Land... whoa!

[Initium4797]

Luck and multiple approaches.

I bought an '83 Oday 25' (swing keel) and sail it on a large lake in Upstate NY. The lake is rather deep on all sides except the very north end. We moor the boat there for the season in about 5' of water. The depth gradually decreases (obviously) as we get closer to the beach and we on occasion will take our boat (Initium) in as far as possible to either pick up guests or to just wade in and enjoy the beach.The key here was the unintended genius of buying a boat with a shoal draft. We are newish sailors and did not really plan on a swing keel boat it was just the boat we fell in love with and life sometimes works well that way.So when we get our boat right in and on the bottom we are occasionally "challenged" to then get her backed off or turned. We have more often than not powered backwards but have had to get in the water and pull, as well as tip by use of the boom.I guess after all the blather (by me) above, I would say I agree that, buying the correct boat for your waters is a great start. AND having a couple tricks up your sleeve is probably the best solution.Good sailing!

 

[Tim O.]

Keep your wits about you

I've run aground a few times. Luckily the area that I sail is sand and mud so no real damage. All three times I've gently used the motor, close hauled sails and weight distribution to free myself. Each time has been fairly easy to get off but I was glad I had a cell phone and the Boat U.S. phone number in case I really got stuck. There's always a boater or two that have been willing to help too. So far they've always come right when I have gotten free. But it's nice to know that there are good mariners out there.

 

[P. MacDuff]

Running aground antics

I knew that when the tide came in it would be the highest for the entire summer. We ran aground around 11 am, high tide would be 8pm. I prepared lunch and then spent a lot of time in the engine room cleaning it, and then doing odds and ends. There was a lot to do, we were returning from a week on Block Island. My son made himself on the bow and read The Fountainhead. All in all waiting for the tide was better than being towed.....

 

[Dan]

I got out and pushed

I have an 76 oday 25 that has the center boardfiberglassed up inside the shoal draft keel.I got stuck in sand and was able to push my way to deeper water.

 

[Marc Chappell]

Ran Aground in San Pablo Bay

Several weeks ago we ran aground in a place that in theory should have been deeper than it was. It was in the channel from Bel Marin Keys to San Pablo Bay. We have an O'Day 240. this is the second time that sand had drifed into the channel causing us to hang up on a sand bar. I have found that by having a fairly large male move up and down on the bow of the boat, we can shake the boat off the sand bar. This technique has worked twice thus far.

 

[Unwinder]

Aground Once, OOPS, Twice, Shame on Me, Third?

It was a good July 4th weekend watching the Blue Angels from Little Sabine Bay at Santa Rosa Island (Pensacola) on Saturday. The narrow entrance pass got real narrow leaving on an outgoing tide that afternoon, as I found when my depth sounder went from 7.5' (that's deep around here), then to "bump", then to 4.5' and "halt". A brisk breeze from abeam did not help either. Reversing would not help, forward made it worse.So I did the unthinkable, took a line, made it fast to a bow cleat and waved for help from passers by (mostly in power boats). I needed to be pulled toward the channel, to port, but the first two (somewhat intoxicated) boaters' boats drifted to the front and only pulled me farther up on the sand bar. It was getting late so I called the TowBoat U.S. I saw nearby, but a quote of $11/foot x 37.5' changed that thinking. Finally a power boat with two big engines was able to pull me from my stern cleat, out and toward deeper water.Motoring into a stiff headwind to Ft. McRae at the entrance from Pensacola Bay to the Gulf, made us get there after dark. Finding the narrow channel of the Intracoastal Waterway into Grand Lagoon was tricky in the dark. It was kind of "touch and go". Knowing there were extensive sand bars there, I was slow and cautious to find the markers (yes my Q beam died and only had a flash light). Finding myself on the wrong side of a green mark, going west in the ICW, I made a quick U-turn, rounded it, then headed for a red mark to starboard. I found bottom again, in what appeared to be between the red and green, but I later found another red mark closer to the green I had passed. Never figured out this other red one, but a little reverse (OK a lot of reverse) solved that problem.All along the intention was to spend the night behind the spoil island at Ft. McRae. Well I knew I had to give the island a lot of clearance to the west, then head in from the west, due east to the inlet. I went far west, then south, then when the other anchor lights were due east, I turned east. A couple of yards later, "bump". Was I too far south, or not far enough? Seemed either way I was not going to get there. It seemed however I got into this area, I was not getting out tonight.By then, tide was all the way out and it could only get deeper. So I gave up, dingy'd out an anchor and cooked the hot dogs. Fortunately by morning I realized I had put the anchor out in the right direction, because had I put it to the north rather than the south, I would have gone more aground with the southerly wind. The deeper water was to the south, so I held my position. I could see the sand bars to the north and east. I had not gone far enough south.There it is I fessed up to my errors, or mishaps, or whatever. I had made this journey many times before, but it must have the alignment of the stars, moon, or maybe just the alignment of the sand bars.

