Pot Warp and Crab Pots

The happy couple...

The tool that set us free!

Boot Key Harbor

Spending Christmas night 40 miles off shore in 15 knot winds and 5 foots waves hung up on a crab pot, was not what I had in mind for our first night at sea.

We left mid morning Christmas Day under ideal weather conditions for our overnight journey to Marathon at Boot Key. Our engine got us safely out of the channel and up went our sails!  We were cruising along so well that we even talked of slowing ourselves down so we didn’t arrive at the shallow approach to Marathon before dawn.

The water was fairly choppy and after lunch the effects of sea sickness started settling in. I’ve been prone to motion sickness in the past but thought I had outgrown it. Taking turns at the tiller before the long night ahead allowed me to take my mind off my ever growing nausea.

Sometime in the mid-afternoon 8 or so dolphins graced us with their playfulness and stayed with us well past sunset. My ability to even watch them was overshadowed by the bucket next to me but I sensed they were guarding us in some way or trying to communicate something. At times they sounded like humans and one in particular made this very deep sound whenever Mark would go below deck. I wondered what they were trying to convey, perhaps they were just having fun with the lone boat anywhere to be seen.

I was hoping to get some rest but felt too sick to go below. Being on deck with Mark as the sun went down and the moon rose was magical despite how bad I felt. The idea that we were making such good time on this beautiful evening, fueled us and helped fight off some of the impending fatigue.
Mark was still tending the tiller at 2300 while I was with him in the cockpit resting, mustering up enough fortitude to take over. Mark mentioned it was becoming increasingly hard to steer and that we might have something stuck in our rudder. I thought if that’s the case, what the heck do we do? The conditions certainly weren’t conducive for taking a dive overboard for a look.

We finally came to a stop with no ability to steer or turn into the wind. We were just stopped, 40 miles off shore in 15 knot winds and 5 foot waves in the middle of the night…crap! This only intensified my seasickness. What were we going to do?

A buoy and pot warp were stuck in the gap between our keel and rudder (we later learned of a flat metal piece missing from the keel that would have allowed the pot warp to slide unimpeded or past the rudder). I think of Mark as fearless and was hoping he wouldn’t try and do anything too crazy and if he attempted, he’d have me to contend with first. Mind you the boat wasn’t just sitting there in the water bobbing around, it was rocking back and forth and up and down in a forceful way. I still carry the reminder with dark bruises on my body.

Mark tried pulling up the line with a boat hook but with the wind and current, the line was too tight and wouldn’t budge.What next? Duck tape our large brand new very sharp kitchen knife to the end of the boat hook. Since we were being thrown about I was now concerned this razor sharp knife could do even worse damage!

If I thought I was seasick before, the stress was exacerbating it even more. I was barely able to function but I knew I couldn’t let Mark hang overboard in the rough seas without holding onto him, although he was resistant to me doing that, he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Because this line was wrapped between the rudder and keel it meant he was off the stern practically upside down getting dunked 3 foot into the water every few seconds. I was holding his lower leg doing everything in my ability to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. At 0100, 2 hours later, he finally severed the rope and we were free! We were both so sick and haggard by that time that we just went into action to get on our way, and then within 15 minutes… it happened again.

We were basically in a minefield of crab pots. Most of them are painted black and can’t be seen. They are strung together so if you go over one, you drag a whole string of them along. It’s not like we’re unfamiliar with this since we live in the lobster capital of the world but we had no idea being 40 miles off shore what potential dangers lie ahead.

I could hardly fathom going through that process a second time. It was terrifying to think of Mark doing that all over again! The only consolation was that we thought we’d figured it out and that it wouldn’t take as long, but that wasn’t the case. Our knife was dull by then and our boat hook broke in two during the second attempt. We were getting thrashed about and trying to stay upright. We finally cut our losses for the night. It was the prudent thing to do given how sick and exhausted we were. It seemed futile to keep pursuing our freedom in that state and with the prospects of continually getting hung up.

So here we were with our boat rocking with such force in the Gulf of Mexico. Even 40 miles out the water is only 30 feet deep. Do we drop an anchor? That seemed risky because we were unsure how that might complicate the whole situation. So we opted to take our chance and hang as we were and wait until dawn. We lied down on deck shivering and getting wet but too sick to move. I was totally incapacitated and Mark wasn’t much better off. We couldn’t even bring ourselves to go down below so we stayed on deck not able to sleep, getting wet and cold.

We finally dragged our limp bodies below and cuddled up on the narrow settee but the noise from the thrashing and motion of the boat didn’t allow us to get any sleep, although we were now warm and protected from the elements. Neither of us were worried about the integrity of the boat. We knew she could handle it. We would wait until the sun came up. I was sure we’d have a mess of broken glass to clean up but not a single thing broke.

When the sun rose, Mark accessed the situation. We had some good fortune as we hadn’t moved since we were still very attached to a string of crab pots. I didn’t feel much better and I’m not sure Mark did either but we had no choice but to break free from this albatross, not be confused with the bird. With the sun up and the day light ahead, it didn’t seem quite as daunting but neither one of us had much left in us. Now we had to figure out another way to cut this line. Mark had a hack saw in his tool kit and we had the mast from our sailing dinghy. He taped and hose clamped the saw to the mast and he went back into the inverted position off the stern. As I was dragging myself out of the companionway the first thing I saw was a wave breaking over the stern into the cockpit…ugh. As I held Mark, he was getting dunked so deep with each wave and gulping large amounts of sea water. I wasn’t sure what was keeping him going. I know one thing for sure, Mark’s tough! The hacksaw wasn’t working but fortunately he also had a handsaw in his bag of tricks so he secured that to the dinghy mast which then freed us once again!

Once we got our sails up and started moving, that nightmare was over. Maybe the dolphins were trying to warn us of impinging dangers ahead. I’d like to think they were looking out for us. For the next 8 hours we were dodging crab pots and pot warp.

We didn’t make it to the mooring field before dark so we anchored off Boot Key right at sunset. We were both wiped out and in desperate need of sleep. I lost my voice for several days as my throat was raw from dry heaving.

Who would have thought with my sailing days still in their infancy I would have experienced smoke in the cabin, running aground and the terrors of thinking my husband could be swept out to sea trying to free us from the confines of pot warp. Even with all that it has been a worthwhile endeavor to date. I'm still enthusiastic about this adventure. I welcome having 2 young, able bodied, experienced sailors with the anticipated arrival of Josie and Oakley.

I didn’t want to make light of this experience or make it sound too dramatic but it had an impact and I wasn’t ready to write about it until now. This is not a unique experience and most sailors probably have plenty of like stories and or much worse to tell. As I write this we’re experiencing a northeaster with 30 MPH winds which is the same storm that’s heading up the eastern seaboard. We’re rocking in the mooring field but I'm glad to be in the safe confines of this protected harbor. I can’t fathom what it must have been like during Hurricane Irma or Maria with 160+ MPH wind force. It’s all relative but I hope it’s a while before I have anymore pot warp-like stories to share.

Some common qualities I’ve seen in sailors is that they are a self sufficient, smart, creative, resourceful and fearless bunch. I have tremendous respect for Mark but after this experience even more so. I was blown away by his skill and ability to keep moving forward in spite of being sicker than a dog. I don’t know how he does it!