Here we are in one of the most benign harbors in the US–San Diego. Its the last place I expected any adventuresome weather. In fact one reason that we are still here is that we want to get some experience with Mahdee’s schooner rig in the consistent mild weather found in the main San Diego Bay. Brenda wrote about our recent adventure when we departed San Diego bay for the mission bay anchorage just north of here. One result of that abortive journey was a long “seaworthyness” to-do list. We have been knocking off items on that list ever since. One problem with boats is that a seaworthyness list can be a non-ending affair that prevents one from ever venturing out and we don’t want that. Our list still contained some items that we wanted to take care of before any ocean voyage, but we were feeling very comfortable within the confines of the bay. Since the October 27 genesis of that list, the bins and bins of parts that were on the fore-deck have been cleared off–the parts mostly installed. The engine instrumentation is extremely complete now also reading RPM and EGT. The shrouds have pin racks for attaching halyards and other lines. The masts, booms and deck have an nice complement of winches and cleats. The fore-deck has chocks for the big 95 pound Danforth anchor which is our ready spare, and the monstrous 120 pound fisherman is securely lashed just below the scuttle hatch where it can be hoisted out and onto the fore-deck with a halyard using a winch on the foremast.
We were well aware of the approaching storm and had been monitoring the NOAA web site. Gale warnings were issued and we considered the predicted southerly winds and the expected shift to westerly winds upon frontal passage. NOAA said that the wind shift at frontal passage would be very abrupt. The good news was that our position within the A-9 anchorage was such that no other boats would be up-wind of us either before or after the frontal passage. That is comforting because there would be no possibility of such a boat dragging their anchor and coming down on us, probably fouling our anchor in the process which would result in both of us going up on the rocks. The bad news was that this, and all “authorized” anchorages in the bay are situated so that with southerly winds, they are right up on a lee-shore. Meaning that if your anchor drags, or some other boat drags into you, the shore is right downwind of you probably with breaking waves to bash up your boat. So although we considered moving to another anchorage, figuring that with the adverse weather the normally aggressive harbor police would allow unauthorized boats into the anchorages, none of the other anchorages seemed to offer anything much better than the A-9 where we were already anchored. A couple of days prior we had repositioned the anchor to give us some more distance from the two closest boats and our anchor seemed to be well set. Besides, this was San Diego and the weather in the bay was never really bad…
In the morning light after our afore-mentioned re-anchoring I noticed lots of spalled pieces of iron on the fore-deck. The origin of the stuff turned out to be the brake assembly on the anchor windlass. The brake is what stops the chain from paying out as the anchor sets. We always rig a snubber line to the chain once the boat is stopped. The snubber takes the strain off of the windlass brake and absorbs shocks when waves hit the boat and cause the anchor chain to jerk tight. Never-the-less, a windlass brake is an essential thing for anchoring or re-anchoring. Our spare parts included a brake lining, but the thing failing was the metal ring to which the brake lining attaches. We immediately called Ideal, the manufacturer, and ordered a new one which Ideal claims is much nicer than the one we have since it is now made from stainless steel. They put our order into the queue for manufacturing and we knew we wouldn’t see a brake until sometime around Christmas.
As the predicted storm approached, we finished a number of small projects including some sealing of leaks in the chart house and clamping down the boots that prevent water from running down the masts and into the boat interior. The inflatable Tinker dingy was deflated, folded and stored on deck. Our current tender was the canoe which was tied fore and aft using the painters that hold it on the car roof at freeway speeds. We considered bringing in the Honda eu2000i generator which was chained to the aft-deck, but we thought we might want to run it if the rains didn’t materialize as forecast–very likely given the forecasters previous track record.
The morning was wet overcast and pretty calm, and I was itching to do an “inside” project because these types of days are very rare in San Diego. Brenda was afraid to let me work unsupervised down below probably because most projects involve a little disorder. Instead I took the opportunity to settle down to read a “Jack Aubrey” novel–actually one of a series of nautical historical novels written by Patrick O’Brian this particular novel titled “The Surgeon’s Mate.” Our chart house is the perfect place for reading and for days like this one. The windows let one look up briefly from the book and check out the surroundings. We had a beautiful wooden Kettenburg 43 named “Aikane” as our nearest neighbor. They were closer than I expected given our re-anchoring, but far enough that we shouldn’t hit each other. There was also a mid 40 foot wooden powerboat built in 1962 named “Twin B” just a little further aft and away than the Kettenburg. All together, there were eight boats in the little anchorage.
