The WTF Thread

capta · Jun 29, 2020

It was our third charter of the season and we were beating up to Carriacou from Grenada in a stiff NE wind. About 4 miles west of Tyrrel Bay I heard a pop aloft and called Nikki to take a look as I was on the helm. It turned out it was the tab that the halyard attaches to on the Yankee and the sail was slowly coming down. We rolled it up, no sweat, we'll crank up the engine and power in.
No click, tick or noise of any kind, yet the batteries were fine. Oh well, I'd always wanted to see how this old girl would sail under main alone. Not!
I kind of held the boat hove to while Nikki hopped below and tried everything (jumper cables, paralleling the batteries, a hammer, begging, threatening and cajoling), but that engine was not going to come to life for her.
So, we unrolled the Yankee just enough to get her moving well, but with plenty of wraps around the foil so it wouldn't come down. We got to anchor around dusk and Nikki went down to prepare dinner for our guests while I sat up on the foredeck in a mass of sailcloth repairing the jib. It had been a lot of years since I'd had to do that sort of work by hand. At about 11:00PM I finished and we got the Yankee back up and headed for the engine room. Our guests had gone to bed.
I tore down the starter, cleaned the commutator, checked the brushes and solenoid and tried everyone of my tricks, but that starter just wasn't going to work for me either.
We got to bed around 2AM and were up by 7, having decided that Skipping Stone was a sailboat first and foremost, so we'd finish the charter under sail. Being newly weds, I'm not even sure our guests noticed a thing, but all went off w/o a hitch and they left happy.
We deadheaded from Young Island up to Rodney Bay to get another starter and that's the trip we caught the 40# Wahoo I post pics of on here now and then. So, all in all, it worked out great and the folks at customs and immigration got Wahoo steaks for lunch.

Tedd · Jun 29, 2020

@ontherocks83 :

That tops my leaking port-a-potty story! But I have another.

I ruined a planned multi-day trip before our trailerable boat even got in the water. The Mac has a mast foot bracket that's a bent-up piece of SS sheet metal, into which another bracket on the bottom of the mast fits. The bracket on the mast has "ears" with holes where the pivot pin goes through. These ears are meant to go inside the flanges of the foot bracket. But, in my haste, I had the mast ears positioned one-inside and one-outside the flanges of the foot bracket. Part way through raising the mast I felt some resistance I didn't expect and stopped to find out why. Unfortunately, I was too late. The flanges on the two brackets had already interfered with each other, mangling both brackets.

I briefly considered removing the brackets, hammering them back into shape, and carrying on with our trip. My old car racing habits coming back, I guess. But I decided better of it and we just went home.

I've since modified the (new) bracket on the bottom of the mast so that it's physically impossible to position it in the foot bracket incorrectly.

justsomeguy · Jun 29, 2020

When, after 3 years, the depth gauge decided to miraculously start working at 0200, while anchored in a particularly shallow area. WTF?

Skinny water alarm woke me twice until I turned off the instruments.

Calif. Ted · Jun 29, 2020

Avalon Harbor they put a dye tab in your blackwater tank to detect leaks. Sunday morning I awake to a slight odor and look in the bilge, sure enough it's bright fluorescent green, I quickly disable the bilge pump. WTF I just replaced the pump and hoses 6 months ago, the tank must have cracked. I announce that our leisurely shoreside brunch is off and we must "beat feet to sea" ASAP. Our options being to remain with pump off and fill the bilge with poo or be arrested and sent to prison as environmental criminals. Of course it ended up being one of the cheesy bolts on the pump sheared off and it was dripping from the "new" pump.

Justin_NSA · Jun 29, 2020

I always thought half the topics on here were "WTF" threads!

David in Sandusky · Jun 29, 2020

The Admiral and I both arranged 8 week sabbaticals from our jobs, and set off from Sandusky for the Thousand Islands via the Welland Canal. Friends were going with us to Port Coburn to visit friends near there in their Hunter 30.

