THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, April 16, 1995 TAG: 9504130165
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 06 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: Ron Speer
LENGTH: Medium: 72 lines
Mother Nature, not always the kindest of souls, has welcomed me to sailing in the Albemarle.
It wasn't the warmest of welcomes. In fact, it was downright nasty, my first real taste of the winds that rake the inland waters of North Carolina.
On shore, it was a balmy Sunday, fresh breezes purring through the pines.
On the water, the winds were howling.
I thought about calling off the trip out of Manteo to Colington Island to meet fellow sailors, but the southwest winds didn't seem that bad, maybe 20 to 25 knots. (My first mistake - in a small sailboat, if you even think about it being too windy, it IS too windy.)
So off we went, downwind, racing along with only a small headsail flying. It was great fun, just what I'd hoped for when I moved here last year. But the winds were piping up, and when we reached our friend's boat, the Seanachie, we agreed this wasn't the time for socializing, and quickly turned for home.
Bang! The 24-foot Gypsy was hammered by the choppy waves as we headed into the wind, and we had to raise the main sail to make headway against the gale.
It was hard going, wet and rough. When we reached the narrow channel to Manteo, the wind was on our nose and no longer could we sail, since the channel isn't wide enough to tack back and forth in heavy winds.
I decided to start the outboard motor and power on home, but it faltered, then quit for good.
With the winds in the 30s and gusting higher, my wife was not a happy camper, particularly since this was supposed to be but an afternoon sail and dinner guests were on the way. My son, I'm afraid, quietly was wondering if I knew what I was doing. I wondered the same thing myself as we drifted toward shallow water.
I dropped the anchor so we could think about solutions that would get us back to Manteo before dark. We came up without an answer, so I finally swallowed my pride and got on the radio to see if a power boat was around to tow us home. No luck.
So we decided, with night approaching, to sail downwind to Colington and find a place to dock.
But the wind was pounding the boat so heavily that I was unable to get the anchor up. (Another mistake - before I dropped it in those winds I should have tied a trip line to the anchor so I could pull it out of the sand to the boat. And yet another goof - I didn't think to run the anchor line to a winch so I could put some muscle on it.)
I cut the line, which popped like a bullet when it snapped, put up the main sail and raced downwind to Colington, about eight miles away. We'd never been there, but we made it before dark and it's a lovely harbor. The winds were still wild, however, and I was leery of sailing into a dock. So we dug out my spare anchor. (First time in 10 years that I'd needed it. My, was I glad I carried it around all that time.)
We brought the boat into the wind, Erik dropped the anchor, and slowly let out line as the wind pushed us perfectly alongside a pier.
I awaited the applause for a rather nice maneuver from strolling passers-by, but they apparently thought it was a routine docking.
I was delighted that we were safely moored, and that we had passed the key test after a rough day on the water: Everyone who started came home, and nobody got hurt.
And our '95 debut proved once again that each sailing trip provides a new adventure.
Never before had I cut loose an anchor, radioed for assistance or drifted a boat backward to a pier.
And I learned in one long afternoon that just because the waves aren't as big and the sounds aren't as wide as other waters on which I've cruised, sailing the Albemarle can be a humbling experience. by CNB