The Seas Were Angry My Friend

Recently, I experienced one of those events that truly instills fear.  One that really tests you well beyond what people often experience.  An experience on that short list of times when you really haven't control over the moment, and you simply have no comfort other than reliance on your wisdom, training, and prayer.

I've spent a few decades learning the many nuances of boatsmanship, and I'll surely spend remaining decades in my life continuing to learn.  The event of Sunday, Sept 1st was one I'll never forget, and has exponentially added to my boatsmanship skill set.  This is one event that will exist in my pantheon of scariest life experiences- err, near death experiences.   Unlike the major motor vehicle accident I was in, wherein the car rolled twice and flipped end over end, this experience took more than 6.3 seconds.  This event lasted 30 minutes or so, but felt like 30 hours. 

Around 11am, my younger brother and I headed into the Atlantic mid-day under an oppressively hot and humid day.    We went in search of the sea's bounty, settling in at a little known artificial reef that often hides sharks, striped bass, Atlantic croaker, skate, sting rays, summer flounder, tautog, and other salt water species on migration.    As this area is only 50 or so feet of depth, I often anchor to hang right on top of the reef.   This day, however, I didn't do so, for no particular reason other than some internal nudge - The proverbial "gut feeling".   

We drifted with the minor wind and current, taking in the sun and reeling in a few Atlantic Croaker... 

 Noticing a bit of darkness in the sky over the land, I immediately checked the weather radar, which reported a minor area of precip a few miles southwest, but on a heading toward us.  We thought "No problem...a short shower will feel good to cool off.  20 minutes later this shower came by and it cooled things off a bit, pushing the temperature down, yet producing little rain.  

Fishing continued, and more fun was had pulling in more fish, and trying different baits and techniques. After one catch we turned to look at the sky again, feeling some wind kicking up, and noticed a much more ominous cloud, very dark and funnel-ish in shape much like the picture below.  

We began to weigh the option of returning the 5-10 miles to shore, but before we had pulled in the fishing lines, the rain really started coming down, and the winds picked up. This is when it began to get interesting, but still just little more than an inconvenience.

10 minutes later, the ocean had taken on an entirely Mr. Hyde to the Dr. Jekyll of earlier.  The wind had picked up tremendously pushing waves ever higher, but worse, it was blowing hard enough to blow sea spray into the boat and worse still, into our faces as we stood watching the situation deteriorate.  At this point, the boat was really getting pushed to it's limits of seaworthiness.   I pulled off my drenched shirt and hat, and stood in the sideways rain pelting me at 50+ miles per hour.   That hurt.  It's similar to being hit by hail or a bb gun.  And the noise...it's such a freakish noise with all that water being blown in every direction.  Watch the final sequence of The Perfect Storm and you'll get the idea.

I worked to keep the boat pointed into the waves, and did so successfully for a while although the rain and salt spray from waves was now making my vision nearly worthless, so I was really running out of scientific, skills based actions to counter the now tremendously sized waves, coming at odd frequencies, and seemingly even directions.   I had the engine running constantly, and was constantly making steering adjustments to try my best to keep the water out of the boat, although a few waves cleared the bow entirely and splashed water onto the deck.  The gps was left on during so that I had some semblance of direction and position.  Although we could clearly see the shore 30 minutes prior, it was now to the point where we couldn't see 30 feet from the boat.  During the storm I was forced to continue further to sea, so as to keep the boat from rolling over in the waves by pointing the bow directly into the waves.

There was a clear point where I became very afraid of the consequences of having to do this for much longer.  I could see the Japanese paintings of huge scary waves in my mind, and trying to remember if the ships in those made it, or were sunk. 

My vision was down to nothing, I was freezing, and the waves and wind grew larger and faster, such that something would soon cause that 1 in 10 sequence where the boat can't sustain the abuse, and a wave either rolls or floods the boat, sinking it quickly.   This was the point that silent prayer began in earnest.  I wasn't about to let my younger brother know just how grave the situation was...as he was being a trooper and staying low and out of the stinging spray as I asked.   I wasn't saying much to him, as I was concentrating on two things: prayer, and the waves.

This is the moment at which I knew there was a clear possibility that we would sink, an ever increasingly probable inevitability.  Therefore, I began to ensure I had everything down for an SOS call to the coast guard, and all we should do before abandoning the 7500 pound boat.   I was trying to recall how to figure out direction without visual reference.  Luckily, the winds began to slow, and my vision returned with that change.  Seriously, this was the first moment in about 25 minutes in which I could see anything.  Ever get sprayed directly in the face from a garden hose nozzle?  Yeah, try it for 25 minutes straight.  Eyes stinging, my vision did return, and also returning was some confidence in being able to keep us safe.   Conditions subsided further, and I was able to sigh with relief that I would be able to return my niece and nephew's dad to them.  That was really one of the scariest thoughts I had during the 30 minute ordeal. 

As the waves mellowed, my shivering and shaking due to cold and nervousness subsided.  The boat began to clear its excess water entirely, and I told my brother it was ok to stand up and look around again.   Such elation filled my shivering skull as I was able to see the shore again.   We were all smiles...adrenaline flowing, cheating death, and claiming a minor victory.   We put on some dry clothing to warm up, and returned to calmer bay waters, reflecting on the experience, and just how lucky we were to survive - keeping the catch for dinner was simply cream on top.  

So many factors could have led to that day being my last on the earth, and I truly have none to thank other than the person upstairs.  The events on the sea that day taught me once again that life is short, and fragile. One really mustn't take anything or anyone for granted. Be kind. Don't sweat the small stuff, and for damn sure, make the most of absolutely every minute.   Anyone up for a fishing trip?