Waking up anchored in an engineless catboat one wave away from the start of breakers against a sheer cliff? Dragging in a wind shift close enough to a beach that the anchor was pulling the bow through the waves making a bow wave around the cabin top?
The answer to this question has been lost in the mists of memory, until this morning.
The weather report on 9/11/11 dictated an early start which meant going through the falls and spending the night at the Market Street slip. This decision was made a bit late so I rushed out to the mooring, started the engine, and cast off. I turned to see that a race was starting and the cove was filled with 30 - 40 foot boats rushing back and forth in pre-start maneuvers. These took most of them right up to the buoy I needed to round in order to exit. I kept motoring up thinking I saw an opening and then would find another boat hell bent for the same spot. Each had a different strategy on where they would go after tacking so I had to give them lots of room. Not being a racer, I had no idea this business went on so long. I circled and fretted for half an hour as the current was building at the falls. Finally, the starting horn blew, the boats all hoisted there spinnakers and the cove was empty a couple minutes later.
The falls were a non event. The GPS was indicating 10+ SOG as I zipped through, I could feel the boat drop, but there were no heavy eddies or waves. Another small portion of an hour though, and I would have been trapped upriver. Turns out that would have been a good thing.
I docked at Market Street and spent a pleasant late afternoon walking around Saint John and having dinner where I could see Strider’s masthead. Early to bed for a dawn start. “Start” was about two hours later.
I woke to the boat rolling heavily and heaving with heavy impacts against the slip. I had fenders and the fender board out but she was rolling so deeply that these were catching under the larger rubber dock fender and in danger of being ripped off. At one point as I was blearily assessing the situation and trying to come up with a plan, the toe rail went under the dock fender. The wind had risen and waves were rolling right up the harbor, reflecting off the metal pile walls of the slip and setting up a standing wave pattern. The heavy floats attached with metal tracks to rails considerably larger than carry trains were heaving so hard it was difficult to walk on them.
I moved the boat back far enough that I could tie dock lines together and run them from the off-slip side to the base arm of the “U” shaped landing. I was able to pull Strider’s far enough out that the heavy impacts with the slip stopped but, unrestrained by fender friction, she started heavy resonant rolling, the equal of anything I have seen under power in rough conditions. Sleep was out of the question, even with leeboards rigged on a saloon berth. I finally wedged myself sideways in the V-berth until exhaustion took over and got a couple hours of semi sleep.
It had calmed down a bit by the time the sky began to lighten but the weather report promised conditions that would make it crazy to go out in the Bay of Fundy with full moon tides and wind that has been blowing briskly from the same direction for three days. I was a few minutes late calling my crew to head him off so he showed up. We conferred and he went home.
The wind is supposed to moderate a bit late today but, exhausted as I am, I think the plan is to run back up through the falls at the late morning slack and return to the yacht club to regroup and wait for a change in the weather pattern. Check the SPOT tracking page to see if I stick to that plan.
Low Tide.
Another joy of Market Street.
The answer to this question has been lost in the mists of memory, until this morning.
The weather report on 9/11/11 dictated an early start which meant going through the falls and spending the night at the Market Street slip. This decision was made a bit late so I rushed out to the mooring, started the engine, and cast off. I turned to see that a race was starting and the cove was filled with 30 - 40 foot boats rushing back and forth in pre-start maneuvers. These took most of them right up to the buoy I needed to round in order to exit. I kept motoring up thinking I saw an opening and then would find another boat hell bent for the same spot. Each had a different strategy on where they would go after tacking so I had to give them lots of room. Not being a racer, I had no idea this business went on so long. I circled and fretted for half an hour as the current was building at the falls. Finally, the starting horn blew, the boats all hoisted there spinnakers and the cove was empty a couple minutes later.
The falls were a non event. The GPS was indicating 10+ SOG as I zipped through, I could feel the boat drop, but there were no heavy eddies or waves. Another small portion of an hour though, and I would have been trapped upriver. Turns out that would have been a good thing.
I docked at Market Street and spent a pleasant late afternoon walking around Saint John and having dinner where I could see Strider’s masthead. Early to bed for a dawn start. “Start” was about two hours later.
I woke to the boat rolling heavily and heaving with heavy impacts against the slip. I had fenders and the fender board out but she was rolling so deeply that these were catching under the larger rubber dock fender and in danger of being ripped off. At one point as I was blearily assessing the situation and trying to come up with a plan, the toe rail went under the dock fender. The wind had risen and waves were rolling right up the harbor, reflecting off the metal pile walls of the slip and setting up a standing wave pattern. The heavy floats attached with metal tracks to rails considerably larger than carry trains were heaving so hard it was difficult to walk on them.
I moved the boat back far enough that I could tie dock lines together and run them from the off-slip side to the base arm of the “U” shaped landing. I was able to pull Strider’s far enough out that the heavy impacts with the slip stopped but, unrestrained by fender friction, she started heavy resonant rolling, the equal of anything I have seen under power in rough conditions. Sleep was out of the question, even with leeboards rigged on a saloon berth. I finally wedged myself sideways in the V-berth until exhaustion took over and got a couple hours of semi sleep.
It had calmed down a bit by the time the sky began to lighten but the weather report promised conditions that would make it crazy to go out in the Bay of Fundy with full moon tides and wind that has been blowing briskly from the same direction for three days. I was a few minutes late calling my crew to head him off so he showed up. We conferred and he went home.
The wind is supposed to moderate a bit late today but, exhausted as I am, I think the plan is to run back up through the falls at the late morning slack and return to the yacht club to regroup and wait for a change in the weather pattern. Check the SPOT tracking page to see if I stick to that plan.
Low Tide.
Another joy of Market Street.
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