I've been held in a pitch black classroom with twenty-five students for over two hours in 'lockdown procedure' at an inner city public high school. I've been suspended upside down on the rollercoaster at West Edmonton Mall while teenage employees experimented with unlocking and re-locking the jammed coaster tracks. I've been enclosed in an elevator, alone, with severe claustrophobia ... twice. But in all honesty, I can truly say that I have never, ever in all of my life been as terrified as I was last Friday April 3rd.
The sail from the Bahamas to Florida is a trek that requires a week of good weather. Nate and I had charted and planned out a potential journey based on fair weather, but we were open to changing it at anytime. We made the jump from Great Guana Cay to Great Sale Cay without issue. Then from Great Sale Cay to drop anchor in Mangrove Cay - no problemo. After spending a night anchored out, we woke up early to make our way to the West End. We had anticipated a four to five hour sail depending on wind while keeping the boat going at a speed of 5 knots. About three hours into the sail, the weather unexpectedly turned ugly. We kept a positive attitude and agreed that we might arrive later than expected as the winds were much stronger than forecast; but, it didn't seem like a biggie at the time. We just kept trucking along heading directly into the East winds at around 3 knots. But this is part of sailing right? You don't always get the smooth stuff. So we kept going.
After another hour passed. We checked our GPS and realized that we had barely made any headway. The winds were getting worse and we were still 14 nautical miles from our destination point moving at 0.3 knots. A quick calculation startled us. At this speed, we would arrive at approximately 9:00 p.m. Low tide. This meant possible boat slamming into the ocean floor. That's when I started to worry.
We contemplated turning around and heading back to Mangrove Cay but the weather window that we had studied so carefully before leaving read that the following day (Saturday) was bringing on a cold front with winds coming in from the north and severe thunderstorms. We had been banking on staying that night in the West End to wait out that cold front - so turning around wasn't an option. Although we were almost sailing backwards with the winds continually picking up, we agreed that we had to try to keep moving; however, we were both quickly becoming panicked.
Then it got really bad. As many of you know, our steering cables needed to be replaced a few weeks ago. Our rudder was also causing us major issues, so of course, just as we were questioning the sturdiness of the new parts, the winds pick up to 35 knots. Now, we're stuck fighting it head on with questionable steering for at least another nine hours. Just when it looked like it couldn't get any worse, the skies on either side of the boat were turning dark grey and becoming black. Totally unforecast.
Nate and I were being slammed around in the cockpit and the situation was growing harder and harder to maintain control. The boat wasn't responding properly to our demands or the stress of the ocean and the waves were bigger than anything I have ever experienced. The entire bow of the sailboat was immersed in the ocean and then immediately thrown up high into the air, feeling as if it would almost become airborne. At one point, I saw the dark sky right above us and then almost as quickly, a great wave of water below ready to suck us back down into the ocean. That's when Nate and I agreed that we couldn't do this on our own. We issued a distress signal to Tow Boat U.S. but didn't receive a reply. We tried and tried and tried, but only had one failed attempt after another. Then Nate issued another distress signal to ANY local area assistance. A towing company replied and asked for coordinates. They informed us that it would cost $275 per hour for assistance. We did the math and figured that it would be around 1,000 dollars for help, but we said yes. Our lives were worth so much more to us than that. After about a half hour of being on stand-by, we were signaled back and we were told that it was too dangerous for them to come out and assist. Can I just repeat that last sentence? The towing company wouldn't come and assist because it was too dangerous for them! They were not willing to risk it. We were on our own. Both shocked and scared out of our wits, we knew that our only hope was to keep trying to move and to pray and boy did I pray. Unfortunately, in my sheer panic, my 'prayer' was all over the place. It went something like this;
Dear heavenly father, please forgive me for; oh holy crap, holy CRAP!!! Oh, I'm so sorry Lord, please forgive me for just swearing like that and also for being bad when I know you want me to be goo--- Oh geez!!!! (out loud) NATE!!! AHHHH!!!! (then silent again) Lord, oh man, if you really, really love me, oh man oh man, you'll save me right now. Please save me. No, save us. Save us please Lord, or, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh (out loud) HANG ON!!!
(silent again) Lord, geez, Lord please give us calmer seas or calmer winds, or just a bit more spee--- oh holy CRAPPPPP!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!! (then at lightening speed) In-your-precious-name-I-pray-Lord-Jesus-Christ-AHEM!!!
Just for the record, my conversations with God aren't so deplorable, but my mental state was elsewhere.
After fighting with the ocean like this for over nine hours we were both exhasted, terrified, weak, and we felt alone, frightening and hopeless; but I didn't realize that the journey was far from being over.
Our final test was at the Indian Cay inlet right outside the entry way to the West End. We had been forewarned by another boat already safe in the marina by way of radio that this end part would be the toughest. This is because the waves go from a depth of 500 feet to 50 feet to 6 feet all within 200 yards. They. Are. Massive. Nate told me to hold on and we told each other that we loved one another and then we went bow first straight into the rollers. It's hard to describe what it was like inside. It was probably one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen, but my fear for my life and Nathan's absolutely turned it into one of the most horrific moments ever. Seen the movie White Squall? Yeah, kinda like that. There were even people in the marina who were standing on the point in foul weather gear video tapping our arrival into the marina with their camcorders!!! World's greatest boating disasters perhaps? We hung on for a good 35 minutes through those rollers and then at the perfect moment, Nate turned the sailboat to face the entry way of the marina at West End. The sailboat literally surfed into the teeny tiny entrance way. People were actually smiling and cheering. I just remember seeing one old balding man shaking his head in disbelief while smiling at us. He gave Nate the thumbs up.
That evening at dinner in the Marina restaurant - where we indulged in our favorite food and drink, we walked past a few tables who very loudly announced; 'There they are!' or 'Here they come!' 'Here are those two brave kids!' It seemed everyone was really proud of us and wanted to ask us what the experience was like. We were the talk on the dock for a few days after that.
So after all this tramatic drama, I have to ask myself what is the lesson? In my brain I have a mini conversation; 'Now grasshopper Kate, what have you learned?' ' Ah yogi master Kate, that is a very good question. I now know that the only constant thing in life is change. I've learned that I'm not a boat person and that I don't love sailing, in fact I don't know if I even like it. I've learned that my experiences on land with my wonderful husband and other people were the fondest of this entire adventure, and finally and most importantly, I've also learned with every fiber in my body that HE saves'. 'Ah grasshopper Kate, you learned well. Very good little grasshopper, very good'.
