either motoring or sailing right out. No go at all today. The last 13 feet of our 20 foot chain just stayed bar tight straight up and down, and wouldn’t move any more by hand. So I ran the nylon anchor rode back to the port side winch and cranked away. No too much more came up, and then the line got a wrap on the winch. Since there was so much tension on the line, I couldn’t back it off and didn’t want to loose any progress now that some of the chain was over the bow roller. I took another line, tied it to the chain at the stem, and ran that back to the starboard jib sheet winch and cranked away. It came up another few feet, so I walked up to the bow, figuring that the anchor should be out of the water by now. It was, but hooked into the curve of the anchor was what looked like the Transatlantic Telephone Cable! Three four inch diameter lines, that at first looked like some sea monster. Brownish gray with lots of black sea floor mud. We’d been motoring up on the anchor hoping it would break free, and it looked like we had pulled some slack into the cable. I guessed it was communications wire, because there were no sparks flying! We grabbed a spring line and dropped the looped end down and pulled it up underneath the cable with a boat hook, tied it onto a bow cleat and used the bitter end to make kind of a bridle for the cable. Then we slowly dropped the anchor until it cleared the cable and pulled the anchor onto the bow roller. The anchor and the chain were clean as a whistle, since we’d motored up and drifted back down on the whole mess for awhile. We let go the bitter end of the spring line, the cable dropped out of sight, and off we went. I remember reading about a cable-hook in Latitude 38 a few years ago. It’s still there. While I didn’t get the Lat Lon on our GPS, the cable runs north-south in the southwestern corner of Clipper Cove. We were just north of the easternmost of the two motor cruisers, the one with the white clorox bottle marking his anchor. Now I know what it’s like to raise the equivalent of a 33 pound anchor by hand. Wouldn’t want to do that every day. No wonder they invented windlasses. Stu Jackson Piedmont, CA International Catalina 34 Secretary
May have posted this on ebefore, but what the heck, Stu Just When You Think You’ve Seen It All August 17, 2001 We took an overnight cruise on Thursday, August 16, and motored “Aquavite,†our 1986 Catalina 34, from our Grand Marina slip up to Clipper Cove in the late afternoon. We dropped the hook in about 13 feet of water. The tides were at neap with a new moon, with a high of 6.8 at about 10 p.m., and a low of minus 0.9 early in the morning. We made sure that we had enough depth under the keel for the low water, and had tucked into the southwestern corner to miss the Bay Bridge traffic noise. There were only a half dozen other sailboats at anchor, and two semi-permanently moored 25 to 28 foot cabin cruisers just south of us. We had a delightful evening and woke up about 8 a.m. to bright sunshine, and a gorgeous day. We spent a few hours doing boat chores, and planned to leave at around 1 p.m. to do some sailing. We have a 16.5 pound Bruce anchor, which we’d purchased at a swap meet a few years ago. While we have a much heavier Danforth for use when required, we use the lighter Bruce because it really helps to avoid back strain. We don’t have a windlass, and can easily pull it up by hand. It sets fine and holds well, because we always anchor carefully and make sure it’s set well. While a lot of folks think we’re crazy to have such a relatively lightweight anchor, with the usual evening wind strengths and directions here in the Bay during the summer, we’re very comfortable, and have never had trouble with the set or retrieval - until today. I’d learned a neat trick a few years about pulling up the anchor manually: don’t be in a hurry. As we were doing our boat projects in the morning, and before the afternoon breezes came up, I’d go forward and pull in about ten feet at a time, let the boat reset and then repeat this until we were just over the anchor. Then it usually comes up easily, either motoring or sailing right out. No go at all today. The last 13 feet of our 20 foot chain just stayed bar tight straight up and down, and wouldn’t move any more by hand. So I ran the nylon anchor rode back to the port side winch and cranked away. No too much more came up, and then the line got a wrap on the winch. Since there was so much tension on the line, I couldn’t back it off and didn’t want to loose any progress now that some of the chain was over the bow roller. I took another line, tied it to the chain at the stem, and ran that back to the starboard jib sheet winch and cranked away. It came up another few feet, so I walked up to the bow, figuring that the anchor should be out of the water by now. It was, but hooked into the curve of the anchor was what looked like the Transatlantic Telephone Cable! Three four inch diameter lines, that at first looked like some sea monster. Brownish gray with lots of black sea floor mud. We’d been motoring up on the anchor hoping it would break free, and it looked like we had pulled some slack into the cable. I guessed it was communications