We had a great cruise along the south shore of Lake Erie, and departed Ashtabula after nearly a week, on our way to Erie, PA. It was one of those great days when the southwest wind just kept building through the day. Going around the Erie Peninsula was a sleigh ride! But when we turned into the channel, a 20+ knot wind and square 2 footers were right on our nose. We fired up our SB-8 Yanmar, and had a long full-throttle ride at 1 to 2 knots into the bay. Finally, we turned to the left to our reserved slips in one of the marinas in town. After a fine meal in a local restaurant, we turned in, looking forward to a night in the State Park Bay to the northwest, and then a sail to Dunkirk, NY. After breakfast in the morning, I checked the oil before cranking up to leave the marina. The stick came out gray and foamy! Water in the oil - not a good sign.

So we canceled the sail across the Bay, and with the help of the Great Lakes Cruising Club Port Captain, I got ahold of the only diesel mechanic in town. He confirmed my fears - probably a blown head gasket, no problem. But he couldn't get to it for 3 weeks! So our sabbatical cruise was shot. What to do? I headed up the hill to a Panera with my laptop. After searching and calling, I learned that Kingston Sailing Charters had a C&C 30 available in about 10 days. So we booked it for a week to sail in the Thousand Islands, a long term dream of ours. We had planned to meet our daughters and their families for a week at the family favorite island resort in the Islands. Luckily, they were able to take us a week early - nothing wrong with two weeks where we had honeymooned long ago!

So, the next day, we moved aboard our friends' h30, locked Lady Lillie, and left the keys for the diesel mechanic. Then we cast of for Dunkirk, and Port Coburn ("The Port" as they call it.) We lucked into a Friday evening party at the Dunkirk Yacht Club - what a fun group they were. The next morning, we set off on a steady southwest wind for The Port. We were past halfway when the wind disappeared. Really. Not a wrinkle on the flat surface of the water. So my friend fired up his engine. But it didn't fire up! The second engine failure on one cruise. The ladies were knitting and making gloomy talk like Madame LaFarge in Tale of Two Cities. We tried everything in our heads, and in the engine manual. Nothing. We hung their electric dinghy motor over the stern, and watched the GPS to see how long it would take us to get to The Port. I finally reported that we would go over Niagara Falls in about 35 hours. The Madame LaFarges just nodded.

So we reached the last resort - calling for help. Their friends were in their motor boat from Point Abino not too far away. After negotiating an outrageous amount of beer and other delicacies, they agreed to come out and tow us in to The Port. Finally, we arrived. Hot, sweaty, and disappointed. We washed up and visited the friends in Point Abino, then spent a day trying to fix his engine. But we weren't up to it, and the local diesel mechanic was available the next day. So we rented a car one way to Kingston, Ontario, and set off on the Lake Ontario leg of our dream cruise by automobile. The Admiral decided this was our O.A.T. cruise - Overcoming Adversity Together!

We spent a a week enjoying Kingston, and researching some of my ancestors who had lived around Nappanee. Then we sailed the Thousand Islands for a week, anchoring as we had dreamed off our vacation island. The next two weeks were there, the second one with our family. Then we hitched a ride with our middle daughter and her family to Erie, where Lady Lillie was waiting for us with a good head gasket! The next three weeks took us to most of the ports on the north shore of Lake Erie, including a side trip to the Stratford Shakespeare Festival for Kimg Lear. Anchoring behind the hook on the north side of Long Point was a real joy. Finally it was south from Leamington to our Lake Erie Islands and to our home port after 3 weeks. So our 8 week cruise turned out to be 5 weeks of cruising, one week of auto touring, and two weeks at our favorite vacation island punctuated by two major engine WTF's.

Tally Ho · Jul 3, 2020

My WTF was From last week....

My son and his GF were visiting from Colorado for a week, and we decided to all take the Friday off and go sailing.

i got up early on Friday morning and waited for every one else to get up. I grabbed my phone and noticed I missed 2 calls and had a VM....WTF...

