The next time we get a Tsunami warning, we’re not going to dither. We’re going to do one of two things if we’re in Ventura:
1. Get underway and get to deep water
2. Get to high ground.
This video from the 1994 Thai Tsunami is very instructive. For one, it shows that the first wave is not necessarily the worst wave. Watch the video for at least a minute. The second wave shows up at 53 seconds.
Tsunamis are probably widely known as tidal waves because they look tidal in that a lot, a whole lot, a veritable s-load of water comes ashore. The wave may be only a couple of feet high, but it can be on the order of a half mile long. And initially, it’s moving at 500 mph. Compare that to towering surf, which around here gets to maybe 20 feet, but runs back maybe 100 feet. And it trucks in at -what? – 20 knots?
A lot of us now realize we have never seen anything like a Tsunami. Nothing remotely like a Tsunami. NOAA warned us to stay away from beaches and out of the harbor.
So those of us who ran to the harbor and waited on the boat for this monster to come crashing in the other day were lucky that this Tsunami was trivial. Had it been something on the order of the second wave in the video, folks sitting on their boats would have been in for a fight for their lives.
However, if they’d been in deep water, they might not even have noticed.
Next time I’m either getting underway or heading for Ojai.
American Pride probably looks a little pitiful – at least her crew will – after running aground in in Rainbow Harbor in Long Beach.
The Coast Guard reported that another tall ship’s crew finds itself wondering why they can’t move ahead. Ooops we’re aground!!!
According to the Coast Guard, it was a “soft grounding,” and she floated away on the rising tide.
Here’s Rainbow Harbor (Marina). American Pride lives at pier 3b. That looks pretty tight. I wonder who is responsible for monitoring shoaling … or the depth sounder, for that matter.
The Ropers – Wayne and Bill – joined the Boatswain and me when we set sail on 15 Feb. As everyone knows, you can’t sail in winter. That is unless you buy some beer, a couple of pounds of steak and then throw off the lines. Remarkably, the boat floats just fine in February and the sails seem to work, too.
Bill Roper caught this Gray Well as he sounded between Anacapa and Santa Cruz Island
We headed for Santa Cruz thinking we’d overnight in Pelican anchorage on the north shore. However, we were distracted by whale spouts and sailed south for a closer look. We got within a quarter mile of a pod of three, but were unable to close the distance under sail. It was getting a little late in the day and we wanted to be in anchorage with a couple of hours of daylight left so that we could perfect our bow & stern anchoring technique.
The night was warm and the New Moon made it perfect for stargazing. Then day #2 rewarded us with a spectacular sunrise. It was warm enough by 0700 to kayak in shirtsleeves.
We had anchored in Coches Prietas, which is a very popular anchorage. I rarely go there because it is so popular, some times attracting 20 boats or more. But this night only one joined us and they did not actually get into the anchorage with us, preferring to ride to a single hook a bit outside. Though it’s easier by far to set one hook, we had a much more comfortable ride inside the reef. We watched other boat’s anchor light traverse an arc of ± 20 degrees. That couldn’t have been fun for long.
Winter Morning Coches Prietas Santa Cruz Island
In the morning, we set out in kayaks to explore the beach. This is the site of a Chumash village and we think we spotted the midden where their ancient garbage dump is located. The island is greener than we’d ever seen with water flowing in all the creeks and trees and flowers, including lupine in full bloom.
We got underway about 1100. Wind was still calm and seas absolutely flat: a perfect day for whale spotting. Once we were in the Anacapa Passage, we found several pods. As we were only making 5 knots, the whales had to come to us, which they did. There are a couple of excellent seconds of video and several great stills that Bill caught with his Canon.
We had to motor all the way home. We hate that, but if it was the price for hanging out with the Grays, it was well worth it.
The weather is lousy today and forecast lousy through the weekend. Winter sailing is great in SoCal, you’ve just got to pick your days.
NASBLA – you just think you’ve heard of them. But, no, it’s not the nasty guys; this is the National Association of Boating Administrators and they have some questions to ask in the form of a (fairly) brief test. With the wx forecast to be foul beyond what we Southern Californians will usually tolerate, you should take the opportunity to go through their online training or download the state’s course in a .pdf
For those of you who were ASA trained, you originally met these requirements. But ASA no longer includes all of the info in their courses, nor did the old courses cover all of the now-required material. A good move by the ASA as the new law requires a lot of knowledge of jet skis and other issues far removed from sailing.
In any event, it’s a good review and you should mention that you’ve completed the course when you renew your boat insurance – they may give you a discount.
If you download the .pdf and want to get your boater’s card, you can obtain a Scantron form to take the test by e-mailing a request to sbetzler@dbw.ca.gov or by calling (916) 263-8183.
F/V Lady Frances aground at Smugglers. USCG photo.
It’s been a tough fishing season for the squid fleet and brisk business for Channel Watch Marine, the local Vessel Assist team. Lady Frances, above, is in the shipyards now, but not for repair. She’ll be cut up and most likely end up in a landfill. Another squid boat nearly sank due to rusted welds in the shaft log, and Donz Rig, another squid lightboat, nearly sank in Channel Islands Harbor last week.
Donz Rig in Bellport Marine Anacapa Shipyard. photo: capt. dan
Lessons for the rest of us
The near sinking of Donz Rig brings home a couple of valuable lessons. According to the owner, the captain got underway in fog that reduced visibility to 100-200 feet in Oxnard’s Channel Islands Harbor. He was the lone crew, and, as he neared the detached breakwater, the fog thickened and visibility was further reduced. The captain estimated he could see 25-50 feet. Unsure of his position, he was at idle and dead slow when he clipped the breakwater, opening a gash in the bow. He beached the boat on Hollywood Beach.
Lessons learned?
The owner says the primary lesson is “If you don’t know where your are, stop. Drop the anchor if you have to.”
Fishermen’s livelihoods depends on their ability to sail in nearly all conditions. We weekend sailors, on the other hand, can stay home. On the third hand, I’ve been caught in similar conditions when the marine layer moved suddenly. Donz Rig would have had a better chance if there had been a second crewman to monitor the radar and chartplotter. Zero-zero fog, particularly at night is tough to handle in the open sea. In close quarters, it requires thorough planning. Had the captain charted a heading from the end of the south jetty to open sea and then adhered to that heading, he’d have escaped damage. If he’d stopped as the owner mentioned, he would have reduced his risk. If he’d been able to monitor the radar closely, he could have avoided the breakwater.
So, four lessons obtain:
• Know where you are by eyeball, by radar and/or gps
• Know where you’re going. We always chart an escape course when we’re at anchor. If everything goes to hell at night and we get blown out of an anchorage we know and will steer a heading to safe waters. If you’re heading out in weather so rotten that you may not see harbor obstacles, make sure you know the heading from the last landmark you’re likely to see to safe water.
• Pick your weather and set reasonable limits commensurate with skills and experience
• Take crew
A fifth lesson, somewhat tangential, be ready to sound your fog signal.
Lessons from Lady Frances
F/V Lady Frances (apologies to the owner who did spell her name correctly) under tow by Channel Watch Marine/Vessel Assist. Photo Capt Paul Amaral
Oh, the hapless Lady Frances: A calm, windless night. A full moon. And yet she found herself on the rocks, her anchor still in the hawse.
What happened?
Best guess – after a long, hard day, the helmsman fell asleep. Amazingly, they’d cruised through Smugglers/Yellowbanks where 20+ boats lay to anchor before sliding onto the rocks.
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