wire, because there were no sparks flying! We grabbed a spring line and dropped the looped end down and pulled it up underneath the cable with a boat hook, tied it onto a bow cleat and used the bitter end to make kind of a bridle for the cable. Then we slowly dropped the anchor until it cleared the cable and pulled the anchor onto the bow roller. The anchor and the chain were clean as a whistle, since we’d motored up and drifted back down on the whole mess for awhile. We let go the bitter end of the spring line, the cable dropped out of sight, and off we went. I remember reading about a cable-hook in Latitude 38 a few years ago. It’s still there. While I didn’t get the Lat Lon on our GPS, the cable runs north-south in the southwestern corner of Clipper Cove. We were just north of the easternmost of the two motor cruisers, the one with the white clorox bottle marking his anchor. Now I know what it’s like to raise the equivalent of a 33 pound anchor by hand. Wouldn’t want to do that every day. No wonder they invented windlasses. Stu Jackson Piedmont, CA International Catalina 34 Secretary
Smacko
Never never approach a jetty without first making sure that reverse will engage. Happened to me the only time I neglected to check and sure enough the gear connection rod had become loose. "Reverse gear" No way. It stayed in forward despite the leaver being in the reverse position. Result?? *cry
Never never approach a jetty without first making sure that reverse will engage. Happened to me the only time I neglected to check and sure enough the gear connection rod had become loose. "Reverse gear" No way. It stayed in forward despite the leaver being in the reverse position. Result?? *cry
Dumb
A few 4th of July's back we were anchored off the municipal pier where they shoot off the fireworks. There are tons of other boats out shooting fireworks, and a few guys shooting off flares. I notice the Marine Police are ignoring the flares, and after a few drinks I remember some expired hand held flares that are onboard. I grab one, strike it, and proudly hold it up to celebrate. A little after that, I realize the police weren't ignoring the flares. There were too many boats anchored for them to figure out who all was shooting them in the air. But, here I am with a hand held lighting up my boat like a volcano. DUH! I didn't know you could tie so many police boats alongside mine. I didn't get a ticket, but did recieve a pretty embarassing lecture and search in front of everybody.
A few 4th of July's back we were anchored off the municipal pier where they shoot off the fireworks. There are tons of other boats out shooting fireworks, and a few guys shooting off flares. I notice the Marine Police are ignoring the flares, and after a few drinks I remember some expired hand held flares that are onboard. I grab one, strike it, and proudly hold it up to celebrate. A little after that, I realize the police weren't ignoring the flares. There were too many boats anchored for them to figure out who all was shooting them in the air. But, here I am with a hand held lighting up my boat like a volcano. DUH! I didn't know you could tie so many police boats alongside mine. I didn't get a ticket, but did recieve a pretty embarassing lecture and search in front of everybody.
Bam!
Out in the Chesapeake Bay, rounded a green channel marker in brisk wind without taking into consideration that I might stall. Sure enough, I didn't give enough leeway and wound up backwinding right into the thing. Boy, are those buoys big close-up! Fortunately I was able to turn it into just a glancing blow, but the lesson learned was to always go well past the mark.
Out in the Chesapeake Bay, rounded a green channel marker in brisk wind without taking into consideration that I might stall. Sure enough, I didn't give enough leeway and wound up backwinding right into the thing. Boy, are those buoys big close-up! Fortunately I was able to turn it into just a glancing blow, but the lesson learned was to always go well past the mark.
Spring commisioning gone bad....
After several days of bending sails, cleaning everything, installing batteries, etc., my last task was to fire up the genset. After carefully changing out the fuel filters, checking the coolant and fan belt tensions, I turned on the pre-heat, waited 10 seconds, and hit the start switch. It lit right off. Life is good. I left the nav station and generator controls and went topside to check the overboard water flow from the exhaust. The exhaust sounded different- a hollow kind of sound. And no apparent discharge water. Oh, crap! I forgot to open the seacock. A sprint to the shutdown switch and it was quiet. Now I only ran for about 2 minutes. Is it OK? I opened the seacock and restarted. Got some water, but wasn't sure that it was full-flow. After all, it's been a few months since I looked at it. Afte agonizing over it for 15 minues, I decided to pull open the pump and check the impeller. As feared, the impeller was half gone. I spent the rest of the day struggling to find and retrieve the fragmented impeller out of hoses and the heat exchanger. This stupid mistake cost me easily 6 hours of work. How dumb was that?? Now I check EVERYTHING twice.
