Having been sleep deprived, apparently I missed this group, really the
most important one in my view, when I sent the below:

From: "Skip Gundlach"
To: "Skip Gundlach" ; "Morgan"
; "morgan yahoo"

Subject: "I learned about sailing from that"
Date: Sunday, February 11, 2007 2:00 AM

"I learned about sailing from that"

By this time, the post-mortem on our grounding is well under way.
Nearly
always, even in a hurricane (which virtually always, these days, one
would
know was coming), if a boat comes to grief, there's ample possibility
to
make mistakes in preparation, and learn from the results.

Pilots nearly certainly will recognize the title's slight migration
from the
stories which used to (been prolly 30 years, so I can't swear that
it's
still so) finish each issue of Flying mag. Herein is my contribution.

Our plan had been to take a very easy ride down to Marathon, from St.
Pete,
anchoring in each night, getting a full night's rest, and going on as
the
spirit moved us the next day. We'd been on an insane schedule for the
last
several weeks, typically up until at least 2AM and, as I'm
photosensitive, I
was usually out of bed by 7 at the latest. That had been preceded by
5
months of intense work as we raced to finish our refit and head out to
make
the jump to Georgetown, Bahamas, to pick up the kids, and later,
Lydia's
mother, for cruising fun.

The ideal weather window passed us by, just as we were almost ready
to
leave. So, deprived of a target, we were going to take it easy and
recover
along the way. Forecasts for the entire way - at least as I could
access
them - St. Pete, Bradenton, Sarasota, Venice, Charlotte Harbor, Ft.
Meyers
and Cape Sable - were perfect. 10-15 NE, which, on our heading and
speed,
would make for beam reaching the entire way, and moderate seas, which,
for
our trooper of a boat, would be totally easy.

We'd planned to hug the coast, coming in each night, and make the
passage
through Mosier Channel to clear 7 Mile Bridge, and anchor in either
Boot Key
Harbor or on the south/west side under the bridge, opposite the
shallows.

Despite my earlier concerns, and having pestered every forum and list
I was
on about how difficult I thought it would be, with our 6.5+ draft, we
were
assured that it was entirely feasible to come through and continue on
our
way.

Many discussions ensued about using Key West as a jumpoff point, and
while
it could have been done, would entail a much longer time in the stream
in
order to cross, and would have no readily available check-in point.
In
addition, having done it the other way in the course of delivery from
Ft.
Lauderdale, I knew that that channel was dead simple, but, yet, when
viewed
on a chart or from the air in GoogleEarth or the like, looked totally
treacherous and impossible. From that we inferred it was much the
same in
the route to 7 Mile Bridge.

With all the encouragement and affirmation, we elected for Marathon.
In
hindsight, we would still do the same, as, while under tow at dead low
tide,
we never touched on the way in to Keys Boat Works on the bay side of
the
bridge. And, this was in full dark - but obviously the tow captain
not only
had extremely good chart and radar information, he was intimately
familiar
with the route. We had not expected, nor intended, a dark passage.
Instead,
as we reached the area (as happened - as planned, it would have been
full
light), we were going to throw out the hook outside the channel and
wait for
dawn.

So, what happened?

First, we went aground nearly immediately after turning south, in
uncharted
new ground produced by prior hurricanes, just off Bradenton/Sarasota.
The
decision was made to turn outbound and motor hard for a short while to
get
offshore so as to not have a repeat performance.

This was in the early-mid afternoon - about 2-3 hours from sunset.
Sailing
conditions were, as forecast, ideal. We were still in sight of land,
but
the ideal point of sail was taking us further from land. Thus, the
first of
several cascading decisions was made. Instead of backtracking as
would have
been necessary under sail, or straight motoring in to an anchorage,
we
continued into the darkness.

We were both alert and in fine condition. The boat loved it,
reaching
effortlessly on into the night. We had a lovely dinner of leftovers
from
the prior night, heated up. Lydia went below to sleep while I
continued my
watch. The VHF's mechanical man and woman on NOAA weather radio
continued to
say it was marvelous sailing, and the boat proved it. The
chartplotter
showed our progress steadily down the coast, but continuing to reach
offshore.

As we had to miss the corner, anyway, that was no problem. And even
though
the wind picked up a bit, the boat handled it with aplomb. Otto
steered his
course without so much as a tweak from me. The waves built a bit, but
that
was to be expected as we continued to move offshore.

However, as the new day dawned, it was apparent that the waters
weren't all
that benign any more. The world outside was empty - never a sight of
another
boat on the entire trip once we left landfall - and nasty, as well as
getting windier and lumpier.

Still, she shouldered on, with our full enclosure keeping us
relatively dry
and reasonably warm, and our course was fine for our destination. As
we
began to heel a bit, we just eased the sheets, allowing her to stand
up
again. That she did so, and also increased her speed suggested to me
that
we'd been too tightly sheeted, anyway. Our speed over ground (SOG)
increased to the high 8s - high performance and exhilarating and
chest-puffing.

That was another decision point which, with hindsight, probably
contributed
to our eventual downfall. We probably should have reefed, instead,
and
pinched up a bit. None the less, at this rate, we'd make our marker
well
before dark - an outstanding run for the trip. That, too, contributed
to
our continuing as before. Had we any concept of what was to come,
we'd have
done something different - but hindsight's always 20-20. Instead,
we
continued, making extremely good time, in comfortable position.

By this time, the winds were pretty reliably in the 20s. Again, no
worries,
as we came over on our delivery in winds which never went below 20.
VHF
forecasts were now very spotty, as we were pretty far from land, and
the
seas were beginning to be nasty. As the wind built, we heeled even
more.
Yet, still, we were well within our experienced prior range for wind
and
felt no concern. So, with about 70 miles to go, we just bore off a
bit,
easing the pressure yet again - but taking us further from shore.

