De skulle på langtur, men så gikk det galt.

[Careka]

Her er mailen fra en seiler i USA som skulle reise på tur nå i høst.

Så fort kan ting forandre seg.

 

-----------------------

 

Hi Family & Friends,

 

Thought I would send an update on Tom's planned trip to sail with friends in the Caribbean 1500 race.

 

He was scheduled to fly to Hampton, VA tomorrow, to meet up with friend David Baird and three other friends to sail David's brand new 49' Beneteau to Tortola in the Caribbean 1500 race. Over 40 other boats are scheduled to race as well.

 

David, with two other crew members were sailing "Shaken...Not Stirred" from Punta Gorda to Hampton in time to begin the race next Monday. As you will note in David's message below, David and his crew hit a jetty on their way into St. Mary's River inlet (last inlet in FL) and the boat split open, taking on water. US Submarines go in and out of this same channel. One of our friends broke his leg and ankle when the boat hit....but read below for details. You may want to look at the pictures attached AFTER you read David's letter.

 

The upshot is that Tom is not flying to Hampton, nor am I and Susan (David's

wife) flying to St. Thomas to meet the guys and sail the Caribbean for 10 days. Nor will David and Susan have the opportunity to sail the waters of the Caribbean for as long as they wanted; in fact, they had to find another place to live since they've rented out their house through the next five or six months.

 

Things do happen for a reason--and I am thankful that Tom was not on the boat when it was going down. It's just such a sad story for David and Susan... Below is David's letter sent to his friends here....

 

Carolyn

******************

 

Someone once said that it is better to have tried and failed than to never have tried at all.

 

Our dream was to sail the Caribbean for as long as we enjoyed the experience. Four plus years of planning led to the purchase of our new Beneteau 49. Near constant work on it with the wonderful help of Tom Freeland and others from January 2008 when we took delivery until October 2nd made it as comfortable, beautiful and safe a vessel as we could make it.

I/we were very proud of the result. Shaken...Not Stirred was a true beauty.

 

The adventure began on October 2nd. We set sail for Chesapeake Bay from Punta Gorda and travelled approximately 600 miles toward it through the keys to the Florida-Georgia border. The trip had been adventuresome and fun...with problems...problem solving...and several good sails including a 50 mile reach in 15-20 knot winds our last day. We got on well as a crew and I thought rolled with the punches beautifully. Everyone remained constructive.senses of humor intact.

 

On October 14th at approximately 7:45 pm my dream came to an abrupt halt on a totally submerged jetty approximately two miles off the beach at the Amelia Island entrance to the ICW. The crunch I heard at that time lives with me still and will for some time to come. It is the most sickening sound any boater can hear.

 

Three weather forecasts had indicated wind and waves would slowly diminish that afternoon. They did not. Instead we were hit with a Nor'easter which took the wave intervals down from a comfortable 9 seconds to 3 or four. We had passed the Jacksonville entrance to the ICW an hour or so earlier so a return seemed pointless. The seas became steep and confused. The shift of winds to the northeast pushed us low of our intended mark toward shore but we had been sailing between 4-5 miles offshore so initially we went with the wind shift and continued under sail. To counter this drift toward shore, we motor sailed directly parallel to the coast the last six miles with reefed main. Progress was slow taking us from a pre-dusk arrival of about 7 pm to the later arrival alluded to above. The St. Mary's River high tide was scheduled for 9 pm so even with our late arrival current would not be a problem entering the inlet. High tide on the other hand was.

 

As seas got increasingly rougher, as we began taking waves over our bow, as salt spray covered the helmsman.me..occasional breaking waves doused the cockpit and as dusk approached, our GPS Chartplotter naturally became our primary source of navigation information. We approached the sea buoys which would take us into the channel at a snail's pace. The GPS zoomed into 1/2 mile focus showed us that we had a clear deep path to the buoys and could in fact go inland of them if we chose. We were in thirty plus feet of water two miles offshore when the thud occurred. (We later were told that the jetty was visible on the GPS had we zoomed in to 300 yards. I don't yet know if this is correct, but who in open ocean would zoom in to 300 yards and eliminate all perspective on the buoys, the boat, the coastline and the channel? Why wasn't this hazard made visible when zoomed in to half a mile or much more? It should have been).

 

Also, I don't know who the engineers were who built a jetty two miles into the ocean so low that it is entirely submerged at high tide but they should have their credentials revoked. Additionally, the authorities concerned insist that this jetty is adequately marked. It is not. Perhaps on a perfect night the small lights may be visible, but in weather...such as we experienced...when lighting of hazards is most critical...the lights were invisible. We found out later that there have been countless wrecks on this jetty including a 72 foot power boat earlier this year. Even local shrimpers have had repeated run-ins with it. But it is government after all, so let's see how many people have to lose their lives and/or property before anything is done to make this entrance to the ICW safe.