After several days of bending sails, cleaning everything, installing batteries, etc., my last task was to fire up the genset. After carefully changing out the fuel filters, checking the coolant and fan belt tensions, I turned on the pre-heat, waited 10 seconds, and hit the start switch. It lit right off. Life is good. I left the nav station and generator controls and went topside to check the overboard water flow from the exhaust. The exhaust sounded different- a hollow kind of sound. And no apparent discharge water. Oh, crap! I forgot to open the seacock. A sprint to the shutdown switch and it was quiet. Now I only ran for about 2 minutes. Is it OK? I opened the seacock and restarted. Got some water, but wasn't sure that it was full-flow. After all, it's been a few months since I looked at it. Afte agonizing over it for 15 minues, I decided to pull open the pump and check the impeller. As feared, the impeller was half gone. I spent the rest of the day struggling to find and retrieve the fragmented impeller out of hoses and the heat exchanger. This stupid mistake cost me easily 6 hours of work. How dumb was that?? Now I check EVERYTHING twice.
Seacocks
Whenever I close the seacock on the engine cooling intake on our boat now, my wife makes me leave several notes in plain sight around the boat that say "Open the seacock!" "The engine intake is closed!" "Don't start the engine" etc. This actually works.
Whenever I close the seacock on the engine cooling intake on our boat now, my wife makes me leave several notes in plain sight around the boat that say "Open the seacock!" "The engine intake is closed!" "Don't start the engine" etc. This actually works.
Kissed the Dock
I moved up in size of boat from a 23 to a 27 footer. The first time I took the boat out I had friends & family on board and made a big deal out of our first trip. Upon coming into the dock, I came into the slip at the speed I was used to and hit the reverse. The boat didn't slow down at he rate I was used to. I hit the dock quite hard and everyone in the area saw and heard the new doat hit the dock. Lucky for me the boat wasn't damaged but my skills as a skipper were questioned.
I moved up in size of boat from a 23 to a 27 footer. The first time I took the boat out I had friends & family on board and made a big deal out of our first trip. Upon coming into the dock, I came into the slip at the speed I was used to and hit the reverse. The boat didn't slow down at he rate I was used to. I hit the dock quite hard and everyone in the area saw and heard the new doat hit the dock. Lucky for me the boat wasn't damaged but my skills as a skipper were questioned.
Not the dumbest, but the smartest!
Windy sunny summer afternoon. We had just left our slip and were motoring in our crowded marina in our Hunter 30. I throttled up to about half throttle to get more forward way on and the throttle handle broke off in my fist. This looked to be an opportunity for a big smashup derby for us among the many boats at the fuel dock, etc. Even if I could shift to neutral we had way too much speed on to stop. Reverse at half speed? But then what? This is the stuff of nightmares. I yelled for my wife to get the vice grips!!! She did in less than a jiffy and I had them on the stump of the throttle lever that was still projecting. This took about 5 seconds. Fortunately the tool box was ready to hand and the vice grips right on top. I powered down easily now and maneuvered calmly through the other boats back to our slip. Whew! I don't know who invented vice grips, but God bless them (and my wife too). This makes up for a lot of the stupid things I've done over the years of boating. Of course, it took us most of a day to drill out the broken bolt and replace the throttle handle. I was tempted to just keep on using the vice grips in perpetuity. After all they worked fine. That would never wash with the wife.
Windy sunny summer afternoon. We had just left our slip and were motoring in our crowded marina in our Hunter 30. I throttled up to about half throttle to get more forward way on and the throttle handle broke off in my fist. This looked to be an opportunity for a big smashup derby for us among the many boats at the fuel dock, etc. Even if I could shift to neutral we had way too much speed on to stop. Reverse at half speed? But then what? This is the stuff of nightmares. I yelled for my wife to get the vice grips!!! She did in less than a jiffy and I had them on the stump of the throttle lever that was still projecting. This took about 5 seconds. Fortunately the tool box was ready to hand and the vice grips right on top. I powered down easily now and maneuvered calmly through the other boats back to our slip. Whew! I don't know who invented vice grips, but God bless them (and my wife too). This makes up for a lot of the stupid things I've done over the years of boating. Of course, it took us most of a day to drill out the broken bolt and replace the throttle handle. I was tempted to just keep on using the vice grips in perpetuity. After all they worked fine. That would never wash with the wife.
An afternoon dip...
I used to keep my boat on a mooring ball in front of my house. One day I rowed the dingy out to check on things (about 100 yards). I went below and spent a few minutes giving everything the once-over. Everything looked pretty good so I decided to go topside. As I exited the companionway, I noticed something in the distance. I remember saying to myself "Hey, there's a dingy out there and it looks just like..." I had forgotten to tie the dink up, and had been so excited about getting on the boat that I didn't even notice it drifting away. It had drifted probably 50-75 yards in just a few minutes. In a panic, I started thinking of my options. The first thing that went through my mind is to swim after it. There was a breeze blowing, and it was drifting away pretty fast, so I decided against it. And then, like a bolt of lightning it hit me: "You're on a boat dumbass - just go get it". Once I had this revelation, it was nothing to just motor after it and reclaim my prize. It however was a real lesson to me about how my brain operates (or fails to) during an emergency situation. Enjoy!
