The Caretaker's Concern for 3/4/09
No photos today.
Part three of the Caretaker's Journal entry from 8/20/2005
If you missed part one it can be found in the blog archive, it is dated 2/26/09.
If you missed part two it can be found in the blog archive, it is dated 3/2/09.
...Thankfully reason won out. I knew that if I gave into panic I would have probably drowned myself. Once I made this decision I accepted my situation and began to workout the safest thing to do with what little I had left, but I oh so wanted that light back.
After I gave up righting the boat fully I worked to just keep the mast level with the water that way I could let the wind and waves take me towards the South shore of Three Brother Islands. After a few minutes of letting the wind and waves drive my course I realized that the boat and I were keeping a heading to go West of the Islands. This would have been bad because the boat and I would have eventually be left in the lee of Three Brother Islands and stuck in the channel between the Islands and the mainland, this is a regularly travelled route for motorboats. My only option was to "sail" the boat.
I had to get the jib up out of the water at least part of the way and try to catch some wind to drive the bow towards the South shore of the Islands so I could get it up on to the rocks and out of the way of boat traffic. Standing on the center board still keeping the mast at water level I heaved on the jib sheet. From wrestling with the sheets and wire rigging of the boat trying to right it properly my hands suffered any number of cuts and bruises, thankfully adrenaline is a rather descent salve for pain. Half ignoring and half not feeling the pain I heaved on the jib sheet until I could get some water to slip away leaving some of the sail out of the water. The more of the sail I brought out of the water the more I could get the boat to head towards the Islands. It was rather slow going but definitely effective, however there came a point when I just couldn't keep the sail out and so had to slowly slacken my grip figuring that anything was better than losing the sail entirely to the water again. Keeping my balance on the center board to keep the boat from turtling, and watchful eye out for boats I managed to keep a close enough course to where I needed to go.
Things were going well enough until I saw a motor boat coming up, at first they passed beyond where I was but then turned and came back in my direction, it didn't take long for me to realize that they were heading right for me but had no idea that I was in their path. Letting go of the jib sheet I grabbed the air horn from stashed between my chest and life vest and gave sound with it twice.
The motorboat stopped.
"Where'd that horn sound from?"
"AHOY!"
There were two guys on the motor boat.
"Damn, right in front of us."
"Good thing you had that horn.
"You okay?"
"I'm well enough but having a bit of trouble with my sailboat. Mind giving me a tow towards Three Brother Islands?"
"No problem."
They throw me a line from their boat, I go to tie it off to the sailboat, lose the line and it sinks.
"Sorry about that."
They pull the line in to throw it again. I grab the line again and tie a bowlin, they begin towing but for some reason the knot doesn't hold it just slips through and out. Could have been the line was wet but more likely my lousy knot tying skills. I hail them to stop and grab the line before it pulls out completely. For the third time I tied an overhand knot with a pullout, it holds. While they're towing me I remain on the dagger board and hold the jib sheet to keep balance while keeping the mast level with the water, if not then the mast would have hit Lake bottom well before I was close enough to the shore. Once we get close enough I hail them to stop and untie their towline. I thank them for their help and send them on their way.
Part four of the Caretaker's journal entry from 8/20/2005 will follow tomorrow or the day after. He picked up five 20 pound tanks of propane yesterday but got in a bit late last night and didn't haul them out to the Island so he needs to go get them.
--The Caretaker.
Showing posts with label 2005JournalEntry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2005JournalEntry. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
TCC for 3/2/09
The Caretaker's Concern for 3/2/09
No photos today.
Part two of the Caretaker's Journal entry from 8/20/2005
If you missed part one it can be found in the blog archive it is dated 2/26/09.
...It was a good breeze blowing, the night was warm, a touch humid, rather pleasant sail back to the Island except for the racket from the jib, it was bringing down my good time, it was time to bring down the jib. Being my usually foolish self I gave a holler of "Down with the Jib!"