 

The first thud was a rather soft one though it was definitive enough. As I heard it, I remember whispering, "My dream is gone." The second, third and fourth were much harder as the ten foot plus seas raised, then lowered our bow on the jetty. We were thrown about in the cockpit and hanging on for dear life. Ron Vendegna and I survived unhurt but our third crew member Travis Jones sustained a compound fracture of his leg and a broken ankle he thinks when we hit the jetty. At the time we didn't know this. He simply thought he might have sprained an ankle and he continued to perform wonderfully in the emergency.

 

I must congratulate my crew on what happened next as the result was.textbook. No one panicked. Ron picked up the VHF remote in the cockpit and issued a Mayday. He gave a complete description of the boat, told rescuers we were taking on water and provided our position off the St.

Mary's River channel and exact longitude and latitude. The Coast Guard responded and asked questions which Ron continued to answer as the situation worsened.

 

Travis got out two additional PFD's and each of us put one on. He then began using the manual bilge pump to supplement the efforts of the two electrical units below to reduce the water table as much as possible below.

 

I went below to check what was happening and get the ditch bag and boats papers plus anything else of import I could quickly find.

 

When I returned to the cockpit, I took over the VHF. Ron and Travis, we surmise with broken leg and ankle, went below to save personal items they deemed important, then returned to the cockpit.

 

The boat seemed to be holding together but I was concerned that the jetty may have weakened the keel. If it gave way, the mast could go in the water and someone below could be knocked unconscious and possibly trapped as water gushed through the companionway, so I was greatly relieved to have everyone quickly back on deck. As it turned out, the boat remained upright.keel intact.and sank very slowly.so slowly it was on the beach the next morning.

 

The Coast Guard asked if there were any boats in the area that could respond.

 

The Delta Queen, a New Orleans-based tug doing work offshore in the area responded. The captain told me he could not save us while we were on the jetty as he would risk sinking his boat too. Eventually, the waves created by the Nor'easter pushed us south off the jetty. The banging stopped. I was able to restart the engine and motor several hundred yards south. I pointed it to weather. The tug boat captain next requested we drop anchor.

 

I crawled forward on a deck that bounced relentlessly in the waves. I secured the anchor with line that morning to prevent it from recoiling in high seas and to prevent the windlass from doing the whole job of securing it. The line naturally was at the tip of the anchor roller three feet or so in front of the forestay so was difficult to remove under the conditions.

Eventually I removed it, got out the windless control and lowered the trusty

45 pound Delta with over 100 feet of chain off the bow.

 

When I returned to the cockpit, the tug captain began to move in to rescue us. The Coast Guard, though not present wanted us off our boat. Little did I know, the danger of this event was about to increase tenfold.

 

The tug approached from port, the weather side and tried to nudge its bow into the side of our boat. The initial problem was that it did so too far forward. We had no gate there and getting to the shrouds was difficult.

Eventually the captain realized this and nudged us further astern toward the lifeline gate to the side of the cockpit. The captain told us over the VHF to step on the tires mounted around the bow of his vessel and his crew would haul us aboard.

 

What happened next, in retrospect was amazing. Travis, an ex-Navy man who served as an electronics expert on the flight deck of the USS Enterprise, got up immediately, went to the gate, stepped on the tug's tires and was hauled to safety on its deck. He did this we think now with a broken ankle and compound fracture of his leg. Amazing the effects of training and adrenaline. I don't think I could have done it.

 

Ron and I next threw the few bags each of us had brought on deck to the crew of the tug. Having done so, I said to Ron that he should go next. I don't know why but it just seems to make sense for the captain to be last to abandon ship.

 

As the tug again approached, its bow was at times 8-10 feet above our heads and at times just above our deck. It was of course dark but the tug had a spot light atop its wheelhouse which it kept trained on us...at times making it difficult for us to see. The tug would nudge our hull and back off in the waves.all the while dramatically rising and falling...seemingly continually out of sync with the sailboat.

 

As Ron and I watched, we determined that trying to get aboard the tug in these conditions was extremely dangerous. If Ron/we stepped on the wet tug tires and slipped as the boat rose and fell out of sync with our boat, we could have been crushed between the boats and undoubtedly killed. Another tug captain later told us he had seen this happen. If we stepped on the tires and the two boats came together before the crew could get us over the gunwale in the erratic wave action we could have had our legs crushed and been crippled. I told Ron not to jump.

 

I got on the VHF and told the tug captain we didn't wish to abandon our boat this way as it was unsafe. I suggested he lower a looped line and we could dive into the water and swim to it. We could both swim and had offshore PFD's which would keep our heads above water even in the rough conditions.

He said no. I suggested that we had a Life Raft we could deploy or we could perhaps use the dinghy. The answer was no and the Coast Guard wanted us off our vessel.

 

We obeyed though in retrospect I don't know that we should have. Ron watched for some time as the tug repeatedly nudged us and backed off...rose and fell. I don't know what he saw but he saw something he liked and stepped onto the tug's tires. The crew had him over the gunwale in seconds. Now it was my turn. He and Travis were safe thank God.