I used to keep my boat on a mooring ball in front of my house. One day I rowed the dingy out to check on things (about 100 yards). I went below and spent a few minutes giving everything the once-over. Everything looked pretty good so I decided to go topside. As I exited the companionway, I noticed something in the distance. I remember saying to myself "Hey, there's a dingy out there and it looks just like..." I had forgotten to tie the dink up, and had been so excited about getting on the boat that I didn't even notice it drifting away. It had drifted probably 50-75 yards in just a few minutes. In a panic, I started thinking of my options. The first thing that went through my mind is to swim after it. There was a breeze blowing, and it was drifting away pretty fast, so I decided against it. And then, like a bolt of lightning it hit me: "You're on a boat dumbass - just go get it". Once I had this revelation, it was nothing to just motor after it and reclaim my prize. It however was a real lesson to me about how my brain operates (or fails to) during an emergency situation. Enjoy!
Slight Navigation Error
When I bought my 26' Thunderbird 35 years ago, it was my first ocean-going boat. My buddies and I promptly made plans to sail to Catalina Island (and meet some gals on spring break). I carefully consulted my how-to-navigate book, took about a dozen bearings on my chart, and filed it all away. When we left, I asked one crew to double check the bearing. Nine hours later, at dawn, we could see the island, in back of us. Seems we not only missed the island, we were at the wrong end. My crew had simply looked at a quickie bearing chart, picked a non-magnetic course and then, picked the wrong harbor to boot. 24 hours later we got to where we had intended to go. The girls on spring break made it all worthwhile. Rick D. PS: Fred, you are right, there are just SO MANY dumb things, it's hard to pick. Your turn.
When I bought my 26' Thunderbird 35 years ago, it was my first ocean-going boat. My buddies and I promptly made plans to sail to Catalina Island (and meet some gals on spring break). I carefully consulted my how-to-navigate book, took about a dozen bearings on my chart, and filed it all away. When we left, I asked one crew to double check the bearing. Nine hours later, at dawn, we could see the island, in back of us.
Seems we not only missed the island, we were at the wrong end. My crew had simply looked at a quickie bearing chart, picked a non-magnetic course and then, picked the wrong harbor to boot. 24 hours later we got to where we had intended to go. The girls on spring break made it all worthwhile. Rick D. PS: Fred, you are right, there are just SO MANY dumb things, it's hard to pick. Your turn. 
Steve - re Engine Seacock
Steve - another idea re engine seacock - maybe put the Yanmar key next to it? If it has a float on a key chain it should be easy to spot. Just a suggestion.
Steve - another idea re engine seacock - maybe put the Yanmar key next to it? If it has a float on a key chain it should be easy to spot. Just a suggestion.
Whatever doesn't kill me ....
Makes me Stronger. We are on a cruise in Desolation Sound, B.C. in September 2001. As southeasterly gales are forecast for the night, we anchor in Laura Cove in Desolation Sound Marine Park. There is a mountain immediately southeast of us and Laura Cove is almost landlocked. We set our bow anchor and stern tie to a tree on shore. We're feeling secure. The wind hits at 0045. While we're protected from the southeast, the wind is actually blowing down the side of the mountain, our first experience with williwaws. Once in Laura Cove, it has difficulty leaving and is swirling around the cove pushing Shibumi from one extreme of her anchor lines to the other. The tide has also dropped eight feet since we anchored, creating slack on the bow rode and equal and offsetting tension on the stern line thereby moving Shibumi closer to shore. We're uncomfortably close to the rocks. We put some more slack in the stern line, shorten the bow rode, and sit up until 0400 watching. Half the boats in Laura Cove are up resetting anchors and adjusting lines. Having decided things are going to be all right, we try to get some sleep. About 45 minutes later, I awaken to a sound I realize is a knot on a rope swing catching on and releasing from a back stay. The wind is still howling, and we're once again much too close to shore. Uncomfortable with shortening the bow rode any further, I decide to try to winch us upwind (currently blowing from the starboard beam) by increasing tension on the stern line. It doesn't work--what it does do is pull us closer to the rocks on shore. Our stern is now only about two feet off the rocks. At this point I realize that in my haste to get us off the rocks, I've been inattentive to the tail of the stern line coming off the winch, and it is hopelessly overwrapped under extreme tension (Dumb and Dumber). Having boxed myself into a corner, I take the only out available and use my knife on the stern line. I'm amazed at how quickly it parts when I touch the blade to the line under tension. Shibumi literally shoots away from the rocks. Talk about a problem of your own creation! The immediate crisis passed, we do what we should have done to begin with at 0045--we haul and reset the bow anchor further off shore and with more scope, and recover the parted stern line and retie it. This completed, we collapse back into bed at 0545 when the heavens open up with rain and the wind dies altogether. Gary Wyngarden S/V Shibumi H335
