There Are Two Kinds of Sailors

There is a saying among boaters that there are “two kinds of sailors…those who have run aground and those who have yet to.”  For the first 15,000 nautical miles we sailed we were part of the first group.  After our trip to the Aeolian Islands off Sicily, we are now firmly part of the second.

We had completed an overnight sail from Agropoli on the mainland of Italy to the Aeolian island chain, north of Sicily.  It was an exhausting passage because we had a swell on the beam and were rolling side to side for most of the night.  We had timed the passage so that we would pass one of the islands – Stromboli – before daybreak.  Stromboli is an active volcano with hot red lava flows that can be seen clearly at night.  Unfortunately for us, there was no lava flow when we passed.  Undaunted, we proceeded to Panarea Island where an anchorage would offer us protection from the prevailing conditions.  We arrived and dropped the hook around 8:30am.  The anchorage was small and a little cramped with other boats but good enough.  We had a great breakfast of pancakes.  A large fishing boat in the next cove over left so we decided to up the anchor and move Benevento over a little bit, to give us (and our neighbors) some breathing space.  Soon thereafter – just as we were falling asleep for a well-deserved nap – the wind started to pick up and shifted, leaving us (and all the other boats) exposed to the growing seas and on a lee shore.  We were hobby horsing uncomfortably and close to some rocks, so we upped anchor again and started to make way for another nearby island.  As we were leaving, the wind picked up to 30 knots, then 35. We had our pilot guide out and we were trying to determine what anchorage on what island would provide us the most protection.  As we were figuring this out, the wind clocked around 180 degrees on the nose and then promptly died.

We decided to head for Vulcano Island, which had an anchorage on both its northwest and northeast sides, fairly close to one another.  Depending on the weather conditions, we could find good shelter in either anchorage.  We entered the small anchorage on the west side as the wind had been blowing out of the east and there was a sizable swell rolling into the east anchorage.  The small west anchorage was nearly full with cruisers and a bunch of charter boats.   We slowly motored in and asked a British boat on the edge of the anchorage how the hold was and where his anchor is (so that we wouldn’t drop our anchor on top of his.)  We dropped the hook but were not very happy with our position as we were quite close to an unoccupied mooring buoy.   If a local boat occupied that buoy, we’d have to move.   By now, it was time for dinner so I made some pasta and we ate in the cockpit to keep an eye on things.  As I was washing the dishes, Dante said that someone was picking up the mooring buoy.  Darold popped up above and saw a very large commercial dredging boat – something we definitely wouldn’t want to bump into.  Darold said, “Mi despeace, andiamo subito!” (I’m sorry, we’re leaving right away.) They looked at him and nodded with a smile indicating, “Yes, I think it would be best if you move too.”  So we had to up anchor once again –the fourth time today.

We snaked our way slowly through the anchorage to where it looked like there was room for one more boat, but it would be in shallow water.  We draw very little 1.6 meters (5’ 2”).  The depth sounder was showing the water shallowing, but nothing alarming and we were over sand.  After all the shallow water sailing we’ve done on this trip, we are comfortable slowly motoring over a soft bottom, so if we kiss the ground we can easily back off.  A technique perfected in the Bahamas.  Then the depth sounder shallowed quickly to 0.5 feet.  Darold quickly eased into neutral and just as quickly the depth sounder shot to two feet and increasing.  We figured the bow (were the depth sounder is located) had glided over a shallow spot, but since we are turning back out of the shallow waters we should be clear.  NOPE! As we turned back into the anchorage, we weren’t able to complete our turn. We weren’t moving.  The bow was free (moving up and down) but our stern was stuck.  I looked at Darold and said, “Are we aground?!” He looked at me and said, “Yep.”  Crap, I said! Darold then stated this was his plan to try “anchor-free anchoring” and that it would be a very comfortable night for us, without fear of dragging!

The first thing Darold wanted to know was whether we were resting on the rudder so he asked me, “Can you turn the rudder?”  I confirmed I could so he surmised we were on the skegg, and not the rudder, which can easily support the weight – especially in the bathtub calm waters we were in.  (Unfortunately that would soon be changing).

There was a French boat just in front of us and I yelled over to them asking the depth.  They told us three meters.  I told them we were aground but they were confused due to the fact that our bow was free and our mast was moving back and forth so we didn’t “look” like we’d run aground.  Finally, they understood.  They didn’t have a dinghy but they still offered to help and so Darold heaved them a line (using a monkey fist made by Darold’s uncle, thanks Richard), so they could help pull us off using their winch.  Or at a bare minimum prevent our bow from blowing down into possible shallower water.  They tried to winch us off but we still were not moving.  So – on to Plan #2, we needed to kedge off.