To drop the jib I needed to turn into the wind.
This would prove to be the beginning of my boat's undoing.
The mainsail was off to the starboard side and the jib was off to the port side. To keep a full run the boat was headed for the channel between Three Brother Islands and the mainland, to go through the channel would eventually leave me with no wind, to avoid that I had to pass on the Eastern shore of Three Brother Islands. With this in mind I pushed the tiller to port thus jibing, had I pulled the tiller to starboard none of the rest that follows would have happened. Coming through the jibe a gust of wind came up and took the mainsail forcefully to the complete other side of the boat. During my run I had been sitting down in the hull on the floor of the boat providing little to no counter weight to the sides of the boat, when I went to jibe I forgot to move to the side of the boat, when the wind took the sail over to the other side of the boat a large wave also hit the windward side of the boat. The wind pushed the sail down into the water and the boat capsized. As it was going over I scrambled to climb over the side of the boat to get on to the center board to keep the mast level with the water, I did not want the boat to completely turtle. My plan was to grab a line, stand on the center board and lean far out over the water to keep the mast at the water line. Unfortunately I was too far back in the boat and could not make it to the center board in time, the boat completely turtled. The inner hull began to take on water through the back hatch, the hiss of air escaping from the hull as it was displaced by water was not a good sign.
It took me a while but I managed to fully right the boat twice but the inner hull was so full of water that the boat would not stay right for long. I'd get the boat and mast to come up and out of the water from one side only to have it continue over to the other side and roll back to a full turtle. After the second time this happened I realized that fully righting the boat was not an option. During the first righting of the boat my air horn had come out from the boat and off its lashing. Seeing the air horn I left the boat to grab it. With only a headlamp at this point I figured the air horn would come in handy if I needed to alert a passing motorboat to my presence. When I reached the air horn I quickly stuffed it in between my chest and life vest so I could have free use of both hands to try and right the boat again.
After the second failed righting of the boat my head lamp came off my head and began to sink. I made a quick reach down in the water to grab it but missed. WIth one hand on the hull of the boat the other one down in the water missing its mark I had to make a decision, let the light go and be left on the water with no illumination for motorboats to see me, or let go of the hull and try diving down into the water to swim after the light. To do so would take my eyes off the surrounding dark night and thus I wouldn't be able to see if a motorboat was heading right for me. I decided not to dive for the headlamp. Clutching tightly to what was safe in my one hand, letting go of what was not in my other I watched the light from my headlamp as it sank until it had gone so deep that its light was no longer visible.
My life here on the Island has always been full of either great company or great solitude but when I watched the light of my headlamp slowly slip away to the depths of Lake George it was the loneliest I had ever felt in my entire life.
Here I was in the water with a fully capsized boat that I could not get right, it's a dark and windy night and I have no lights to keep motorboats from hitting me. All I have is an air horn.
After the Lake swallowed my light and the water went dark again I picked my head up. I was on the finest of lines between emotion and reason. I could feel the panic welling up inside my chest so great that I knew that if I gave into it I would have given over what little reason and sense I had left. I would have been left there in the water doing nothing but screaming for help to nobody. I wanted to cry. I wanted to let go of everything. I wanted to be out of the water, far far away from the Lake. I wanted to be home, my childhood home, I wanted to be safe.
Thankfully reason won out. I knew that if I gave into panic I would have probably drowned myself. Once I made this decision I accepted my situation and began to workout the safest thing to do with what little I had left, but I oh so wanted that light back.
After this ordeal came to an end, upon further contemplation the following day I realized that letting the light go was most likely the best thing I could have done. At the time it didn't occur to me but if I had swam down in the water for the light I could have gotten tangled up in the rigging of the sailboat, preventing me from coming back up out of the water.