 

I wanted nothing to do with stepping on the tires between the boats. I watched the upward and downward action of the boats for perhaps a minute as I stood ready to go. The captain tried to keep continual pressure with his bow to our port side near our gate. The tug went up...way above my head...then crashed down. When it did so, I dove head first over the gunwale into the tug. We were safe. With this knowledge came immense relief.

 

Thinking back about what I just said about Ron and I getting off the boat, consider what Travis did again. He had the same conditions to deal with and he had injuries that could very easily have prevented his evacuation. His performance was amazing.

 

We phoned our incredulous spouses from the tug's wheelhouse to tell them what had happened.

 

When we finally got ashore, we took Travis straight to a hospital ER. The next morning we took a cab to Jacksonville to rent a car, had something to eat and put Travis on a plane Debbie had booked so that she could meet him and immediately get him to a local specialist to be taken care of.

 

Ron and I then returned to Amelia Island as the boat had washed up on the beach in a Florida state park. We spent the next two days in the bathing suits and tee shirts we had on when rescued. We visited the wreckage of the boat Wednesday afternoon and went aboard to see what if anything we could save. The boat was resting on starboard and the interior was an absolute mess as it had been through a complete tide cycle. The Coast Guard who were there thought we were nuts going aboard and as we tried to move about on side walls, trash and wreckage we determined they were correct. Ron was able to save his glasses but that is all we got other than a boat hook and fishing rod.

 

Since that date, I/we have been dealing with the aftermath...a plethora of people from insurance companies, parks departments, the Coast Guard, lawyers, salvage workers and environmental clean-up operators directly and indirectly. The process takes on a life and rhythm of its own. Helpless to do anything more there, we eventually returned home Thursday.

 

Susan was a stalwart as usual particularly in helping us coordinate/organize things with the myriad of entities that must get involved while we were living in a motel room, wondering around Amelia Island in our bathing suits and tees, cell phones in hand trying to see, meet with and stay in touch with all those involved. Ron's wife Linda and Travis's wife Debbie were similarly thoughtful, constructive and helpful throughout. I cannot thank each of them enough.

 

The boat is a total write-off and will be picked up by a crane, placed on a flatbed and removed to a junk yard. Its contents were totally removed by the salvage company yesterday and now belong to them. It was still on the beach late yesterday in danger of breaking in half due to the effects of tide and waves over an entire week. The latest delays were to potentially protect sea turtles. I wish the authorities valued the lives of boaters as much as they do sea turtles.

 

I know some of you know what generally happened. Until now, I have had difficulty writing this letter, but I felt it was the best way to answer questions you may have without going over it repeatedly individually...too painful right now.

 

Obviously, I cannot get this sad event out of my memory. I don't know that I ever will. But it wasn't the Patna. Here's hoping I don't become Lord Jim. I am happy that my crew and I are safe. I trust Travis will be well taken care of by his specialist and eventually return to full health. We wish him well.

I am proud too of Travis, Ron and even myself for the way we behaved during this disaster and its aftermath.

 

What I am left with today though is a feeling of abject emptiness. The void is uncomfortable. It's not something I'm accustomed to. My dream had occupied me for years and was on the verge of becoming reality. I know I would have truly enjoyed the Caribbean 1500 rally from Hampton, VA to Tortola. My crew on that voyage too was both extremely capable and fun. I can only imagine now how beautiful it would have been to visit the idyllic islands of the eastern Caribbean in an unhurried manner with my girls...Susan and Emma...and perhaps some of you on our once beautiful boat.

 

 

Alas, it was not to be.

 

Best always,

David, for Susan

[Careka]

Her er bildene av båten de skulle seile med. en Beneteau 49 (i norge heter de Beneteau 50)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Det var engang en flott båt. dette er restene etter at de er dratt opp på land.

tror jeg fåretrekker å treffen en stein, og være ferdig med det,

disse sandbankene er muligens ennå værre.

[hifo]

Oppussingsprosjekt :-)

[REM]

En dramatisk beretning som klart viser viktigheten av å planlegge seilasen før en begir seg inn i ukjent farvann. Hadde de visst at denne undervannsstrukturen lå der i forbindelse med kanalinnløpet, ville de zoomet inn plotteren tilstrekkelig, lagt om kursen i tide og unngått sammenstøt og havari. Den klasiske plotterfeilen er jo å ikke zoome inn tilstrekkelig. Plotteren vil da filtrere vekk "uvesentligheter" som sjømerker, skjær og grunner.

[Hank]

Tragisk dette her.. men "Shaken not stirred" - She sure lived up to her name!

[jupan]

Det der er min største skrekk... å gå på grunn... Grøss og gru...

[Ingar]

Huff. Hvis noen synes det er vanskelig med engelsken så kan man oversette her.