boat docking – Have Wind Will Travel

Captain’s School: Conquering Fears

March 21, 2017March 21, 2017anniedike

“I figured that was the best reason to do it. Because I was afraid to.”

This was something a very good friend of mine told me years ago. (Sonnie, if you’re reading this, thank you!) She was talking, at first, about starting triathlon training because she was afraid to swim long distances, but she found the principle so inspiring she applied it to many other “obstacles” in her life—becoming a single parent, moving to another state, starting a new job—and she succeeded in all of them. The theory always stuck with me. So simple. So true. If you’re avoiding doing something you want to do because you are afraid, that is the very best reason to do it. Conquer your fears!

That’s what I am doing this summer. As many of you may have seen in the announcement at the end of my most recent YouTube video, I will be joining in the Pensacola a la Habana race this April with SailLibra in order to get more days on the water for a goal I have set for myself this summer. While the big goal is to get my Captain’s License, the bigger accomplishment I seek to achieve is to get over one very big fear I have had for a while. One I have had for too long. It frustrates me, frightens me and makes me want to do just as Sonnie said: Do it because I’m sick of being afraid of it.

What am I afraid of?

Steering the boat. Not so much when we’re out there in the big blue. (There are many, hundreds, of reasons why I love offshore sailing, but one is … there’s not many things to run into out there.) And not so much when we’re on a steady tack and just holding a heading. But I am terrified of steering our boat in and out of the dock, through tight channels and around shoals and other obstacles. I have a huge fear of crashing her into pilings, other boats, rocky bottoms, big concrete sea walls. I’m seeing this all in my mind as I write this, just as I always do when I think about docking our boat. And, that’s awful! I want to travel the world by sailboat. I want to go cruising! While it’s great that Phillip is an excellent helmsman and I’m a pretty kick-ass First Mate, I shouldn’t let that fear get the best of me. Something could happen to Phillip. He could fall overboard. Become incapacitated. Or heck, maybe I will want or need to single-hand at some point. Just to give him a break or because, whatever, life happens. Some of my very best friends are single-handed female sailors because their husbands passed away immediately and unexpectedly and they inspire me to no end because they still get their boats out and go. (Bridgette, Pam, I am so proud of you!) All of that to say, you never know what the future holds and there is no excuse for living in fear. This is the year I conquer my fears.

So, this summer Video Annie is going to sea school! We’re focusing on education, training and, most importantly, sticking Annie behind the wheel. Even when she’s scared. Even when the boat is nearing the bock. Even when it’s a difficult situation and she wants to throw her hands up and have someone else take the wheel. Captains Randy and Ryan with SailLibra have been gracious enough to offer me time on their day charter boats (an Irwin 37 and Beneteau 35) while our Niagara is still down in the Keys. Phillip and I are planning to bring her home in April and I’ll plan to take the helm the majority of that trip and our many trips this summer. I am docking our boat dangit! And then I’m de-docking it (Annie term) and docking it again. I’m sick of getting this nervous knot in my stomach every time I take the wheel. I want to look like this behind the wheel. All kicked back and confident.

“Yeah buddy!” my Dad would say.

While the helm work is the pinnacle for me, Phillip and I also want to increase our training and education. We have signed up for an STCW class (Standards for Training, Certification and Watchkeeping) in April and I will also begin Captain’s School in May. After counting my days on the water (I can’t believe I have racked up so many in just over three years!), I only need a few dozen more to be able to apply for my license so I will be gathering Sea Service Forms and all of the other elements necessary to apply. While I am excited and will be so proud to obtain my Captain’s License, it is all part of a bigger goal to become a more educated, knowledgable and a confident sailor. I will be way more proud when I pull our beautiful Niagara into the slip and dock her all by myself. Then de-dock and dock her ten more times in a row not because of luck but because I know how and can do it in all kinds of conditions, comfortably and confidently. That is a day I will be incredibly proud.

So, my time has come. I’m going to push myself and bring guys along for the ride. Watch, learn and grow with us.