I checked the VM, and it was the harbor master, @ 00:30 hours saying my boat was taking on water, and that the FD was on scene trying to pump her out, but that they needed me to come to the marina ASAP. WTF?

I called the number back (it is now 8 hours later), fearing my boat is sitting in 29 feet of water in my slip. After an Inordinate number of rings, some guy answers the phone. I tell him who I am and why I am calling...

...and he says, oh yeah, sorry about that...we got some bad information. It was not your boat! WTF?

I stopped into the marina office and asked if they also had my home number on file...because I don’t take my cell to bed with me.... and he said yes. But they never called it....WTF.

It all ended way better than I thought after listening to that VM, but still....

Greg

sailme88 · Jul 3, 2020

In 1999 we has acquired our '85 O'day 28. The sale came with stepping and launch. We launched on Thursday and had a mooring in Rye Harbor, NH unitl I could back down for the delivery sail north to Maine on Sunday. After an uneventful sail home we grabbed our mooring and headed home.. The next morning I decided to go down and clean the boat. There was a delightful breeze that enticed me to quit the cleaning an set the sails. I had just cleared the mooring field when the engine quit. HMM restarted and it ran for 10-15 seconds. This happened several times. Not too far from the mooring but too far to motor given the situation.. Unfurled the Genoa to about 50%. It took me 2 tries to figure the right stall, but made it safely to the mooring.
Now my WTF investigation started. The boat had an old bronze Groco fuel filter. Figured this was the culprit. Ashore to West Marine I went. A lighter wallet later I returned with a new RACOR system. Got new hoses as well since the old ones showed their age. Spinning off the feed line from the tank I hear ( as Ross Perot said) a giant sucking sound.. Followed by a pop. I knew in that instant what had happened. Charging up the ladder and across the cockpit, the vent cap on the transom was located. Both screen breathers were full of mud... Wasps had tried to build their nests in the shallow breathers. Unable to they quit but not before occluding my tank breather and vapor locking my system.. No damage and a new filter system later the engine fired right up and continued to run without incident... %$^@$% wasps..

Jacktar · Jul 3, 2020

Same thing has happened when uncovering the main sail cover after a nice cool month away from boat. Mud dauber nest fell out almost broke my toe. Size of a grapefruit.

sesmith · Jul 3, 2020

We got dismasted while sailing our first sailboat (a hunter 23.5) on Lake Champlain. Does that count? We were sailing upwind with winds building up to the 20s when a higher gust hit and the forestay broke. I jumped up and the mast knocked me into the lifelines. My wife, who was at the tiller had the foresight to lean way back as the mast landed over her lap. Luckily, the stern rail broke the fall and she was unscathed. The ferry that was coming across (and we had plenty of time to clear had our mast not fallen down) had to wait for us to collect our mast and sails, before it could finish its trip in. I had my hands full with the mast and headsail, while the main completely covered my wife as we motored in off the lake and through a mooring field. I called left and right (forget about port and starboard) as she motored the boat blindly. Got it anchored, put the mast up on it's cradle on the boat, stored the sails, and had a beer to collect our thoughts (and celebrate our resourcefulness).

We motored to the closest marina on the Vermont side. The step casting on the base of the mast was broken, but otherwise the mast was fine. They didn't do rigging repair, but set us up with a sail loft near Burlington, and overnighted the step casting to them. We motored back to where we launched the boat on the NY side and trailered it to Burlington for repair. The owner of the shop got us fixed up good as new a couple days later (at a more than reasonable price) so we could finish our vacation on Lake Champlain. In the meantime we did some land sightseeing.

This mishap began a great longer term relationship with that loft. My sails have since gone up there for repair. He made us a new set of sails for our Seaward and will likely be making us a new set for our Catalina 350 in another year or 2.