Kedging off is a method for pulling your boat free using an anchor (usually your stern anchor).   This requires taking an anchor in your dinghy as far as possible from the boat, where you drop.  Then you wrap the other end of the anchor rode around a winch and try to pull yourself free.  Problem:  our dinghy is all secured to our davits and the engine is not on it.  It would take some time to get set up and to get all our equipment ready to go.  So…. I called over to a nearby charter boat to see if they could take their dinghy (with a small motor) and help kedge us off.  They shrugged their shoulders at us and explained that their dinghy motor was too small to help (rubbish).  But they didn’t mind  watching our predicament for entertainment purposes.  So, Darold began preparations to get our dinghy in the water and put the engine on.

Before Darold even got started, the man from the British boat came up in his dinghy and said, “Are you aground?”  Darold confirmed we were, and the British man said, “I would have come over earlier but I didn’t realize you were aground because I saw your mast moving.”  He agreed to assist Darold kedging us off, and they worked out a plan.

As I was handing the stern anchor line to the British man, I introduced myself and Dante.  He said his name was Phil, to which I replied, “Well, today you are HelpPhil!”  Phil dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head.  Dante said, “She can’t help it.  She’s punny.” Phil was laughing as he took the anchor and rode off our stern quarter and set it in, then Darold ran it through a block and began trying to winch us off.  Unfortunately, we weren’t budging.  Meanwhile, the French boat was still holding a line from our bow boat.  Now the wind has piped up to 20 knots, but very little fetch – calm water.

Then the French boat suggested that they take our halyard to their boat.  Darold said, “Of course!  Why didn’t I think of that?”  The reason for this is that they can take the halyard, and pulling on it will cause our boat to heel (lean) which will reduce our draft (depth in the water) helping to free us.  Our spinnaker halyard was too short so Darold tied an extra length of line to it and Phil ferried the line over to them in his dinghy. Darold made the sign of the cross to the people on the French boat and they laughed.

Darold kept winching us in at the stern as the French boat pulled our mast over, making us heel over to starboard.  Dante was watching the clinometer (a gauge that shows how many degrees you are heeling) and kept us abreast.  “Five degrees!  Seven degrees!  Ten degrees!”  Ten was our lucky number as we popped off the shallow patch and were free and clear.  Woo hoo!  We were free!  Darold had the French released the bow line so that we were only being held with the stern anchor feathering our stern into the wind.

Now we had to back up through the charter boats in the anchorage, which would require dumping the stern anchor line overboard.  We had 150 feet of line swimming around our prop potentially as we backed out, so we needed to make sure it was clear of us.  So instead, Darold coiled up the extra stern line securing it as a single bundle and gave it to Phil in his dinghy, then Darold released the line from a quick release snatch block and Phil zipped it away in his dinghy at a 90 degree angle from the boat so we wouldn’t get fouled, then he dumped it in the water free and clear of the prop.  Earlier, Darold had attached a float to the anchor line so that we could retrieve it and the anchor later.

We re-anchored on the edge of the anchorage so that Darold and Dante could retrieve the stern anchor and also distribute gifts (booze) to the two boats that had helped us.  We gave a bottle of Primitivo wine from the Puglia region of Italy to Phil (“My favorite!” he said) and we gave a bottle of Sambuca to the French boat. “Wat is zees?” they said.  Darold assured them that they were in for a treat. “Put it in your coffee! And have a corretto” he said.

There were too many boats in the anchorage, the wind had piped up, and we were now all on a lee shore.  We were at risk of playing “bumper boats” if conditions worsened.  So –  as it was getting dark we pulled up anchor and motored to the anchorage on the other side of the island, which would make this our 6th time anchoring for the day (if you count our “anchor-free anchoring” incident.)

As we approached the next anchorage, we were hoping there would be some shallow water.  The chart shows good anchoring, but the depth as we approached shore was 90 feet and not dropping.   Finally, as we got closer, the depth quickly dropped to a manageable 30 feet of water.  You could easily imagine the volcano sloping downward into the sea, accounting for the steep angle of the bottom.  The two anchorages are separated by a short footpath on the island and we could see the anchor lights of the boats in the other anchorage; they were all bouncing back and forth.  Happy to be out of that anchorage!  Later confirmed by Phil that is got a little dicey and he was on anchor watch through the night.

We motored slowly into the anchorage in the dark, taking care to avoid a charted reef and dropped the hook in 30 feet of water. It was difficult to tell where the reef was, but using the anchor lights of the boats in the other anchorage as a reference point, we were able to determine where the reef should be and avoid it successfully.

A few days later, Phil and Alison from Bagheera (the British boat who helped us) came to our side of the island and we spent a good amount of time with them; we climbed to the top of the volcano and had dinner on each other’s boats.  If running aground is the cost for making great new friends, like the couple from Bagheera, then I guess running aground has its benefits.

When we re-hashed the incident with Phil, he politely informed us, “You’ve only run aground once?  We’ve done it three times.  You’re barely in our club.”

Now we spent our days relaxing and waiting for Reg and Phoebe of Three Sheet to meet us in Volcano.

Anchor