Part three of the Caretaker's journal entry from 8/20/2005 will be continued the following day or the day after. The cold, snow, and wind have been such today that the Ghetto is only at about 42 degrees Fahrenheit and frankly the Caretaker's fingers are too cold and sore to do any further typing. He was supposed to pick up more propane when he was on the mainland on Saturday but totally forgot so he has to conserve what he has left, if all goes as planned he'll get more tomorrow.
--The Caretaker
No photos today.
Part two of the Caretaker's Journal entry from 8/20/2005
If you missed part one it can be found in the blog archive it is dated 2/26/09.
...It was a good breeze blowing, the night was warm, a touch humid, rather pleasant sail back to the Island except for the racket from the jib, it was bringing down my good time, it was time to bring down the jib. Being my usually foolish self I gave a holler of "Down with the Jib!"
To drop the jib I needed to turn into the wind.
This would prove to be the beginning of my boat's undoing.
The mainsail was off to the starboard side and the jib was off to the port side. To keep a full run the boat was headed for the channel between Three Brother Islands and the mainland, to go through the channel would eventually leave me with no wind, to avoid that I had to pass on the Eastern shore of Three Brother Islands. With this in mind I pushed the tiller to port thus jibing, had I pulled the tiller to starboard none of the rest that follows would have happened. Coming through the jibe a gust of wind came up and took the mainsail forcefully to the complete other side of the boat. During my run I had been sitting down in the hull on the floor of the boat providing little to no counter weight to the sides of the boat, when I went to jibe I forgot to move to the side of the boat, when the wind took the sail over to the other side of the boat a large wave also hit the windward side of the boat. The wind pushed the sail down into the water and the boat capsized. As it was going over I scrambled to climb over the side of the boat to get on to the center board to keep the mast level with the water, I did not want the boat to completely turtle. My plan was to grab a line, stand on the center board and lean far out over the water to keep the mast at the water line. Unfortunately I was too far back in the boat and could not make it to the center board in time, the boat completely turtled. The inner hull began to take on water through the back hatch, the hiss of air escaping from the hull as it was displaced by water was not a good sign.
It took me a while but I managed to fully right the boat twice but the inner hull was so full of water that the boat would not stay right for long. I'd get the boat and mast to come up and out of the water from one side only to have it continue over to the other side and roll back to a full turtle. After the second time this happened I realized that fully righting the boat was not an option. During the first righting of the boat my air horn had come out from the boat and off its lashing. Seeing the air horn I left the boat to grab it. With only a headlamp at this point I figured the air horn would come in handy if I needed to alert a passing motorboat to my presence. When I reached the air horn I quickly stuffed it in between my chest and life vest so I could have free use of both hands to try and right the boat again.
After the second failed righting of the boat my head lamp came off my head and began to sink. I made a quick reach down in the water to grab it but missed. WIth one hand on the hull of the boat the other one down in the water missing its mark I had to make a decision, let the light go and be left on the water with no illumination for motorboats to see me, or let go of the hull and try diving down into the water to swim after the light. To do so would take my eyes off the surrounding dark night and thus I wouldn't be able to see if a motorboat was heading right for me. I decided not to dive for the headlamp. Clutching tightly to what was safe in my one hand, letting go of what was not in my other I watched the light from my headlamp as it sank until it had gone so deep that its light was no longer visible.
My life here on the Island has always been full of either great company or great solitude but when I watched the light of my headlamp slowly slip away to the depths of Lake George it was the loneliest I had ever felt in my entire life.
Here I was in the water with a fully capsized boat that I could not get right, it's a dark and windy night and I have no lights to keep motorboats from hitting me. All I have is an air horn.
After the Lake swallowed my light and the water went dark again I picked my head up. I was on the finest of lines between emotion and reason. I could feel the panic welling up inside my chest so great that I knew that if I gave into it I would have given over what little reason and sense I had left. I would have been left there in the water doing nothing but screaming for help to nobody. I wanted to cry. I wanted to let go of everything. I wanted to be out of the water, far far away from the Lake. I wanted to be home, my childhood home, I wanted to be safe.
