Arriving at the pass to Majuro in the Marshall Islands at one in the afternoon seemed perfect. We would have plenty of time to sail to the anchorage only 14 miles to windward and the weather was beautiful. It was windy, blowing 15-16 kts. but it was almost from a direction we could use and we were feeling confident. A few large fishing boats were visible on AIS headed our way from inside the lagoon, so I put a call out on the radio to warn them that a crazy lady driving a disabled boat was navigating the pass under sail and would they please give her lots of room. They scattered like sand crabs at low tide.
The pass was deep, wide and well-marked. I bet you could drag an aircraft carrier through sideways and not have a problem, but the wind direction slowed us down to a meager three knots. Tacking (a left hand turn) into an 18 knot headwind from the pass was going to be difficult (maybe impossible) without more speed so Dois decided to teach me the “worry-around”. He had me turn the boat the opposite the direction from where we wanted to go, gaining speed from the wind that was now behind us and quickly completing the turn (sort of a ¾ circle) ending up on the tack we wanted. We were only 11 miles to the moorings now and things were looking up. We tacked back and forth, close to the wind, begging for speed. We were really enjoying this sailing, especially because we thought we were almost home. Little did we know we would not find safe haven for another 17 hours.
The pass was deep, wide and well-marked. I bet you could drag an aircraft carrier through sideways and not have a problem, but the wind direction slowed us down to a meager three knots. Tacking (a left hand turn) into an 18 knot headwind from the pass was going to be difficult (maybe impossible) without more speed so Dois decided to teach me the “worry-around”. He had me turn the boat the opposite the direction from where we wanted to go, gaining speed from the wind that was now behind us and quickly completing the turn (sort of a ¾ circle) ending up on the tack we wanted. We were only 11 miles to the moorings now and things were looking up. We tacked back and forth, close to the wind, begging for speed. We were really enjoying this sailing, especially because we thought we were almost home. Little did we know we would not find safe haven for another 17 hours.
It was time consuming to tack back and forth across the lagoon and took us 4 hours to make 9 miles to the good. This was working against us as the weather had taken a turn for the worse. The winds were threatening 20kts on the nose and there were some seriously dark clouds headed our way. Just two miles from the anchorage we accepted the idea of a rescue, perhaps our biggest mistake. Looking back on it (wishing for more foresight again), we probably could have sailed right into the anchorage, weaving our way around the anchored commercial boats and dropped the anchor. But the storm threat seemed like a good reason to accept "a rescue" and the locals Were adamant about NOT anchoring due to the bottom being strewn with wrecks (bad sign?). The offers of help to get us safely to a mooring were just too enticing to pass on. We made the decision to accept a tow and the seduction of the “rescue” was complete.
It was Tuesday night. Why is this important? Because Tuesday nights are yachtie Happy Hours here in Majuro and you do not want to get between a sailor and his happy hour. At 6:00 only 2 small dinghies showed up and the weather now warranted a tug boat. We were very grateful for the two dinghies and decided to furl the staysail and drop the main. Unfortunately the main was intent on staying up the mast, being pinned there by the wind. Dois jumped out of the cockpit to pull in down and it came down alright... in one fell swoop; busted right out of the main mast track. Now we had no engine and no main sail.
It was Tuesday night. Why is this important? Because Tuesday nights are yachtie Happy Hours here in Majuro and you do not want to get between a sailor and his happy hour. At 6:00 only 2 small dinghies showed up and the weather now warranted a tug boat. We were very grateful for the two dinghies and decided to furl the staysail and drop the main. Unfortunately the main was intent on staying up the mast, being pinned there by the wind. Dois jumped out of the cockpit to pull in down and it came down alright... in one fell swoop; busted right out of the main mast track. Now we had no engine and no main sail.
Our new satelite comm capable of sending texts from the middle of the South Pacific.
We tied up one of the dinghies to port and the other small boat was attended by a Frenchman who was convinced he could tow us from the bow. Under Dois’s doubtful watch, the Frenchman insisted on tying to the pulpit stanchion. Then he goosed his outboard to try and get a pull on us, but our girl tugged back causing him to turn slightly to our starboard (right) and with Port dinghy was pushing as hard as he could, Frenchman made the mistake of stopping. It took all of 60 seconds for him to be swept backwards by wind and current, screaming all the way. RELEASE MY LINE RELEASE MY LINE! We were dragging him now. The wind was up a notch and it was starting to rain. Being dragged like that was sinking the frenchmans little boat and he was mad as a hatter yelling over and over RELEASE MY LINE RELEASE MY LINE. His line had jammed into the spot Dois told him not to use and it took a few highly stressful moments to work it free. In the meantime, portside dinghy was doing everything he could to try and steer us back in the direction of the anchorage, but instead overheated his outboard and succeeded in pushing us closer to the reef.
