The Sabbatical

Day 5

So by the middle of the day we decided that the Gulf was a bit too rough and wasn’t going to get any better so we made the decision to head towards the coast.

We entered Southwest Pass and we’re going to head to an anchorage called Burrwood cut, which was 4 NM up the channel, as supposed to an 8 hour trip to the marina.

It was so foggy that we could not see more than 50 feet ahead of us. The entrance to the cut was unclear so we called Marine Traffic for advice. They advised that it was safe to anchor there but had some shallow areas. Instructed us to pass light “10” then turn right into the cut. We were fighting a 5 knot current, no visibility and unfamiliar territory so we heeded the advice of the Marine Traffic dude.

Pat followed instructions and used the chart to navigate--the current and wind pushed us into 4.5 feet of water and we were hard aground.

Being hard aground is not necessarily a bad thing--you wait for the tide to come in--but we are 100 feet from rocks to the south and 100 feet from pylons to the east. With the wind and current we were afraid that we would be pushed into the rocks and lose the boat.

No tow services were available and the USCG was unable to assist due to the depth. We elected to stay on the vessel to ensure its safety.

We had dropped our anchor in hopes trust it would catch if we came loose and protect us from hitting something.

We set an anchor alarm and tried to get some rest. The wind was in excess of 30 knots during the night and it sounded as though someone was hitting the side with a sledge hammer.

To be continued...

Last Nights Nightmare
Written by Patrick

Headed from western Louisiana to Ft Myers, Florida we had been glued to the weather reports on our PredictWind/Iridium Go. We were within 30 feet of a rocky shore and losing SV Discovery last night and most of our worldly possessions.

We decided several hours before that the storm between Ft Myers and our current position was too big for us to handle and we needed to get into a safe harbor. Forecasts were winds at 30 knots and waves at 6 feet with ever decreasing periods between them. With my back in shambles, every roll of the boat reminded me that I needed the MRI my doctor recommended the day before. We searched the recently updated Navionics App for something close to and found there was an anchorage just inside the Southwest Pass.

“Southwest Pass, the westernmost of the passes of the Mississippi, is 18 miles WSW of South Pass entrance and 295 miles E of Galveston entrance.”

Burrwood Cut was described and seemed ideal.

“Burrwood Bayou is a great stop if you are not going up river, on the E bank 5 miles above the jetties. Much nicer than shown on the charts. Used by local sportfisherman to spend the night downriver. Burrwood Cut is entered off the river, and after entering the cut (10 feet of depth) you should travel past the crossing bayou into the natural harbor before anchoring due to workboats running the bayou. The area has great holding and 12-15 feet of water depth, protected from all wind directions.”

We looked at the Navionics reviews and saw that they were several years old. Not uncommon in Navionics. One reviewer described getting help from River Traffic on Channel 67. Since the reviews were old and a close look at the chart depicted the cut closed, we would follow suit and ask for local knowledge. Since we were low on diesel, I thought we should find a marina. I found two some 20 miles upstream and both had space for us so I made a reservation.

As we got closer, a thick fog began to form. We realized we wouldn’t be able to safely navigate the commercial traffic waterway and our radar and chart plotter had been randomly shutting down. We notified the marina we wouldn’t make it and chose the Burrwood Cut as our destination.

The charts showed an opening from outside of the river to the east and the river entrance on the west grown up with a dashed line across it and a green area encompassing the area leading us to believe it was closed. Navionics was giving contradictory information and so we started hailing River Traffic on VHF 67. The channel showed to be “BRG to BRG” low frequency transmitting at 1 watt. We were still over 5 miles out so no response wasn’t a surprise. As we got to the point of commitment to one entrance or the other, I received a crackly reply.

There was some confusion as who we were trying to reach. Some finally deferred to ‘Federal Control’ for info specific to Burrwood Cut.

We were told to monitor 67 and to switch to Ch 9. There we were instructed that we should enter the cut from the river side past the #10 marker. One person on the radio seemed bothered by our presence and the “black out” fog and commercial traffic. I explained that we were seeking shelter from the looking storm and had AIS and radar. The speaker continued to convey annoyance and said we needed to be careful of all of the vessels with and without AIS.

We started up river and we’re contacted on air by a 600’ long and 125’ wide ship and confirmed we would go port to port. As he approached, the visibility was less than 50’. He sounded one blast of his horn and I answered in kind: port to port. We were within 200’ of him and could only hear his engines and a huge mass of water moving out of its way. We had no visual contact.