SoSound · Jul 3, 2020

Preface; I'm just about a "Green" as you could possible ask for.
Cruising through the San Juans, heading north and west from Spencer Spit State Park between Shaw and Orcas Islands (it's a Washington State Ferries route)... listening to radio chatter about whale watch boats and a pod of orcas in the area. We slow, move far to the right side of the passage, and observe an armada of tourist boats moving toward us. Not a single sign of a dorsal fin, a ripple in the water, nothing but the PNW fleet heading toward us for as far as we could see, when... a "whale watch" boat approaches us and proceeds to give us a finger wagging lecture on not keeping proper distance from the wildlife. Seriously? Were they just looking for a boat the didn't look familiar to them?

Tedd · Jul 4, 2020

Our First Night at Anchor:

Prior to buying Dragonfly, our 1995 Macgregor 26S, my only sailing experience was sailing a Bombardier 3.8 and some sailboards on a small lake. My wife had no prior experience at all, other than one ride with me in the Bombardier. For the most part, I've found adjusting to the 26-foot, water-ballast boat fairly straightforward, given that the running rigging is only slightly more complex than that of the Bombardier. But trip planning is a new dimension, for me.

We made three or four day sails in Dragonfly before we tried an overnight trip. For our first overnight trip we planned two nights on Harrison Lake, which is a 20 nm long, 2-ish nm wide lake in southern British Columbia. Harrison is a decent sailing lake but with two detractors. Its long, narrow shape, nestled between mountains, means that the wind is almost always straight along the lake, one way or the other. Whenever we sail there we're always either tacking directly up wind or running directly down wind. I don't believe we've ever been on a beam reach or even a broad reach, on that lake. And its other detractor is that, being very steep sided, water shallow enough to anchor in is hard to come by. In 50 or so nm of shoreline (including islands), there are perhaps ten bays suitable for anchoring. So, planning is important!

I can't remember all the factors that went into choosing my planned anchorage for the first night, but I do remember pouring over the chart for hours, scoping out places that looked suitable. I chose a spot about a third of the way up the lake from the boat launch. In retrospect, it was optimistically far from the boat launch, which is at the extreme southern end of the lake, given that we were arriving in the afternoon and needed to be at anchor before dark. But that didn't turn out to be the mistake that bit me. We had great winds from the south and made excellent time on a downwind run, all the way to the anchorage, hitting a high of 7.5 knots on the GPS a few times.

But the very stroke of luck that saved me from the mistake of arriving at the anchorage after dark turned out to be the thing that made the whole night a struggle. My anchorage had no shelter whatsoever from southerly winds. And so those lovely winds that gave us the 7.5 knot downwind run, and which did not abate as evening came, built up to a lovely sea state by the time they reached our anchorage area. I also failed to appreciate that, for my wife, holding the boat nose-upwind while I fussed with the anchor on the pitching fore deck was not a trivial task! The whole process of getting the anchor down and set took about ten minutes, by which time we were both a little green around the gills from all the pitching and rolling. But we did get the anchor set, and the bottom was sound. (One more item transferred from my pocket of luck to my pocket of experience.)

Naturally, between the motion sickness and worrying about the anchor, I didn't sleep very well! I "slept" in the cockpit, both to keep an eye on the boat's position and because being able to open my eyes and see the stars above kept my stomach in check. But the anchor held, and by the early morning hours the wind and waves had died down. I finally slept, and awoke to a beautiful dawn--my first on a boat. It was all worth it.

rgranger · Jul 4, 2020

My worst sailing experience was 22 years ago. I had taken a Macgregor V21 to Kiptopeke State Park which is a nice launch just at the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. Important to the story is the fact that the casing on the swing keel had a crack in it and some water was seeping in. More later.

