It's pitch black, a cloudy night on the water and you can't tell what's land and what's water!
The GPS glows brightly in the dark pilot house. The only clue as to where we are in the sliver of water between the main land and the channel.
The captain and I have to catch a plane on Monday and it takes at least 7 hours to boat to town. Winter is the worst time to travel on the water on SE Alaska!
We've had one winter storm system after another. The nice days here and there are too far in advance of the time we'll have a replacement at camp and the time we need to leave.
My Hobart Man, the captain, has been watching the weather, looking for a window that looks decent.
Sometimes the forecasts don't match reality. It’s a guess with mother nature!
Our replacement arrived Friday and even though it looked like a good day, the forecast called for high winds and there was much to do to help them settle in, so we didn't leave.
The next morning, he made a quick decision to make a run for it. Hopefully making it at least half way with the current forecast.
As we started out it wasn't too bad, but with the winter storms, I knew it would be wise to have everything we could down on the floor.
Captain attaches the ratchet strap to hold the captain’s chair in place. It's gonna get rough!
Part way into the trip the waves began to build and we started to rock and roll. Waves coming from the SE hit the side of the boat and the captain got busy, (between occasional expletives), navigating the hills and valleys of the waves.
The OZ is a big boat with a deep hull, and soft chime. About 1/4 of the way to town we go around a point of land that breaks up the north and south influences. It runs a long way out into the channel, and is fairly shallow, causing BIG waves! In addition to the already high winds, there were big gusts adding to the force of the waves and spray washing the boat.
It was like riding a roller coaster with the occasional side to side wave or wind gust to test its ability to right itself.
The captain has always said, boats can take more that we can.
The Hobart Man knows these waters after 40 years here. I trust his navigation skills and judgment.
He battled the waves at the point for 15-20 minutes and couldn't make much headway. Then the question was HOW can he turn the boat around in these huge swells without REALLY pitching dangerously.
He watches for a big swell to ride and surfs her around quickly.
We duck around the back side and try to wait it out for a bit.
After about 30 minutes the Hobart Man tries again. No luck! It's still hitting us with 6-7 for waves, washing the deck and windshields.
The decision has been made to find a place to anchor up and try again in the morning.
It's getting dusk and he knows of a shallow spot back around the corner that he thinks will be more protected from the wind.
The wind is whipping, trying to drive the cover off the skylight and the coats off our backs as we drop anchor and tie it off.
It feels decent compared to the run we just made, so we settle in for cleanup from the roller coaster ride, dinner, and cards.
The wind gusts are getting stronger as we head for bed. About 20 minutes after trying to go to sleep, my Hobart man decides it going to get really bad where we are because the wind switched. He knows of another bay that should be better protected.
Seriously?? In the pitch black? With no running lights? Not that it would probably make any difference on the black water.
It's now after midnight!
The Hobart Man knows where he wants to go but navigating in total blackness without any reference to land is tricky.
My stomach begins to churn, I can feel the nervousness creeping in-oh who are we kidding, I was slightly terrified!
I recognized anxiety throwing all the possible scenarios at me.
Being a brain trainer means recognizing and addressing these stories so they don't take on a life they don't deserve. Believe me, I've been down that road many times in my life. This time I couldn't afford to let those stories run!
So, we pull anchor in the howling wind, hanging onto the railing as we shine the flashlight to see the markers on the chain and know how much more is coming up.
Tie it back down, stow the gear, and stumble back into the pilot house, hanging onto the rails all the way.
For now, we have to concentrate.
That means me shutting up, no questions, and trusting the captain will get us to where we need to be.
I gotta hang on, talk to you tomorrow!!
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PS: Mindset is a choice, if you find the stories running in your head take on a life of thier own, drop me a note and I'll send you a couple hands-on tools that really work!
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