What possible use can I make of this information?

Crossing the Bay. I like to let a friend pilot, so I can jump to whatever response the boat calls for; bailing included.

    “Have you thought about how you’ll handle a knock over?” This question was posed by my friend Walt during our latest Barrier Island Clean Up on Little St. George. Walt’s very soft spoken; a bit hard to hear from the other side of the fire with the wind churning through the pines overhead. Jody brought out the radio after dinner, and we listened to a forecast that sounded nothing like the one from a day or so earlier. We were expecting fortuitous winds for going out, and returning from St. George Island later in the weekend. NOAA waited till we were safely out of the channel before revising their outlook. Now it looked as if the challenge would be how and when would we get safely off the Island. This was a Thursday evening. A front was to hit harder than anticipated the next day, then Saturday the winds were to build steadily through the afternoon till it reached twenty knots in the afternoon and stronger on Sunday.

    We had no sooner reached our campsite, cooked dinner and settled ourselves in, before it became necessary to focus on going home. The problem was my 19 foot Sharpie, Tramontana. The other two boats, Jody’s Drascomb Dabbler and Walt’s Gaff Sloop, were not the issue. Hence Walt’s line of questioning concerning my boat and her crew. My response was a listing of some floatation amendments I had devised since my last knockdown. I’ve capsized before. Let’s just say we all have our stories and I’ll leave it at that. My stance on being knocked over, is that it shouldn’t happen. It shouldn’t happen in Apalachicola Bay on a day we decide it’s safe enough to sail and I’m focused on staying upright. Currently I see a knockdown as a black box scenario.

    I say this because despite Walt’s wise and methodical exploration of how it all works, righting the boat and bailing in rough conditions, I don’t see where it’s feasible. Not in my boat, not when there’s a respectable swell and semi-ugly chop. We'd be out on the waves bobbing up and down next to the boat, probably it’s cold because that’s when we do these trips. Hopefully my stern hatch and bulkheads are closed so the aft compartments aren’t filling with water. I’d have to pick apart my hitches to the spars so I can lower the sails and hopefully raise her up with her masts in place. We discussed having to reach under the coamings and clear away and dump weighty items that are snagged in my tied off gear.  We’d have to somehow bring her around and orient the bow to the waves, not sure how that would work. Then comes standing on the centerboard trying to rock her up, and if that does happen, then there’s getting in with her listing this way and that, no stability whatsoever, more like a soda bottle than a boat, and finally bailing desperately while the swells and chop roll over the boat as pretty as you please.

     We went through these steps one by one, and with each mental image I became more and more skeptical. I realize capsizing trials are done by folks who take small boats offshore, I just read about two fellas in Woodenboat Magazine who did so in preparation for sailing a small boat 90 miles out to Ft. Jefferson in the Dry Tortugas, but as currently configured Tramontana is not rigged for such adventures. Thinking on it further, I doubt that I could keep her nose up enough to even bail at all, despite Walt’s assurance that in such conditions I represent the world’s best designed pump, namely, a frightened sailor and a five gallon bucket. Frightened or not, I think I’d be effective for about a half hour before I was utterly exhausted. Anyway, as the discussion wore on, I think Walt became skeptical as well, and finally we decided the best and safest course would be to pluck me and my unlucky mate, either Jimmy or Seth, off the Tramontana to await a salvage operation later on my own time.

    Funny, the whole thing mirrors a discussion we had with Laslo a few seasons back pertaining to rattlesnakes. About a mile and half down the beach picking trash I decided I should warn him about the abundance of rattlesnakes. I was being sincere, there often are high populations of Eastern Diamondbacks on our southern coastal barrier islands, this is a fact. I wasn’t trying to scare Laslo for my own entertainment, I’m really fascinated by these creatures and I believe they need stricter protection, or will someday, owing to the fact that in the South rattlesnakes are killed on sight, hence possibly the difference with barrier islands. Rattlesnakes don’t need a lot of calories to live, and there’s no one on barrier islands to kill them. Anyway, we said something like, “watch out, there’s lots of rattlesnakes out here; they’re very dangerous, etc.” Jody and I didn’t put too fine a point on it, except to mention their exceptional ability to camouflage. They blend in so well you might reach an inch from a rattlesnake’s snout to lift a bottle and not realize it’s there, and that’s when you’re watching out for one. Laslo stood silent for a moment digesting this (I could see the wheels turning.....how to watch out for something dangerous you basically can’t watch out for), then he blurted out in his wonderful Hungarian accent, “Vhy did you tell me this? Vhat possible use can I make of this information?”

