After 12 years I still manage to utterly shock the hubby and myself… A 35+-year-old should be able to make quick and rational decisions, one might assume…
Suffering from insomnia and painful joints after three days of rolling back and forth might have some influence, but that’s no excuse for a sailor woman, is it? Imagine the gently rocking from side to side as in a trance with the difference that you can’t control the violent rolling and you’re at home, you just want to chill, watch a movie, prepare food or have dinner, just to name a few. Even taking a shower or using the toilet is made difficult.
As the day made way for the night, a boat left the completely full quay. Immediately pirate mama Gwen -who decided to live permanently on the quay in Palairos- shouted we should take the spot. We discussed it for a minute and ignored the eerie feeling we were experiencing. We hauled up our anchor from the muddy seabed, prepared the mooring lines, and ran the engine. Ready to leave our anchorage and move to the concrete wall.
Also, know as Walhalla for sailors; running water and electricity, good holding, and secure when the god of wind is blowing a hoolie. Perfect for us as we were much in need as our water bladders were punctured and during the rolling, we lost all our freshwater. Secondly, our batteries are old and mistreated by a clueless crew named Ramon and Lotte. Luckily they weren’t the newest so it’s an acceptable loss.
What can go wrong… went wrong
We left and try to park in the little tiny harbor in Palairos.
As you can see in the picture above the quay was on our starboard and the pontoon which is ridiculously close to the quay – at least in my newbie opinion, do you agree? – on our port side.
Mutiny has a full keel, she is not made to reverse, that’s why we always park bows to.
The propeller has the tendency to turn right in forwards, which translates into the bow going to port. To anticipate the big turning circle when turning starboard, we initiate our maneuver on the port side of the “waterway”. In order to position the boat at the correct angle, we need to drive a bit past the spot.
There was a gentle breeze, while Ramon turned to starboard, I dropped the anchor from our starboard stern and ran to the bow to throw out the mooring lines (these would be fastened in the rings on the quay).
All of a sudden the boat stopped abruptly. The wind pushed us sideways. We came way too close for comfort to another parked boat…
Apparently, our stern anchor line wasn’t coiled properly… -Guess who coiled it for the last time… Yup that was me. I thought it was done perfectly- It was tangled before the fairlead. The consequence was that the anchor bit too early and held Mutiny in the middle of the waterway. Mother nature thought this was excellent timing to gust a hoolie.
The next part was the most difficult for us both… Ramon had no choice but to reverse to avoid collisions… This meant we were going to prop wrap our gorgeous, smooth, strong, colorful line to get out of there.
When parking bows to, we throw out the kedge anchor. This is a second anchor, that is attached to a 10-meter chain and 30 meters line. The chain is there to give the line more weight and only 10 meters because that’s all the chain we have.
A prop wrap means that generally a line get’s wrapped around the prop. The tension on the prop increases as the line wraps around it multiple times. The engine can’t turn the prop over anymore and dies. In the episode beneath you can see our first prop wrap.
Don’t freak out, stay calm!
Heartbroken we reversed and hoped the rope cutter would do his work. The moment the engine died we were literally strung out. The line was frayed but how severe? Would it hold us longer?
Absolutely terrified, we tried to think fast to get the hell out of this dangerous situation. My logic brain 🧠 was suffering to think straight due to the deafening alarm that roared within my skull: “SHIT!!!, SHIT!!!, SHIIIIIIITTTTTTT!!! we might sink.”
I struggled immensely to switch it off and went into the water to try and undo the prop wrap. The sky was turning black and the visibility was close to nothing. We needed goggles to see… but I couldn’t find them because the alarm kept taking hold of me. In these situations, Ramon is the captain and he gives orders. I am just running around like a headless chicken.
Fortunately, he was able to think straight after letting it all out. He dropped our bow anchor and went in and pulled the line out of the rudder and started the engine which failed. SHIT!!! Again and failed again. SHIIIIITTTTT!!! On the third attempt, we were indulged by the black fumed, melodic purring of our Perkins engine. Mmmm that sound, I’m going to tape it and make it my ring tone one day.
Full throttle forwards and YES the rope cutter did his work. Whoever said that rope cutters are worthless, we need to talk again!!! We got back out the harbor to the anchorage, dropped the Cobra and sat down to comprehend what had happened.
Back to safety, right??
The following night we were welcomed back with the lovely, violent, rolling of the ocean. We catnapped 45 min in turns. In between the naps, we checked the boat because another boat anchored extremely close to ours.
After another night filled with trippy, twilight zone states of awareness, we fell into a nice, warm, stressfree coma. Mmmm the luxury of sleep for almost 30 min…. Of course, as we say in Flemish; beautiful songs don’t last that long and definitely don’t sound like: BAM CLANG WEDOWEE. That’s how we woke up, shit, shit, shit… Someone hit our boat. Yup the neighbor that was too close hit us…
We didn’t know where but we presume that it was our solar panel against his guardrail. There wasn’t any damage. We actively displayed the mantra of hauling up and dropping down the anchor and tried to sleep, to no avail. We installed toothpicks to keep our paranoid eyes open to watch every move of all the other boats around,. Another spot came free on the quay but we didn’t push our luck this time. Our mutual wish was sent into the universe, “close our vision to the world and rest”.
It worked. The following day we jumped out of bed and parked on the quay. Our little pumping hearts were in our throats, with shivering hands I threw out the stern anchor and it bit in the right spot and our mooring lines were successfully caught. Finally all was fine and our souls were energized by safety.
We were again warmly welcomed by the fishermen, locals, and expats who make Palairos the safe haven it is.
First thing tomorrow? Go fishing for our anchor. It might not make a good meal, but I have a feeling that this “hook” will come in handy one day.