Michelle at the helm. A tanker in the distance over her right shoulder.
Memorial Day is when we remember those who died in the service of our country. This year, Michelle and I decided to use the three-day weekend to go sailing. We sailed on our boat from Solomons Island, MD to St. Michaels, MD, a distance of around 50 miles or so each way.
On the way there we had heavier than expected wind and swells. To make it more challenging we had to sail straight down wind. Contrary to what the uninitiated might think, straight down wind (referred to as running) is actually the most difficult point of sail. We got to the anchorage after a long day of sailing, dropped the hook, and had a nice dinner. About dark the winds picked up again and the water was choppy, even in the protected anchorage. About the time we were thinking of going to bed we noticed the anchor was not holding against the wind and waves. We were drifting out into the open waters of Eastern Bay. Michelle took over the helm and motor. I pulled up the anchor. In the dark we went through the process of anchoring all over again. By the time the work was done, and we sat at anchor long enough to have confidence in the hold, it was into the early hours of the morning. Thankfully the rest of that night was uneventful.
The next day was relaxing. We rode the water taxi into town for an enjoyable time together visiting the museum and food venues St. Michaels has to offer. Another water taxi ride back out to our boat finished the visit. Next, we pulled up anchor again. This time to motor into the harbor marina in order to refill our fuel tank in case the wind would not cooperate back to Solomons. Once again we went back out of the harbor and anchored for the third time in two days.
Unfortunately the peace did not last. Around 11pm that evening as we were comfortably dozing I was awoken to a noise I didn’t recognize. Looking everything over inside and out there seemed to be nothing wrong. I laid back down. Michelle was now awake too. Suddenly the calmness of the night changed to very blustery winds. A storm front had clearly arrived. We got up, looked at our relative position to the houses on the shore and other boats. We also watched our position on the GPS system. Thankfully the anchor was holding this time. We never did figure out what the original noise was that woke me up, but because we were awake when the storm blew in we were able to watch over our position. We didn’t hear that sound after the storm was over.
Despite our anchor holding we noticed another boat that was anchored up wind of us was slowly getting closer to us in the dark. The slowness of the movement meant the anchor was not loose, but was dragging. The boat showed only its anchor light, and it seemed like everyone on board was asleep. When it moved to a position alongside us it was close enough that I could have thrown a rock at it and hit it. Worried, we blew our horn several times until someone onboard stumbled to the open and asked if we were honking at them. We pointed out they were dragging anchor. For the next half-hour we watched them moving around in the dark, but ultimately they took no action to change the situation. They eventually drifted a little behind us. It seemed less likely they might bump into us, but we worried our respective anchors might entangle. The winds calmed and the night grew late again so we left them to their decision to take no action. We went to sleep.
We got up early the next morning to get a good start back. The dragging boat had continued to drag and was now further behind us. Luckily for them they were not grounded or close to another boat. Our trip home had the opposite weather than the first leg. The wind calmed a few short hours into the sail and we had to motor much of the trip home.
The experience caused me to think about the idea of watchfulness. On that first night, had we just gone to sleep we would likely have been woken up to the sounds of our boat grounding on the other side of the bay, or worse. On the second night, we were diligent in case a change was needed. Our neighbors were not. Even when it was clear they had moved more than 100 yards in the dark, they chose to take no action. I ask myself, do I take diligent action to ensure I stay anchored in truth? Do I warn others when I see them adrift and moving away from safety? If I drift, am I willing to do the work to reset my gospel anchor, or like those temporary neighbors we had in the anchorage, am I more likely to doze and hope for the best?
One other learning point. I have been a long time afloat before, but Michelle had never been more than on a day sail. She was worried when we wrestled with bad weather and with a loose anchorage. On our way home after mooring back at our home marina, she mentioned to me that having the difficulty instead of an easy sailing day was a good thing for her. She was able to see how we could actually handle the difficult situation even in bad weather and the dark of night. She said she feels more confident for potential future trips. Similarly, when we face life trials and learn to lean on Heavenly Father, we gain confidence (faith) in Him and our assurances from Him.