Thankfully reason won out. I knew that if I gave into panic I would have probably drowned myself. Once I made this decision I accepted my situation and began to workout the safest thing to do with what little I had left, but I oh so wanted that light back.
After this ordeal came to an end, upon further contemplation the following day I realized that letting the light go was most likely the best thing I could have done. At the time it didn't occur to me but if I had swam down in the water for the light I could have gotten tangled up in the rigging of the sailboat, preventing me from coming back up out of the water.
Part three of the Caretaker's journal entry from 8/20/2005 will be continued the following day or the day after. The cold, snow, and wind have been such today that the Ghetto is only at about 42 degrees Fahrenheit and frankly the Caretaker's fingers are too cold and sore to do any further typing. He was supposed to pick up more propane when he was on the mainland on Saturday but totally forgot so he has to conserve what he has left, if all goes as planned he'll get more tomorrow.
--The Caretaker
Thursday, February 26, 2009
TCC for 2/26/09
The Caretaker's Concern 2/26/09
Not much to report on from the Island for today, having a bit of a heat wave which is supposed to be joined by some rain for tomorrow. The Caretaker would prefer to have it otherwise but if it must be rain hopefully it will be enough to wash all the snow from the ice so ice skating may be enjoyed once again. As promised today's post is his journal entry from one of the times he nearly died on the Lake, however, before that, lest anyone has missed it:
--The Caretaker
2/26/09
Journal entry from 8/20/2005
(What follows is a slight expansion on his notes, prior to reading over this journal entry for the first time since he wrote it the Caretaker did not realize how rough the notes were and due to time constraints the remainder of this journal entry shall be published over the next few days.)
Part 1:
Much of the day was uneventful, cleaned up the Ghetto a bit, shaved (during which I noticed my shaving cream was misplaced, could not find it, still curious as to where it is or who made off with it--made do with someone else's).
Come the afternoon I started to get my sailboat rigged and ready for sailing. Above and beyond what was needed for daytime sailing I also brought along running lights and a headlamp to do some night sailing.
Set sail at around 4:30 p.m. Wind from the South on the Lake, quite strong, gusty at times. This was the first time I took the boat sailing since the Summer I bought it (2003). Sailed it a number of times that first Summer but never put it in the water for 2004. Having not sailed in over a year I was a bit rusty at first but after a short while started to get back into the groove.
The sky was a touch clouded making for some mild haze that muted the light of the Sun, without it glaring down unfiltered it made for some beautiful sailing. As the Sun reached closer and closer to the horizon its light reflecting off the water colored the waves in pinks, golds, and chromes. Good to be back on the water, sailing serves up a great distraction.
As the Sun was starting to set I attached the bow light by its suction cup base. It held well and during tacks it appeared to not be in the way of the jib or its sheets. I then attached the stern light to the rudder, it held fast to the rudder with no problem. Satisfied that the running lights worked and would not fall off the boat I continued to sail into the the night tacking South towards Lake George Village. Once the dark of night engulfed the sky I brought out my handheld air horn and headlamp. Unfortunately the elastic strap to my headlamp got wet so it did not fit as securely as it normally would. For some reason I never tried to tighten it, I suppose I figured it would be okay as it was. I pulled the air horn from the hatch and tied it to a line on the boat. With running lights on I continued to sail on through the night.
I made it to the Lake George Club, then sailed on with the intention of sailing all the way to the Southern shore of Lake George Village.
Then it occurred to me not to do this.
The night had become cloudy and there was no moonlight because of it. There was also a bit of low-lying haze, overall, not a good night for sailing on a Lake that has many motorboats out and about at night. After recognizing the conditions I made the decision to turn down wind and return to the Island. Was able to keep the boat in a full run for most of my return trip to the Island, however the boat is rather temperamental and tippy when running with the wind. The jib loses wind quite easily. I made it to about halfway between the North peninsula of Basin Bay and Three Brother Islands, when I decided to drop the jib so I wouldn't have to continually manage it. I was tired of listening to it furling, continually losing and gaining wind, it and its sheets would continually wrap against the rigging. It was a good breeze blowing, the night was warm, a touch humid, rather pleasant sail back to the Island except for the racket from the jib, it was bringing down my good time, it was time to bring down the jib. Being my usually foolish self I gave a holler of "Down with the Jib!"
