Sometimes ya just gotta do something nuts. At least I find that I do. The day-to-day grind starts to get to me, and for me, the way to break that feeling is to do something that, I guess in most people’s minds, is a little nuts.
I found this out while we were sailing in Bora Bora a few days ago. We were on one of our Share The Sail Adventures, and we had 11 boats anchored on the far side of Bora Bora near the St. Regis Hotel. There was a snorkeling area we’d found out about nearer the island, and we were going to head over to snorkel it in the morning.
As I sat there that evening, I noticed the shore boats from the St. Regis, which was located on a motu on the reef in front of us, were all taking the same path through the reef, where there was no pass indicated. I watched for a while, and a very bad idea started to coagulate in my alleged mind. I figured if these water taxies could make it through there with local knowledge, maybe I could too. The more I watched, the more I liked the idea.
Come the morning, I was convinced I could make it through the shallow pass. I had my stalwart and trusting crew raise the anchor, and we started to motor toward the reef. The closer I got, the sillier the idea seemed, but the winds were calm, and I figured if I got into trouble I could always back out using the motors.
We were on a 47-foot Fountaine Pagot catamaran. You see, all of the water taxies were speedboats, and the way I had it figured, some probably had a deeper draft than my boat. Of course none were as wide, and this was my concern.
We reached the edge of the reef, and the depth was fine. Five meters. No problem. The depth sounder was set at the bottom of the keel, so I felt pretty comfortable. I figured we had about a 3.5′ draft, or a little over a meter.
With crewman Chris on the video camera and Jody with still camera in hand, we moved across the reef toward my objective, an area where the clear water of the reef showed just a little more color than the rest, where the water was so shallow it was clear. Sure enough, as I followed the path I had studied the night before, the depth sounder showed four meters, then three, then two… and as we approached the dark area at the end of the reef, discolored by brain coral as opposed to deep water, it dropped to .8 meters.
Now I gotta tell ya, my juices were flowing. We were moving at about 1/2 a knot, and I had my hand on the throttles, ready to throttle into reverse if we touched anything.
As we squeezed over the top of the reef and into the deep clear water, I heard Jody start breathing again. I guess I did too.
Captain Woody was fast approaching the boat in his dinghy. He was in charge of the flotilla, and it seems he was a little less than thrilled about what I’d done. He figured the other boats might start following me through the reef. He let me know, in no uncertain terms, that what I did was a no-no, and he quickly got on the radio and told folks NOT to try what I’d just done.
I gave him my best sheepish grin, and said I was sorry, and would not do anything like that again.
I lied!
I don’t know what it is, but sometimes I just have to do something that is not the easiest way to do things. Doing this made me feel alive. Was it reckless? I don’t think so. I did think it through, but I know to Captain Woody it must have seemed nuts!
There is a point to all this, and it is not to tell people they should do stupid stuff in order to feel alive. In fact, it is just the opposite.
You see, it’s very much like cruising itself. To the average Joe (Joe the Plumber?) setting off on a boat to cross an ocean is tantamount to suicide. Yet we do it because we have measured the risk, studied the problems, and prepared ourselves to take the responsibilities of our actions. In other words, we plan ahead.
What I did was not nuts. I didn’t take a stupid chance. I calculated the best possible course, made plans in case unforeseen circumstances were to occur, and then committed myself to the action to get the most out of what was ahead.
What we do for fun the vast majority of flatlanders see as taking stupid chances. Yes, it is dangerous. So are riding a motorcycle, hang-gliding, and skiing. So what?
If you are going to live, live life to its fullest. A life lived in fear is a life half lived!
Yeah, that’s nuts. I’ve spent my whole sailing career making every effort to avoid the bottom. Mostly because most of my encounters with the bottom have cost me money in one way or the other.
Yeah there are three kinds of sailors when it comes to running aground: 1) those that have, 2) those that will, and 3) those that lie about it.
I hear ya, and had a similar adventure on Jost Van Dyke. Slipped in the main channel at the Soggy Dollar and searched for a buoy / morning. We were on a Lagoon 42 and I was forced into being the Captain since the guy in our floatilla that claimed to be a Captain was definitely not !
We had to take the furthest ball down the beach as the only one open. When it came time to leave, boats were packed in near the Soggy Dollar. So the idea of navigating through that mess seemed insane. But I had watched a number of catamarans leave through a shallow break marked by only one marker. I made it, but the crew was on edge the whole way ! And we beat the rest of the flotilla to Foxy’s and got the last mooring ball.