Fast Land

We are with David and Nick away from the boat for several days. No more blogs till next week.

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Wise Before His Time

Oriental, NC
35 01.49 N 076 41.74 W

"WIth age comes wisdom" At least that's what we old folks are fond of saying. Yesterday I met a man who proved the exception to the rule.

I was sitting on the porch of The Bean drinking my morning coffee. I met a young couple; I estimate in their 30s. They started asking questions about the harbor, and the boats around.   I pointed at some of the shrimp boats.  I said, "You see it's a tradition to name all those boats after a woman.  What a tribute and honor for the woman when the boats are new and spiffy like that one over there.   Of course, when they get old, tired and rusty like that other boat, the woman's name is still there."  Both of them laughed.  Then the man said, "I think I'll just shut up at this point."

Carolina In the Morning

Oriental, NC
35 01.49 N 076 41.74 W

Well well well.  Here we are at our migration's mid-point.  Every year we hit Oriental twice.

This morning was splendid.  We had morning coffee on the deck out on Adams Creek. It was just lovely.  Who wrote the song about Carolina in the morning?  It sure is true, and it inspires song.

Watch us on the webcam.

The Emergency Threshold

At Sea
34 26.96 N 0776 56.12 W

Last night around 2100 we passed the dreaded (by us) Frying Pan Shoals, and changed course for Beaufort. NC. The put the wind directly behind us, and about the same time the wind speed dropped off. Anyhow, we've been motoring ever since. We prefer not to motor at sea, but it is still much faster than motoring on the ICW. ETA Beaufort 1800 today.

WIth our Sirius satellite radio out, the only source of entertainment out here is the stream of PAN PAN emergency broadcasts by the US Coast Guard. How many of those can there be? More than you probably imaging. There are reasons. First, in nice weather like this, we hear the powerful Coast Guard transmissions from up to 400 miles away. Up here near Hatteras we regularly hear everything from SC and NC, and some o fthe stuff from GA, FL, VA and MD also. That's a big area. The second factor is that they repeat the same broadcasts regularly, once every 30-60 minutes. Imaging how busy 911 would sound if you could listen in to 6 states worth of traffice at the same time.

The radio protocol for announcing an emergency message is to start with the words PAN-PAN PAN-PAN PAN-PAN. In fictional accounts one hears more about MAYDAY-MAYDAY instead, but in real life PAN-PAN is used. (The only difference is that a MAYDAY call is so urgent that everyone else using that radio channel should shut up mid-sentence and listen. With PAN-PAN you may continue very briefly before shutting up. ) Many PAN-PAN messages are mundane -- for example, a tree floating in the channel causing a hazard. Some are actual life-and-death dramas such as instructing someone how to give CPR and to drive a boat at the same time. Some sound like mistakes or pranks such as flares supposedly sighed, or people calling for help on the redio with no follow up.

A few weeks back we were up early and getting ready to depart Fisher Island mean Miamo. Suddenly we heard something very loud and clear on the VHF radio. It sounded like heavy breathing into the microphone and briefly the sound of a baby could be heard in the background. In my mind I dismissed it as kids playing with the radio. A few minutes later, we heard the Coast Guard -- "PAN PAN PAN PAN PAN PAN, the Coast Guard received a distress call with no indication of the nature or location of the distress. Boaters who heard it should contact US COast Guard." I heard it loudly, so I immediately called the Coast Guard and told them I heard it at Fisher Island. Then another boat at Fisher Island called. He heard it too. It happens that the Miami Coast Guard station was only 1/2 mile away so it moust have been loud for them too. I looked out. There was a motorboat at anchor 100 yards awy. It was reasonable to presume it was kids on that boat, but no proof. My first thoght, was "What a wast of time."

My second though was "what should the threshold be to distinguish a real emergency from a likely prank or mistake?" I realized that the threshold must necessarily be set very low. It is entirely possible that a dying person might be able to push the button on the mike yet be unable to speak. Such calls may probably be mistakes but they also might be a life and death emergency. Any emergency service must treat all such calls seriously. No more will I listen and think, "Waste of time."

Seamanship, Good & Bad

At Sea
33 17.85 N 078 51.55 W

We're at sea again. The bad weather has passed and now it is nice. Our window is now 4-5 days long. We could sail all the way to New York in this window, but we won't -- it's still too cold up there. Instead, we'll sail for 30 hours or so to Beaufort, NC. Then we'll anchor in Adams Creek for a nap.

To get here, we had to pass out to sea via the Wacamaw River and Winyah Bay where the river meets the sea. We had nearly an hour of really rough going as the outgoing tide met the incoming sea swells. Tarwathie pitched terribly and slowed to only 3 knots at full throttle. Anyone prone to seasickness would have been miserable.

It reminded me vividly of the same spot a few years back. It was in the fall, and we were heading south. We stayed the night at Georgetown on the Wacamaw River, and were itching for a chance to go on the outside and make a dash for Florida. I checked the weather. The next day promised 20-25 NE winds. Good! Perfect for a fast run down the coast in a SW direction. I checked the tides. If we left Georgetown at noon we would have an ebb tide to help us exit. Perfect.

We departed as planned. We were doing 7 knots with the help of the tide. THe winds were strong, so I let out the jib. Our speed soared to 8.5 knots. For sailors like us that's like being shot out of a cannon. I was exhilarated. Soon however, my exhilaration turned to horror when I realized that the inlet channel forced us to turn NE for the last 3 miles before exiting to deep water offshore. That would put us with the strong wind right on our nose! Much worse, the strong wind would be opposing the 2.5 knot tidal current. Those combinations cause huge standing waves. It is very dangerous and even stout boats like Tarwthie could be swamped and lose control. At best, with the motor at full throttle, we would have to stand the beating for 2-3 hours before being able to turn SW. I had to abandon that plan, do a 180 degree turn, and fight our way back up river against the current. It was bad.

Well, I recognized a dangerous situation and I avoided it. Why is that bad seamanship? Because, the bad situation was inherent to my plan for the day. With the planned winds, and currents and my chart in front of me, I could have foreseen the adverse situation 24 hours in advance and come up with a different plan. I could have and should have projected ahead in my mind and imagined making it out to safe waters. I could have, but I didn't. So I don't get a F for that day, but perhaps a D for bad planning, but a B for helmsmanship and damage control.

For the past 60 hours on the VHF, the Coast Guard has been warning everyone about the hazard of a 46 foot sail boat adrift and grounded on the Charleston South Jetty. Wow. Quite a story. I wish I knew what kind of bad seamanship that captain did to wind up on the jetty. If the boat has not been towed in after 60 hours despite mile weather, it must be holed. It will probably be a total wreck.