Sunday, April 27, 2014

Catalina Gale: Part VI, Nightmare at Sea





Captain Brad Continues saga:

After this close call, I suggested that Albie take a break, so that in case the worst was not over, he could regain some of his strength. As for myself, I was feeling chipper enough, but knew that I was not going to last forever under these circumstances. It was such a relief to know that I had Albie to relieve me when I couldn’t take it anymore. I am quite sure it would have been far more terrifying to be alone and even further out to sea like many single handers that have sailed around the globe alone.


I was determined to steer “Canta Libre” until she and her crew were safely inside the shelter of the Harbor. I was holding the tiller with white knuckles, as it was almost ripped from my grip on more than one occasion from the tremendous force of the Ocean surging underneath our hull. I eventually began to shiver uncontrollably from the combination of being soaked to the bone and from the wind chill over eight or more straight hours

One usually resists throwing up as it is rarely a pleasant experience. More often than not, it is followed by a period of relief and then eventually subsides when it comes to matter of sea sickness. This time that was not to be the case. Despite years of working and being in some of the worst seas on the planet, I could not stop yakking, and no relief seemed to be in sight. I remember that for most of my life, I was completely and I do mean totally immune to motion sickness. I hate to admit it, but I would actually laugh and make fun of friends and acquaintances alike that would succumb to its powers. I guess this was time for payback. I will never ever make fun of anyone ever again, guaranteed. I was so weakened from the cold and dehydration by this time that I would be physically useless should any emergency arise. I ran through the hypothetical in my mind, that even if the ship were to begin sinking, I don’t think I would have lasted for more than a few minutes. Time to get Albie. As I cracked the companion way hatch open slightly, I tried to yell out for Albie to come relieve me for a while. Instead a faint croaking whisper emitted from my lips. The hydrochloric acids from my stomach had taken a toll on my throat and vocal cords. Despite this, Albion not only heard me but was quick to respond. It was trickier than I expected to be able to hand off the tiller to him without the boat being tumbled over. The timing had to be perfect, and it was.


 I had been anticipating this moment for hours now as I stumbled into the safety and shelter of the cabin, I was not prepared however for what I was about to witness. The entire interior of the boat was the unequalled example of chaos. The table was dispatched from the wall. Every item to have at one time been stowed in its place was cast on to the cabin floor and walls and corners. Intermingled throughout were perceptible chunks of vomit. 

My son Brad was seemingly passed out on the floor, although I do believe I saw his hand move in a gesticulation resembling a wave, perhaps to briefly acknowledge my presence. Louie was propped up against the starboard side with his head covered. Max was huddled up in the V-birth. No one seemed worried or concerned as to the situation, so I figured why not join the club. Besides, I had only one thought on my mind: To get dry, and lie down and rest. Even if it were only for a few minutes. I feebly, but as quickly as I could manage, stripped off my sopping wet shirt, and found a damp one to put on instead. Ah! To be seemingly dry. There is nothing to be compared to that feeling. I was feeling a hundred percent better already. I found a wonderful spot to lie down that had amazingly been left vacant by everyone else. I just barely fit, but it was otherwise perfect for what was next on my list of priorities, sleep. Although my whole body was being flung around to and fro as a result of the bow of the boat plunging into waves just to the other side of the thin fiberglass walls that surrounded me, I could not be dissuaded from the thought of closing my eyes and drifting off into a state of ecstasy. No sooner had I laid my weary head down when a compelling amount of water erupted through a gap in the forward hatch and descended down upon me in geyser fashion, drenching me with chilly cold salt spray. Well, being dry for one and a half minutes is better than not being dry at all. I tried to ignore the irratic showers of cold water that seemed to aim themselves at my face, but it was not an option. Every time a particularly big wave would engulf us, it would find its way to say hello to me inside the v-birth. So much for sleep and shelter. That’s roughly when I realized that I was still sea sick despite all. Max was watching me with empathy, as he generously handed me his personal barf bucket, that he had been hugging up to that juncture. I noticed that it was far from empty --- to hydrate myself unless someone had a bottle of 6% saline solution and an I.V. needle handy. I looked up and saw that he had a peculiar look in his eyes. It was a combination of him trying to be polite and respectful to his elders, and desperation all at the same time. And that’s when it dawned on me. I was hogging his bucket. So we kept passing it back and forth taking turns at fairly quick intervals to vomit, and then vomit some more. At around this juncture in time, I heard Albie calling out “Were not far away”. I climbed out into the cockpit again, just in time to see some huge following seas pushing us towards shore. 

We were virtually leapfrogging towards the rocks. Just on the other side of the rocks was the safety of the Harbor we were so earnestly longing for. But we were not safe yet by any means. We were surfing so quickly down the front of each wave that we would have to time the entrance like clockwork. 