We were sleeping at a dive motel across the street and dry slipping (stick up) at the state park. We were having a great vacation... sail all day, lunched on the boat and then rolled her up on the trailer and slept in the hotel at night. On the third day of this perfect vacation, we had a blast, we even did a down wind run with my son riding in a tube tied to the transom. He was only 8 so not too much of a drag on the boat. Around 4:00 PM I saw a really nasty T-head forming on the horizon so I headed in to avoid the weather. I was being a little cocky and sailed in between the two sunken ships (used as a breakwater) dropped the main about 100 yards from the dock, kept the jib up (was on a reach to the dock) and as water got shoal, I rolled up the keel and about 10 feet from the dock I dropped the jib in anticipation of a picture perfect landing... but feet from the dock a big fishing boat punched the throttle as it left the launch and his wake knocked me 90 degrees... so I would have to sail around and try again. So I tried to lower my keel but it was jammed in the keel trunk. I would learn later that salt water had gotten into the casing and as the keel rusted it swelled. I decided to start my O.B. but after a few moments it stopped abruptly. Later I would learn that one of my jib sheets was dragging and wrapped around the prop... but I didn't notice this because a really nasty T-storm was bearing down on us and I had my wife and three kids on board so I was in a little bit distracted. And the wind was pushing me towards Maryland and I could not sail or motor. So before we got to far away from the launch, I made the decision to beach the boat. I managed to land on a rip wrapped beach and let my wife and kids off while I walked the boat along the beach to the launch (about a mile away now). Later back home, I ended up having to repair some cracks in the hull from landing on the rocks and I refinished the keel. I also had to walk the boat against the rocks while wearing flip flops in a T-storm. My shins and toes were bloody before I got the boat back to the launch.

I was very upset and felt I had put my family in harms way and it certainly took away all of the good vibes the previous two days had created. I also established three hard and fast rules for my boats.
1) close toed shoes for every crew member must be on board before we leave for a trip
2) No line ever touches the water.
3) Do not leave the docks if any piece of critical equipment is not in tip top shape. I knew the keel was a little swollen but I had always been able to get it to drop in the past.

Scott T-Bird · Jul 4, 2020

Just yesterday we had a not too pleasant ending to a nice 2-day trip with Sue. We had been out in the ocean, anchored overnight at Barnegat Light and spent yesterday relaxing, sailing a little, anchoring at Tices Shoal and getting to know our new-to-us boat, with windlass and salt-water washdown hose at the bow. We had our new dinghy tied to the back quarter as we approached our home slip. Sue is asking me how I'm going to enter the slip with the dinghy in tow. She's concerned because she knows that I intend to back in and she's giving me her opinion in a manner that I know that I better not mess up! The reason I'm backing in is because we have a very short finger dock and we don't have opening lifelines on either side at the bow. If we go bow in, it is just too difficult to get on and off the boat right now, until I change the lifelines.

So as we are getting near the marina and Sue gets ready at the bow, she calls out that there is water bubbling out of the anchor locker. WTF? I'm supposedly the idiot because I didn't turn off the washdown hose before feeding it into the locker about an hour previously. I know it was off when I finished washing down the anchor. OK, so the hose gets turned overboard while Sue goes below and turns the switch off. (It happens to be at ankle level near the v-berth and somebody - not me - had to have kicked it on inadvertently.) With that issue temporarily put aside, I line up the stern for the slip, let the dinghy slide well to the side and out of the way and make a near-perfect pivot into our slip and get just past the outer pile while Sue is yelling at me that I'm going into the wrong slip! Doh! Second try and this time it's not so near-perfect. I realize I'm about to nudge the piling with the back quarter, but it's very slow and I"m not too concerned about nudging the rear corner at waterline where all my focus is, when I hear a crunch as the piling crushes our brand new Magma grill. Oh Shit!