The river was flowing against us at nearly 5 knots. This was deadly business and we were actively coordinating our northbound transit on channel 9 with ‘Federal Control’ and monitoring channel 67. Channel 67 had bursts of garbled and unintelligible transmissions. We could not tell if we were being hailed or not but we monitored all the same.

As we approached the cut, we were straining our eye to see the red marker #10 to make our turn. I had an aerial map on my phone and the chartplotter telling me I was passing the cut I made my turn and instantly was pulled hard downstream by the current. The depth quickly went from over 30’ to 12’ to 6’. Discovery draws 5’ and I decided to abort. I maintained position in the channel with the engine struggling to make headway to the marker.

It seemed strange that the charts and Google earth were wrong but these were professional mariners and this was their home turf. I hailed ‘Federal Control’ on the radio again and asked to confirm where we needed to enter. A different voice confirmed that we needed to pass the #10 red marker and then enter the cut.

We finally passed the marker within 30’ and could barely make it out. Knowing the strength of current, I committed with gusto and made my turn. Near instantly we were in 5 feet of water and then 4 and then aground.

The current was still pulling our stern downstream and then we were stuck facing at an angle to the channel. Per Navionics, we were 120’ from the rocky shoreline to our northeast and 100’ from the trailing pilings to our southeast. The wind was blowing from the east and we knew that in a few hours, it would be blowing from the northwest and we would be facing a deadly lee shore. I tried to back off to no avail. I called to ‘Federal Control’ over channel 9 and suddenly the lively voices from moments before were silent. Nothing. No response on either channel.

I hailed BoatUS on channel 16 and got no response. Trista found their number and called them. They did not service this area and referred her to Seaboat who said they could not respond before morning.

Trista deployed the 85# Mantus Anchor and 20’ of chain directly on top for the inevitable shift onto the lee shore. We were in 4.5’ of water and the tide was dropping.

We hailed the USCG who initially responded with a smug clarifying remark “you want us to come help you anchor better?!” After an agonizing Q&A on Channel 22 to get through the mandatory rote checklist, the young Petty Officer began to needle into the details of my prescriptions my doctor had filled for my back. I declined to provide the listening world my medical history over the radio and asked if there was a phone number I could call to continue the conversation. It was provided and in short order we continued via sat phone. After a while, the USCG began to share our angst and the gravity of our situation. They huddled offline and then a conference call ensued with the team who would be responding, the station chief, and us. They worked through the thorny facts of our situation and the limitations of their resources. We would be facing a historic low tide and strong winds. They told us our vessel would crash on the rocks and be smashed by the waves all night long. They finally offered rescue and abandonment of our boat or moral support with pleas for help to the listing public and regular hails to me with my full name to check in on channel 16.

We were at the peak of our stress. I reached out to resources back home to start working the problem from their end and to let trusted friends and family know that we were in real trouble and really scared.

We knew the tide would continue to drop and the wind shifting to a wind angle off our aft port side. We tried to ballast the boat putting heavy items on the port side in hopes that the weight would answer the push of the coming 30kt gusts that we feared would topple Discovery.

We ate a tuna fish salad sandwich and tried to think of what else we needed to do.

We took down the dodger and wrapped the tail of the main around the mast. We moved any kind of windage below and collected our ditch bag with what we would take if we had to be rescued. A sobering act after having just moved all that we had onboard.

This was a test of our resolve to this lifestyle.

We took turns closing our eyes and waiting in the aft cabin. We heard what sounded like a sledge hammer pounding on the hull, for hours. Once again, I was happy that we were in an industry tank - Island Packet. We had chosen this brand because we believed the quality and heartiness would one day save us from ourselves. And here we were.

Finally the anchor alarm sounded and we had moved. It held for several minutes. The anchor was dragging and we were backing slowly towards a gap between the pilings and rocky shore. We got the engine running and started moving forward. We were in 4.5’ of water. We found that we were on top of our anchor so it wasn’t helping. I thought of kedging out with our secondary Bruce anchor and started inflating the dinghy stowed on the cabin top. I realized that with my back and failing leg, I wasn’t effective enough fast enough. I panicked and threw the Bruce off the bow and 20’ of chain and rode. Trista said she was making headway and got me to pull up the Anchors which of course twisted together.

Suddenly we were free and clear and in the channel twelve hours after running aground.

We anchored across from the spot we thought may be the end of our cruising dream and saw how close we were to the obviously closed Burrwood cut. Exactly as depicted on the charts.

Just a bit south was the Pilot Station East.

We assessed the boat and found her to be in good shape. No one in the area could do haul out for us and Seatow recommended Biloxi or Gulf Shores. One of which will be our next adventure.Meer informatie