 

[Brad Newell]

Solution

I've been aground so many times in my life that I had to think about think about this for a minute. Several years ago we were transiting the Great Sandy Straight, alongside Fraser Island (the largest sand island on the planet), on the coast of Queensland, AU. The controling depth is about six feet and the channel has lots of twists and turns; many buoys, all unmarked. At any rate, at the south end of the channel, where it opens to a large bay, I lost track of a buoy and was headed towards open water, I thought.Suddenly the little clearance we had began to unwind and I turned quickly to the right, more directly to the opening bay. Very quickly we began to make intermittent contact with the bottom, finally sliding to a stop. With a plain fin keel, you usually just turn the boat around the tip of the keel and go back out the same way you came in; grounding with a wing keel is different. We had some north wind, which could have been used to sail, but tilting the vessel would only aggravate the problem we had, due to the wing.My solution was to keep the southwesterly heading and set the engine at 1500 rpm, providing a gentle, steady push. The wind was about ten knots and was creating a gentle wave action. Walking around the boat added to the wiggle. For about thirty minutes we just "ooched" along the bottom, back to sailing water.Of course, the rest of the day ended at a place called Tin Can Bay, a story in itself. If the subject of "interesting" dockings ever arises, I'll inflict that on you.

 

[Brad Newell]

Solution

I've been aground so many times in my life that I had to think about about this for a minute. Several years ago we were transiting the Great Sandy Strait, alongside Fraser Island (the largest sand island on the planet), on the coast of Queensland, AU. (The draft of our L43 is just under five feet.) The controling depth is about six feet and the channel has lots of twists and turns; many buoys, all unmarked. At any rate, at the south end of the channel, where it opens to a large bay, I lost track of a buoy and was headed towards open water, I thought.Suddenly the little clearance we had began to unwind and I turned quickly to the right, more directly to the opening bay. Very quickly we began to make intermittent contact with the bottom, finally sliding to a stop. With a plain fin keel, you usually just turn the boat around the tip of the keel and go back out the same way you came in; grounding with a wing keel is different; it is reluctant to turn. We had some north wind, which could have been used to sail, but tilting the vessel would only aggravate the problem we had, due to the wing.My solution was to keep the southwesterly heading and set the engine at 1500 rpm, providing a gentle, steady push. The wind was about ten knots and was creating a gentle wave action. Walking around the boat added to the wiggle. For about thirty minutes we just "ooched" along the bottom, back to sailing water.Of course, the rest of the day ended at a place called Tin Can Bay, a story in itself. If the subject of "interesting" dockings ever arises, I'll inflict that on you.

