Post-Fay. I hung it out aboard (I'm a LA, it's my home), doubled up my lines, and watched as the weather report was revised from 45mph gusts to possible 60mph winds, and what further corrections they made after that, I don't know. I was working to save my boat and the power was out all over the city.
Lines held, cleats held, but after working on deck was no longer possible the waves and wind pulled two of my windward pilings out of the mud (!!), I damaged the main dock, crushed the finger dock and another piling seperating me from a 40' fishing boat and then took out a 5' by 30' section of that boat. While this was happening I put my wallet and a few valuables into my boots which I threw onto the waveswept main dock and then made a leap for life from the stern rail, landed on lucky feet, and retreated landward to where residents were taking shelter in the lee of a crumbling community building. During a lull in the storm the owners and the dock rats and I went out to save boats, I was amazed that mine came out with scuffs and a section of torn toerail and a broken forward hatch...and that's it. The fishing boat was declared a total loss.
You can ask me how high the waves were and how strong the wind was; but you wouldn't believe my answer. I'll tell you my computer monitor came loose from it's lashings on the cabin sole, and struck the ceiling before smashing back to ground, and two sailboats at our marina had their masts snapped off close to the base by sustained winds that were several octave scales above the weatherman's conservative estimates.
After 36 hours of battling in wind and wet clothing I was sure as Fay departed that I would crawl aboard my newly secured sailboat, get under a soggy blanket and be dead to the world. Instead, my heart was bounding and my eyes were wide open and I bolted upright at every change in wind and wave that seemed like weather might be worsening. I'd read about anxiety attacks; this was my first. Not my first bad storm, but my first bad storm tied to a marina. And my last. Every liveaboard on the hook dragged a bit but came through unscathed, except for one broken coffeepot.
The marina owner and his sons were superheroes. We're taking up a collection for three sailor's knives and having Fay '08 engraved on them. We had zero boats lost, but a dozen went down between our two neighboring marinas...the river looked like a floating garage sale log jam of clothes, cabinets and furniture, personal belongings, and acres of lumber and tree branches. Some folks made big scores scavenging, I fished out and kept an oil painting floating on the water. A harbor scene with fishing boats going out to sea; reminiscent of the boat Wind Dancer had chewed up. A memento.
Cherub Hunters are tuff boats and anybody who says otherwise, forget them. Now, after two weeks of more or less constant rain, I'm ready for some sunshine and dry clothes...the weatherman says we'll get the sunshine. Hope he's right...for once.
Lines held, cleats held, but after working on deck was no longer possible the waves and wind pulled two of my windward pilings out of the mud (!!), I damaged the main dock, crushed the finger dock and another piling seperating me from a 40' fishing boat and then took out a 5' by 30' section of that boat. While this was happening I put my wallet and a few valuables into my boots which I threw onto the waveswept main dock and then made a leap for life from the stern rail, landed on lucky feet, and retreated landward to where residents were taking shelter in the lee of a crumbling community building. During a lull in the storm the owners and the dock rats and I went out to save boats, I was amazed that mine came out with scuffs and a section of torn toerail and a broken forward hatch...and that's it. The fishing boat was declared a total loss.
You can ask me how high the waves were and how strong the wind was; but you wouldn't believe my answer. I'll tell you my computer monitor came loose from it's lashings on the cabin sole, and struck the ceiling before smashing back to ground, and two sailboats at our marina had their masts snapped off close to the base by sustained winds that were several octave scales above the weatherman's conservative estimates.
After 36 hours of battling in wind and wet clothing I was sure as Fay departed that I would crawl aboard my newly secured sailboat, get under a soggy blanket and be dead to the world. Instead, my heart was bounding and my eyes were wide open and I bolted upright at every change in wind and wave that seemed like weather might be worsening. I'd read about anxiety attacks; this was my first. Not my first bad storm, but my first bad storm tied to a marina. And my last. Every liveaboard on the hook dragged a bit but came through unscathed, except for one broken coffeepot.
The marina owner and his sons were superheroes. We're taking up a collection for three sailor's knives and having Fay '08 engraved on them. We had zero boats lost, but a dozen went down between our two neighboring marinas...the river looked like a floating garage sale log jam of clothes, cabinets and furniture, personal belongings, and acres of lumber and tree branches. Some folks made big scores scavenging, I fished out and kept an oil painting floating on the water. A harbor scene with fishing boats going out to sea; reminiscent of the boat Wind Dancer had chewed up. A memento.
Cherub Hunters are tuff boats and anybody who says otherwise, forget them. Now, after two weeks of more or less constant rain, I'm ready for some sunshine and dry clothes...the weatherman says we'll get the sunshine. Hope he's right...for once.