The Frenchman was free and he unbelievably, hollered over the noise of the squall that he would return with his big power cat. At about that time another dinghy came along side and boarded Ashika. Phil is a jolly Brit with a desire to help but we needed at least two more boats by this point. Dois was helping our helpers onboard and tying down their boats and as soon as everyone was safe I pulled out the staysail and we whipped a u-turn sailing away from the reef and any immediate danger. The only problem was I could only go in a direction that was away from any anchorage, but it was also away from the reef, at least for awhile. Port dinghy and Dois started work on a towing bridle. And when he could, Dois came back to raise the mizzen hoping it might gain us sail control.
The Frenchman was free and he unbelievably, hollered over the noise of the squall that he would return with his big power cat. At about that time another dinghy came along side and boarded Ashika. Phil is a jolly Brit with a desire to help but we needed at least two more boats by this point. Dois was helping our helpers onboard and tying down their boats and as soon as everyone was safe I pulled out the staysail and we whipped a u-turn sailing away from the reef and any immediate danger. The only problem was I could only go in a direction that was away from any anchorage, but it was also away from the reef, at least for awhile. Port dinghy and Dois started work on a towing bridle. And when he could, Dois came back to raise the mizzen hoping it might gain us sail control.
We spotted the Frenchman coming at us with his power cat and Dois abandoned the mizzen. Arriving on the scene, he threw us a line, Dois attached it to the bridle and just like that we were being towed to the mooring field. This was likely our second missed opportunity to sail ourselves out of this mess and we missed it again. We were what you might call "apprehensive", but we were headed toward the mooring and it seemed like things were looking up, what could go wrong? Let me tell you. First, we were towed into another moored boat. Frenchman mysteriously stopped the cat (I think he was looking for the mooring) and as we all tried to figure out what was going on ahead of us, in the dark, Ashika drifted starboard onto a sailboat. The Frenchman responded to all our yelling by powering to starboard pulling us even harder onto the sailboat. The startled boat owner on deck was trying to fend us off and somehow, with five or six of us trying to throw fenders between the two boats, the only damage from that meeting of fiberglass was the loss of our stern light as we hooked it on his bow. We were relieved to get off so easy.
Now Ashika was headed in the right direction again and closing in on the mooring. The storm had kicked it up a notch and making a real mess so we were relieved to be so close. Finally, safe at last. But it was not going to be. A man was sitting in a dinghy at the mooring ball, waiting to hand us up the mooring loop so we could thread it with our line, easy peasy. But the power cat drove around the man in the dinghy and stopped. The wind blew him down toward our port side, effectively lassoing mooring and the man in the dinghy - nearly killing him. He scrambled to get loose from the tow line and as he neared Ashika’s bow Dois could see his eyes were huge with fear as Dois help him slack the line and skinny under it to freedom. The Frenchman was screaming again… RELEASE MY LINE RELEASE MY LINE! What could we do? We released his line. And Frenchman powered off leaving us adrift again.
Now Ashika was headed in the right direction again and closing in on the mooring. The storm had kicked it up a notch and making a real mess so we were relieved to be so close. Finally, safe at last. But it was not going to be. A man was sitting in a dinghy at the mooring ball, waiting to hand us up the mooring loop so we could thread it with our line, easy peasy. But the power cat drove around the man in the dinghy and stopped. The wind blew him down toward our port side, effectively lassoing mooring and the man in the dinghy - nearly killing him. He scrambled to get loose from the tow line and as he neared Ashika’s bow Dois could see his eyes were huge with fear as Dois help him slack the line and skinny under it to freedom. The Frenchman was screaming again… RELEASE MY LINE RELEASE MY LINE! What could we do? We released his line. And Frenchman powered off leaving us adrift again.
Dois jumped into anchoring mode, but as luck (or lack thereof) would have it, the anchor had jammed up into the roller. We were headed for the middle of the fishing fleet, moving about 1.5 - 2 kts directly at a 200’ Fishing seiner. The weather is now deplorable, howling wind into the mid 20's and buckets of pouring rain. Dois was on the bow with a sledge hammer, lying prone on the platform under the pulpit, riding wind waves up and down, banging on the anchor to dislodge our hook and it's not lost on him that we are headed for a large metal boat. He got it loose and let her rip... sending 250’ of chain and anchor to the bottom and surprisingly, the Mantus anchor grabbed, at least temporarily, keeping us from a really bad date with the Chinese rust bucket. Unfortunately we were in 150' of water and 250' of chain wouldn’t hold. We needed to put out additional rode to keep us put. That’s when another tow boat showed up.
Four or five guys in a small fishing boat fresh from happy hour had arrived and were ready to tow us to safety. Where had we heard that before? Orders started flying out of that boat like a MacDonald’s at noon. The committee were all yelling to be heard over the storm, making demands mostly for us to cut the anchor loose (buoy it so we could retrieve it later). Dinghy man was giving Dois the full court press for cutting the anchor and Phil was telling me delightful stories in the cockpit. The chaos was complete. I said "please excuse me Phil" and splashed out on to the deck in the warm torrents of wind and rain to pow-wow with the Captain. In that moment the decision was whether to cut the anchor loose or put out more rode. Dois and I were in complete agreement.
