A Worrisome Trend

Vergennes, VT
44 10.17 N 073 15.48 W


We ran aground again this morning.  This is the fourth time this year.  All four were cases that could have and should have been avoided -- in other words, operator error.   Two of the groundings were clearly my fault, two were Libby's.


I worry that we are so used to the boat that we lack the fear that makes us cautious.  Lack of caution; complacency -- it's all the same thing.   


This morning's incident is particularly worrisome.  A few weeks ago, coming up Otter creek, the depth alarm started buzzing.  Tarwathie draws 5 feet, and the alarm was set for 7 feet.  The response to the buzzing should be to immediately slow down to dead slow speed.  Libby was at the helm and I was below.  I heard no change in engine speed, so I yelled NEUTRAL.  I waited, still no response, so I yelled louder SLOW DOWN.  To be heard over the engine nose we need to yell.  It does not signal anger.  More to the point, we both know well that the response to the alarm buzzing is to slow down immediately,  there should have been no need to say anything at all.  By the way, the minimum depth of that shallow spot turned out to be 6.8 feet, 1.8 feet to spare.


Today, as we approached the same spot, again I was below and Libby was at the helm.  She anticipated the shallow spot. But she didn't slow down.  Instead she moved from the middle of the channel to the left side, hoping to avoid any buzzing of the alarm.  CRASH -- we hit rocks and stopped abruptly heeling over 45 degrees.   It took us 30 minutes to refloat ourselves.  No significant damage to anything.  However, in retrospect I'm horrified that LIbby would choose to endanger the boat rather than risk buzzing again and hearing me shout.  She skipped the 6.8 foot deep place in favor of one side with unknown depth.


I don't want to put the blame on Libby.  I was in control for half the groundings and I'm in charge of training and operational procedures.   The problem is I'm at a bit of a loss for what to do about it.  I don't want to become Captain Queeg.  That would backfire, as this morning's incident illustrates.  Still, I need to do something that reinvigorates caution, alertness, and combats complacency.   I'm open to suggestions.

Family Ties

Chazy Landing, NY
44 53.23 N 73 22.7 W

Chazy Landing is usually the northernmost extent of our annual migration.  I like to say that our sandbox is 25 degrees North to 45 degrees North, but actually 44 degrees 44 minutes is as close as we get to 45.

You see, Chazy Landing holds a special place in our hearts.  Libby spent many summers in her youth there with her Uncle Robert, Aunt Elizabeth, and cousins Jane, Susan and Bobby.  Even I got to spend some wonderful summer visits there.  Best of all, as a family, we made the northern sojourn to Chazy Landing for Thanksgiving dinners many times.  Those are magical  memories.

Today, Libby's Cousin Jane is the only one living there full time.  We take great delight going there to visit Jane.

Jane's House seen from the lake.

Libby and Jane

The lake and Tarwathie as seen from Jane's porch.

A bit of the local history.

As The Days Go By

South Burlington, Vermont

The other day as Libby and I played dodge ball with thunderstorms, we realized that it was our 47th wedding anniversary.  But I wasn't in trouble.  We both had forgotten.

Actually, living the cruising life tends to divorce one from the calendar.   Day of the week, week of the month, month of the year, most holidays,  birthdays and anniversaries, even which year it is, all have little significance to us, and we often forget the date.

There are exceptions.

• We are probably more sensitive than the average Joe to the seasons.  We are outdoors people.
• We curtail our activities on high traffic weekends and holidays when so many Sunday drivers are out in their boats.  At least we intend doing that, but we get caught surprised often because we forgot the date.
• No matter how loudly we profess being unaware of the date, I seem to miraculously know when to listen to Car Talk on the radio every week.
• We have never missed a Thanksgiving or Christmas pot luck dinner because we forgot.
• This weekend is an exception.  A long time ago I received an invitation to a celebration on Sunday, July 29.  I remembered the date and I'll be travelling there this weekend (no blogs this weekend)

So we can't remember the date, but that statement is not entirely true; what's the point?   The point is that we are the masters of our own lives.  We set our own agenda.  Thus we are substantially free of the stress of dealing with external agendas out of our control.   Free free free; who is freer than a cruiser?