If we turned too soon, we would be dashed on to the rocks. If we turned several seconds too late, the same would result. We changed our direction of sail to a quarter reach, so as to gain both a little more control and speed, and seemingly flew past the safe water buoy labeled RB, and in-between the red and green harbor entrance buoys, past the demarcation line. The British and most other parts of the world are under the AYALA-A system. When we fought the Revolutionary war back in the 1700’s we would switch the buoys around at night, so as to confuse the British ships, and make them crash into the rocks. To this day the United States and its influences are still under the AYALA- B system, which is the opposite of the British. Remember this next time you are sailing into port at night time in a foreign country. This means that as you travel clockwise around our country, the red navigational buoys are supposed to be on the starboard side of the ship (Red Right Returning). Just to make it confusing though, this does not apply to the inter-coastal waterways, or the Great lakes. Well, all history and navigations lessons set aside, we were safely home Alas (At last). 


The Harbor Patrol boat came out to escort us in. One of the officers had bet his Commander $20.00 that no one would be crazy enough to venture out in these conditions. I think he came out to get us just to win his bet. Regardless, when they heard we had just crossed all the way from Catalina, they were speechless. Of coarse we were glad for the assistance; since the waves had ripped our engine completely off the transom of the boat. 
Now that is some violent sea conditions! May it rest in peace.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Catalina Gale Part VII: Reality of the Storm


Skipper Albie continues:

"It was at this time that Brad asked me if I would go into the cabin and get my wet things off and get some rest because he was going to need me in a couple of hours. I told him I would and was actually very happy to go in even though I really wanted to support him. At this time we had become aware of our own danger just being in the cockpit and we had buckled ourselves into the lifeline that Brad had so wisely set up before the trip.

Now I went below, thankful that Brad at least was buckled in. The first thing I noticed was that the table had fallen again and that everything had fallen all over the floor.

The cabin was such a disaster. I couldn't believe my eyes. And on top of that, Brad Jr had decided that the floor with all the mess was just the place for him to lie down (even though there was plenty of room in the v-birth for him and Max. This puzzled me greatly, but I was too sick to disagree and even too sick with so much up and down motion to do ANYTHING except lie down. I didn't even take any clothes off. I felt warm and that's all I cared about. I lied down in the V-birth and rested. I had no energy to do anything and just lied there listening to the sound of the boat rising up and down the waves and to that of my own thoughts and that of my stomach.

Sometimes I would even get sick just lieing there and throw up again. This time we would all pass and use the big gray bucket. It sounded like a throw up festival. First Brad Jr would throw up, then me then Max. Twice I even heard Braddock outside throwing up too. I never heard Louis though. He had some cloth over his face and I thought he was fast asleep, but I found out later he was really awake!

Now the sounds of the boat were extremely interesting. 

The wind was so powerful in the main sail that it made a whir or a purring sound not unlike that of an engine. I was amazed at the sheer intensity of the wind. I had never heard this much wind in my life. 

Then the lurching of the boat was quite amazing. This was so similar to that of a rollar coaster. Two weeks later when on Screamin' at California Adventure, I took the coaster in strides (hardly thinking it a big deal at all) having felt the very same motions for 10 hours on our trip. The boat would go up then down then lurch to this side and then that. Then up steeply then down steeply with a thud. Sometimes it would come down with such a crash that I thought we had hit a rock! But no - we just carried on. As long as the 'purr' of the 'engine in the sails' carried on, we knew all was well. Then we hit down and crashed again. This time it smacked with a violent shudder from the bow to the stern. It felt like the boat had been completely out of the water - even with a thousand pounds of weight down in the keel. I almost didn't want to look in the cabin floor as I was almost positive I would see water seeping in through the floor boards as a leak seemed so likely. But again - no. We just carried on again. The 'engine' would purr again in the sails and I would try to sleep. Once in a while the purring would stop and the boat would seem to lie dead in the water. But not even giving a minute and the boat 'engine' would start right back up again and the wind in the sails would move the boat back on course.

By now my wet socks were making me cold, so I happily took them off and put my feet in my daughters pink but warm sleeping bag.
I fell asleep a little and wondered if an hour had passed or even two hours. It only felt like an hour, but things were so strange I can't remember. At any rate Brad had had enough and opened the hatch calling for me.

I quickly rushed to put on my socks and opened the hatch to go out on deck. Just taking the hatch cover off and suddenly I was hit with the loudest wailing noise I had ever heard. It sounded like a war was going on outside. I literally was terrified of going back outside. The wind was screeching, the waves and water were moving and pounding against the boat, the sails were vibrating and the whole boat was heeled over and I would have to climb sideways out the door just to get out there..."

~Albie
PS: Thanks for your comments!