At noon the winds picked up substantially and moments later the unmanned small sailboat named “Deja Vu” suddenly broke free and careened into the rocky lee shore. I scanned the other boats and noticed that “Hoy Hoy,” another beautiful wooden sailboat in the anchorage which was narrowly missed by “Deja Vu’s” rapid passage to the rocks was pulling up his anchor. The smart skipper was moving his boat upwind to get away from the nasty lee shore and reduce the chance of being slammed into by any other boat that might break free. As the winds increased in intensity, “Hoy Hoy” had a bit of a time getting a good hold with her anchor. Fortunately, the skipper had a mate to run the engine while he worked the manual windlass. I was happy to see that our nearest neighbor “Aikane” also had an alert crew. Her skipper was standing by to react if anything happened. Moments later, a 35 foot fero-cement sloop had her anchor break out. We knew the owner who had purchased his precious boat only three weeks ago and had even given him a tow to get his boat off the police dock when his little Seagull outboard engine wouldn’t start. The wind was howling now and the seas had good sized breaking waves that made it clear we could never do anything with our canoe. We also knew that the wind and waves were such that his Seagull engine would never save the boat. We watched with a horrible sense of helplessness as his boat drug through the anchorage. Brenda called the harbor police on her cell phone and told them that boats were dragging anchor in the A-9 and that help was needed. The dispatcher tells her the police are on the way. It appears as if help might be too late. But wait! The skipper of “Aikane” jumps out of his companionway and into his motorized rib and heads over to the fero boat. Maybe he can save the guy’s biggest worldly possession. The fero boat stops dragging just on the other side of “Twin B” so we can’t see what is going on. Maybe they will raft up to “Twin B,” but we don’t see the skipper of the power boat. Soon, the skipper of “Aikane” returns giving his mate a thumbs up, so we assume wrongly that all must be well with the fero cement sloop.
Another very nice wooden boat, “Vixen” had fore and aft anchors that put her sideways to the southerly blow. As a result, it didn’t surprise me when that unmanned boat suddenly turned stern-to-the-wind indicating that the bow anchor had broken free and the waves slapped against her flat transom. We could see the harbor police coming across the bay which falsely reduced some of our anxiety. Oh, but wait, the fero cement boat was dragging again, this time out of the anchorage and towards that infernal lee shore. We could see the owner on deck with his tow rope coiled. The police boat went over to within 20 feet. We figured he might make it after all. But no, the harbor police would not take the rope. There was wasted time while the skipper again tried to make it clear he needed the police to take the rope and give him a small tow. The police just shook their heads as the fero cement boat went aground and tipped towards the shore. Furious, Brenda call the harbor police dispatcher and demanded to know why they let a boat go ashore when they were right there and able to lend assistance. The dispatcher said that for legal reasons, they can’t assist boaters until lives are in jeopardy. What hogwash! They said that all the police could do was call Towboat US which they had since done. The police boat stationed itself a couple of boat lengths from the aground sloop and hovered. I could only think that the police were like vulture waiting for the opportunity to give the guy a ticket and fine him for littering the shore–probably a harsher thought than reality. Vessel assist soon arrived, but not before the stern anchor of “Vixen” broke loose and that beautiful little boat was washed up onto the rocky shore with breakers bashing into it. At least the fero cement boat was not up against the rocks–not yet–and there was still hope. The Towboat US vessel showed up and went over to the fero-cement boat. We could see them talking, but it became clear that nothing was going to happen. The fero-cement boat was “stable” despite its healed-over attitude with its keel grounded, but not moving any closer to shore–possibly due to a reset anchor.
