Hurricane Log

October 8, 2018

I left the Apalachicola Maritime Museum dock about noon after tying down the Museum’s kayaks. I thought about getting fuel, but the wind was so strong I figured the eight gallons I had onboard would be sufficient. It was hard retrieving my kedge (anchor), and the boat just circled the place where it held (it had done a yeoman’s job of keeping my shrouds off the Museum docks), and the line was covered with spiny brown growth, quite unpleasant and messy. 

I motored up the river between 3 and 4 knots. My new Isotherm refrigerator worked great, keeping the icebox quite cold and running at full speed when the engine’s alternator raised the voltage. I tried my Simrad tiller pilot, but its electrical connections were bad and I had to steer by hand (as usual). Later, with some WD40 lent from my friend Mike, I got it working.

I arrived at Saul Creek and turned up. I found a reasonable spot and noticing how the shrimp boats were tucked into the North bank. I figured they must know something, so I dropped anchor and set it fairly close to the bank. To set the anchor securely, I motored in reverse and was rewarded by the boat lurching as the anchor set solidly. I was pretty happy with the solid set. Then I used the dinghy to run a line from the stern to a handy Tupelo tree on the bank. Except for the line, my location was a mistake, as when the wind later came blowing from the Southeast, it drove me into the bank. Also, I thought I had set the big Rocna anchor well, but it turned out I snagged a cypress log, which negated the anchor’s function (it dragged).

I used the dinghy to set a kedge to keep my bow away from the bank. Unfortunately, this did not hold well, either. So, when the big winds came, I had nothing to hold me away from the bank!

October 9, 2018

The afternoon was clear and almost calm. After my lunch I set up my new solar panel kit, which helped the battery condition. In the evening, I watched a movie. Then, wind came up and I found my anchor had dragged. I winched it in until it was free of the bottom, but I could not winch it all the way, not even visible, because it was so heavy due to the big log it was attached to, but I motored out into the middle of the channel and let it go.

One thing after another kept me sleepless and tired, until I finally dozed off.

October 10, 2018

I woke up with the sight of trees above the hatch, a bit shocking to a boater. I ate a little, then returned to winching, when I discovered the big log trapped in the anchor’s mouth. I tried to motor out away from the bank, but made no progress. Finally, I just dropped the anchor-log where I was a few yards away from the bank, figuring the Tupelo trees would take care of me.

Now it is raining and windy. The radio says that in two to four hours, the full force of Hurricane Michael will hit. I remain at the mercy of the elements. I lay down for a rest.

I woke up to the sound of tree branches scraping the boat. I was on the creek bank, tucked into a grove of Tupelo trees.Going forward, I pulled the anchor by flashlight (careful to not jam the chain in the winch). When it emerged, I saw the Cypress log I had snagged which had prevented the anchor from digging in and causing it to drag along the bottom. Figuring an anchor snagged into a Cypress log was better than nothing, I dropped it to the bottom, maybe eight feet below. I also believed that I would be safe in my Tupelo grove, as I have a great affection for these trees. The fact was that I was snugged up against a lot of vegetation that kept my boat out of the forest, and the kindly trees would buffer me from loss.

The wind increased into a howling scream. About 1 in the morning, I felt the strongest wind I had ever felt. It almost pushed the boat on its side. Everything hummed, and the sky seemed full of light, probably sheet lightning. That force lasted only a few seconds, then subsided to the normal by now howling scream. Then, the same gusting happened again, subsided for half an hour, before another powerful, awesome gust. After that, the howling decreased slowly, then faded away. The big storm was over. My boat had been strong enough to withstand it! 

Later, the wind was still strong, maybe 45 knots, and I became aware of lots of scraping and banging noises against the hull. I went on deck and by flashlight, tied to trees fore and aft and used my machete to cut intruding branches. I saw that I had lost my loudspeaker (no big loss) and broke my topping lift, the thin line that holds the boom up when not under sail (a big loss requiring a climb to the mast head to repair). One annoying, stout branch was scraping against the hull, causing a screech, so I tied a cloth on its end and tied it up using the jib winch. I also had to retrieve my tiller pilot, knocked overboard and secured only by its power cord. All secure, I went to bed.

I woke up alert at 3:30am with the thought that when the flood water subsided, I would be left grounded, causing a call to Sea Tow and another $1000! By this time, the wind had almost died. So, I started the engine and pulled up my anchors. To my relief, the main anchor’s Cypress log was gone! I untied my lines and motored out into the middle of the creek, aimed at the wind direction, slowed down and when stopped, dropped my little anchor, a Fortress “lunch hook” and thought it was set. I went back to bed and some sleep.