Tarwathie (in the background) lies in her idyllic anchorage in Smuggler's Cove

Joys and Chores

Valcour Island
44 37,12 N 07325.32 W

We got lucky.  One of the most beautiful and popular anchorages is at the south end of Smugglers Cove on Valcour Island.  It is occupied almost all the time, but on Wednesday we found it vacant.  Bingo.   We absolutely love Valcour.

You would laugh if you could see my picture right now.  We get no phone signal, no Internet at the anchorage.  To get online I must walk 1.5 miles across the island to the New York side.   Right now it is raining, and I am sitting under a tree in the forest on the NY side with the computer in my lap and with an umbrella over my head to write this blog.

But chores and projects abound.  Our sink drain plumbing sprung a leak.  I had to rework it 100% and the new one leaks a little also.  Sigh.

Our anchor rigging includes a PVC pipeway that leads chain from the deck pipe, down and about 3 feet aft to the chain locker.  We started having trouble with the chain getting stuck.  Inspection showed that the whole PVC pathway was worn away by friction from the chain.  Insead of an O cross section it is a C with a groove worn through.   That needs work.

Worst of all, one of our house batteries failed.  I think it has a cracked lead plate.  Starting the engine in the morning to recharge is marginal.  I'm going away this weekend on family business, leaving Libby behind to stay with Jen.  I don't want to leave her with a crippled battery system, so I need to figure out how to get a new battery on Friday in Burlington.  Without a car that presents a problem.  Get a ride from Jen?  Rent a car?  Convince a battery seller to deliver it to the waterfront?

Boy oh boy, the maintenance chores really piled on this year.  Lest anyone forget -- owning and using a cruising boat, especially and old one, requires constant maintenance and repairs.  If you can't handle that, it is not the right thing for you.

Storm Dodge Ball

En Route, Lake Champlain


Yesterday morning we visited Libby's cousin Jane.   The visit was short though.  I was nervous about an approaching cold front and I wanted to get to a secure anchorage early.   We made it with plenty of time.   We'll try to visit Jane again sometime this summer.

When the front came, around 1900, we played the dodge ball game.  One severe storm passed about 1 mile north of us.  Another passed 20 miles south of us.  Both packed 60 knot winds, and both knocked down lots of trees.  On the VHF radio we listened to a panicked man in Mallets Bay call "Mayday Mayday"  He was in a motorboat with small children on board and his anchor dragged and his steering failed.   After 10 minutes back and forth answering the Coast Guard's inane questions he said, "Never mind, we have it fixed now."

Where we were, we saw nothing more than 40 knots for less than 10 minutes.   There's a big difference between a direct hit and a near miss by severe storms.  Thus the analogy to dodge ball.

We get to play that game a dozen or so times every year.  All places up and down the East Coast are subject to severe thunderstorms in any season.  Needless to say, they peak in the hot humid days of summer when we are in the Northeast.

What are the odds of us getting hit rather than a near miss.  I estimate that we get a direct hit about once per year, and perhaps 12 near misses.  In other words, 90+ percent chance of a miss.  

The scariest part of a severe thunderstorm is not the storm itself, but rather the warnings of the national weather service on the VHF weather radio.  I swear that we should stop listening to that, but I don't think we ever will.

The best calming technique is to watch the doppler radar images complete with storm tracks on the Droid ph9ne.  On that display we see much clearer and much earlier which storms will be near misses.  Unfortunately, up here on Lake Champlain, we are without a cell phone signal more often than not.

Have we ever dragged anchor and lost control during a direct hit?  No.  We've dragged a little bit, but not much.   You see, the intense winds of a storm front tend to last only 10-15 minutes.  Even in very strong winds, the waves can't build very much, and it is the up/down tug of waves rather than wind that jeapordize the bite of the anchor.

The scariest one I remember happened on night when we were anchored just south of Vaca Key near Marathon.  A cold front came through with a single powerful gust of wind.   That gust laid Tarwathie over about 60 degrees.  Then it was gone.  It really started us.