Refloating a ketch run hard aground on a reef in the San Blas Islands! скачать в хорошем качестве

Refloating a ketch run hard aground on a reef in the San Blas Islands!

We woke to find a sailboat run aground near us. I’m not going to be much help with Rusty and her 2.5hp outboard, I thought. At the very least, I could grab a couple cameras, pick a spot out of the way, and document the event. There’s got to be a lesson in a mess this big, and documenting is one way to help. Dinghies pushed. Dinghies pulled. Even a local tourboat joined the effort. I stayed well astern of the grounded boat, with the sun on my back so I’d get good light for my footage, and be out of the way of any dinghies zipping around, trying to figure out how they might help. From my position, the rudder was OK, and the engine was steadily turning the propeller. Occasionally the ketch would roll so far that the water intake for the engine would suck air for a few seconds. More and more steam came out of the exhaust as this was happening, but there was a steady flow of water. Without it, the skipper would soon overheat his engine. The group took some time to organize after various attempts at pulling from many directions. The Dutch-flagged steel ketch Ostrea was not going anywhere. Her captain was on deck, white-haired, bellied, and leathery, in his 70s or 80s, sunburned and wearing baggy shorts. There was some shouting over the noisy scene. Hand gestures. People from all over the world are here. Helping. Our friend Rolf from SV Rochambeau was soon in the water with a mask and snorkel, careful though danger-close to the rolling beast, providing important detail about the keel’s situation underwater. A small swell would roll in, slightly lifting Ostrea for a moment. With a few of these, the dinghy armada managed to pull the bow, pivoting the boat about 90 degrees to port. There was more pulling, better coordinated, but to no avail. The tide was going out. We all went back to our boats as a plan was hatched via a WhatsApp group to regroup at 4pm. I heard multiple conversations about the upcoming tides. The hard truth is that there is very little tide out here. Besides snorkeling, we don’t ever have a need to monitor the tides out here. They’re tiny. There would be a small high tide at 5pm for another try, and a bigger tide at 4:30am the next morning. We’d meet an hour ahead of the tide to coordinate and prepare. In the meantime, we watched the swaying mast of Ostrea rolling in the surf. It was stomach-churning to see. By 3:15pm, dinghies were already on the scene. At 4pm on the nose, a massive sailing yacht, the Queen of Sheba, maybe 60ft or more, showed up to assist with a long line carried over by dinghy. I couldn’t tell how the crew on the reef were communicating with the Queen of Sheba, but there a couple toots of a horn and lots of arm gestures. At first, dinghies pushed the starboard bow, hoping to pivot the boat. That didn’t work. There was a period of rest and discussions, skippers conferred in clusters of dinghies. Plan B was taking shape and passed along. The dinghies regrouped on the port side, attaching themselves to a line from the Ostrea’s main mast. Like a line of connected tow trucks, they hauled the boat over to one side. There were minutes of waiting as this happened. Eyes were to the southwest, watching for the next set of swells to roll in. A set of swells appeared. Arms waved, motors revved, and water churned! The Queen of Sheba pumped out two black clouds of diesel smoke from dual exhausts on her stern. The lines snapped off water as they came taut. Those with a sense of self-preservation backed away from the big lines, no telling what happens when one snaps. The swell rolled in, rose over the reef, then bouyed the steel hulk for just a second or two at time. Against grim odds, a slow repeat and refinement of this procedure was paying off. Ostrea lurched by inches at first, then by feet. There was another pause as we waited for the next set of waves. Trying again at 4:30am would be much more dangerous. A wave set approached and once again lines pulled taut. Ostrea made bigger and bigger lurches and finally grinded her way off the coral reef. Cheers filled the air, followed by yelling and laughing STOP! STOP! The freed ketch was now pulling a string of dinghies tied end-to-end from the top of her mast, dragging them like toys. The Queen of Sheba pulled the ketch out into an open basin away from reefs, then certain that Ostrea had a working prop and rudder and would stay afloat, returned to her prior anchor spot in the deep end of “the swimming pool”. I produced a short video, with drone footage footage courtesy of Lucas Fernando Amorim (IG: @lfamorim ), and narration courtesy of Beverly and Rolf van de Velde of SV Rochambeau (IG: @sailingrochambeau , youtube: @alwayssummerrochambeau )