Sailing Pirate Style

You know the summer is an interesting sailing time for me. For one the first half of my racing season is over. Now I sail for fun and on my own lake. July is an interesting time of hot nights and even hotter days, when the water temperature of the lake is hotter than an average bath. This 4^th of July was no different. My girlfriend and I headed out to celebrate the 3 day holiday with good food and drink.

Last year I found myself sailing in very strong winds in an all but blacked out night. This year I was sailing again late at night but for a completely different reason. The typical type of 4^th, boat all dressed up, loaded with a month's worth of provisions of food and grog. My flags were flying happily in the medium breeze coming out of out the south. This year I got my anchor down early and proceeded to drink and eat till the sun dropped and we all watched the fireworks from about 10 neighboring cities. Just before night fall almost everyone left this year, which I am still not sure why. Maybe they knew of the impending doom, or maybe they just wanted to run over to 121 and get hassled by police, blood tested and try to fight for enough room to watch their fireworks.

We watched the fireworks and decided that it was time to get some sleep. It had been a long day and some sleep was well deserved. 80+ degrees and the cabin's air was muggy. It was hard to get to sleep but we did manage to do it. At about 1:00am I woke up to yelling and the sound of wind. Moving quickly topsides I noticed a ground of banded together stink pots (power boats) all floating towards the shore. They were frantically trying to untie each other to their impending doom. I looked around very disoriented and still half drunk. I noticed that I was very close to shore and was quickly trying to figure out my original location and if it was 180 feet from where I was now. I had gone to sleep with 90 foot of scope with a southerly wind of roughly 10 knots. Now I am quickly waking up to a consistent 20 gusting to 40 knots and it is building. What started out a nice cool breeze from the North has now become a lightning and thunder storm of severe magnitude.

I still a bit dazed came to the conclusion I was dragging that I was much farther than 180 feet from where I started. Going to the bow to look at my anchor line I noticed that the line ran under the boat but yet I was pointing into the wind bow first. I looked twice as I have never heard of anchor rode getting wrapped around the keel or worse yet the rudder post? The wheel turned freely so it didn't seem like it was around the rudder. The winds were too strong to pull against the line but I knew that if I didn't do anything that I would eventually drag myself to the shore and I was already in 10 feet of water from the 17 that I started in. Soon I would be high centered and helpless as the waves had their way with me.

Several miles of fetch had allowed for the rollers to become quite substantial considering this is a small lake and one doesn't encounter too rough of water figuratively speaking. I drove the boat forward to release the anchor and tried to pull it up only to get to the beginning of the chain. It had become hung on something (keel maybe) I could not remember how long the chain was and was worried that I had 10+ feel dangling down with a 35lb delta ready to catch on something.

Getting the boat into deeper water I figured that I could do nothing in the current situation and could not risk staying on the lake too much longer as the violent storm came down on me. From a light breeze to a consistent 40 knots I knew that doing nothing was not an option at this point. I got my extra anchor out in case I did get hung and needed to secure the boat and put on my life vest. Sailing toward the cut all I could think about was what I would do if the anchor caught on something and brought the boat around broadside to the rollers. I just kept sailing. Looking for the cut into the main body of the lake I looked around trying to get my bearings and keep calm.

Approaching the cut nothing looked right the stink pots had made a quick vanishing act and nothing was visible but the shinning darkness that glistened on the tops of the rollers as they broke upon the bow and flooded the decks with water over and over again. Seeing two sticks I was worried that I was approaching Bird Island. But that couldn't be the island wasn't near the cut this was the cut wasn't it? Or is this the damn and I am looking over it? But they are moving, or is it me that is moving. Ah 2 little sailboats heading for cover in a cove with a land mass between them and the onslaught of winds.

I made it through the cut all the time thinking about the contours of the lake trying to stay in the channel. I could not risk snagging anything. I kept worrying about the anchor dragging but didn't know what I could do in the middle of a storm. I just kept sailing. Turning down wind I saved some of the pitching and rolling and just surfed my way down the lake. Never finding the day poles I was more concerned. Missing my normal marks now gave me a sense that I really didn't know my exact position within the lake which made me even more nervous. Maybe I was sailing in the middle of the forest that lies underneath a large portion of the lake. Sure death as I would be sure to catch one of the trees that lie just beneath the surface and cause myself even more trouble.

As I got closer to the Lewisville Dam and the control house I began to calm down a bit as I knew if I got close enough I could look to the right and see a direct path to the marina. Sailing as close to the center and staying away from the 2 low spots between the park and the ramp across the lake were the only areas that I had to concern myself with. Approaching the marina I started to worry that I would surely catch one of the lines that secure the tires around the marina.