Step aside fear! And give me that helm!

May 27, 2013 – THE CROSSED!

October 8, 2013May 23, 2014anniedike

So, after Dasani bottles and duct tape, what do you think the next most important item on a boat is? A plunger? No. Unfortunately, if the head stops working, that glorious contraption of wood and rubber is not going to save you. Try again. Something incredibly important, like transmission fluid or oil? The infamous ” Johnson rod,” maybe?

A what?!? A Johnson rod:

Seinfeld: The Fusilli Jerry (#6.20)” (1995)

George Costanza: [about mechanics] Well of course they’re trying to screw you! What do you think? That’s what they do. They can make up anything; nobody knows! “Why, well you need a new johnson rod in here.” Oh, a Johnson rod. Yeah, well better put one of those on!

You’re right. I’m sure it’s something incredibly important. But, during those early morning hours of May 27th, as we were coming into the marina in Pensacola, I’ll tell you what it was. Paper towels. Strong and brawny ones!

Mmmm … ain’t he a beaut? And, just for fun – it appears they cleaned old Mr. Brawny up over the last decade. Apparently today’s “modern woman” just wasn’t digging the 70’s ‘stache and blonde shag, so we get the preppy, shaved, PC version. Sad times.

But I digress. So, we were nearing the marina and our Dasani catch bin was full to the brim with pink fluid jostling around, just waiting to drip over and spill into the bilge. While transmission fluid in the bilge is not a huge deal, it’s certainly not an ideal one. If it gets down there, it’s got to be pumped out and cleaned up and otherwise dealt with. Needless to say, it was best for us to catch the fluid if we could. So, I wedged myself down near the open engine and held up a wad of the old Brawnies under the transmission shifter arm to catch the drip until we got just a few minutes away, then I wadded up the biggest bundle of paper towels I could (about the size of a basketball) and shoved it down in the bilge to catch whatever dripped while we docked. A mighty fine ‘sorbant pad if you will.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hq1pcy2EPE8

And, you laugh, but I now know that the standard-issue oil absorbent pad, which we now keep under the engine at all times, really does look just like a wadded-up Depends undergarment.

So, with my make-shift “Depends” in place, I was ready “get back into life” and get topside to help Phillip. But, now we’re docking again, and we all know how exceptionally great I am at that. So, of course, my heart is beating and thumping out of my chest. My hands are all sweaty and I keep stubbing my toe on things as I’m scrambling to tie lines and hang bumpers. We were coming in here to the Palafox Pier in Pensacola:

Here’s the birdseye view:

We were planning to just tie up at the fuel dock while we got our things together and wait for the dockmaster to find us a temporary slip for the day. Our first plan once we got the boat to Pensacola was to have it hauled out for a bottom job. That’s where they pull it out of the water with giant straps and set it up on jacks in a shipyard to sand and re-paint the hull. We knew that would mean a couple of weeks out of the water, so we didn’t have a permanent slip lined up yet. If you recall from the survey, we knew we were going to have to have a bottom job on ours done as soon as we got her home as our surveyor (you remember the ever-charming Kip):

“Every gal loves a good banging first thing in the morning!”

had found the potential leak in the core where the strut is fastened to the hull as well as several blisters in the paint on the hull that were allowing sea water in (http://havewindwilltravel.com/2013/05/12/april-3-2013-the-surveysea-trial/). Saltwater is just rough on everything, and every sailboat needs to have its bottom work redone once every 3-4 years. We knew it was time for ours so we had scheduled her for a paint a polish as soon as we got back. But, if you’re checking the calendar, you’ll see the day we pulled into that fateful dock was, unfortunately, Memorial Day (May 27, 2013), so she was scheduled to be hauled out the next business day – May 28th. As luck would have it, we had arrived a day ahead of schedule this time but if the initial Crossing taught us anything it was to never try to sail anywhere in a hurry. Always build in a few days’ cushion for weather, wind, boat problems. transmission leaks, complete engine failures, you know – the usual boat stuff. So, we just needed a temporary spot at Palafox Pier for the night. A transient slip they are called. But, the guys that run the marina don’t tend to open up shop at 5:30 a.m. just in case some rogue midnight traveler needs a transient slip, so we planned to tie up at the fuel dock while we waited for the dockmaster to arrive at 8:00 a.m.

