Well, I'm telling this story quite simply because I need to get it off my chest. I've been haunted by it since it happened on our last vacation.
I'm no captain or a professional seafarer yet, I have around 10 years experience with power boats, time spent on kayaks and rafts, ability to swim, a basic understanding of aquadynamics, wind and wave action, and a desire to be on the water to make use of the boat I'm still paying for.
We were nearing the end of our annual summer vacation and got the boat out in the west arm of the Traverse bay in Michigan. The bay is approximately 4 miles wide, 30 miles long, and 3oo + feet deep with a small island 7 miles north of the southern most point of the bay. The winds were wsw 10-20 mph and cloudy skys with 60 degrees. We had traveled the western coastal road of the bay and ahd stopped to see the conditions of the water. Looking out from the shore, the water seemed relatively good. Waves were no more than 1 foot as far as the eye could see. So, we decided to make a last run for the island before returning home the next day.
From the launch site near the southern most part of the bay, we rode fairly close to the shore for several miles until turning northeast for the remaining 1.5 miles. That's when it started to get rough. I didn't imagine that the waves would have built up that much only 3 miles from the shore from the direction that the wind was coming. The waves had reached 3 feet with a close chop coming from the port stern. Looking at how close the island was, I decided to continue. It was a bit difficult with the wind blowing me off course and avoiding turning the boat parallel with the wave but , we made it to the sheltered side of the island and set anchor.
We stayed for about a half hour picking through the rocks along the beach. My wife was happily gathering her favorite stones and I was pondering the method of departure and returning to the launch. I figured the wind and waves would still be there on the way back so I would just have to deal with it.
We finally left and I began to procede north and then west around the island to try to make use of its shelter as long as possible and dart straight across to the nearest shoreline in the direction of the wind, about 3 miles. As soon as I cleared the island, it got bad. The waves had a tight chop mostly 4 feet and a few that were possibly 5. I felt it to be so bad, I didn't dare to turn around and risk capsizing. The forecast predicted the winds to increase as the day wore on so, I had to make it back now.
As soon as the first large wave took the bow under and covered the cabin, I almost became petrified. My first instinct was to cry. Then I thought to call the coast guard but, I could be sunk before they would arrive and was afaraid to take my hands off the steering wheel and throttle.
My wife placed her hand on knee to hang on to something. I turned and shouted "Don't touch me". From that brief glimpse, I noticed that she didn't really seem bothered by the situation while I was struggling to keep completely focused on driving. I soon said "I'm really scared". And I was. I kept thinking of how I was reponsible for her and it was my job to heep her safe and get her home. I thought I probably shouldn't let her get to the panic state that I felt so, I said jokingly "Don't let me do this again".
We pounded through the waves for about 20 minutes though 2.5 miles until we were nearing the west shoreline and the waves subsided enough to throttle up and get moving faster and ride the shallow water back to the launch. Finally I began to relax.
I know these waves are nothing like those pics I seen of that 22 foot C-Dory jumping the ocean waves but, to me an my 16 footer, it may just as well been the same. I guess I should also mention that I am terrified of water that I can't see the bottom. And, without a life jacket I sink like a rock. Through that short journey, I kept reminding myself that if something happened, Were had all of our protective gear on, the boat was relatively well enclosed, and I could still call for help. But the terror of man vs the unknown had a solid grip on me.
We arrived safely at the dock, pulled the boat out quietly, and finished our day of sightseeing in the region before returning to some secluded woods to camp for the night. When it was lights out, I said to my wife "I'm sorry for today" and quietly prayed to God and thanked him for his watchful eye and guidance through everything. I am a born again Christian and this was not anything unusual for me yet today, it meant something more.
It's been nearly a week since that day and I'm still not ove this and I'm telling everyone this because I need the release of the fear I feel boating, warn others on small craft in bad conditions, and look forward to hearing the advice of those who have felt this situation before.
By the way, this is the second time in this bay that I felt I wasn't going to make it home. The first time prompted me to make the grabrail system on my boat. But that is another story.