This would prove to be the beginning of my boat's undoing.
Part two will follow tomorrow.
--The Caretaker
Not much to report on from the Island for today, having a bit of a heat wave which is supposed to be joined by some rain for tomorrow. The Caretaker would prefer to have it otherwise but if it must be rain hopefully it will be enough to wash all the snow from the ice so ice skating may be enjoyed once again. As promised today's post is his journal entry from one of the times he nearly died on the Lake, however, before that, lest anyone has missed it:
--The Caretaker
2/26/09
Journal entry from 8/20/2005
(What follows is a slight expansion on his notes, prior to reading over this journal entry for the first time since he wrote it the Caretaker did not realize how rough the notes were and due to time constraints the remainder of this journal entry shall be published over the next few days.)
Part 1:
Much of the day was uneventful, cleaned up the Ghetto a bit, shaved (during which I noticed my shaving cream was misplaced, could not find it, still curious as to where it is or who made off with it--made do with someone else's).
Come the afternoon I started to get my sailboat rigged and ready for sailing. Above and beyond what was needed for daytime sailing I also brought along running lights and a headlamp to do some night sailing.
Set sail at around 4:30 p.m. Wind from the South on the Lake, quite strong, gusty at times. This was the first time I took the boat sailing since the Summer I bought it (2003). Sailed it a number of times that first Summer but never put it in the water for 2004. Having not sailed in over a year I was a bit rusty at first but after a short while started to get back into the groove.
The sky was a touch clouded making for some mild haze that muted the light of the Sun, without it glaring down unfiltered it made for some beautiful sailing. As the Sun reached closer and closer to the horizon its light reflecting off the water colored the waves in pinks, golds, and chromes. Good to be back on the water, sailing serves up a great distraction.
As the Sun was starting to set I attached the bow light by its suction cup base. It held well and during tacks it appeared to not be in the way of the jib or its sheets. I then attached the stern light to the rudder, it held fast to the rudder with no problem. Satisfied that the running lights worked and would not fall off the boat I continued to sail into the the night tacking South towards Lake George Village. Once the dark of night engulfed the sky I brought out my handheld air horn and headlamp. Unfortunately the elastic strap to my headlamp got wet so it did not fit as securely as it normally would. For some reason I never tried to tighten it, I suppose I figured it would be okay as it was. I pulled the air horn from the hatch and tied it to a line on the boat. With running lights on I continued to sail on through the night.
I made it to the Lake George Club, then sailed on with the intention of sailing all the way to the Southern shore of Lake George Village.
Then it occurred to me not to do this.
The night had become cloudy and there was no moonlight because of it. There was also a bit of low-lying haze, overall, not a good night for sailing on a Lake that has many motorboats out and about at night. After recognizing the conditions I made the decision to turn down wind and return to the Island. Was able to keep the boat in a full run for most of my return trip to the Island, however the boat is rather temperamental and tippy when running with the wind. The jib loses wind quite easily. I made it to about halfway between the North peninsula of Basin Bay and Three Brother Islands, when I decided to drop the jib so I wouldn't have to continually manage it. I was tired of listening to it furling, continually losing and gaining wind, it and its sheets would continually wrap against the rigging. It was a good breeze blowing, the night was warm, a touch humid, rather pleasant sail back to the Island except for the racket from the jib, it was bringing down my good time, it was time to bring down the jib. Being my usually foolish self I gave a holler of "Down with the Jib!"
This would prove to be the beginning of my boat's undoing.
Part two will follow tomorrow.
--The Caretaker
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