Soon, the seas and winds were untenable. We dropped all sails and
headed
inland. By this time the winds were in the high 20s and flirting with
30.
We made more than 4 hours of motoring to next to no effect. All the
prior
decisions had put us, effectively, out to sea, in nasty conditions.

What to do? Lydia didn't want anything to do with my going forward to
put
in a triple reef, but if we didn't have some sail up, the boat was
extremely
uncomfortable, thrashing around in the washing machine of what I
estimated
to be 9' seas or better, based on the disappearance of the horizon
from a 6'
freeboard/cockpit elevation with me sitting on top of it.

However, I pointed out that we could run the engine full blast and
make less
than 2 knots, perhaps overheating it (there was an elevated temp but
not an
overheat condition), and in the end, take the next two days to reach
land at
that rate, or put me into the harness and straps and go forward in a
cautious fashion, straighten out the sails issue, and stabilize the
boat if
nothing else.

So, I did. Good decision, among what might have been several poor
ones, as
it stood right up and sailed. However, the winds were still building,
and
it required bearing off, again, from a beam reach. That put us yet
again
further downwind of what we wanted, but we were still a great long way
from
anything, so sailing was ok from a safety standpoint.

We discussed going to Key West. Another potential missed opportunity;
if
we'd done that, likely we'd not have had any problem. But, again, we
were
very far from anything, and the charts all showed pretty much a clear
shot
at our first waypoint. Two equipment failures contributed to our
eventual
demise: The radar would not light, so land was invisible in the
night, and
didn't see the squall/front, either (apparently we were just in front
of a
weather system the entire way down, none of which was mentioned in the
VHF
automated reports updated so regularly), and our electronic charts
didn't
have the detail needed to see what was coming.

So, having discarded the Key West option, Lydia wanted me to get some
sleep,
as the boat was sailing along at a comfortable (for me) 5.6 under
triple
reef, again still far from anything. So, she took over and I went to
the
aft berth where the motion, while substantial, was easy and thus was
of no
issue, and I slept soundly. What I couldn't have known was that she
was
very uncomfortable, nearly seasick, and rather than standing watch,
was on
the saloon sole, popping up every few minutes, looking around, trying
to
make sense of the chartplotter which - since she'd not been monitoring
it,
and making range adjustments to look ahead and also in detail at where
we
were headed by zooming in along the intended route - she really
couldn't
comprehend, worsened by her physical state.

Looking back, she should have gotten me, despite how tired I was, or
how
much she wanted me to get some rest. My practice with the
chartplotter
would have revealed our course taking us dangerously close to the
reefs on
which we eventually came to grief, and we could have pinched up,
rather than
doing our broad reach, or, even, simply tacked off in the opposite
direction, to take us away from where we were.

The final straw was what the locals characterized as a real stinker of
a
storm. Visibility was nil, waves were very high and breaking over the
boat,
and in Boot Key Harbor, normally the best hurricane hole in the Keys,
people
were staying up on anchor watch (which is how the first word of our
rescue
reached the Morgan group - someone had heard the entire exchange
between us
and the CG, following them all the way to Key West and their eventual
two
refusals on previously chosen landing spots, on their VHF. So,
already
perilously close, we were blown off course.

Any of the prior decisions, had they been different, might have saved
the
day. However, up until the end, all of them might have worked out
well.
When we were under tow into Keys Boat Works, at dead low tide, not
once did
we touch, let alone ground, on our course behind the towboat. So, the
path
is eminently do-able. We just weren't quite on it...

I'm glad to say that Lydia's recovered and is ready to get back in
the
saddle again. Of course, our insurance company may have other thoughts
on
the matter, because once they've decided it's a total loss, there's no
going
back, other than to buy it from them for salvage - and our bank
account
won't stand it (I know what it will be, because I helped someone buy
another
M46 out of insurance salvage from the owner who was willing to take
the
reduction on the expectation that my friend would buy it for an
immediate
profit).

So, your prayers and thoughts are encouraged on our behalf. Some of
you
already know about Hayden Cochran's web site - an Island Packet owner,
no
less! - at http://ipphotos.com/FlyingPig.asp. A poster in rec.boats
cruising has pictures up of our boat on the hard, before we even did
(http://www.geoffschultz.org/Flying_Pig/index.html) - though we'll
soon have
pix of our extraction up, and later the gory details on the damage
which -
since it's just some of the exterior, Geoff's pix can't really convey.

Thank you all for your support. It truly has been overwhelming,
literally
hundreds of mails, the office at Keys Boat Works (700 39th Street,
Gulf
Marathon FL, 33050 305-743-5583, where we can receive
mail, brownies, cookies, or anything else) has been inundated with
calls,
and all the other things too many to mention which show how our
amazing
sailing/cruising network responds to someone in distress...

That's all I can manage for right now, being sleep deprived in the
extreme.
Thanks for all the love...

L8R

Skip and Lydia

PS for those seeing this event for the first time, extensive
discussions
have taken place in the sailnet Morgan, west florida and livaboard
lists,
the rec.boats.cruising newsgroup, and to a lesser degree, the
renegades and
lats and atts forums, if you'd like to catch up. Of course, you could
also
look at our log lists for a compressed view, without all the chatter
on the
event, of the sites above

Morgan 461 #2
SV Flying Pig KI4MPC
See our galleries at www.justpickone.org/skip/gallery!
Follow us at http://groups.google.com/group/flyingpiglog and/or
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheFlyingPigLog

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you
didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail
away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails.
Explore.
Dream. Discover." - Mark Twain
m