Saturday, July 30, began as a very lazy day, how it ended was quite different.
Kelly IV was secure at her anchor and although there was no cell phone coverage, I could pick up the internet available from the Liscombe Lodge Resort. As you know from the prior log entry, I was able to complete and post two log entries during the day, as well as a number of new photographs. In addition, I got my email caught up and straightened out a problem with our home email address.
In other words, I spent the gray, rainy, blustery day down below in the cabin reading and working on my computer. About 6:45pm I thought to check the batteries to be sure they were properly charged up. Kelly IV depends on her solar panels to do the charging when we are at anchor, but when the skies are as dark and rainy all day, as they were this Saturday, very little charging occurs. In fact, with the refrigerator and computer running all day, the house batteries were showing only 11.6 volts remaining.
With evening upon us, I decided to fire up the diesel to recharge the batteries, so there would be power on board through the night. From the diesel experts who sold me the new engine in 2010, I understand that it is better for the engine to run under load, than merely at idle. With that in mind, I put the transmission in reverse, just like I do when setting the anchor. I figured that if the anchor didn't pull out when I set it, it should be fine with the boat pulling in reverse while the batteries recharged.
I did have a stern anchor line out, using the Guardian anchor to hold Kelly's stern from drifting into the channel if the winds went to the east. After putting the engine in reverse, I confirmed that Kelly was pulling tight on both anchor lines and they were stable and taut. All seemed fine, so I went below to do some reading and contemplated a hot shower after the engine heated the water.
Suddenly, I heard a loud CLUNK, and the engine died sounding the alarm. I dashed into the cockpit and turned off the starter key, already knowing what had happened. When I checked the stern anchor line, I didn't allow for the probability that the wind would shift at some point and push Kelly over top of her stern anchor line. Obviously, that is just what happened and the prop shaft immediately sucked and twisted the anchor line around itself so tightly that the engine couldn't deal with it and shut down.
What really frightened me, was that as soon as the engine shut down, I could hear a stream of water running freely into the boat. As you all know, the primary function of a boat is to keep all the water on the OUTSIDE. It is bad enough when rain drips into the boat, but when seawater was rushing in, I got a little (OK, a LOT) worried. After shutting off the engine key, the first thing I did was look at the propeller shaft inside the engine compartment. And there was the source of the running water . . . a steady flow of water was gushing past the shaft into the bilge.
Fortunately, the bilge was nearly empty and it took several minutes before enough water entered the boat to start the bilge pump running. During those minutes, I went back into the cockpit to confirm the details of the stern anchor rode being pulled tightly under the boat. Then I went back into the cabin, sharpened a knife and tied the knife to my wrist. If I dropped it, I didn't want to lose it altogether. Since I was already in my T-shirt and shorts, I went over the side into the river to cut the rope off the shaft.
The river water was the warmest water we've sailed in since we departed Erie. I am very lucky that we were so far inland that the water temperature was quite reasonable, maybe 65*-70*F. Although cool, I wasn't struck with hypothermia and was able to dive under Kelly IV and reach the shaft without feeling cold.
After a couple dives, I heard water pumping and it was the bilge pump kicking in. That gave me additional incentive to get things corrected ASAP. Fortunately, the sharp knife did its work well and within a few more minutes (and two more bilge pump events) I had all but a small scrap of rope removed from the shaft. I could not really see under water given the gray day, late hour, and almost black water (due to the tannin of the tree bark upstream), so I had to do the work almost entirely by feel. I could tell there was still a bit of rope stuck in the cutless bearing where the shaft is held in place by a strut just forward of the propeller.
Since the transmission had been in reverse when the rope jammed the shaft, I started the engine (thankfully, it did so without a problem) and shifted the motor into forward gear, leaving it at idle. After less than a minute, I shut the engine off and dove below to check the shaft. Obviously, I must have done something right, because that last bit of rope was gone and there was nothing left to encumber the propeller shaft.
The best news is that while I was under water cutting the rope loose, I heard a small “clunk” in the shaft. At first I was worried, not knowing what caused the sound. When I went back aboard after confirming that all was clear, I rechecked the shaft inside the engine compartment and behold! No water was entering the boat! Apparently, the rope had pressed the shaft off center, allowing the water to enter. Once the rope was gone, the shaft returned to its proper position and resealed itself.