About half an hour later, a strong bang woke me. I thought it was a drifting log. Then, another bang caused me to look out the window, and there was my friend Mike Young’s sailboat! I was drifting in the current, with my little anchor merrily dragging along. 

I dropped the big Rocna anchor and watched my position. I determined that I was still drifting down the creek, towards the Apalachicola River. I went forward again and working by flashlight, loosed another hundred feet of chain and rope. I cleated off and waited and was rewarded by a nice thump, telling me that the anchor had set. I went to bed again and slept soundly until daybreak.

In the morning I had some breakfast and tried the radios. All silent. A friend came by in a motorboat and gave me the frequency for NPR in Panama City and told me some news. Apalachicola was a mess. The City Marina had flooded with more than six feet of water. Whole docks and boats were just gone, scattered to the marshes. He also said that the city of Mexico Beach, landfall for Michael, was just gone.

After the storm comes the cleanup. I spent an hour or more just sweeping, picking, and dumping branches and leaves that seemed to be everywhere. Then I rowed up Saul Creek and retrieved my almost two hundred feet of tie line from its tree (I felt very fortunate to find it). When all was ready, I started the engine and pulled my Rocna anchor. It seemed to take forever and used up almost all my strength because I had run out so much chain and line. Normally, I would use the engine to drive up to the anchor and pull it straight out, but the transmission has a quirk that sometimes it won’t go into forward gear solidly, slipping, and that was the case. I used the slipping power to help and got the anchor up. Then I was drifting and did not have enough power to maneuver. So, instead of hitting my friend’s boat or running into the bank, I drove in reverse all the way to the Apalachicola River! This was fun because reverse had always baffled me in this boat (a double-ender, Southern Cross 31) and I found through trial and error how to go backwards accurately. Out in the middle of the Apalachicola, I stopped and planned to raise the sail. However, I chanced to try forward and the boat sped on its way. Because of the current, we sometimes made almost 9 knots on the return trip.

My friend said that Apalachicola was a mess and he planned to stay on Saul Creek. But, I was out of fresh food and my stove would not work due to the lower level of diesel in the tank. I had not topped off the tank when I left Apalach (big mistake), and I had used enough fuel on the journey so the fuel level was below the stove’s feed line. So, I needed food and fuel.

Coming back, there were trees down everywhere on the river bank, and when I got close to town, I could see a big two-masted sailboat stranded in the marshes. The turning buoy was gone, but I turned by the Apalachicola Maritime Museum. There was scattered damage on the docks, but the building was still there. The fuel dock stunned me, though, as all the docks were smashed. No fuel there, so I went on to Gander’s Marine, which was also smashed. As I approached Scipio Creek Marina, I saw a man on the dock. I was glad because it is really hard to dock a big boat my oneself. I hailed him and he ignored me, curse the fellow, but it turned out he was just a plastic pirate figure for the bar! I managed to dock by myself, and now I am securely tied up to the Scipio Creek Marina fuel dock. Unfortunately, because of no power, they cannot pump any fuel, but the manager is happy to let me stay tied up until power is restored. I need a slip, so perhaps this little hurricane, having freed up quite a bit of space, will let me find one.

After securing the boat, I walked to my car and toured the town. Down trees everywhere. The waterfront is mostly gone. Mud from the storm surge and tree branches and leaves are everywhere. The Museum has an enormous pile of junk in front of it. One older building had its front blown off, revealing the inside shop where shelves neatly hold the mechanic’s things, untouched. 

Tamara’s restaurant set up a tented booth and busily cooked up all the food from their freezers and gave it out to all comers. Other people brought food from their freezers—all meat, beef, chicken, and fish—to cook up and give away. Other people brought ice—I don’t know from where since there is no power. It was very nice to talk to people and eat hot food for a change (well, it had only been two days since my stove quit working), even if it was hamburger. Eat what is given!!! My daughter, Lisa, showed up from Tallahassee, bringing food, water, and gasoline (not realizing I used diesel).

Apalach now has a 7 to 7 curfew, and it will be some time before power is restored and life will normalize. I am awed by the destruction. I should pitch in and help clean, but I am exhausted by days fighting elements, anchors, winches, chains, ropes, branches, machetes, leaves, driving boats. Since there is no cell service, I don’t know if Tallahassee is any better off than here. But at least my boat is safe, and I have family there and Lisa will take me there for a good rest.