a really good samaritan .......... from P

It was the first time on Senara (or any boat) where I really thought we were in danger of losing the boat. We have carefully followed the weather down here - especially over the past week. It has been a constant and uncomfortable pattern of 15 to 25 out of the north with 30 knot gusts. Each night is the same - all night. On Monday, the wind was a steady 15 to 20, with a forecast of a very strong front to pass through Monday night. So we set out of the Boca Chica inlet and set a goal of getting into Marathon harbor before the really bad stuff set in. But no-one predicted the now infamous "freak storm" (as the newspaper called it). There are precious few harbors in the keys that offer protection from all wind directions. You usually have to pick your spot based on a single wind direction, but Marathon harbor is well protected all the way around. When we arrived Monday afternoon it became apparent that every other boat in the keys knew that too. The marinas were full, the mooring ball field was full, so we motored around trying to find a spot to anchor. There were already too many boats in the space available but we finally settled on a little gap on the perimeter of the group, between two boats, about 150 feet away from a shoal shelf (I could see birds standing on it). I knew we were anchored precariously, but no choices left. To reduce our potential swing area, I deployed a second anchor off the stern but there was not enough room to really set it hard without getting too close to the shoal. At sunset it had settled down and was blowing from the southeast at around 10. It would be incorrect to say the wind shifted - it was more like a solid mass of air that bowled over the earth from the opposite direction. The strength and suddenness of this wind is indescribable. Emergency alerts were coming over the radio - apparently Marathon was the epicenter of this front (and we had worked so hard to get there!).



I am quoting from the local newspaper .... "There were 60 mile per hour winds at the Marathon airport on Monday night, and winds whipping as fast as 80 miles per hour moving over Freds Beds, near mile marker 54 in Marathon. At the Island Fish Company, a picnic table weighing 200 pounds, maybe more, flew through the restaurant, over the heads of people eating dinner, and landed safely on the other side. The storm that hit right around 8 PM on Monday was freakish and Marathon got the brunt of it." (Keynoter, Feb 4 edition).



When the wind wall hit Senara broadside, the stern anchor quickly gave way. We twirled around, and apparently wrenched the bow anchor out of the mud. Within a minute Senara was aground, pinned against the 1 foot deep shoal with steady 30 knot winds combined with the hurricane strength gusts pushing her harder and harder into the shoal. Blinding rain was hammering horizontally. By the time I could get my rain gear on and scramble up on deck, Senara was listing badly. Each big gust heeled us over against the shoal shelf so far I had some trouble going up the ladder and through the hatch as cabinets were flying open and the sound of the shoal bottom could be heard on the port side hull. K and I hollered out an agreement that if necessary we would both sit up on the starboard side rail, hang onto the lifelines, and stay on the high side of the boat - even if the high side ended up being the starboard hull. Suddenly the big gusts settled down into a steady 15-20 knot wind, long enough for me to find the phone and call the emergency number for TowBoat U.S. The dispatcher told us the towboat would come when he could, but he had to wait for the wind to settle some, and he had other calls coming in at the same time. Then I checked the tide chart. Oh no! We were at high tide, so when the tide drops, we will truly be like some of the wrecks I have seen boats sitting on shoals around south Florida. We did not have time to wait, but I couldn't think of anything to do but just hang on.


I was looking through the rain with a spotlight trying to get a good look at our situation when I heard a dinghy motor. Lo and behold! Through the torrent I saw a dinghy headed in our direction. A very calm voice with a heavy Austrailian accent hollered "Could you use some help mate?" Ummm, yes. My first thought was to thank God that someone came to help. My second thought was that he must be crazy to be out here in a dinghy. He shouted an offer to follow our anchor lines out to the anchor location, pull it up into the dinghy, and carry it out away from Senara at a ninety degree angle so that I could use it as leverage to try to pull ourselves away from the shoal (a.k.a. kedging off). My spotlight and I watched in amazement as he pulled himself toward the end of our first anchor line, stood up in his inflatable dinghy, and wrestled the muddy anchor and mud filled chain up into the dinghy all while the rain and wind was pelting and howling. I directed him away at the best angle and fed out the line. I screamed "drop it" and heard a splash. He came back around to the other side of Senara and pushed against her hull as hard as the small motor would allow, while I pulled against the kedge anchor using the electric windlass. As we were pushing and pulling, the wind settled further, K got on the helm and gunned our engine, and after several minutes we broke free! Our good semaritan again picked up our anchors, carried them out at the best angle to hold us away from the shoal, and again threw them over. Afterward he motored over to us and said "looks like you should be OK now mate." We shook hands - he said his name was Don. K and I spent the rest of the night on deck fending off other boats as we all swung around in the swirling wind. But we were safe. Only because of an incredible selfless fellow boater/angel. Thank you Don wherever you are.