“Hoy Hoy,” “Aikane,” and us have a crew member on “anchor watch” ready to immediately jump to the helm and take action should any be necessary. Both the harbor police and Towboat US are “hanging out” near the fero cement boat. The former probably not of much use, but we still have hope that the tow boat will be useful. That’s how things stood when “Twin B” suddenly broke free and bore down directly towards the grounded fero-cement boat. With winds as high as they were, it only took a few moments to know that “Twin B” was going ashore. We looked into the pilot station for the skipper and at the stern for signs of an engine starting. “Twin B” has two Catapiller engines in her. Nothing. We turn and see Towboat US darting up towards “Twin B.” There seems to be time to attach a line and keep her off the shore. Instead, it seems Towboat US is just circling. Maybe to get into position? We don’t see “Twin B’s” skipper, but in addition to the wind, it’s also raining hard and he must be there–we just don’t see him. With all the howling wind there is no noise as “Twin B” crashes into the fero cement boat. Both skippers are now on deck, but the anchor lines are surly fouled around one another. The two boats spiraled into the shore with the deeper draft sloop healing over farther and farther. So sad. Through the watery haze, it appeared that the two boats came to rest against an old dock. It could be worse. Meanwhile, “Vixen” was being pushed high up onto a jagged boulder-sized rock shore around the Coast Guard station by the pounding waves and ebbing tide. “Deja Vu” was faring better having been swept along and past the rocky part of the shore and was now stuck in what appeared to be a shallow muddy area. We had no idea of when frontal passage would occur. With the possibility of more disasters looming, we decided to charge the main batteries up completely, as well as the Milwaukee V28 tool batteries. It was raining so hard that we dared not start the Honda EU2000i genset. This was time for the big internal diesel Onan genset. The lack of sound insulation around it drowned out the wind and everything else outside.
The Coast Guard has a station on the lee shore here with a large dock about 1000 yards away which still had numerous boats sitting there. I guess responding to storm conditions is no longer in their mission either. A vessels only hope is one of the commercial firms. Anyway, the Coast Guard was on the radio calling the huge freighter anchored in San Diego Bay. I don’t recall ever seeing such a large vessel ANCHORED in San Diego. The southerly winds now had the stern of “Ocean Lady” directly upwind of the all those relatively small Coast Guard Boats on the dock. The dispatcher wanted to know what storm precautions “Ocean Lady” was taking. The obviously foreign voice responded that they had a continuous anchor watch and the engines were running and ready to be engaged if needed. About a minute later a very authoritative Coast Guard Voice ordered “Ocean Lady” to have a continuous anchor watch and to have her engines running and ready to engage. A few moments later, the foreign voice came back, tentatively, but stating “isn’t that what I told you we are already doing?” Clearly Coast Guard CYA. Why deal with actual situation when you can sit back and harass foreign boats on the radio.
We monitor channel 16 during any adverse situation, and clearly this was one of those. We heard dickering between three different agencies about who should respond to the call for help from a boat going up onto the hazardous Zuniga jetty at the San Diego bay entrance with several people on board. After a painfully long and confusing discourse, it was finally determined that the lifeguards would send a PWC. After that, I guess the officials decided it was better just to stay silent. “Ocean Lady” was calling for a harbor pilot. And calling, and calling, and calling. No answer, and except for the calls from “Ocean Lady,” the airwaves were eerily silent for about an hour.
Back in our anchorage, the crew of the boat with the Canadian flag returned. Their boat was at the southern tip of the anchorage and they were just in time to see the enormous “Ocean Lady” freighter start to drag anchor towards them (and the Coast Guard station to their lee). Some frantic activity as they braved the howling winds to pull up their anchor and get out of the way. “Ocean Lady” didn’t move far, however, and it wasn’t immediately apparent why.
Mahdee’s over-sized 105 pound CQR anchor with over 100 feet of 1/2 inch bbb chain was holding well in the 13 foot deep anchorage. We were sitting directly abeam “Aikane” and much closer than we wanted to be. Since “Aikane” was anchored first, it was our responsibility to stay clear of them. We could let out some chain–increase our scope–which would move us aft and, as a result, a little farther away. We didn’t want to do that because we kept expecting the frontal passage wind shift to the west and we didn’t know how we would lie relative to them after the 90 degree change in wind direction. We didn’t dare pull in the chain any because decreasing scope can cause the anchor to pull out. Mahdee generally sits well at anchor because the chain passes through a roller way out on the bowsprit. In contrast, our old boat “Stargazer” would often “hunt” back and forth at anchor. In the current blow, Mahdee was now hunting. So was “Aikane” and I was worried that if our respective hunting went 180 degrees out of phase, we would smash together sideways. I decided to go forward and check the anchor. The strain on the anchor had pulled and stretched the snubber rope almost to the point where the chain grabber hit the hawse pipe. I think we had about the length of one chain link and the grabber would be hard up against the forward bulwark. I reflected that if the snubber broke, at least there would be very little impulse force when the grabber hit the bulwark and therefore little damage. I tightened up the brake as tight as I dared with its weakened metal band and I engaged the motor clutch figuring if worst came to worst, every bit of resistance could be important. I was definitely not willing to risk changing the amount of chain we had out.