      I’ve done lots of wildlife illustrations for a biologist in Tallahassee named Dr. Bruce Means who is the world’s premier authority on the eastern Diamondback, I think I have a few out-take EDB sketches form many many years back, maybe I’ll see if I can located one. Oh, and I should mention an Eastern Diamondback probably wouldn’t strike even if you did reach down in front of it. In my experience EDB’s have to be provoked before they become aggressive. They want no quarrel with a beast as large as a human, we’re not on the menu, and they prefer to avoid an encounter, hence the unbelievable camouflage. That’s been my experience with them.

It turns out I did not have an old illustration to share, so I ground this one out. EDB's are hard to depict, so let's call this a study. Yes, it's a baby.

     Anyway, having Walt Donaldson along to discuss such matters was a nice feature of this trip. It was like having a direct line to a sailing forum as we visited various topics. One of the things I liked about building and learning to sail a small boat is that there’s a proper way to do things, in the pursuit of sailing generally, and for each individual design and sailing rig. Walt is someone who has a background in sailing broad and deep enough to put all the questions I ponder out loud in their proper context. It’s not always that there’s one correct answer for every question, but there’s a context with which to view it.

    I paraphrased something my friend Kent said about my boat after he and I traversed some hair-raising swells between St. George and Dog Island. It went something like, “When the NOAA issues a small craft advisory, they have in mind boats way larger and more seaworthy than yours.” When I recounted this around the fire Walt’s response was interesting, and I’ll paraphrase again. “If a small craft advisory is going to keep you off the water, then you need to ask yourself if you should be sailing in the first place.” I like both statements, and I don't think they're in opposition. The takeaway for me is, I need to get my boat more seaworthy. I freaked out the day we were shooting down between the swells looking up at those wave crests. I knew if any of those had broken over us, I’d have had no answer for it. We’d have made a lovely debris field on the incoming tide. I’ll be thinking of some solutions this year, and hopefully get closer to Walt’s sentiments. It will most likely involve compartments for my gear that will displace the water that I would otherwise have to bail out.

Here's a depiction of us between Dog Island and St. George. It was likely the swells were compounding between the two Islands, they were very steep with deep troughs. I didn't like it one bit. Kent theorized a few hundred yards in from the cut things would have been much smoother.

     As it went we were still able to haul in a respectable amount of beach trash on Friday, leaving about a dozen contractor bags worth at the Marshall Field House midway along the length of Little St. George Island. The State folks who administer the Apalachicola Estuarine Research Reserve come out and and retrieve the trash in their boats. We raised sail to make our way home across Apalachicola Bay in a moderate swell but a fairly dense fog. Walt in his Joan of Arc reefed his mainsail in the most curious fashion, I never saw it up close as I fumbled our start by fidgeting with my mainsail rig, but finally he let us pass and I could see his gaff spar down low on the mast with his main billowed out over the water. At first I was afraid he was dragging his sail and was possibly in trouble, but of course that was wrong. From a distance Joan of Arc took on the look of a felucca with a lateen rig. Walt wasn’t finished helping us it turned out, as he had to radio us we were sailing in the wrong direction-off to the west towards St. Vincent Island instead of East to the bridge. My pride would have me disbelieve we were quite that off course, but all the same I was bracing for some ribbing when we hit the ramp. Again Walt was the paradigm of nautical compassion and simply recounted a tale from his past similar to my blunder. (Not Walt’s mistake but one that involved him I should clarify). Jody however, I expect will just sit on this comedic ammo till the timing is just right.

I was curious to see in other images that Walt's gaff spar is, or nearly is, as tall as his mast.

Okay.....time to look back over this post and see if I can dig out punctuation and grammatical errors. Better yet, let’s let Tracey have a look at it. I'm ready for a re-fill. Here’s to you! Ciao.

It occurred to me I have yet to include a map. This trip we did not camp at West Pass; instead we camped further east at the Marshall Field House with the permission of the Florida DNR as a group conducting a beach clean up.