On the way there we had heavier than expected wind and swells. To make it more challenging we had to sail straight down wind. Contrary to what the uninitiated might think, straight down wind (referred to as running) is actually the most difficult point of sail. We got to the anchorage after a long day of sailing, dropped the hook, and had a nice dinner. About dark the winds picked up again and the water was choppy, even in the protected anchorage. About the time we were thinking of going to bed we noticed the anchor was not holding against the wind and waves. We were drifting out into the open waters of Eastern Bay. Michelle took over the helm and motor. I pulled up the anchor. In the dark we went through the process of anchoring all over again. By the time the work was done, and we sat at anchor long enough to have confidence in the hold, it was into the early hours of the morning. Thankfully the rest of that night was uneventful.
The next day was relaxing. We rode the water taxi into town for an enjoyable time together visiting the museum and food venues St. Michaels has to offer. Another water taxi ride back out to our boat finished the visit. Next, we pulled up anchor again. This time to motor into the harbor marina in order to refill our fuel tank in case the wind would not cooperate back to Solomons. Once again we went back out of the harbor and anchored for the third time in two days.
Unfortunately the peace did not last. Around 11pm that evening as we were comfortably dozing I was awoken to a noise I didn’t recognize. Looking everything over inside and out there seemed to be nothing wrong. I laid back down. Michelle was now awake too. Suddenly the calmness of the night changed to very blustery winds. A storm front had clearly arrived. We got up, looked at our relative position to the houses on the shore and other boats. We also watched our position on the GPS system. Thankfully the anchor was holding this time. We never did figure out what the original noise was that woke me up, but because we were awake when the storm blew in we were able to watch over our position. We didn’t hear that sound after the storm was over.
Despite our anchor holding we noticed another boat that was anchored up wind of us was slowly getting closer to us in the dark. The slowness of the movement meant the anchor was not loose, but was dragging. The boat showed only its anchor light, and it seemed like everyone on board was asleep. When it moved to a position alongside us it was close enough that I could have thrown a rock at it and hit it. Worried, we blew our horn several times until someone onboard stumbled to the open and asked if we were honking at them. We pointed out they were dragging anchor. For the next half-hour we watched them moving around in the dark, but ultimately they took no action to change the situation. They eventually drifted a little behind us. It seemed less likely they might bump into us, but we worried our respective anchors might entangle. The winds calmed and the night grew late again so we left them to their decision to take no action. We went to sleep.
We got up early the next morning to get a good start back. The dragging boat had continued to drag and was now further behind us. Luckily for them they were not grounded or close to another boat. Our trip home had the opposite weather than the first leg. The wind calmed a few short hours into the sail and we had to motor much of the trip home.
The experience caused me to think about the idea of watchfulness. On that first night, had we just gone to sleep we would likely have been woken up to the sounds of our boat grounding on the other side of the bay, or worse. On the second night, we were diligent in case a change was needed. Our neighbors were not. Even when it was clear they had moved more than 100 yards in the dark, they chose to take no action. I ask myself, do I take diligent action to ensure I stay anchored in truth? Do I warn others when I see them adrift and moving away from safety? If I drift, am I willing to do the work to reset my gospel anchor, or like those temporary neighbors we had in the anchorage, am I more likely to doze and hope for the best?
One other learning point. I have been a long time afloat before, but Michelle had never been more than on a day sail. She was worried when we wrestled with bad weather and with a loose anchorage. On our way home after mooring back at our home marina, she mentioned to me that having the difficulty instead of an easy sailing day was a good thing for her. She was able to see how we could actually handle the difficult situation even in bad weather and the dark of night. She said she feels more confident for potential future trips. Similarly, when we face life trials and learn to lean on Heavenly Father, we gain confidence (faith) in Him and our assurances from Him.
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