We kept expecting the wind shift that would signal frontal passage. It was after 4PM and for the last 4 hours there hadn’t been an instant in which I felt comfortable taking my eyes off of the situation as it unfolded around us. The boats on shore had gone from an anchored state to beyond hope in such a short time. Brenda and I would verbally pass the “anchor watch” if we needed to do anything that took our eyes off the situation around us for more than a few seconds. If something went wrong, we knew that every second would count and Mahdee could be destroyed. We were determined to ensure nothing would happen to her and if Mahdee were OK, we would be OK.
Brenda and I both noticed the abrupt change in the weather. Visibility was rapidly dropping and everything was going white around us. The green buoy that marks the channel position was adrift and going down our starboard side towards shore. Then a sailboat shape appeared about 75 feet in front of us approaching and Brenda yelled above the roaring wind “is she maned or adrift?” We made out humanoid shapes on her deck before she vanished in the white despite the fact she was getting closer. Our focus shifted to Mahdee and whether her anchor gear would break in now extremely violent wind. I yelled to be heard “start the motor, I am going out to put Mahdee in gear to take the strain off the anchor.” I grabbed my parka and as I did so, I saw the canoe lifting off of the deck. As I opened the companionway doors the wind made a huge howl and Mahdee started to roll to port. She kept rolling farther and farther. I turned my head to see forward and I saw the canoe up in the metal shrouds that keep the masts up. The canoe spanned the Foremast and Main shrouds and was pinned in place by the ferocious wind that was rolling Mahdee over onto her side. Brenda, looking aft as I exited saw the 50 pound Honda genset lift off the deck as if to go off the back of Mahdee and started to wonder if by some fluky mistake we might not have gotten all of Mahdee’s ballast reinstalled. Because surely, everyone has told us how steady and stable Mahdee is and here we are in San Diego bay with not a stitch of sail up being blown over onto our side–the canoe in the shrouds doesn’t really count as a sail after all. Visibility was zero. All that could be seen around Mahdee was white. I engaged the motor one handful forward on the throttle. Even the anchor marker buoy that had been next to us was no where to be seen. I decided we needed more power to ensure we didn’t go up onto the lee shore. Another handful. I had no idea of how much power was on, couldn’t hear the engine at all above the roar. Then I saw Brenda coming out of the chart house signalling to reduce power. In an instant everything reappeared. I had held too much power on. Actually, in the middle of the blow, the wind shifted 90 degrees and I went from a powerful headwind to a beam wind and instead of weathercocking around the anchor, we had powered forward. We didn’t want to let the chain pull tight while moving forward over the anchor because it would surely pull the anchor free. I went hard astern with the power. By then, Brenda was in the cockpit and I passed her the helm so I could go forward and get the canoe back down on deck where it belonged. I then saw the sailboat that had been coming towards us just before the main event and it was now turned around 180 degrees and moving back into the bay. I have no idea how that happened to them in the meantime, but thank goodness there was no collision.
Brenda eased us back into position with tension in the right direction back on the anchor chain. The winds were back down to the more comfortable 40 knot range. With the wind shift, all the boats in the anchorage were now behind us. “Aikane” was about 20 feet behind our stern. Even more uncomfortable than before, except that we wouldn’t collide while hunting. Directly behind “Aikane” was “Hoy Hoy” and next to her was the Canadian vessel. Another boat had arrived during the storm and was on “Hoy Hoy’s” starboard side. All of these vessels were well found craft with alert crew. The other common denominator was that all of the dingys had flipped and/or sank, but the boats were OK.
The Coast Guard broke the radio silence and asked “Ocean Lady” what she needed. The reply was confusing at first, but then it was clear, she had drug anchor and gone hard aground–her crews broken English saying “she was on the rocks.” The big freighter was still pointed bow on to the previous southerly winds. Despite the violent wind-shift, her stern had not budged. No more silence from the Coast Guard, the lawyerly voice was back demanding that all of her crew submit to drug and alcohol tests within two hours of “the incident.”
We had a momentary glimpse of a fiery sunset through the broken and downed trees on the East end of Harbor Island and then darkness. We thought that being so close in the lee of Harbor Island, we would be sheltered from waves. Somehow big waves kept coming at us despite only 100 feet of water between us an the shore that should be sheltering us.