This was our path in to the fuel dock:

Now, while I’m sure you may have tired by now of my many harrowing tales of our numerous docking debacles (docking is scary!), I will try your patience for just one more, because the true hero here was Phillip. The wind was strong that morning (of course!), blowing about 12-15 mph right out of the east:

Which meant it was blowing our nose right off the dock:

As Phillip began pulling the boat up alongside the dock, the wind kept pushing us off and the gap between the bow, and even the midship, and the dock kept widening. I just couldn’t make the leap (without losing a limb or two or my teeth when I hit the dock on the way down – and, to be honest, I’m kind of fond of all of those appendages – particularly the teeth). I had a line clenched tight in my hand, this time, but it was just too far to jump. I didn’t know what to do, but thankfully Phillip did. He was still close enough to the dock at the stern to leap off, stern line in hand (smart man!) and tie it quick to a cleat. He then ran forward and shouted at me to throw him the bow line. I wadded a few loops in my hand, gritted my teeth and tossed it up in the air. Phillip and I watched breathlessly as it snaked out, slowly unwinding and floating toward him. It was like Rookie of the Year pitching the famous “floater”:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJWYzmJslis

You can imagine the dramatic Hollywood score playing in the background and the bright clang of the cymbals as Phillip caught the tail end of the line. Trumpets blared! He pulled the bow of the boat to the dock and told me to go back to the stern and kill the engine. I did, and the silence of the moment suffocated us. Everything was suddenly so inordinately quiet. There was no motor running, no shouting, no water or waves. Just silence … and safety. Phillip and I just sat for a minute on the dock, staring at her in disbelief. There she was, our boat, tied to the dock in Pensacola. She was safe, secure, home. We had finally done it.

May 25, 2013 – The Crossing Finale – Not Very PC

September 23, 2013May 23, 2014anniedike

Like Phillip told me, apparently watching others dock is highly entertaining, particularly couples and particularly mouthy ones. It’s now a favorite past-time for Phillip and I. If Phillip and I are kicked back in the cockpit at the marina and we see some big troller coming in and hear the Captain shout “Now Linda, I need you to tie the springer line first this time!” (emphasis on first) our ears perk and we elbow each other and silently nod toward the troller because we know we’re about to get a show.

First off, trollers are huge. They need lines running from every direction to hold them in place.

Second, we know we’ve got a couple, a highly vocal Captain and a poor ‘Linda’ somewhere who’s scrambling for lines. We also know this is not the first time they’ve docked together because apparently old Linda didn’t tie the right line first last time and the Captain was displeased. He then shouted “And make sure to do a cleat hitch, remember!” (emphasis on MEM). Poor, poor Linda. A cleat hitch isn’t hard. It’s just around a couple of times, some swoop loops on each end and pull tight (or that’s how I’ve programmed it into my mind anyway – real technical Annie speak for you), but here ‘tis:

Sadly, though, it seems our dear friend Linda had been struggling with it. Poor, poor Linda. Phillip and I smiled slyly at each other. Oh yeah, this scenario is fraught with potential. We are definitely watching and standing ready to hop up and grab a line if Linda botches it.

It seems the good folks of Panama City felt the same about Phillip and I that day, and they, too, were definitely watching. Thankfully, they were also ready and willing to lend a hand. As the boat lurched into the slip, an old salt came running down the other side of the dock (apparently the side I should have jumped off on) and had Phillip throw him the stern line. He told me to jump back on the boat and toss him the bow line, which I did. I then jumped off, this time with a springer line in hand, and got us nice and secure. Whew! No crashed boat, no dock wreckage, and Phillip’s eyes finally returned to normal after an hour or so. Well, technically after a drink or three.

