So I know what you’re thinking:

Nate’s been sailing around, having a nice time, and hasn’t done anything truly idiotic in a bit.  There hasn’t been enough excitement. He’s not managed to hurt himself, or put himself in a really stupid situation.  He hasn’t lost any gear, or caused himself any unnecessary pain and trouble. 

Well, wait no more – I’ve got something for you.

I’ve seen it written that the difference between an ordeal and an adventure is attitude.  This story was definitely an ordeal, but today it seems more like a learning experience.  Not quite an adventure, but I’m getting there.

For Your Entertainment

Yesterday started out phenomenally.  I sailed, anchored, and put up my tent-shade-thing on the front of the catamaran so I could relax on the trampolines in the shade.  It was so nice that I fell asleep.  What a life, right?

Well, then I decided to go check a couple of spots to see if the fish were home.  First spot – the current was ripping so badly I had trouble getting back to the dinghy immediately after jumping in.  So I moved to spot # 2.

Spot # 2 looked promising.  Deeper water, patchy reef, clear enough.  So I dropped the dinghy anchor.  And it pulled.  So I moved a few feet and threw it into an area with a hard bottom.  Stuck!  So I began slowly getting my diving gear on – when I noticed the dinghy was moving into the swell, too close to where it was breaking.  So I pulled the anchor and went to a calmer spot for attempt # 3 at spot # 2.

Which is when everything went to Hell, very quickly.  I dropped the anchor, it stuck.  I waited around to see how the dinghy would pull, and whether it would head into the breaks again.  Looking good.  So I went back to getting my dive stuff together. As I was getting everything together, I noticed the current had switched, and the anchor rope had swung under the dinghy.  I looked up into a 7 foot wave breaking over me.  The dinghy capsized in slow motion, and I bailed to avoid getting hit by the engine/prop as it turned over.

When I came up all of my gear was gone, the only things visible were the oars, the gas tank, a bottle of freshwater, and my capsized dinghy.  Adrenaline had me – I was a long way from my boat, which was a long way from any other boat.  So I jumped up on the nearest reef, and manhandled the dinghy right-side up (no easy task in breaking surf, with a 10+ ft dinghy and 10 hp outboard).  Next up was grabbing the oars and getting the gas tank back inside.  I had about 8 inches of water in the dinghy.

I lost everything – my handheld GPS, my handheld VHF, a pair of carbon-fiber fins and pockets, a 130 railgun with a full reel of line, my favorite mask and snorkel.  An expensive mistake.  Painful too.   The old adage:  if you’re going to be dumb, you’ve gotta be tough came to mind

Naturally the outboard  wouldn’t crank, so I popped the cover and found the engine seized.  I monkeyed with it a bit, eventually getting it to turn over, but not enough to run.  During this time the dinghy had started to pull away from shore, noticeably.  I gave up on the engine, noting that I only had about an hour before it started getting dark.   Paddling a dinghy is tough by oneself, against the current – but I managed to get to shore.   I tried the engine a couple more times, but I didn’t want to run saltwater through it and do any permanent damage…

At this point I was over two miles away from my boat, with an island between us, and it was getting dark.  There wasn’t much choice – I had to pull the dinghy up as far onshore as I could, cover it (hoping the Kuna didn’t find it), and head back to the boat on foot (across the island).

As it was starting to get dark, I made it back within sight of S/V NOMAD.  But there was a solid 500 meters of water between us.  I was beat, but managed the swim.

 

Anchor Worrying

My adventure (ordeal?) wasn’t over quite yet though.  While I’d been out ruining things and losing gear, the wind had switched.  There wasn’t much room between NOMAD and the nearest reef anymore – and if I pulled anchor at all, I was going to be ontop of said reef.   So I raised the anchor, dropped it, and the anchor pulled.

So I raised the anchor, dropped again, and the anchor pulled again.

So I raised the anchor, looked around, and saw another catamaran anchored in a protected area only a mile or so away.  Full speed ahead, hoping to be able to enter the anchorage with a little sunlight left.   No dice on entering the anchorage with sunlight.  So I used the depth meter, the Panama Cruising Guide, and the other catamaran to guide me in.  Luckily I got it hooked the first try.   It was a tight spot though – with another catamaran close by, a reef on two sides, and an island on the other.   I set the anchor alarm, made a stiff drink for my nerves, and started dinner.

Sleep came pretty early, but was interrupted about 4AM by a terrific gale.  I’m becoming accustomed to the early warning signs (and becoming a very light sleeper).  The wind starts picking up, the catamaran starts to rock, and a few drops of rain make it through my hatch – enough to wake me up.  I did the “close all the hatches half-asleep” drill, consulted my anchor alarm, and settled into anchor watch.  I almost made coffee, but I was too tired to move.

Two hours later I’d blown around in a couple of circles but had held, and hadn’t bumped the other catamaran or the reef.  That’s a win in my book.

New Friends

 

Cruising bonds people.  I’ve found that it’s been strong, and very quick.

The next morning, I needed a lift to pick up my dinghy, otherwise I was going to have to row the kayak all the way around the island and back – dinghy in tow.  So I went over to my neighbors (the other catamaran in the lagoon).  I was hoping for English or Spanish speakers (my Spanish is now passable).  I got English.

There was a pretty huge age gap between us, and the gentleman onboard didn’t seem very happy about my request (fair enough).  But he obliged, and I was very thankful.   He warmed up shortly, we talked diving, fishing, and sailing.  Then he asked me if I’d like to help them get through the Panama Canal in a month or so.  YES, I would.  Nothing better than a little firsthand experience for something like that.

Long story short, we eventually found my stranded dinghy.  Then we towed it back.  Then I changed my gasoline (and lost 4 gallons), in case it had saltwater in it.  Then I flushed the engine with freshwater.  Then I couldn’t get the dinghy engine to crank, so my new friends suggested pulling the sparkplugs and spraying some WD-40 in there.  With that complete the dinghy started.

I went over to give them the last bottle of good wine I had onboard.  We talked about where we’d meet next, where they were headed, and both wished each other fair winds.   Now I’m settling in to eating a big crab dinner (a giant, right?).

 

Crab Dinner…

So there it is.  My latest act of stupidity that cost me a ton of money, caused some pain, and rattled my nerves.  It’s not all lollipops and rainbows out here, folks.  That said, the main picture on this post is my view right now.

For Your Entertainment