This was almost worse than before. We were being hit by wind and waves and were extremely close to “Aikane” behind us. If our anchor slipped at all, we would need heroic actions to start the engine and jump to the helm, throw her in gear and maneuver to avoid piling up on her like “Twin B” had done to the fero cement boat. Further, we would probably be condemned to also taking out “Hoy Hoy” too. Thank goodness for insurance, but we wanted to avoid that at all costs. We got the squeegee out to keep the chart house windows as clear as possible so that the least movement aft could be seen. Brenda’s endurance proved better than mine and she stood the late watch until the winds died down enough at 4AM for her to relax. She got to watch the tugs work to get “Ocean Lady” free. I got the early morning watch, but that proved uneventful.
All told it was a very, very stressful 24 hours. Even though we had done almost nothing, we were in an almost vegetable state afterwards. It also has us reevaluating our “seaworthyness” list. I never dreamed we would have such a challenge in the bay. The problem is the lack of time to respond when the wind is up and the only anchorages place you at most a few hundred yards from a lee shore. We now have secondary anchor rode on a spool for fast deployment and more hardware in place for getting a second anchor deployed fast. The Cummins diesel is fantastic. It can be relied upon to start in an instant and the Campbell Sailer prop had fantastic effect when engaged–I have no worries there. There is still more to do in lashing down things inside. Several items which didn’t budge during our October Ocean passage came loose during this blow-down. If we had healed to starboard instead, I think we would have had greater damage from shifting items.
Five to ten minutes after the wind-shift blow-down, Brenda and I were doubting Mahdee’s ability to handle weather. We were thinking that wind was in line with the NOAA forecast of 40 knot gusts which would not be unreasonable to see on an ocean passage. We soon realized that this was a more severe event. I regret that I haven’t spent the time to get the Airmar weather head on Mahdee’s mast working. I would really like to know what kind of winds we really experienced so that we can place this event in context. Other boats at anchor were healed 45 degrees and more with green water on deck. Some skippers, experienced with many gales, had never seen a white-out such as occurred. After all, the only thing worse than a lee shore is not being able to see if you are dragging onto that lee shore. We couldn’t see anything past Mahdee and I doubt I could have seen Mahdee’s fore-deck had I tried, but I had other more important distractions. Some were convinced that they had experienced a water spout. Several stations reported wind-speed indicators that stuck before the main event at 55-60 knots. Some higher with One instrument jammed at 120 knots. The only common thread was virtually every wind speed instrument was broken at the end. One fellow called the Coast Guard to ask what wind speed they recorded. Apparently they don’t know anything about the weather, because the only thing the operator could do was to repeat the NOAA forecast which called for 30 knot winds with gusts to 40. Once again, no help there. The most useful weather information Brenda and I had came from the NOAA “discussion” page. There was discussion of the convergence of two high-speed jets that collide at the storm front and that because of this the frontal passage would be very abrupt–we failed to fully appreciate that statement. This information never made it to the weather radio broadcasts.
In the end, we consider ourselves lucky. The only item we lost was a bright red life jacket that was padding the canoe from scratching the varnished deck lights. That also explained the red flash I saw when all hell broke loose. We took a hard look at our insurance to better understand what could have happened. The power boaters insurance re-floated his boat, as well as the fero cement boat he drug ashore. The fero cement hull was damaged and leaking and the boat was taken off. “Deja Vu” was re-floated last night, the first of the tides higher than when the storm hit and poor “Vixen” was briefly re-floated but was taking on so much water they had to careen her on the old sea plane ramp to keep her from sinking. “Aikane” had her dingy motor submerged and she lost the dingy oars and therefore the crew was trapped aboard. So she departed the anchorage to obtain berthing at a dock. We were surprised at how much chain she had out. Her anchor was under Mahdee’s bow which explains why we had such trouble staying away from her during the blow. We are thankful that Tom, Mahdee’s previous owner, had equipped Mahdee with such good ground tackle. Tom believed the best insurance is several big, heavy oversized anchors with massive heavy and extremely long chain rode. Mahdee’s CQR dug into the bottom and didn’t budge. That makes me feel very confident in Mahdee’s sea voyaging capabilities, now if I can knock off half of the items now on my seaworthyness list I believe we will be ready to venture away from San Diego.
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edited to add this link (here) of Hoy Hoy’s view of the storm damage.
