Back again in Pirate's Cove, tied to the volunteer host dock. Apart from one very rainy and stormy day (stormy outside the cove) all is sunshine, pleasant temperatures and calm winds. That is not to say, that the usual complement of hapless sailors does not put in an appearance.
As the tides are unusually high at present, all of the attempts of running over the reef blocking the entrance had no consequences, except that the clueless helmsmen did unfortunately NOT learn from their mistakes - yet. The daily entertainment was not short of captivating highlights, though, as getting into the cove is only part of the challenge, anchoring and stern tying is the other part.
One obviously rooky sailor anchored his boat in the cove entrance, then rowed his dinghy ashore with a rats-nest of line, tied it to a ring ashore, and rowed back direction stern of boat. Line too short, people on board helpless.By that time I had rowed over as well and pointed out that they effectively plugged the narrow entrance for any traffic, including the infrequent float plane. They hoisted their hook and motored 'further in', and went to the same process of shore tying again, rats nest still intact.
I offered to take care of the bundle of line and row it back to his boat, whilst the retrieved his wayward dinghy and got back on his boat. Meanwhile yours truly was fighting with the rat's nest, which I untangled foot by foot and rowed the resulting line towards the waiting boat, Of course, the 'string' was a few yard short of sufficient. The boat crew looked at a loss, I suggested they lengthen their anchor chain a bit and meet me for the rest of the distance. Done, but still a bit short. The 'ladies' aboard had settled down to take the sun, the captain observed alertly but inactive...what now brown cow? Another easing of lines, and a strong suggestion that they lean over the stern or get into the dinghy to get hold of their string which I was still straining to deliver to their boat. Oh, finally, the penny dropped. One barefooted cutie climbed into her dinghy and relieved my of the stern tie string. Every neighbouring boat was getting out their fenders to prepare for the actual tie up scene - I fled.
Next morning, with the wind at 24 knots outside the Cove, the very same boat decided to head out into the tempest. (Most everyone else had battened down the hatches and stayed in the calm cove to await fairer winds). Off they headed for the exit, where they threw their boat in full steam reverse. They kept it in reverse for about half a mile, until reaching my host dock.
'How do we get out, it's only seven feet deep?' they asked, their dollar store table cloth, doubling as an ensign, fluttering in the strong breeze. 'What do you draw', I asked.
'Six and a half feet', was the answer.
As tide was almost at highest flood level, that was as high as it was going to get....
I gave them the cruising guide step by step explanation, cautioned dead slow....and off they crept, in forward this time. Plenty of depth in the entrance, if one knows where to go....
Bit of a clash between three boats, two trawlers and a sailboat, each with it's own characteristic:
Trawler one, almost hysteric with fear of anchoring...wife looked terrified. Suggested they anchor in most unobstructed part of cove. Took some time, as husband rigged an anchor marker (looks like a crab trap, and acts like a propeller trap in crowded anchorages) and set the anchor with so much scope, that his swinging room took up half the anchorage.
Trawler two, handled by three guys, two of which on the higher side of eighty, the other 'the son' of one of them. They drove way into the Cove, dropped their anchor and let out a bit of chain, and then threw their vessel into energetic reverse. Their anchor must have plowed half a mile of underwater furrow into the mud below (maybe Arkansas Farmers in retirement???) without the anchor grabbing hold. Then they stopped the boat, got into the cockpit and got out the gin bottles.
Sailboat - last of the arriving trio - enters cove at a good clip, charges past the host float towards the shoals and rocks beyond at full speed. I shout to them just in time for them to reverse...and they decide to anchor between the two 'interesting' trawlers. Not an easy undertaking, which was accompanied by a lot of spousal yelling and gesturing, and a sailboat whipping around a well set anchor, when finally peace set in. At least for a while..
Then the three boat crews got into a turf war, in other words, who owns what piece of anchoring space. Nervous Nelly staked his claim, the inebriated trio added a few pieces of their mind, couple on sailboat got back into yelling mode (this time directed at the 'outsiders', but finally weighed anchor and stern tied beside the host float.
And so it goes....