Having played the role of Let-Down Linda for the day and justifiably displeasing the Captain, as soon as we were showered up and back on the boat, I promptly threw him together a stiff drink. That always helps!

Here you go Cap’n.

Whew. He smiles. All better.

And yes, people, I was wearing a dress. You can see a little white fluffy sliver of it in the first pic. I mean, I only jumped off the boat without a line – no damage was done – it warranted a remorseful drink only, not a full-frontal apology, okay?

After drinks on the boat, we set off and and started foraging for drinks on the street.

Downtown PC was quaint and lively with fun little quirky bars scattered about. We decided on a place , that being The Place (http://www.theplacerestaurant.net/4543.html), and popped in for a swig.

The old-timey bar was great (and well-stocked!). Our bellies full of fine liquor and our “spirits” high, we stumbled on back to the marina to stock up on transmission fluid and hunker down for the night. Phillip played the domestic role this time and whipped us up an amazing batch of shrimp feta pasta.

Don’t crowd the onions!

This dish has definitely become a favorite for us on the boat. The ingredients are fresh and easy:

Onion, parsley, garlic and shrimp.

Oh, and butter of course. That salty, yellow bounty of the gods. Butter just makes everything better.

Tossed with fresh tomatoes and pasta. Super simple and easy to throw together at sea. (Recipe here: http://havewindwilltravel.com/2013/06/04/april-17-23-2013-the-crossing-chapter-two-sailors-delight/).

And, as it always seems is the case at marinas, we had some front-row seating to some real entertainment while we were making dinner. While we definitely prefer to anchor out as opposed to docking at a marina (for one, it’s cheaper – the nightly rate on the boat is … ummm … FREE) it is fun sometimes to stay at the marina and watch all the “crazies.” They’re everywhere. And, marinas seem to attract a very unique breed of them. Drifters, so to speak.

While Phillip and I were putting the finishing touches on dinner and setting the table up in the cockpit, we noticed the guy next to us was working on a real project boat. It was dusty and chalky with tools and buckets and hammers lying everywhere. A real mess of a boat. It looked something like this:

And he was coated with dirt and paint splatters, sweating and sanding away on the deck. Then, out of nowhere, we see this woman walking toward his boat. Well, I take that back we heard her first, very distinct heel clicks coming all the way down the dock. And, these were some serious heels, wedges I guess you would call them, about yay high:

Yeah, the crazy kind, that crazy people wear.

And when she finally came into view and we could take her in, she looked something like this:

Yeah … a real fox. And, paint-splatter guy looked something like this:

I know, right? This scenario was fraught with potential. We were definitely watching. Phillip and I slouched down a bit in our cockpit and eyed them furiously over the rims of our rum drinks. Miss Fox walked right up to his boat, gave him a knowing nod and held her hand out for assistance. Dirty Dude helped her into the cockpit, no words having been exchanged yet that we could tell, and she turned around and made her way backwards down the steps in the companionway. Granted, I think that’s the only way you can take steps like that

in heels like those.

Once she was down below, Dude put his hand in his pocket, pulled out something that I can only describe as “folding money,” fondled it for a minute, then shoved it back in his pocket and followed her down. Phillip and I shared an excited “inquiring minds want to know” look and kept our eyes on them. They stayed down for all of 3.5 minutes, give or take, and then she came back up solo (not a smudge of makeup out of place) stepped off his boat and clicked her heels right on down the dock. Dirty Dude came back up about a minute after, big grin on his face, chugging down some Gatorade and then he set back to work on this boat, like nothing ever happened. Phillip and I poured over the possibilities. Was she a hooker, a prostitute? His dealer, his daughter? Who the heck knows. Marinas are so entertaining. Hell, sailors are entertaining. This one, in particular, was not very PC.

Phillip and I could not stop chuckling about it as we plated up dinner.