Another rescue plan without a plan, at least none that they could share over the howl of the wind. They arrived directly from several hours at the bar and met two highly doubtful and very tired sailors. A rescue had sounded so easy until it wasn’t. Nobody else had done as much for us that night as our anchor had so we decided to trust our own instincts and put out more rode. Although their hearts were certainly in the right place, we had been through the ringer that night, and we trusted our anchor more. We sent the party away, all of them. An additional 250’ of rode was deployed and kept us in place all night.
Four or five guys in a small fishing boat fresh from happy hour had arrived and were ready to tow us to safety. Where had we heard that before? Orders started flying out of that boat like a MacDonald’s at noon. The committee were all yelling to be heard over the storm, making demands mostly for us to cut the anchor loose (buoy it so we could retrieve it later). Dinghy man was giving Dois the full court press for cutting the anchor and Phil was telling me delightful stories in the cockpit. The chaos was complete. I said "please excuse me Phil" and splashed out on to the deck in the warm torrents of wind and rain to pow-wow with the Captain. In that moment the decision was whether to cut the anchor loose or put out more rode. Dois and I were in complete agreement.
Another rescue plan without a plan, at least none that they could share over the howl of the wind. They arrived directly from several hours at the bar and met two highly doubtful and very tired sailors. A rescue had sounded so easy until it wasn’t. Nobody else had done as much for us that night as our anchor had so we decided to trust our own instincts and put out more rode. Although their hearts were certainly in the right place, we had been through the ringer that night, and we trusted our anchor more. We sent the party away, all of them. An additional 250’ of rode was deployed and kept us in place all night.
Dois called the owner of the committee boat the following morning to arrange a tow. He hired him with the condition that he stand by until he got the anchor up and then tow him to the mooring. I’m certain nobody thought we could retrieve that anchor because at that depth the ground tackle probably weighed thousands of pounds. That’s why they wanted us to cut it loose, they didn’t think it was retrievable. But they didn't know Dois and nobody knows this boat better than he does.
A squall piped up just as we started picking up the rode, probably because Neptune was still angry about the solar panel. Raising the anchor became a significant problem again as the wind doubled the pull on the Mantus. Dois tried to call it off and reschedule for after the storm, but the committee boat wouldn’t concede. Phil (our jolly Brit) joined Dois on deck and kept a foot on the gypsy while I flaked chain below into the locker. Dois worried all 500’ of ground tackle right up to the pulpit. Cary, the tow/fishing (committee) boat owner threw us a tow line and expertly and efficiently towed us safely to our mooring. Smooth. Safe.
A squall piped up just as we started picking up the rode, probably because Neptune was still angry about the solar panel. Raising the anchor became a significant problem again as the wind doubled the pull on the Mantus. Dois tried to call it off and reschedule for after the storm, but the committee boat wouldn’t concede. Phil (our jolly Brit) joined Dois on deck and kept a foot on the gypsy while I flaked chain below into the locker. Dois worried all 500’ of ground tackle right up to the pulpit. Cary, the tow/fishing (committee) boat owner threw us a tow line and expertly and efficiently towed us safely to our mooring. Smooth. Safe.
There were people who felt we were risking our boat and possibly our lives to save the anchor. While we do love that hunk of galvanized metal, the decision to remain with the fishing fleet was based on our gut instinct to stop the chaos before someone gets hurt, mainly us. Dropping the anchor stopped our wild run around the bay and we believed adding the additional rode would solidify our position, and it did. The decision was also complicated by where we are on the planet; losing our ground tackle would be hugely expensive and take six months or more to get here. I’m not sure how we could recover from that. But more importantly, If we had believed that the safest thing to do was cut it free, we would have done it.
Oh, and I also want to mention that Ginger was an angel during the whole ordeal. She stayed tucked into her bed where she could see the cockpit and me and only barked when someone new boarded. She’s a sailor’s best friend. And mine too!
Oh, and I also want to mention that Ginger was an angel during the whole ordeal. She stayed tucked into her bed where she could see the cockpit and me and only barked when someone new boarded. She’s a sailor’s best friend. And mine too!
Here’s my “Great Book” recommendation; Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese..."on the New York Times fiction bestseller list for well over two years, reaching Number 2 at its peak in 2012. It is now one of Amazon's 100 Books to Read in a Lifetime. Acclaimed by reviewers and the reading public alike"...Don't read any summaries on this one, they give too much away. L.
Housekeeping: Ashika was badly wounded and needs a bit of repair. One of the motor mounts was crushed, perhaps the culprit of the transmission main seal loss and needs 5 new ones. The trans needs to be pulled and rebuilt. The boom-vang attachment to the boom is mangled and will need a welder or a new bracket and the davits need a little welding love. The mast needs a new sail track (It's called a "Strong Track".. But not so much strong, more on that later) and the other companion way door is busted. The generator needs work, seems the water pump gave it up. The exhaust manifold on the engine is leaking and we we will need to look into what that means. We will also need to get the autopilot fixed. Ugh.
Peace
Peace
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