Makes me Stronger. We are on a cruise in Desolation Sound, B.C. in September 2001. As southeasterly gales are forecast for the night, we anchor in Laura Cove in Desolation Sound Marine Park. There is a mountain immediately southeast of us and Laura Cove is almost landlocked. We set our bow anchor and stern tie to a tree on shore. We're feeling secure. The wind hits at 0045. While we're protected from the southeast, the wind is actually blowing down the side of the mountain, our first experience with williwaws. Once in Laura Cove, it has difficulty leaving and is swirling around the cove pushing Shibumi from one extreme of her anchor lines to the other. The tide has also dropped eight feet since we anchored, creating slack on the bow rode and equal and offsetting tension on the stern line thereby moving Shibumi closer to shore. We're uncomfortably close to the rocks. We put some more slack in the stern line, shorten the bow rode, and sit up until 0400 watching. Half the boats in Laura Cove are up resetting anchors and adjusting lines. Having decided things are going to be all right, we try to get some sleep. About 45 minutes later, I awaken to a sound I realize is a knot on a rope swing catching on and releasing from a back stay. The wind is still howling, and we're once again much too close to shore. Uncomfortable with shortening the bow rode any further, I decide to try to winch us upwind (currently blowing from the starboard beam) by increasing tension on the stern line. It doesn't work--what it does do is pull us closer to the rocks on shore. Our stern is now only about two feet off the rocks. At this point I realize that in my haste to get us off the rocks, I've been inattentive to the tail of the stern line coming off the winch, and it is hopelessly overwrapped under extreme tension (Dumb and Dumber). Having boxed myself into a corner, I take the only out available and use my knife on the stern line. I'm amazed at how quickly it parts when I touch the blade to the line under tension. Shibumi literally shoots away from the rocks. Talk about a problem of your own creation! The immediate crisis passed, we do what we should have done to begin with at 0045--we haul and reset the bow anchor further off shore and with more scope, and recover the parted stern line and retie it. This completed, we collapse back into bed at 0545 when the heavens open up with rain and the wind dies altogether. Gary Wyngarden S/V Shibumi H335
It could have been worse
Several years ago we had some unusually warm weather in January (for Virginia) and I was able to sail my 18 footer 4 days that week in a T-shirt and shorts. One of the days saw winds in the 10 to 15 range, and I was itching to hone my singlehanding spinnaker skills, though I knew this was quite a bit of wind to be flying the chute sailing solo. Normally I would set it on the leeward side, but on this occasion I decided to set it to port, with the main all the way out to starboard, and the wind dead aft, figuring it would fill immediately and set nicely. Duh. Instead, it took a couple of nasty wraps around the forestay, with the sheets creating a virtual spider-web to complicate the situation. Holding the port shroud with one hand, I attempted to unwrap the living, writhing, flogging mass of what now appeared to be a cross between a double hourglass and a giant cocoon. And, so that boredom would not become an issue, I had cleverly managed to set up this problem-solving exercise a little up-wind of a substantial shoal. At about this point, I learned firsthand why a preventer should be rigged when the main is eased all the way out. A sudden windshift backwinded the main, swinging the boom across to whack me in the chest about as hard as I ever care to be whacked. That one-handed death grip on the shroud is all that kept me from finding out how fast I could swim in January lake water after a drifting sailboat in a breeze. Somehow "Lazybones" and I got things straightened out without running aground or tearing the spinnaker. A chastened skipper learned a lot that day.
Several years ago we had some unusually warm weather in January (for Virginia) and I was able to sail my 18 footer 4 days that week in a T-shirt and shorts. One of the days saw winds in the 10 to 15 range, and I was itching to hone my singlehanding spinnaker skills, though I knew this was quite a bit of wind to be flying the chute sailing solo. Normally I would set it on the leeward side, but on this occasion I decided to set it to port, with the main all the way out to starboard, and the wind dead aft, figuring it would fill immediately and set nicely. Duh. Instead, it took a couple of nasty wraps around the forestay, with the sheets creating a virtual spider-web to complicate the situation. Holding the port shroud with one hand, I attempted to unwrap the living, writhing, flogging mass of what now appeared to be a cross between a double hourglass and a giant cocoon. And, so that boredom would not become an issue, I had cleverly managed to set up this problem-solving exercise a little up-wind of a substantial shoal. At about this point, I learned firsthand why a preventer should be rigged when the main is eased all the way out. A sudden windshift backwinded the main, swinging the boom across to whack me in the chest about as hard as I ever care to be whacked. That one-handed death grip on the shroud is all that kept me from finding out how fast I could swim in January lake water after a drifting sailboat in a breeze. Somehow "Lazybones" and I got things straightened out without running aground or tearing the spinnaker. A chastened skipper learned a lot that day.