Table for two please?

This place was super fancy. We had to make reservations well in advance. I mean, it was dinner

AND a foxy show.

We were ready for a relaxing evening after the passage from Carrabelle and we knew we needed a good night’s sleep before we made the last 24-hour run to Pensacola. We settled into the cockpit, devoured the shrimp pasta and toasted the sunset before calling it a night.

May 25, 2013 (yes, still!) – The Crossing Finale – Total Domestication

September 18, 2013May 23, 2014anniedike

Once we got the “recycle” system in place, we could finally take a breath and kick back and enjoy the passage, intermittently at least. The drip was pretty steady and Dasani bottles just aren’t that big,so they were filling pretty fast. And I’ll tell you one thing duct tape adhesive does not like. That’s heat. The hotter it got down there near the engine, the gummier and gooier and less ‘adhesive’ our adhesive. And, the more I kept sticking pieces in the same place, the less they stuck. So, the catch-bin needed constant monitoring when the engine was running. About every thirty minutes or so we had to cut the engine to let her cool, so I could pull out the Dasani bottle and check the level.

Yep, she’s full!

Then pour the ‘caught’ fluid back in the transmission and pull the dipstick to make sure she was nice and coated.

Yep, all pink!

Then tape a new, empty catch bottle back up and start the whole process again. And, I guess because the engine just happened to be in the kitchen (well, under the sink) that job fell on me. That’s right, Phillip had me right where he wanted me, cooking, cleaning and fluid-catching in the kitchen.

“Make sure you change the oil down there too, honey, before you start dinner.”

“Yes, dear!”

Yep. Phillip had me all domesticated right and proper, handling all of my domestic obligations in the kitchen, including engine duty, like a real ladies maid. Emily Post would be super proud!

Screw Emily Post. We all know what Annie really does in the kitchen …

That’s right, make sure the wet bar is fully stocked and throw a rum drink together, stat! In all of my checking and changing and taping and sticking, I still found time to throw us together some hearty sea drinks.

We have actually named this particular drink the Oh Shiiiiit! (yes, with five “i”s) in honor of Phillip’s knee-jerk, expletive reaction when he had his first sip.

For those 14 and over (at least that’s when I started) – mix as follows:

1.5 ounces Malibu Coconut rum

1 ounce dark Meyer’s rum

1 ounce pineapple juice

0.5 ounce orange juice

And a splash of Coco Lopez (optional – it makes it a little heavier but gives it that real island flavor)

Drink responsibly.

Trust me, we did. Only one (each). Captain’s orders while on passage. And, always with food (everyone needs a good soaker layer). What do you think goes best with rum drinks??

Chips and salsa. Of course!

Complete with fancy salsa clip bowl, too, perfectly suited for a sloshing, sailing, salsa feast!

And yet I still manage to miss my mouth.

It’s a real talent. But, you know, if you give a mouse a cookie, he’s going to want a glass of milk to go with it. Turns out if you give a sailor some chips and salsa, he, too, is going to want a sammich to go with it.

Yum! “Now save those Dasani bottles!”

The wind even started to pick up after lunch and we were finally able to kill the engine. My God what a glorious feeling. She sputters and rattles to a stop and then it’s just quiet. So … quiet. All you can hear is the wind whistling through the sails and the splash of the water on the hull as the boat moves through the Gulf. We had a great sail that afternoon. The wind was blowing around 12-15 mph, more south, southeast now, which helped ease us around Cape San Blas

mostly on a broad reach. (No, that’s not when a hooker goes for your wallet. It’s an official sailing term, but I’ll save that little nugget for another day).

But, as the wind always does, she started to really blow (I told you she was a bitch!). She picked up to about 18 to 20 as we sailed into the night. The sea state was 3 to 4 foot waves, and the boat was cooking. We were doing about 6.5 knots all night, with spurts of 7 and 7.5, particularly while I was holding the wheel. I couldn’t imagine you could get tired holding the wheel of a sailboat, but it took some real muscle to hold our course.

