I’ve been in my foul weather gear more than I’ve been in anything else since I left Kemah.  It’s cold.  Really cold.  I left my slip last Monday and survived my first week of “cruising”.  I’ve had several emotional ups and downs already and put my boat in peril twice.  Once you’ve already heard about when I went aground on the shoals of Pelican Island.  The second occurred Sunday morning after my second night in Offatts Bayou.

The wind was moderate out of the Southeast when I set the hook on Friday evening.  I settled in for a night at anchor and cooked a big skillet dinner called a Spanish Tortilla I swiped from some cruisers in the Carib, The Log of Whisper.  I slept soundly Saturday having tremendous faith in my 60 lb CQR anchor that has long been the choice of cruisers around the world.  As I was shoveling the mix of egg, pepperoni, potato, onion, garlic, and tobasco into my mouth I felt the wind shift dramatically to the North.  My anchor has a big knuckle in it allowing the shaft to swivel and watching my track on the GPS I appeared to be swinging freely to the presumably still set anchor.

Having emptied my plate of said Spanish tortilla, not really a tortilla at all, I went to relieve myself of some morning coffee.  Quite suddenly the boat swung about 45 degrees and started heeling, or leaning over about 10 degrees.  That shouldn’t happen at anchor.  I popped quickly out of the head donning hat, gloves, coat, and securing multiple zippers I bowed my head to check the GPS track.  I was moving, fast.  Jumping on deck I saw the concrete pier of Moody Gardens looming about 100 yards off the starboard bow.  I needed room to maneuver and I needed it quick.

My first thought was to get the anchor in so that I could motor off the pier, but no amount of adrenalin could bring in the 120 feet of chain faster that I was going to wash up against those concrete pilings.  Fortunately, the engine was already running for the morning refrigeration and batter charge, so I put it in gear and started pointing directly into the now 25 – 30 knot winds.  Looking over my shoulder I could see visible progress as the distance between my boat and the pilings grew.  I reached across the cockpit and set the autopilot to keep us moving into the wind while I went forward to deal with the anchor I was dragging uselessly across the Bayou.

Once repositioned I dropped the hook, again, letting out almost 175 feet of chain in 20 feet of water and put the engine in reverse to ensure a good deep set.  She was holding.  Unlike the first time, I dug into an old locker and pulled out an anchor snubber left behind by the previous owner.  The snubber has a chain hook on it that is spliced to a piece of ½ inch three stand line.  It serves two purposes.  First, it lets you take the strain of the anchor chain off the windless and cleat the line to a reinforced deck cleat.  The second, and my downfall the first time, is that it provides elasticity in the anchoring system.  See, the weight of the chain works to slowly pull the boat forward towards the set anchor.  The wind is constantly driving the boat back, in this case very forcefully.  Without the snubber, as the chain pulled tight, it popped the anchor right out of the mud.  With the snubber, the elasticity of the nylon rope prevents the shock loading and so far has held the boat through the worst of the North winds.

Lessons come quick when you put away the dock lines and ride through whatever is thrown at you.  The winds are starting to clock around to the east and should be out of the South by this evening or tomorrow morning.  I can’t tell you how much I am looking forward to some warm winds.  Now I am off to done my foul weather gear again and take the dog and the dink to explore a little channel that goes almost to the Seawall on the other side of the island.  Life’s pretty good, even if it is a little cold right now.

Lee Winters
Phone: (281) 336-0855
Satellite Phone: 8816-316-59853

Web: www.SailingForSOS.com
Email: Lee.Winters@SailingForSOS.com