A 40 Hour Nightmare

Not sure where to start. Perhaps a simple " we are now safe and warm," will cover the events of the last 48 hours, then again maybe not. If you are looking to read the abridged addition and not get caught up in the nasty details you should probably skip the next paragraph, if you are a mother of any of the fools on board you are required to skip the next paragraph.

We left Portland Maine after a mad dash to get everything onboard and untied the docklines as the engine purred on. Mototring out of the harbor with the full moon a risin' we all put on an extra layer of clothes and broke out to our own rendition of Schooner Fair's " I see the light of Portland Head." Steaming out past the most photographed lighthouse in the country our engine quickly and unexpectedly went to sleep, making our decision to set sail pretty easy. With the main and jib full of life we gently heeled over and began to settle in to the rhythm of the sea. It wasn't long before our problems began. The inflatable dingy hung low from the davits and began filling with water. With all hands on deck, David was hanging off the stern while Greg hung tightly to his pants. We managed to pull it from the cold water and secure it back to the davits hanging off the stern. With things back under control we sailed on wondering where the next issue would arrive. Just before 1 AM the line securing the dingy snapped. After wrestling the dingy free and towing it astern we decided to take in the jib to slow us down and head in to the wind as we decided what our next step would be for the dingy. While hauling in the jib we easily pulled in the line until we came to the frayed end helping us realize the furling line had broken under the strain of 20 knot winds. David sprang to the bow and hauled in the sail with the six inch piece of line remaining. The winds were building and we were able to lash the inflatable to the bow and sail on under only a reefed main sail. At four in the morning the batteries died causing us to lose our navigation lights and all lights below decks. With winds reaching 25-30 kts we were 19 miles off the coast of Maine in a gale, this was NOT the carribbean cruise I had dreamed about for the last year!

We tacked back toward the shore looking for some protection from the west wind. The seas were a solid 6 feet and sleeping down below is most easily compared to trying to sleep in a washing machine. With 100% cloud cover and temperatures in the low 30's we slogged on toward Gloucester. Realizing we needed to reach a port before dark we diverted toward the Merrimack river and decided to poke in to Newburyport. With the tide ebbing we needed to tack back out to sea in order to make the river mouth. Seemed simple enough until David yelled from the helm, "The winch, we need to get the jib down." The winch block had snapped under the constant strain. With the furling line completely useless Sean made his way to the bow as it continued to be submerged in the face of the oncoming waves. Wrestling the jib down and below decks, we continued on with only our reefed mainsail. The sun was setting quickly and we realized our entry to the unlit Merrimack would have to happen under dark skies.

With the current flowing out of the river at 5 knots we inched along into the blackness knowing there were stone jetties on each side of us. About half a mile up the river, the wind was on our nose and we decided to throw the anchor knowing our unlit boat was dangerously close to the channel. We notified the Coast Guard and they came out with their 47 foot boat to look at our position and possibly tow us in to port. With the anchor line extending from our bow at a 90 degree angle the coast guard told us we were most certainly aground. How did we run aground and not even know it? Unable to tow us in, they felt awful and thought it a good idea to set up a COM Schedule which meant they called us every half hour throughout the night. At high tide we floated free, but at two in the morning the wind was still and there was no sailng to deeper water. We waited another nine hours until the tide was giving us the lift we needed.

[Enter Pete, stage right] Pete Jones (the best brother-in-law I have) drove down an extra marine battery. What had taken us 40 miserable hours, took him an hour to drive. Our spirits began to rise with the boat, as our engine rose from the dead with a new battery. At this point we realized it had simply been a battery connection to the main switch that had disconnected. We motored in to Newburyport and took the first mooring we saw. Pete introduced us to the harbormaster who mentioned he had a friend who might be able to help us out with the winch. Ralph, the harbormaster, introduced us to Jim Corbin, AKA the man of Newburyport. Jim has the most amazing workshop ever with every tool imaginable. Jim said he would be able to come take a look at the winch in a couple of hours.

Jim spent about 20 minutes looking at the winch and ran back to his shop to pick up the neccesary pieces. By five that night we had the winch fixed and in working order. His generous help had put us in position to keep moving but with one gale under our belts we realized we needed to significantly slow down and wait a little longer for our weather windows to open. Momma and Papa Patch made the trip down from Maine to provide us with some warm words of encouragement and a hot bowl of chowder. From there we made our way to the Midwood home in Salem, NH. They welcomed us with pizza, beer and an assurance that it would be warm and dry. We now sit sipping tea and coffee enjoying the lights of a christmas tree.

The weather is looking quite unfriendly through Sunday so we will be patient and wait for friendlier skies and swells. So far we have been helped in amazing ways by people we never knew. To all of you we are grateful.