Slowly I made my way into the marina and docked the boat into the slip with a hideous cross wind. The slip has a steal bar that runs across it about 6 feet deep just under my keel. I heard the anchor hit it as we entered the slip. I got the boat secured and walked around the marina for 20 minutes to calm down now that the entire ordeal was over. After a good night's sleep I woke up the next morning to diving under the boat and trying to figure out how to get the anchor back into the boat where it belongs. Apparently the fluke had caught the swept back formation of the keel and really it was quite simple to apprehend the anchor and get it back aboard. Another point worth noting is the chain was not long enough to hang below very far once I could see it coming out of the water so really I probably was in no danger once I tied off the anchor rope to the cleat to get home.

Hind sight being 20/20 I should have put out more scope and paid more attention before retiring to sleep. Even better having an anchor alarm set to wake me up when the winds shifted so quickly would have helped so that I could have known about the line going under the boat before the storm hit. Also looking at the weather report before retiring would have told me that the storm WAS coming and I could have made a decision to stay or head back to the slip before any of the commotion.

Lesson learned…

The Shimmering Darkness

This was written last year after an emotionally charged day. Realizing that it has been almost exactly a year I felt that it was appropriate to post this. Some will find it boring and some will find it part of the fabric of Pirate Mike.

The day was finally over, the sun had settled down within the depths of the lake.


The sun had put up quite a fight and left the land bleached and dry.


The lake goers had been drained as they filled the lake with the sentiment of their desires.


As the rebels quieted down, and the crowd parted a new set of sounds took over the area.


The moon arose quickly and settled in about a third of the way into the sky.


Only a sliver its presence was quite diluted as the clouds rolled into place and the stage was being set.


It was the day after the great and terrible day and vengeance was about to take its toll.


The temperatures subsided and the winds once again found the body of water that they call home.


The emergency vehicles had gone home no saving was to be done tonight.


Damage already done the mind wanders, tensions are running high.


Mind drunk with emotion, body full of pain, the potential for quite an evening is building.


As I lay aside the cockpit I looked up and realized that my destiny had called me.


The winds calling my name I could hear them saying, "follow me to the next place."


Obedient and methodical I woke up from my emotional stupor, and took on the responsibility to prepare the vessel.


At the strike of 1:00 am I set sail. Pulling the sun drenched and warmed sails I spoke to them commanding; "take me to the place that the winds are calling from."


With that I leave the cockpit and go down below into the dungeon that I call home.


Frantically digging into the darkness, feeling for a remote audio cd that still brandished its wrapper and label I hope for my release.


As I open the unique promise, I place it into my player and emerge to survey my situation.


Black as night, both lovely and unlovely I find myself echo locating the shoreline.


The winds have taken their position on the lake and made themselves prominent across the lakescape.


Then out of the blackness I see a shimmering darkness.


Heading to weather the wind positioning itself to whisper in my left ear I hold still.


As the wind picked up, the water responded in kind with a motion that took it across the lake.


Rollers they were building from the South as I headed to find the source of the wind.


Just a glimpse of their size as the moon varnished their topsides with a glow that could be seen for miles.


As the motion of the lake took a hold of me, the sound of a distant land came to the forefront.


Sharp and pleasant sounds of a simple land on the continent of Africa filled my head as I squinted to keep track of the shore.


I transported myself as the music took my soul from this ragged body and the emotions that once filled it left.


Waves crashing into the bow and it planted itself firmly into its belly. Spray fills the air as the sounds of the life that is such the beginning of all.


As the tribesmen chant their stories of family and survival, I find myself on the roller coaster of life deep within my heart as it sets happily in my chest, far from the sleeve that it once found a perch.


Whispering in my ear I can hear the wind calling me deeper into an almost trance like state.


Into the shimmering darkness I see the water and land dancing before me, leaving a path that only I can feel.


Song after song, I feel my body coming alive. My senses are overwhelmed and the thoughts of the day are far from me. Now the music takes hold and my hand holds the destiny of the vessel.


Between the thumb and forefinger of the right hand I steer this 6 ton beast. Waves crashing and spraying mist into the air, my mind races ahead in anticipation of what lies next.


Sitting in the port side stern perch, head cocked gently to the side, I try to make out the dam and the source of the wind.


Never admitting but gently remembering that it has called for me before.


An elusive friend the wind befriends the water and makes a pact with my vessel.


Completely in sync with nature as the music recharges my soul.


Now the age of completeness comes as I turn the corner to see the light of my home port.


In the shimmering darkness there I find my peace again.


For in the heat of the day, emotions ran free and the damage of their energy has taken its toll.


But now in the perfectness of the moment my soul is again whole, my mind is at ease and my body is free from pain.


Just arriving to my place, I reposition my home and engage the moon to hide me from the shimmering darkness.


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July 5th – 6th 2008, on Lewisville Lake, listening to the original Mbube music of Africa while participating in the dance of a lifetime, after an event of emotional magnitude.....


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"Fair weather does not a skilled sailor make. Even the brightest of skippers must navigate through the storms of life to emerge on the other side, sometimes with nothing to guide them but the shimmering darkness of their soul." – Pirate Mike…....