|
|
October 31
Halloween, the ocean played a nasty trick on me. It gave me a wake-up
call. I just wish it had not been such a loud wake up call. It reminded
me that I am still far from home and nowhere near "home free." I hate
losing things when I am away from civilization. It rarely happens. At
home I lose things with regularity and think little about it. But, when I
leave civilization I take with me only things I absolutely need or things
that are very useful. So, out here it upsets me very much when I damage or
lose something.
It started out as an idyllic day. It began with a great colorful sunrise,
which I took the time to video. The afternoon was clear and calm. I went
for a swim and managed to clean most of the barnacles off the hull. I put
silicone grease around the gasket of the video camera's watertight case so
it could record my efforts without any leaks. After my swim, I climbed
back on board. I took a bath and washed my shirt and shorts.
By dinnertime, my clothes were dry, my hair was dry, and I looked forward
to a perfect sunset. As I cooked dinner, dolphins arrived for a visit. I
changed the battery in the video camera. I wanted to see if I could put
the face of the camera underwater to capture these creatures in their
habitat. I sat at the edge of the deck and reached the camera over the
side. As I did this, a dolphin came up from underneath the boat passing
within inches of the camera. The swiftness of the dolphin startled me and
for a brief second I let go of the camera. "Not to worry," I told myself,
it is on its tether. I glanced down at the deck - the camera's tether lay
between my feet. I'd untied it when I changed the battery.
The camera had not moved six inches from where I'd let go of it, but in my
haste to get a grip on it, I pounced. The camera bobbed beneath the surface
and came up a few feet toward the stern of the boat. I pounced again. If
I'd only reached out calmly I could have easily retrieved it. The third
pounce rammed my shoulder into the oarlock as I worked my way toward the
stern of the boat. The fourth lunge sent me head first out of the boat.
(So much for my clean dry clothes.) I panicked for half a second until
grasping at the waist belt of my harness, I assured myself that MY tether
was secure. It was. (I wish I could say that I swam with the dolphins, but the
instant this flailing creature entered the water, the dolphins
disappeared.) I swam for the camera, but my tether pulled me up a few
inches short.
Recognizing the futility, I vaulted back into the boat as a circus
performer vaults onto the back of a running horse. I did not bother to use
my nylon-climbing ladder. I'm not sure I could repeat the maneuver if I
wanted to and I DO NOT WANT TO. I shoved out the oars and attempted to
turn the boat. Over the course of the afternoon the wind had come up and
was now around 20 knots. It seemed to take forever to turn the boat into
the wind. This boat is designed to go with the wind not against it. In a
racing single I could have easily retrieved the camera.
I spent the next hour rowing lazy circles around the camera. Twice I
manage to get upwind of it, but each time I let the boat drift by the
camera it was several yards away. Knowing I would need another swing, I
took the time to put down my dagger board, but in the minute and a half it
took me to lower the dagger board, I lost sight of the camera. I thought
of all those heart-rending "Man-Overboard" stories where competent captains
with engines do circles around valued crewmembers only to lose sight of
them in the swells. It was only a camera.
I have a spare camera, so in the grand scheme it is not such a huge deal.
However, the camera belonged to my sponsor, Sector Sport Watches, and it was
a very, very, good digital camcorder with a waterproof case. I have a
spare camera but not a spare case. There will only be fair-weather filming
from now on. That it was not my camera only compounded my sense of
stupidity. In fact, I can think of no other item on board the loss of which
would upset me more, but cause less harm.
How could I have been so careless? How could I have been so clumsy? I'm
TORI MURDEN. I don't DO things like that! I thought of Gerard d'Aboville
on the Pacific Ocean when he capsized while on deck. Gerard is a wise and
careful man. I often thought about that capsize and how uncharacteristic
such a mistake was for him. Then I drop one of the finest video cameras
money can buy into the ocean. (Even in the capsize, Gerard didn't lose his
camera!)
Well, let that be a lesson to me. I am entering the phase in the trip in
which it is tempting to focus on the end instead of the moment at hand. My
safety will depend on paying strict attention to the little things.
Closing hatches, tying knots, securing tethers, and keeping things in good
repair is as important as ever. It is my opinion that big mistakes don't
kill people in the wilderness, little mistakes do. Little mistakes domino.
I drop my camera, I dive overboard to get it; I'm not tethered. This would
have been a fatal error. I must be more careful.
November 1
Last night in fretting over the loss of the camera, I became very serious
again. For the first time in weeks, I filled both ballast tanks before
going to bed. I'd taken to just filling one. One would be sufficient to
turn the boat upright if it capsized. Two full tanks make it harder to
capsize in the first place. It is a good thing I did this as it was a
stormy night. The wind is up and hard rains come with great dark squalls.
I rowed a bit this morning, but soon retired to the safety of the cabin.
Here I sit waiting for the rough weather to pass.
|
|