Others
I have done lots of minor dumb things like turning off the battery switch while the engine was running(only about 2 seconds before I realised with no damage to the Alt.) Tying my new dinghy tight to the stern to prevent slapping only to find the bow ring gouging the stern. Or dropping 2 winch handles overboard last season. I also watched my dinghy float away and had to go retrieve it. But by far the dumbest things I have experienced were by other boaters. Like the guy with the 25' O'Day who thought it was a good idea to sail alongside a floating dock at the public landing attenpting to dock under full sail at full run with his boom extended across the dock knocking things and people into the water halfway down the dock. Only halfway because he ran aground before he reached shore. Or the moron in the J24 who passed me in a race laughing at me until I signaled him about his impending and nearly certain T-boning the guy in the Erickson 29 crossing our bows. He later came and appologised and thanked me. The worse though were the many boater in my area last fall who did not use chafing gear and found their boats on the shore during a big wind storm. I cryed for them. Tim R
I have done lots of minor dumb things like turning off the battery switch while the engine was running(only about 2 seconds before I realised with no damage to the Alt.) Tying my new dinghy tight to the stern to prevent slapping only to find the bow ring gouging the stern. Or dropping 2 winch handles overboard last season. I also watched my dinghy float away and had to go retrieve it. But by far the dumbest things I have experienced were by other boaters. Like the guy with the 25' O'Day who thought it was a good idea to sail alongside a floating dock at the public landing attenpting to dock under full sail at full run with his boom extended across the dock knocking things and people into the water halfway down the dock. Only halfway because he ran aground before he reached shore. Or the moron in the J24 who passed me in a race laughing at me until I signaled him about his impending and nearly certain T-boning the guy in the Erickson 29 crossing our bows. He later came and appologised and thanked me. The worse though were the many boater in my area last fall who did not use chafing gear and found their boats on the shore during a big wind storm. I cryed for them. Tim R
mistakes don't all happen at sea
I'm pretty experienced at sailing other people's boats, but this "boat ownership" thing is a lot more complicated. I bought an old O'Day at an estate sail about 150 miles from the lake. Rented a U'Haul truck to tow it with, and since the guy I bought it from had towed it 300 miles the month before, assumed everything was OK and took off. Driving right through town on an interstate at 55 mph when the hitch pops off the ball. The whole rig was swaying side to side on the safety chains so far I could see it out the side mirrors of the U'Haul. Everyone else on the road was diving for safety, visions of a 22 foot boat rolling down the road in their heads (mine too). Let her coast to a stop on the side of the road, got out to walk back and see what the trouble was. At about the rear bumper, adrenalin shock set in, and I had to sit down on the road for five minutes to recover (truthfully, I think it took the rest of the summer to get comfortable with my decision making again). Turned out the safety latch on the receiver was defective. Duck tapped it down, and pressure tested it with the jack ... working fine. Took off again, and made it fine. But everytime I went over a bump, my heart climbed up in my throat. Two different thunderstorm cells didn't help. Made it to the marina, called my wife, and said I felt like I'd just completed a trans-atlantic crossing or some such. Tom Monroe Carlyle Lake
I'm pretty experienced at sailing other people's boats, but this "boat ownership" thing is a lot more complicated. I bought an old O'Day at an estate sail about 150 miles from the lake. Rented a U'Haul truck to tow it with, and since the guy I bought it from had towed it 300 miles the month before, assumed everything was OK and took off. Driving right through town on an interstate at 55 mph when the hitch pops off the ball. The whole rig was swaying side to side on the safety chains so far I could see it out the side mirrors of the U'Haul. Everyone else on the road was diving for safety, visions of a 22 foot boat rolling down the road in their heads (mine too). Let her coast to a stop on the side of the road, got out to walk back and see what the trouble was. At about the rear bumper, adrenalin shock set in, and I had to sit down on the road for five minutes to recover (truthfully, I think it took the rest of the summer to get comfortable with my decision making again). Turned out the safety latch on the receiver was defective. Duck tapped it down, and pressure tested it with the jack ... working fine. Took off again, and made it fine. But everytime I went over a bump, my heart climbed up in my throat. Two different thunderstorm cells didn't help. Made it to the marina, called my wife, and said I felt like I'd just completed a trans-atlantic crossing or some such. Tom Monroe Carlyle Lake
Let's see, how am I going to do this?
