Excitement in Manjack Cay — Episode II

After several days anchored in Manjack Cay it was time to leave, not because we had run out of places to explore, but because the Manjack anchorage was not a good place to receive the upcoming strong west wind. Just the usual drill.

The next morning started relatively calm. We had not even started to think about weighing anchor when we were hit all of a sudden by a 50-knot microburst ahead of a squall. The burst came from a wide angle with respect to the wind that had been blowing, which caused the anchor rode to go slack and the boat to gather speed until she reached a far point of her swinging circle and was stopped by the anchor… or so one would have hoped. Our trusty Rocna is a good anchor but it’s not a magic one. If you want to upset your anchor, that’d be the best way: a sudden load from a different direction. So, no, the boat didn’t really stop. At least not immediately. She just slowed down her approach to the nearby rocks. We dragged the anchor for about 200 feet (60m), just enough not to hit the rocks, and it happened so suddenly that there was little time to even understand what was going on, let alone to do anything about it. The first thing I managed to do was to turn the engines on. When you are on the verge of panicking the last thing you need is high-pitched alarms but that’s what I got when I turned the electronics on. They dutifully and loudly reported what I already knew. Beeeeeep! You are dragging the anchor! Beeeeep beeeeeep! The water is getting shallow! Beeeeep beeeeeep beeeeeep! Do something!

It didn’t help that the tide was at the lowest and the bottom didn’t provide the best holding. Thankfully, the anchor bit the ground and held us with about a foot of water to spare under our rudders. My concern was that if the wind direction changed just 30 degrees we would swing too close to a rocky point. Since the wind had dropped to under 30 knots, we decided to retrieve the anchor and get the hell out of there. Did I mention that by then water and electricity were pouring from the sky as if there was no tomorrow? So, yes, precisely under conditions when it’s advisable to stay in the cabin Kathy went to the bows to guide me towards the anchor as I drove the boat and pulled the chain in with the electric windlass. Loud noise from wind and thunder, low visibility, stirred waters, heavy rain, the wind forcibly pushing the boat to one side or the other while I wanted to go straight and slowly… it was not the best environment for coordinated and smooth maneuvers. I heard an ugly noise and the boat shook under my feet. I wasn’t sure what was going on. Kathy came back to the cockpit. Did we touch bottom? Did a propeller hit the anchor chain? The fact that we were now broadside to the wind a waves—which by then were getting quite large—was a strong hint that perhaps the chain had wrapped around the daggerboard. Seeking more evidence we tried to winch the daggerboard but it refused to move up or down. Suspicion confirmed. We are in trouble.

The anchor was holding, but the situation was very chaotic with the waves hitting us on the side. We heard the pile of dirty dishes in the galley falling to the floor and Kathy successfully sprinted down the stairs to save our precious batch of kombucha from getting spilled on the floor, scoby and all. She has a good sense of priorities: Oliver, kombucha, the rest of the universe, in that order. That’s why I like her.

I had no idea how we were going to get out of that tangle. Dangerous as it was, I decided to take a look to better understand what was going on and perhaps devise a plan. When lighting started to subside I got my snorkel and mask and dived in. It was scary both above and underneath the surface, but in different ways. Above, the boat moved up and down wildly, the waves slapped on the hulls, the wind howled and the rain hit my head. Below, the water was gentler and the noise was muffled, but it was dark. Still, I could see half a turn of chain around the port daggerboard. The chain had started to saw through the trailing edge of the daggerboard. It didn’t look good, but it wasn’t a disaster either. Just one extra item in the repair list. A plan didn’t immediately come to mind but at least I had the clarity of knowing what not to do: I wasn’t going to risk my limbs trying to dislodge that chain. I climbed back to the boat and soon after the wind decreased some more and the boat somehow freed herself.

Dripping salty water I took back the controls, we finished the interrupted maneuver, and left the anchorage wondering what the other two boats thought of the show.