Tom
I'm no captain or a professional seafarer yet, I have around 10 years experience with power boats, time spent on kayaks and rafts, ability to swim, a basic understanding of aquadynamics, wind and wave action, and a desire to be on the water to make use of the boat I'm still paying for.
We were nearing the end of our annual summer vacation and got the boat out in the west arm of the Traverse bay in Michigan. The bay is approximately 4 miles wide, 30 miles long, and 3oo + feet deep with a small island 7 miles north of the southern most point of the bay. The winds were wsw 10-20 mph and cloudy skys with 60 degrees. We had traveled the western coastal road of the bay and ahd stopped to see the conditions of the water. Looking out from the shore, the water seemed relatively good. Waves were no more than 1 foot as far as the eye could see. So, we decided to make a last run for the island before returning home the next day.
From the launch site near the southern most part of the bay, we rode fairly close to the shore for several miles until turning northeast for the remaining 1.5 miles. That's when it started to get rough. I didn't imagine that the waves would have built up that much only 3 miles from the shore from the direction that the wind was coming. The waves had reached 3 feet with a close chop coming from the port stern. Looking at how close the island was, I decided to continue. It was a bit difficult with the wind blowing me off course and avoiding turning the boat parallel with the wave but , we made it to the sheltered side of the island and set anchor.
We stayed for about a half hour picking through the rocks along the beach. My wife was happily gathering her favorite stones and I was pondering the method of departure and returning to the launch. I figured the wind and waves would still be there on the way back so I would just have to deal with it.
We finally left and I began to procede north and then west around the island to try to make use of its shelter as long as possible and dart straight across to the nearest shoreline in the direction of the wind, about 3 miles. As soon as I cleared the island, it got bad. The waves had a tight chop mostly 4 feet and a few that were possibly 5. I felt it to be so bad, I didn't dare to turn around and risk capsizing. The forecast predicted the winds to increase as the day wore on so, I had to make it back now.
As soon as the first large wave took the bow under and covered the cabin, I almost became petrified. My first instinct was to cry. Then I thought to call the coast guard but, I could be sunk before they would arrive and was afaraid to take my hands off the steering wheel and throttle.
My wife placed her hand on knee to hang on to something. I turned and shouted "Don't touch me". From that brief glimpse, I noticed that she didn't really seem bothered by the situation while I was struggling to keep completely focused on driving. I soon said "I'm really scared". And I was. I kept thinking of how I was reponsible for her and it was my job to heep her safe and get her home. I thought I probably shouldn't let her get to the panic state that I felt so, I said jokingly "Don't let me do this again".
We pounded through the waves for about 20 minutes though 2.5 miles until we were nearing the west shoreline and the waves subsided enough to throttle up and get moving faster and ride the shallow water back to the launch. Finally I began to relax.
I know these waves are nothing like those pics I seen of that 22 foot C-Dory jumping the ocean waves but, to me an my 16 footer, it may just as well been the same. I guess I should also mention that I am terrified of water that I can't see the bottom. And, without a life jacket I sink like a rock. Through that short journey, I kept reminding myself that if something happened, Were had all of our protective gear on, the boat was relatively well enclosed, and I could still call for help. But the terror of man vs the unknown had a solid grip on me.
We arrived safely at the dock, pulled the boat out quietly, and finished our day of sightseeing in the region before returning to some secluded woods to camp for the night. When it was lights out, I said to my wife "I'm sorry for today" and quietly prayed to God and thanked him for his watchful eye and guidance through everything. I am a born again Christian and this was not anything unusual for me yet today, it meant something more.
It's been nearly a week since that day and I'm still not ove this and I'm telling everyone this because I need the release of the fear I feel boating, warn others on small craft in bad conditions, and look forward to hearing the advice of those who have felt this situation before.
By the way, this is the second time in this bay that I felt I wasn't going to make it home. The first time prompted me to make the grabrail system on my boat. But that is another story.
Tom