Thank goodness I’d been hitting the gym! Ain’t that right, Sonnie??

We decided to reef the Jenny in (that is, roll her back up a bit so there’s not so much sail exposed to catch the wind) about half-way through the night. In all, it was a bit of a rough sail, but nothing like the initial Crossing from Punta Gorda so we weathered it fine. Phillip even fell asleep a couple of times, this time withOUT one eye open, but still right next to me in the cockpit. I was thrilled to see him sleeping, finally, but pissed that he’d left the radio on the freaking Delilah show. Don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about. All you closet 94.1 fans. That all-time lover of love.

De-liiiiiiii-luuuuuhhh!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V9v2-q_byiY

All. Freaking. Night. Long. Okay, for just like an hour and half, but it was the longest hour and a half of my life. But, with Delilah in our corner and all her sappy love song dedications to keep us entertained, we made it through the night. Having fought the wind all night, we were pretty beat the next morning. While trucking on to Port St. Joe was an option, we decided to set our sights for Panama City and stay a night at the marina to get a good, not-so-Eagle-eye, night’s rest. The wind turned right on our nose as we were coming into the pass so we had to do some motoring into Panama City, which meant more engine work for Annie. But we pulled into the pass around 9:00 a.m. and got ready to dock her.

Now, I really was nervous this time. This was only our fourth time docking our boat. The first time was in Clearwater. The wind was blowing around 25 mph off our stern then and I missed the stern pole but luckily we had two corn-fed hosses holding us off the dock. The second time was in the Carrabelle River. The water was glass and we had Mitch. The third time I’m not sure you would really even call it a “docking,” per se. That was when the engine cut out in the River and we had to throw out an anchor and throw the Catamaran guy a line and he walked us around to a dock. That doesn’t really count. This time was going to be a true ‘docking,’ and it was just Phillip and I. No Mitch, no hosses, no corn (if that would help). Let me just tell you, docking is super stressful. Phillip has told me before, if you really want some entertainment, watch a couple try to anchor or dock. There’s usually tons of shouting involved, finger-pointing, perhaps some dock or boat wreckage, all sorts of excitement. That’s because it’s stressful! One wrong move, one missed cleat and your boat, your beautiful, glossy, water-tight boat goes crashing into the dock or worse, the million dollar yacht next to it. Not something you want to screw up. I think this little gem pretty much sums it up:

Very informative. But, there we were, our first time docking together. Phillip had given me the best instruction he could. “Watch the wind to see which way it’s pushing the boat and catch a cleat on the leeward side.” Yes, that’s the best instruction Phillip could give. He can sometimes be a little ‘stern’ when he’s barking orders from the stern. But, he’s stressed. I get it. He’s driving the boat in. He needs a first mate that just knows what to do, not one that requires hand-holding. Thankfully he has that now, but I’m here to tell you he did not have that then. I couldn’t tell for the life of me which way the wind was pushing the boat, if there even was wind, and I had no clue which side was leeward. Leeward? Really? I had barely wrapped my heard around port and starboard at that point.

I was freaked. Phillip had the wheel and I had about three lines tied to different cleats all over the damn boat, ready to tie her any which way. Phillip started to pull her into the slip and I, ready as ever, Little Mate that Could, jumped off the boat prepared to tie anything. Tie … anything. TIE. Damnit! I had jumped off the boat without a line in hand. Brilliant! I stood on the dock knowing I had just royally screwed up. Phillip shouted “Okay, now tie that bow line on the … ” but as the words came out of his mouth he looked up and saw my empty, useless hands, holding not a dock line, a beautiful, woven, boat-saving dock line, but rather, merely held up, empty, in the most apologetic of shrugs. I guess Phillip needed to check the flowsheet to see what to do when: Mate stands helpless as boat drifts off.

All I could see were the whites of Phillip’s eyes as I stood there helpless, useless, while the boat continued her steady, forward creep toward the dock.