The sailing adventures of Abelene

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Saturday, March 24, 2012

Happy New Year everyone! Check out the new Ship's Log section! Please be aware it's still under construction, so our apologies for any issues as we get all the kinks worked out.
Here is the most recent exerpt:

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dizzy aka raw d i on the inside lookin out January 1, 2010

English Harbour, Antigua- Happy 2010! We start the new year with the good ship Abelene’s anchor still caught on something deep in the murk. The harbor bottom is like slurry, a watered down, silty clay which clouds thickly when disturbed. The harbor has a few ‘hurricane chains’ laid across the floor, remnants from Admiral Nelson’s day. Likely we are caught on one of these. A diver appears off of one of the megayachts and his crew of 2 dingy over to tell us that if it turns out the mega is caught on us we will have to pay. Frank explains that isn’t the case as we were anchored first. They reply that the other yacht is bigger so we will be footing the bill. ~Happy new year to you, too! What jerks.~  The diver looks over our anchor and calls to us that it is usually $200US to free an anchor, but he will give us a deal at $150! We will pass. ~secretly wondering if he fouled it some more~ This is a 5 minute underwater job.

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One of our neighbors, Old Bob, is leaving. Aboard, Emma calls to us that they will be at the fuel dock for a while if we would like her to contact a friend that is a diver.  We think we are good.

Frank dons snorkeling gear and goes in to check out the situation, returning to say there is barely any visibility and it seems there is a mooring caught on our anchor as well as chain. It just gets better. Frank and Devon decide Emma’s offer is too good to pass up (we really don’t have many options) and hop in the dingy to catch Old Bob at the fuel dock. Emma’s diver was out but they brainstormed that tying on a rope & dropping something weighted down our chain and over the anchor shaft would give a better angle to release the anchor. Frank & Devon set out in the dingy after dropping a length of chain down circling our anchor chain. They let out the line and zoomed back & forth from every direction with remarkably little progress. That failing, Emma returned to Abelene in their dingy promising to check with a few other sources.

Next batter, Devon. In spite of the muck, lack of visibility and the fact that she is congested and can’t clear her ears, Devon bravely suits up and takes a shot at it. Morgan gives her words of encouragement and then hides. Diving several times she gives us a clearer picture of what we are facing; our anchor is wrapped up in mooring line, chain and a fender. Neither pulling in or letting out chain seems to help.

Bottom of the 9th and the bases are loaded, Morgan steps to the plate… a reluctant player. With the muck being icky and the murk giving her the heebie jeebies, Morgan is guilted into at least making a show of trying. Well, it isn’t as bad as expected. It is dark and things come looming up as you descend. Creepy. There is a chain wrapped in one complete loop of the anchor flukes, thankfully not one of the hurricane chains. There is a thick mooring rope wrapped 3 times around the anchor with a deflated fender squashed in the middle. What a mess. If you touch anything you are surrounded in a cloud of mud and have to wait for it to settle again. Emma pays us another visit to say she has located a boat with dive equipment that can be borrowed – sad we are all dive certified but not a scrap of equipment and all of the shops are closed New Year’s Day. Phil, from RUSH (Relax Until Something Happens~ a great anagram) will bring over his tank & BCD shortly. Not sure how much air there is but help is on the way! Three cheers for Emma!

Morgan continues diving now armed with her dive knife and has hacked through one of the lines. We have a line of ours tied around the chain to try to lift it. We have a line tied to the other ropes to try and pull them… lots going on and little to show for it. The diver from earlier returns, says we better not be cutting through one of the marina’s moorings and lowers his offer to $50US. Thanks, but no thanks. The mooring is quite the mess and obviously private, not to mention sitting in a wadded mess on the bottom! Phil drops off his gear but Morgan feels progress is being made so the fun continues. Pull it in on the windlass, let out the anchor, up, down, scalpel, uh, I mean dive knife… the count is full and she hits it out of the park. The crowd is on their feet! We are free! Hallelujah! Don’t you just love baseball metaphors? J

We pull up the anchor, let loose all of the other lines and head over to the fuel dock to deliver a 6-pack to Emma for her help. Unable to get close enough and not willing to risk tossing it, Devon offers to deliver it in the dingy. The first leg of the delivery went fine, but on the return the engine refuses to start and Devon starts to drift into the middle of the channel. We were going to go back for her but there was a big yacht, Timoneer, on its way out of the dock and it was best to stay out of the way. Too bad Devon could not follow suit. Having drifted completely into the middle and the yacht bearing down on her, she got the engine going just in the nick of time, managed to get away only to have it die again 1 minute later.  Emma to the rescue, again. She had hopped in their dingy and picked up Devon and towed our dingy back to us. Angling for another 6-pack? Not the case. Some people are just awesome like that.

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data analysisabayesian tutrial The baton is passed to Frank who will be delivering more beer to Phil. Once again the first leg of delivery went without a hitch, but on the return… the dingy engine appears to be completely flooded and perhaps more, so rowing commences. Row, row, row your boat…

Frank and the dingy safely aboard, we flee English Harbour for the safety and sandy bottom of Pigeon Beach in Falmouth Harbour.

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After a happily uneventful evening everyone was eager to retire early after the previous late night of New Year's Eve and the stressful day. Some time later: a wrenching yowl splits the quiet night. Where is the fat lady?Why isn’t she singing? Yowl! The cat? Oh, my God! The cat! Our cat, Squeaker has gone overboard! Whether slipping on the wet deck by accident or thinking he could catch a fish, our sopping cat is now clinging to the slight lip on the bottom of the port hull stairs in the water, shivering and howling, unable to get on the boat. Devon was first on the scene, followed by Frank & Morgan. Dev scooped him up and proceeded to dry him, pelted with advice from her parents. J After he is nearly dry it dawns on us that he really should have been rinsed first. Oh…yeah. Okay, rinse, dry, go back to bed. Sweet dreams…

Latest pictures can be seen over in the Photos section!

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