Even though I was able to run the engine for another 45 minutes to complete the charging of the batteries, I plan to have everything inspected by a mechanic when I get into Halifax.
And I enjoyed my hot shower as I prepared for a much needed night of sleep.
Sunday, July 31, proved to be an especially satisfying day, even if there was no sailing. I woke well refreshed from my sleep and after some thinking and breakfast, I decided to row the dinghy out to where my lost stern anchor was likely residing on the muddy bottom. My boat hook was the only item I had on board that I could think might successfully snag the cut anchor line if I could reach the line on the bottom. Unfortunately, it was also high tide and with my 6 feet long boat hook, I was unable to reach the bottom, let alone find and hook the lost line.
At this point I rowed into the Lodge Marina and see if they might have a grappling hook I might use to try and retrieve my lost stern anchor. I thought if I might tow the hook behind the dinghy, then I had a good chance of snagging the anchor line. Chester, the maintenance supervisor at the Lodge, was very helpful and eagerly set his mind to finding a solution. They had no grapnel, but he went rummaging through his old gear and came up with a nine feet long hook, two 90 degree PVC pipes, and the end of a roll of tape. He asked if I could make the grapnel I needed from the items, so off I went to build the jury rig grappling hook.
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| Jury rig grappling hook |
It was still several hours before low tide, so I took my time and thought through how I might make it all work. About two hours before low tide, I loaded my GPS, a portable depth sounder, and my makeshift grapnel into the dinghy. I figured that would allow me about fours hours to search for the lost anchor.
I rowed up wind and up current to reach the area where I thought I had the best chance of finding the anchor. The good news is that there had to be about 110 feet of anchor rode plus 17 feet of chain stretched across the bottom. If I could only make the jury rig work, I thought I had a good chance of finding the wayward anchor.
After a couple tries, I discovered that the breeze and current were strong enough to push the dinghy without my rowing, so I could concentrate on holding the hook against the bottom. Also, the river bottom seemed to be mostly soft mud so the three pronged makeshift hook would cut through the mud as we drifted downstream. By using my hand held GPS, I had a good idea where the anchor might be, so I rowed about 100 feet upstream of where I thought I would cross the anchor rode, put the jury rig hook out the stern and using both hands to force the hook against the bottom, let the dinghy drift.
On a few occasions I thought I might have snagged something, but the hook came up empty or with some mud or leaves sticking to it. After drifting about 300 feet, my arms were too tired to hold the hook into the muddy bottom, so I would lift it back into the tender and row back upstream to try again.
On my fourth attempt, it seemed like the drift had slowed somewhat and I first attributed that to a lull in the breeze, but when the breeze picked up, we still drifted ever so slowly. It took a moment for my brain to click into gear, but it finally dawned on me that I may have snagged something. I carefully lifted the hook off the bottom being certain to keep the hooks facing upwards so nothing on them might slip off.
I think my grin reached from one bank of the river to the other when I saw the slimy brown line looped around one of the PVC pipe bends!
Being very slow and deliberate, I gradually drew the hook into the dinghy, so I would not pull the line off the hook, but instead drew the dinghy upstream to the hooked anchor line. It was very lucky how this all turned out. I had hooked the line only 30 feet from the chain, so I had over 80 feet of line to one side while there was line, chain and anchor to the other side of the line. If I had hooked the chain, the makeshift grapnel may have failed, if I had hooked the line near the cut end, the line might have just slipped off the hook.
As it turned out, I only spent about half an hour in the dinghy before I found the anchor. I spent the rest of the afternoon hauling up the anchor, chain and line, putting them on Kelly's deck, then cleaning up the mess, including me.
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| New bow rig for Guardian anchor |
Over the past couple weeks I had spent quite some time while we were underway thinking about a better way to rig the Guardian anchor (now known as the “prodigal” anchor!). While it stayed put on the cabin top, just forward of the mast, I didn't like how it kept trying to snag the jib sheets every time we tacked. I had seen a number of other boats with the anchor suspended from the bow pulpit, but I also had to be sure the oversized Guardian didn't foul the primary CQR anchor or get in the way when tying the bow dock lines. Calling on my recollection of how the secondary anchor was hung on “Steel Farm's” bow pulpit, I rigged Kelly's the same way and all is ready to face the open sea.
Kelly IV and I have now traveled over 1665 nautical miles, and swam a few yards, from Erie, PA.
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