Jeff and Elise's very looooong day

Thursday, June 16, 2011 will be astericked.  It is the day we took our final exam in sailing.  The day before we had left Cape Canaveral and were motoring well off shore for North Carolina on a flat sea.  Neptune had other plans for us.

At 0552 hrs (5:52AM) our day suddenly began. The winds went from the predicted flat calm to the predicted 5-10 knot southwesterlies --perfect for us to sail on; we were just about to put up our sails.  The predicted winds lasted for less than 2 minutes before there was an unpredictd 45 to 50 knot wind from the Northeast.  How interesting.  The north-moving Gulf Stream doesn't take nicely to wind blowing from the opposite direction and the mill pond turned into a cauldron and then a tempest in about the time it takes for me to type this paragraph.  OH MY!!

What followed was a harrowing reminder of how frail terrestrial hominids are, how unforgiving the ocean can be, and the value of a well-built boat.  We faught for steering control for 5 1/2 hrs before the squall finally passed.  Elise gamely did her part despite intense mal de mer; she really showed her mettle--I've got the best wife!  The cabin was askew, but we were glad to have escaped.  Suddenly safe haven ashore looked like much better an idea than North Carolina. 

We knew about the prodigious tides in Jacksonville.  We also knew about the wide open pass into the St. Johns river which makes Jax a bustling seaport and Navy town and a safe haven from storms.  From noon to 10 PM we sailed 71 miles to arrive at the mouth of the river 20 minutes before high tide.  Another round a intense thunderstorms and gusty winds was blowing off the coast but, quite simply, missed us!  After riding the flood tide up the river we searched for an anchorage in the smoke.  The acrid smoke was hanging in the air from brush fires all over Georgia and Florida.  It was thick enough to be visible in the cabin lights down below. I had a fever with developing bronchitis, and the current made anchoring nearly impossible.  I lowered the anchor to 30 foot depths and raised it back up manually 5 times from midnight to 2AM. We then ran aground on a falling full-moon tide.  We had no idea if this was a perigean spring tide or not (it wasn't) but the ripping current told us we had only minutes to free ourselves or risk having the water level drop to the point of our boat tipping over!  We ran the engine at highest RPM in reverse; at first there was no response, then gradually we began to just inch clear and we were floating again!  The engine overheated but we were free.

One more attempt to anchor was made.  My muscles were aching by then, and the fever was sapping my strength.  The smoke was making it hurt to breathe and difficult to see Elise as she steered at the back of the boat from where I was standing at the front of the boat.  It started to drizzle.  The anchor held on the 6th attempt at a new location, although the chain was at a 60 degree angle to the bow in a 3-knot ebb tide.  The day markers swung like metronomes in the current as the water sluiced by us.  We watched the anchor in the smoke and drizzle until we were sure it was going to hold. I looked at my watch.  It was 5:52AM.  Our day was done.