As a rookie police officer, I would sit with the veteran officers and listen to their war stories during choir practice at a favorite watering hole. As this practice continued for several years, new officers took my place as a rookie but what was more subtle was the fact that each war story told by one of the guys, reminded me of another story that I could tell. I'd become a veteran and discovered it at the bar. So it is with each of these 'dumb' (human) mistakes. Been there! Like Stu's' story about the cable, (caught a dock and another time, a car (the new anchor was lost and the anchor rode exploded with just a touch of the knife!). Marks story about reverse, (not my fault, but the dealer forgot the key in the prop shaft(new boat) and we were nearly swept into a bridge on a flood tide). Chips story about fireworks, (too close to the barge launching the rockets meant rust stains on our deck for 15 years! Finally got them off) Bills story about hitting the channel marker, (came up blank, never been that dumb. ) Richs' story of the impeller, (can't count them all, just did it again last year. Even did it on a ski boat! (V8 engine)). Steve, I've got the Post-it notes in my pocket for the trip to the boat. Good idea. Doug, that was a physics lesson, weight, inertia, that sort of thing. Can't remember all the docks I've hit. But I got good at sailing into a berth. How else do you learn? And Steve, we aren't suppose to be bragging here! Debo, your 'dumb' makes you into Einstein, compared to the time I used a polypropylene painter on our 12' inflatable with our 25HP Yamaha, to tie it to a friends boat to then use their boat to go to shore. Came back, after drinking all night, and our dingy did what all dinghy's do when equipped with the wrong painter. It untied its self and was GONE! To make it double worse, we were in Mexico. A fisherman found it the next day, seven miles up the coast. Whew! And Rick, come on, at least you could SEE what you missed. I missed Granada by 40 MILES because of the same compass course mistake. Hey John, come on, what are you, chicken? And Gary, our Desolation Sound williwaw story is close to yours except our result of nearly hitting the rocks we were stern tied too, was because of anchoring with the Bruce so it was just catching on the lip of an underground mountain face with a scope of 1.5 :1. We had to motor to Milan at 4:00AM! Bob, my back looked like I just crashed my motorcycle (road burn) because of an accidental jib. The main-sheet of my old Ericson left a standing impression. And who hasn't hour glassed their chut? Isn't that how you raise them. Whew, just ran out of posts to remind me,,,,I'm sure the spelling and composition of this post is horrible. I'm breathing hard too. Hey Rick, did I remind you of any other 'war stories'? P.S. Tim, never lost a winch handle and I don't kill alternators because I just don't turn off the switch. And Tom, my hitch story involves forgetting to set the latch. Nothing was defective, I just forgot to lock it! Result: drove to the corner and stopped. The trailer, with my ski boat on it, kept going. Right under the gas tank of my 69 Camaro. The latch poked a hole and 18 gallons of gas went into the ditch. No Fire! Whew, still have that car (with a new tank). It's my hotrod, worth a fortune.
As a rookie police officer, I would sit with the veteran officers and listen to their war stories during choir practice at a favorite watering hole. As this practice continued for several years, new officers took my place as a rookie but what was more subtle was the fact that each war story told by one of the guys, reminded me of another story that I could tell. I'd become a veteran and discovered it at the bar. So it is with each of these 'dumb' (human) mistakes. Been there! Like Stu's' story about the cable, (caught a dock and another time, a car (the new anchor was lost and the anchor rode exploded with just a touch of the knife!). Marks story about reverse, (not my fault, but the dealer forgot the key in the prop shaft(new boat) and we were nearly swept into a bridge on a flood tide). Chips story about fireworks, (too close to the barge launching the rockets meant rust stains on our deck for 15 years! Finally got them off) Bills story about hitting the channel marker, (came up blank, never been that dumb.
