Day 27

A quick word about anchoring. Scratch that…there is never anything quick about anchoring, either putting one out or pulling it back up again. Anchoring has always been that moment when I stay very, very quiet, knowing that there are far better sailors at work who need to shout at each other from one end of the boat to the other.

The basics say that when anchoring, one determines the depth, uses a 5:1 ratio of line to depth, sets one’s anchor gently on the sea bed, and makes sure there is no drag.

Reality says one comes into an anchorage, checks out all the other boats, finds the ideal spot, decides there is a better one, realizes the other boat is too close, chooses a third, lays the anchor, swears profusely, re-sets the anchor, has a rum drink and then worries all night about the anchor. All this occurs under the watchful eyes of all the other sailors already in the anchorage, who pop up like meerkats to watch the fun, their rum drinks already in hand.

In the Tuamotus, one has to add floaties to the anchor chain, to protect the coral below. Of course that gives the neighboring meerkat the opportunity to broadcast on the radio when one’s floatie slips its tether and disappears with the current.

All in a day’s anchoring, but it does make the rum drink sweeter when all floaties, anchor chains, and meerkats are back in their places once more.

a picture of the waxing moon after a rum drink, just because

Leona has been fitted with a very nice anchor “bridle.” An extremely strong hook fits onto the anchor chain, with two thick and well-protected pieces of rope coming up to either side of Leona’s bow and tied to the cleats there. This alleviates some of the pressure the anchor chain carries, sharing it among three points, rather than just one.

This afternoon’s fun and games involved a bent pin on the anchor roller, the round doo-hickey that feeds the anchor chain up from the water and onto the windlass, another doo-hickey that actually pulls up the chain and anchor. This is where the bridle played its role, allowing the Mario Brothers to release the anchor chain without losing the anchor and clearing up the tangle that had formed.

The safely-recovered roller

All this happened as a black cloud came flying toward us, borne on a “bit of a fresh breeze,” in the understated language of Jeff. Pelting rain, the fresh breeze, and adrenaline made for a heady cocktail. Georgie, who had been straddling the bowsprit like a carving of Victory herself and helping David save the extremely precious roller, came into the saloon dripping wet and wild-eyed: “This living!”

She is her father’s daughter.