Well, I carry on ... we get the boat in and lines are adjusted. I pull off the cover to the grill expecting damage, but there isn't even a dent! Tough little MFer! It merely knocked it cockeyed at the pivot fitting, spilling the remains of grease and BBQ sauce into the cover. I'm finishing up with the lines and the dinghy and Sue takes the dock hose to clean up the mess on the BBQ cover. She has the hose lying on the dock as she turns on the water and reaches for the hose, when she jambs a wood sliver right up in that ultra-sensitive space between the finger nail and the flesh. Oh Boy, I'm in deep shit now! But with a little skillful surgery (by me) with a tweezers, the sliver is extracted and the day is saved. I was treated to a spaghetti dinner and candlelight in our new cabin!

WayneH · Jul 4, 2020

Which one?
Forget to install the hull plug on the daysailer and then wonder why the first mate can't steer for nothing.
Forget to attach both ends of the fuel hose?
Having the huge storm back down on us, changing our lovely oyster reef from a breakwater to a lee shore?
Why does the chart indicate 6 feet of water and the depth finder indicates 1.6?
Waiting for the transmission to go in reverse before throttling up is a good idea.
Having a fiberglass male appendage shoot between me and barge at 40+ knots when there's the whole other half of the ICW available.
Why do you have to contact the St Charles street bridge on the same radio channel that the Industrial Canal lock gives you permission to come through? New Orleans bridge tenders are all on power trips.
Yeah, I'm a magna cum laude graduate from UHK.

Captain Larry-DH · Jul 5, 2020

We’re raising the anchor, and I release the bridle (22 feet long each side) from the anchor line before breaking out. We break out and as the anchor comes up we’re hooked on a line (looks like a trap line) and I can’t get it free without cutting. I should have a knife handy but no, I need to go into the cabin to get one. We get free and sail off. We had a wonderful sail, beating into 20+ k of wind to tack north in Narragansett Bay, sailing at 10+ knots for hours. We arrive at our next destination and the Admiral goes forward to pick up a mooring, and starts hauling in our bridles! :facepalm:

(First one side then the other.). WTF!
The distraction of the snagged trap line made me forget to detach the bridle lines from the outer ends of the cross beams (akas) and stow them away, and we were sailing for hours while dragging them in the water.

Captain Larry-DH · Jul 5, 2020

My wife just reminded me that last week we got the boat all prepped to get underway, dropped the mooring and realized I forgot to attach the wheel! WTF!
(stowed below)

GSBNY · Jul 5, 2020

I decided to anchor by an island I’ve been to many times before. It was a bit windy but it’s a sandy bottom that I’ve successfully used danforth anchors on many times.

Threw the 5lb aluminum danforth anchor out and waited, and waited, and waited but the anchor felt like it was just skipping across the bottom for some reason. Finally it felt like it set and I went back to the cockpit, but about 5 min later we were slipping fast again towards the busy channel

Decided that we should pull it up and find another spot, and that was when I figured out why the anchor wouldn’t set. There was a big horseshoe crab wedged between the flukes of the danforth. It couldn’t bite into the bottom because the horseshoe crab must have been caught up when the anchor hit bottom.

Calif. Ted · Jul 5, 2020

I'd spent the week prepping a new to me boat in San Francisco to bring south, sunset Sunday all set for departure next AM, I decide should rig the emergency tiller. As I remove the wheel I hear thunk- tink- tink- splash as the shaft key falls between my legs and out the transom. Unlike every other Edson I've seen mine has the key way facing down instead of up when the wheel is centered. Race to WM to buy last overpriced rebuild kit with replacement key.
Fast forward 5-6 years and I'm late for a race start after my detailer spent 3 days polishing and waxing EVERYTHING. Jump on, hit reverse and spin the wheel, boat keeps backing straight. WTF ? Hit forward and put the boat back in slip, wonder why the rudder didn't bite thinks I??? Oh well, Try again and this time when the rudder doesn't respond it dawns on me wheel is just spinning on the shaft. Yep, my detail guy had removed the wheel to get at everything behind it and had not noticed the key jump overboard. Barely got back into slip with a little help from a dockmate where I replaced the key from a bag of spares I keep on hand while explaining to him I'm not an idiot, just slow sometimes.