 

[Timothy Heck]

Captain ICW

Last year my wife and i took our hunter 466 up the icw from KeY West Florida to Annapolis Maryland. We had a captain aboard for part of the trip and we had already gone aground three times before he came onboard and he was sailing us through some shallow waters in North Carloina at a pretty good speed and i asked him to slow down as we where close to hitting the bottom. He replied that he had made numerous trips up the channel and did not feel the need to reduce speed as he had NEVER GONE AGROUND. Well you know that was the kiss of death as within ten minutes we felt the tell tale bump bump stop that we had come to recognize was the grounding of our precious sailboat. No sooner did we stop then we heard the voice of god calling you there are you aground this is the shrimper anchored off your starboard and you appear to have gone out of the channel. Just turn around and come out and then i will guide you to safe water. It was just amazing at how accurate this shrimper was and he must have enjoyed watching all the grounding occur in this shallow and narrow part of the ditch. But we put the helm over this strong power and drove the boat out of the mud and into safe water at which time we thanked the voice that we forever will call this nice mariner of the sea, our friend the shrimper

 

[Jonathan]

Aground on my maiden voyage

This is an excerpt from a long, rambling tale of my trials and tribulations, trying to get my 37' yawl, the Constance Margretta, home to NY. My cousin David, and my mechanic Rupert Vaughan also appear in this story:"The engine really does sound happy, and David and I have already run the boat back and forth against her dock lines, so we know the prop does indeed turn, it's just that we don't know how much power it'll produce. Showing a rampant disregard for just how many things were, and could still be wrong with this boat, Rupert casts off the lines, and gives the dock a mighty shove, propelling us away from the only home we've known for all this time. David, thinking he's earned himself some kind of reward, is at the tiller, and I unceremoniously usurp command. Turning just a little tighter than an aircraft carrier, we head out through the twists and turns of the channel towards our destiny in the open water.Destiny, as it turns out, is a lot closer than that, as I run my poor Connie aground roughly 7.5 minutes into her maiden voyage. It's an interesting sensation, not unlike the deceleration of an elevator, only sideways. I immediately intuit what has happened, and give the engine full throttle, so as to climb up and over the obstruction. No, I'm serious. That's what I thought. This, I have come to learn, is the very wrongest thing you can do in boating, other than cutting a big hole in the bottom to see how deep the water is. Rather than shrieking and throwing things at me, Rupert calls upon all of his powers of British understatement, and casually mentions that perhaps we would do better backing off.Running aground apparently isn't as rare a thing as one might think, and passing boaters are quick to figure out that the unusually stable sailboat may need help. This comes in the form of asking power boaters to increase their speed as they pass by us, so as to create a wake, something that usually earns them a shaken fist. The idea is to catch Connie on the rise, and power off in reverse. This works its way through my head, and I shift into "backwards" and give 'er the gun. Zing! My brand new prop shaft pops right out of my same old transmission, and the boat decides to just sit there for a while.Even though my honey is the epitome of low-tech, I'm surprised to find that the only thing holding the prop shaft in place, is a 3/8 inch set screw, screwed down into a shallow depression on the shaft. Rupert hadn't lined something up correctly, and instead of pulling us off of the sand bar, the prop had pulled itself and the shaft backwards out of its coupling. Fortunately, as soon as it departed the coupling it lost the will to turn, and so didn't depart the boat as well, leaving a one and a half inch hole in the hull, and testing just how much water my bilge pumps could handle.After a lot of mulling on his part, and some pretty intent looks on our part, Rupert determined that the best way to get the shaft back into the coupling, was to reverse the process that caused it to come out in the first place. So, with fingers crossed, we restarted the engine and put the boat in drive. What little grip the coupling had on the shaft caused it to slowly turn, pushing itself further into the coupling, which in turn gripped it tighter until, viola: that one little bolt was reinserted, and my drive train was once again whole.As far as that whole, run aground thing. It turns out that reading a tide chart is trickier than I thought, and high tide didn't take place until and hour AFTER we'd run aground, so while we were pondering out lack of propulsion, Connie quietly floated herself off the bar.