) Richs' story of the impeller, (can't count them all, just did it again last year. Even did it on a ski boat! (V8 engine)). Steve, I've got the Post-it notes in my pocket for the trip to the boat. Good idea. Doug, that was a physics lesson, weight, inertia, that sort of thing. Can't remember all the docks I've hit. But I got good at sailing into a berth. How else do you learn? And Steve, we aren't suppose to be bragging here! Debo, your 'dumb' makes you into Einstein, compared to the time I used a polypropylene painter on our 12' inflatable with our 25HP Yamaha, to tie it to a friends boat to then use their boat to go to shore. Came back, after drinking all night, and our dingy did what all dinghy's do when equipped with the wrong painter. It untied its self and was GONE! To make it double worse, we were in Mexico. A fisherman found it the next day, seven miles up the coast. Whew! And Rick, come on, at least you could SEE what you missed. I missed Granada by 40 MILES because of the same compass course mistake. Hey John, come on, what are you, chicken? And Gary, our Desolation Sound williwaw story is close to yours except our result of nearly hitting the rocks we were stern tied too, was because of anchoring with the Bruce so it was just catching on the lip of an underground mountain face with a scope of 1.5 :1. We had to motor to Milan at 4:00AM! Bob, my back looked like I just crashed my motorcycle (road burn) because of an accidental jib. The main-sheet of my old Ericson left a standing impression. And who hasn't hour glassed their chut? Isn't that how you raise them. Whew, just ran out of posts to remind me,,,,I'm sure the spelling and composition of this post is horrible. I'm breathing hard too. Hey Rick, did I remind you of any other 'war stories'? P.S. Tim, never lost a winch handle and I don't kill alternators because I just don't turn off the switch. And Tom, my hitch story involves forgetting to set the latch. Nothing was defective, I just forgot to lock it! Result: drove to the corner and stopped. The trailer, with my ski boat on it, kept going. Right under the gas tank of my 69 Camaro. The latch poked a hole and 18 gallons of gas went into the ditch. No Fire! Whew, still have that car (with a new tank). It's my hotrod, worth a fortune.kicked myself for this one
Not really to do with sailing but. Frozen ice in the bottom of the Adler Barber evaporator and used an ice pick, need I say more.
Not really to do with sailing but. Frozen ice in the bottom of the Adler Barber evaporator and used an ice pick, need I say more.
Makes me feel better to know...
I'm not the only one who makes stupid mistakes! This summer, when I bought my Mac 26D, the owner went with me down to the lake to launch her and let me 'test-drive' her before I plonked down my money. We towed her with his truck, so when we got her in the water, he told me to hop in and motor her over to the marina about 600 yds away. He reminded me to open the valve for the water ballast as I started the outboard to let it warm up. I went down, opened the valve and went back up to cast off. The wind was blowing about 15 kts. and gusting and swirling as it usually does at this lake. I got about 100 yds offshore and the boat was darn near uncontrollable. Couldn't figure out what was wrong, nearly hit 3 different boats, couldn't get control of her at all. Did my best to get her to the marina, but was afraid to approach as I still had little if any control. Everybody on the dock was yelling at me, and they weren't words of encouragement! Finally, the owner arrived and yelled at me to check the ballast tank and daggerboard. Went down and looked in the ballast tank-nothing! Seems the valve was a little stuck so when I pushed it down it immediately began to fill. I hopped back topsides and realized the daggerboard was all the way up! Dropped it down and went back to the outboard. Within a minute or two she started acting like a real boat again, you know, the kind you can actually steer. Amazing the effect 1200 pounds of ballast and the daggerboard have on her! Sheepishly got her to the berth and tied, the owner was sweating pretty bad (remember, I hadn't given him any money yet!) People on the dock were walking by and shaking their heads, mumbling under their breath about another idiot at the marina, etc. So, my first day with my first sailboat and I knew I was definitely starting on the lowest rung of a long ladder!
I'm not the only one who makes stupid mistakes! This summer, when I bought my Mac 26D, the owner went with me down to the lake to launch her and let me 'test-drive' her before I plonked down my money. We towed her with his truck, so when we got her in the water, he told me to hop in and motor her over to the marina about 600 yds away. He reminded me to open the valve for the water ballast as I started the outboard to let it warm up. I went down, opened the valve and went back up to cast off. The wind was blowing about 15 kts. and gusting and swirling as it usually does at this lake. I got about 100 yds offshore and the boat was darn near uncontrollable. Couldn't figure out what was wrong, nearly hit 3 different boats, couldn't get control of her at all. Did my best to get her to the marina, but was afraid to approach as I still had little if any control. Everybody on the dock was yelling at me, and they weren't words of encouragement! Finally, the owner arrived and yelled at me to check the ballast tank and daggerboard. Went down and looked in the ballast tank-nothing! Seems the valve was a little stuck so when I pushed it down it immediately began to fill. I hopped back topsides and realized the daggerboard was all the way up! Dropped it down and went back to the outboard. Within a minute or two she started acting like a real boat again, you know, the kind you can actually steer. Amazing the effect 1200 pounds of ballast and the daggerboard have on her! Sheepishly got her to the berth and tied, the owner was sweating pretty bad (remember, I hadn't given him any money yet!) People on the dock were walking by and shaking their heads, mumbling under their breath about another idiot at the marina, etc. So, my first day with my first sailboat and I knew I was definitely starting on the lowest rung of a long ladder!
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