Quote:
Originally Posted by Akula4745
I figured as much from you, RR. Ever get down to Fort Pierce? Got a sister and Bro-in-law on south island (Hutchinson Island). I was just down there visiting the weekend before Memorial Day. Beautiful area down there... when I see water like that sometimes I almost miss the boating days.
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Yikes! What a small world. I have experience both with Ponce Inlet and Ft Pierce Inlets.
I was crew with Alfons Cieslak, an unreconstructed Norseman ancient seaman, delivering a 56' sloop to a boatyard south of Fort Pierce. Our mast was just about exactly 65' and that was the clearance of the highrise bridges along the intercoastal. To avoid hassle and delay we chose to go offshore....in January. Headed out Ponce Inlet to go south in about 20 knot winds and 15 to 20' seas. No problem for this boat. It was a bit brisk, but very doable. We flew south with a north-east wind.
Now Ft Pierce Inlet is dredged to 70 or 75 feet to accomodate nuclear submarines (don't ask). But between the jettys it is a darned narrow thing! We came into the inlet with standing 20' waves there, outgoing tide into the big wavefront. We put the mast spreaders in the water twice. About halfway through the gauntlet, in the big salon below a toolbox weighing about 300 pounds came loose and began charging back and forth looking for things to destroy.
Captain says "Steve, go below and square that away." So I'm standing on the companionway ladder watching the toolbox. "Blam! Blam! Blam!" Well, it's going to take out the ladder with me on it anyway, what do I do? I saw a piece of lumber that would reach the length of the salon and timing it so I would move just as the toolbox slammed into that bulkhead I jumped down, jammed the piece of lumber in place, stomped on it to secure it as best as I could, and got back topside before I tossed my cookies. I was standing on the ladder with my head outside the hatch when we dipped the spreaders for the second time. Right then I realized that I had the easy job tackling the runaway toolbox. He was a hell of a skipper. Never even got excited or raised his voice.
And then suddenly we were in the clear, motoring up the channel on smooth water. In the center of the channel at anchor in line ahead were about 20 of the local fishing fleet deciding whether they were going outside that day. After watching our antics, every one of them returned to the docks. Never could figure out why.
