angus99
Guru
SO relieved to see that lines wrapped around propshafts are a recurring theme.
There are two words to describe the first day of our delivery trip—the first time we ever ran the boat by ourselves—and the first word is “cluster.”
When my son and I started out from Palm Coast to bring Stella northward, I did exactly what I swore I wouldn’t . . . I pushed against a schedule. I was so rushed and pre-occupied with our late start from the marina, we headed south down the ICW instead of north and only noticed it about an hour later. So now we’re running even later against our goal to reach Fernandina by sunset.
Running at 7-9 knots depending on current, we actually did get there just after dark and tried to grab a mooring ball. I finally fished out a pennant and tried to hold a 44,000 lb boat against a strong current by hanging onto to it by hand. The pennant, which was covered in barnacles, was inexorably pulled through my hands and cut them to ribbons.
My son, on the helm, was distracted by my little drama and drifted over the pennant with one engine in gear. We shut it down immediately and considered our predicament while I bled profusely all over everything. I quickly discarded the idea of diving on the prop . . . in strange waters . . . in the dark . . . bleeding like a stuck pig . . . and forbade John to do it either. At the same time, I wasn’t keen on hanging stern-first on a pennant in a crowded mooring field and running the risk of letting it go during the middle of the night.
So I woke up the two gentlemen in the sailboat moored just down-wind of us and they could not have been kinder and more helpful. One of them got in their dinghy took our anchor back up-current where it set easily (Manson Supreme). I gave them a nice bottle of wine and endless thanks.
The next morning, a diver had the line untangled in about 30 seconds and reported that he saw no damage to the prop or shaft. We finally did something right and called a time out. We stayed on the ball an extra day and night and just recalibrated. Had a nice meal ashore, got some antiseptic for my hands and left with absolutely no schedule in mind the following morning.
By far, the worst part of this was explaining it to my wife.
There are two words to describe the first day of our delivery trip—the first time we ever ran the boat by ourselves—and the first word is “cluster.”
When my son and I started out from Palm Coast to bring Stella northward, I did exactly what I swore I wouldn’t . . . I pushed against a schedule. I was so rushed and pre-occupied with our late start from the marina, we headed south down the ICW instead of north and only noticed it about an hour later. So now we’re running even later against our goal to reach Fernandina by sunset.
Running at 7-9 knots depending on current, we actually did get there just after dark and tried to grab a mooring ball. I finally fished out a pennant and tried to hold a 44,000 lb boat against a strong current by hanging onto to it by hand. The pennant, which was covered in barnacles, was inexorably pulled through my hands and cut them to ribbons.
My son, on the helm, was distracted by my little drama and drifted over the pennant with one engine in gear. We shut it down immediately and considered our predicament while I bled profusely all over everything. I quickly discarded the idea of diving on the prop . . . in strange waters . . . in the dark . . . bleeding like a stuck pig . . . and forbade John to do it either. At the same time, I wasn’t keen on hanging stern-first on a pennant in a crowded mooring field and running the risk of letting it go during the middle of the night.
So I woke up the two gentlemen in the sailboat moored just down-wind of us and they could not have been kinder and more helpful. One of them got in their dinghy took our anchor back up-current where it set easily (Manson Supreme). I gave them a nice bottle of wine and endless thanks.
The next morning, a diver had the line untangled in about 30 seconds and reported that he saw no damage to the prop or shaft. We finally did something right and called a time out. We stayed on the ball an extra day and night and just recalibrated. Had a nice meal ashore, got some antiseptic for my hands and left with absolutely no schedule in mind the following morning.
By far, the worst part of this was explaining it to my wife.
