There is nothing like being at anchor

One the boats in the cove with me.

I was trying to explain to Theresa how great it is to be at anchor.

Imagine yourself in a nice cove along the North River just south of Coinjock, NC.  It has been a great day.  After waiting on some weather to pass, I completed the final leg of crossing Albemarle Sound in calm seas.  The wind was on the nose of the boat all day so, I didn't get to sail any, but this anchorage would make up for it.  The cove is large enough for several boats, and two were already anchored there when I pulled in.  I went past both of them and spaced myself so that I was a good anchoring neighbor. and went about setting the anchor.  Being single handed, it is a bit of a sprint event to set the anchor alarm and get the anchor down before you drift off of the spot where you set the anchor alarm. When you set he anchor alarm, it sets a circle around that spot where you said anchor is.  If the boat gets outside of that circle, it is likely the anchor is dragging and an alarm sounds.  So if the anchor is not exactly where you set the alarm, then the circle will be off and you may get false alarms.  I also keep an iPad with navigation software in the cabin so I can watch the anchor circle.   The one at the right is a good anchor watch pattern.

It started out as a beautiful night.

Anyway on to how great it is to be at anchor.  The sky looked like I would be in for a peaceful night.  The weather forecast showed a 20% chance of rain.  It's going to be a great night, just like the previous four nights I have been at anchor, so what if it rains a little, it can't kill my joy.  I was talking to Theresa trying to describe the beautiful evening.  As the sun set I was telling Theresa I see a little lighting off in the distance, what a wonderful light show.  I pulled up the radar and was comforted to see that it was tracking to the south of where I was.  Thankfully, because from the looks of the radar it is a nasty storm.

I had supper and I was ready to settle in with a book in the cockpit (The Saga of the Sailing Hillbillies, by Owensboro native Floyd Tapp, thank you Suzanne), and enjoy the fresh air.   I read a while and then decided to retire for the evening.  I often sleep in the cockpit while at anchor, but tonight I would sleep below.   I set down on the settee some of that closed eyelid reading.  But soon found myself awaken by a bad feeling. I heard the storm settling in right on top of me.  I looked at the iPad and it looked like someone had someone had put the boat in full reverse.  The anchor was dragging.  I scampered up the stairs to the cockpit to try to stop the backward slide.   I went to start the engine and the key was missing from the switch.  I never take the key out, where is it.  Frantically I search around to find the key.  There it is it had fallen right next to the cushion.  I stuck the key in, it was upside down and would go, precious time wasting.  I am in a small cove and need to keep the boat from running aground.  Finally I get the engine started and shove the throttle forward I am moving, thankfully Lesson Plan is not stuck in the mud.  I still show 6' of water (my draft is 4.5').  I pull forward and feel the anchor below me dragging, about that time the wind hits me and pushes Lesson Plan over about 40 degrees.  I yank the wheel back and of course the wind just pushes over the other way, all the time I am dragging this anchor around this small cove, trying to watch out for the other two boats in the cove (who by the way seem to be riding out this blow just fine and the thought crossed my mind "I hope they are not watching me").   Back and forth we went for the next 6 hours (ok maybe 20 minutes, but it seemed like 6 hours).  Finally the anchor sunk in and grabbed.  I was a little closer to shore that I liked.  I tried to drag the anchor back out a bit, but it was in solid, it would have to do.  I was exhausted.  I apologized to Lesson Plan for putting her in this predicament (more on this in Lessons Learned) and praised her for her great performance, thanked St. Brendan as I passed his medallion and went to bed.

The next morning I woke to find one of the boats (the Alexandria C) had pulled up anchor and left before I did.  I pulled up anchor and headed up the ICW.  I head the Alexandria C talking on the radio to another vessel a couple of days later.  They told them experienced some 60 mph gust the other night at anchor.  I never looked at the wind gauge, but I would believe it.  It blew so bad that I got water through the rear cabin window, which is under a cockpit seat (picture on the right).

I called ahead and reserved a slip at a marina for the coming night (more storms predicted that night).  As if to remind my that the experience was not to be quickly forgotten, after I secured the dock lines and started down the steps to the salon, I heard a pssssst noise, like when an air hose burst.  The only thing I could think of that was pressurized was the propane tank.  I quickly checked the tank, no it was closed.  Hmmmm, well I don't know, I must be hearing things.  Later that night, I went to get the hatchway boards from the back cabin and found the source of the psssst noise.  I had gotten enough water in the rear cabin to soak one of my automatic inflating life jackets and caused it to inflate.

Lessons Learned:
1. When I anchor, I drop the anchor, let it settle for a while and then put the boat in reverse to make sure the anchor is set. I zoom the chart plotter in and watch it very closely to make sure the boat is staying in one spot.  That night a little line showed on the chart plotter like the boat had moved just a bit.  But I convinced myself it was sideways movement and it would be OK.  Guess what, it wasn't sideways movement.  Next time reset the anchor, no matter how many times it takes to get a firm set.  While I was in a cove and could have just swam to shore easy enough,

2.  Don't leave automatic inflatable life vest near open windows.

3. As I was changing out of my soaked clothes, I realized I had my life vest on.  I don't recall when I put it on, I guess I grabbed it as I headed up the steps.  Glad to know that is an automatic response.

4.  Theresa was a smart woman for saying, you go ahead and work the kinks out.

I still love to be at anchor, I am just a little more diligent with my anchoring technique.