(no subject)
Tuesday Morning, July 18th
It's about 11:30, I'm asleep, and someone shouts, "ALL HANDS ON DECK!"
Webster and I both jump out of our bunks, and rush around in circles in the dark, both asking, "Where's my pants?!?" I flip on the light, we both pull our pants on and rush up on deck, still not quite awake.
A cold wind is blowing, the current is rushing north past the boat, it is dark as a witch's tit, and someone is telling the captain, "The little barge missed us by about six inches, and the big one is still coming toward us."
I look upstream. I can see a couple of lights, and a big dark blot on the water that looks like it covers the entire channel.
The captain says, "If that thing comes down the channel, we don't fit. HANDS TO MOORING STATIONS!"
We rush to the mooring lines, preparing to cast off, while JB starts up the diesel engine. We had two of the four mooring lines cast off when JB cuts the power and says, "Forget it. It's too late.
The big dark blot is now along side us. It's a double-wide cargo barge. A tug is struggling to control it, and having very little luck. It's passing us with about a dozen feet to spare. JB sends crew downstream to the other public docks to raise the alarm. Most of the crew runs off the boat and down the street. I am still holding two mooring lines and not awake enough to know what captain wants done with them. I'm not sure whether they're still tied to the dock or not. I ask JB and he takes them from me and resecures them.
I watch the barge, which is now downstream of us. I can't see what's going on, but I get the impression that the tug is not in control, and is struggling. BUT, he's struggling downstream of the Lady, which is frankly all I care about at that point. I am freezing and still mostly asleep and I want to go back to bed, but we are not stood down, and I think the crisis is over, but don't know for sure, because I still don't really know what the hell is going on. Most of the crew is gone and there is no one to ask. I go back down into the hold to get a jacket. I come back on deck, but I am still freezing.
JB comes back to the boat and tells the remaining crew that there are chunks of dock waiting to float down toward us, and he wants old spare lines to tie them up.
Finally, we muster on the quarter deck. We count off to confirm that everyone is there, other than Otis, who is accounted for in his hotel room. JB tells us we all did a great job, and to stand down.
I am ready to go back to bed, and my back is stabbing me again, but the rest of the crew is hyped and can't sleep. Esther in particular is wound like a top, and Webster rubs her shoulders. It occurs to me, and I say out loud, "More than anyone else on the crew..." I'm shy to continue, but now I'm committed, "Losing this boat would be losing a home to you."
Esther thinks about that for a few and says, "She does feel like home to me, even more than my home in Yakima."
As we crawl back into our bunks, Webster and I both agree that as long as we're on the brig, we're sleeping in our clothing.
We don't start to get the full story until the next morning. At muster, Rob tells us that the doublewide barge lost control coming around the curve at Rainbow bridge and slammed into the dock where the little barge was moored. This sent the little barge careening downstream with no one aboard, knocked the pier under a building and undermined the building. They then attempted to moor up to that dock, failed, pulled away, yanking part of the dock with them, and struggled to control them barge. They missed us, but they slammed into several private and public piers downstream of us, sinking one yacht, damaging others and causing millions of dollars of damage before they finally managed to get it all under control. It was not the local barge company that made this severe error in judgement. It was some other company that was not familiar enough with the Swinomish Channel to know that you can't take two barges down the channel at once. The local barge company, as well as the local lumber company, the sheriff's office, and every other agency that should have responded, did so smartly. We, the Lady Washington crew, also made a favorable impression. The local paper wrote an article about the whole disaster, noting that we had saved several boats and boat owners by raising the alarm. Matt even cut someone's mooring lines as they were attempting to flee.
JB wrote a blog about this, too. His version of the story is more coherent than mine, and can be found at http://www.ladywashington.org. These pics were taken by Kari and I got them from the Lady Washington homepage.
It's about 11:30, I'm asleep, and someone shouts, "ALL HANDS ON DECK!"
Webster and I both jump out of our bunks, and rush around in circles in the dark, both asking, "Where's my pants?!?" I flip on the light, we both pull our pants on and rush up on deck, still not quite awake.
A cold wind is blowing, the current is rushing north past the boat, it is dark as a witch's tit, and someone is telling the captain, "The little barge missed us by about six inches, and the big one is still coming toward us."
I look upstream. I can see a couple of lights, and a big dark blot on the water that looks like it covers the entire channel.
The captain says, "If that thing comes down the channel, we don't fit. HANDS TO MOORING STATIONS!"
We rush to the mooring lines, preparing to cast off, while JB starts up the diesel engine. We had two of the four mooring lines cast off when JB cuts the power and says, "Forget it. It's too late.
The big dark blot is now along side us. It's a double-wide cargo barge. A tug is struggling to control it, and having very little luck. It's passing us with about a dozen feet to spare. JB sends crew downstream to the other public docks to raise the alarm. Most of the crew runs off the boat and down the street. I am still holding two mooring lines and not awake enough to know what captain wants done with them. I'm not sure whether they're still tied to the dock or not. I ask JB and he takes them from me and resecures them.
I watch the barge, which is now downstream of us. I can't see what's going on, but I get the impression that the tug is not in control, and is struggling. BUT, he's struggling downstream of the Lady, which is frankly all I care about at that point. I am freezing and still mostly asleep and I want to go back to bed, but we are not stood down, and I think the crisis is over, but don't know for sure, because I still don't really know what the hell is going on. Most of the crew is gone and there is no one to ask. I go back down into the hold to get a jacket. I come back on deck, but I am still freezing.
JB comes back to the boat and tells the remaining crew that there are chunks of dock waiting to float down toward us, and he wants old spare lines to tie them up.
Finally, we muster on the quarter deck. We count off to confirm that everyone is there, other than Otis, who is accounted for in his hotel room. JB tells us we all did a great job, and to stand down.
I am ready to go back to bed, and my back is stabbing me again, but the rest of the crew is hyped and can't sleep. Esther in particular is wound like a top, and Webster rubs her shoulders. It occurs to me, and I say out loud, "More than anyone else on the crew..." I'm shy to continue, but now I'm committed, "Losing this boat would be losing a home to you."
Esther thinks about that for a few and says, "She does feel like home to me, even more than my home in Yakima."
As we crawl back into our bunks, Webster and I both agree that as long as we're on the brig, we're sleeping in our clothing.
We don't start to get the full story until the next morning. At muster, Rob tells us that the doublewide barge lost control coming around the curve at Rainbow bridge and slammed into the dock where the little barge was moored. This sent the little barge careening downstream with no one aboard, knocked the pier under a building and undermined the building. They then attempted to moor up to that dock, failed, pulled away, yanking part of the dock with them, and struggled to control them barge. They missed us, but they slammed into several private and public piers downstream of us, sinking one yacht, damaging others and causing millions of dollars of damage before they finally managed to get it all under control. It was not the local barge company that made this severe error in judgement. It was some other company that was not familiar enough with the Swinomish Channel to know that you can't take two barges down the channel at once. The local barge company, as well as the local lumber company, the sheriff's office, and every other agency that should have responded, did so smartly. We, the Lady Washington crew, also made a favorable impression. The local paper wrote an article about the whole disaster, noting that we had saved several boats and boat owners by raising the alarm. Matt even cut someone's mooring lines as they were attempting to flee.
JB wrote a blog about this, too. His version of the story is more coherent than mine, and can be found at http://www.ladywashington.org. These pics were taken by Kari and I got them from the Lady Washington homepage.