Three at Sea

My black eye is even prettier than I imagined. My left eye is about the size of a marble and surrounded by a grape-colored bruise that crosses the nose of my bridge and goes under my right eye. My lips are swollen to a lusty plumpness never seen in real life. They’re black and blue, too, as I must have bit my lips as I tumbled over the lifelines. My nose remains swollen despite multiple ice packs, and the nostrils are wider than ever. All in all, I think I resemble Miss Piggy after a long, hard night with Kermit.

I slept poorly last night. I didn’t count on that. I figured I’d be out like a rock. Instead I tossed and turned and tossed some more. I finally took a mild sleeping pill around 4 o’clock and awoke at 9:30 a.m.

Mikayla and her dad were playing cribbage when I crawled out of bed. As we held a brief postmortem, we decided that we performed the man overboard (MOB) drill rather well. I was in the water only 10 minutes. Mikayla responded quickly, immediately throwing the Lifesling into the water. She could have used more items to throw, such as cushions. Most of the ones in the cockpit don’t float.

Obviously, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I should have waited for Mike to secure the jib sheet before moving forward. The boat was moving too fast for him to get the sails secure, because he’d just pointed the boat into the wind. The sails were flapping as the engines moved Happy Times forward.

I would have benefited from a lifejacket, but it was a short, easy sail from the East Holandes Cays under light conditions. It didn’t seem necessary at the time.

A Facebook group that I belong to, Women Who Sail, recently discussed the MOB drill and many women participated. I can’t wait to get online again and tell my friend Carrie Butler, s/v Sanctuary, how the subject she initiated turned out in real life. No photos though. I’m not ready to show this purple mug to anyone.

I applied a cold pack right away.
©2012 Cheryl Crockett Lezovich

I saw the jib boom swing in my direction, and I thought, “Oh, shit! I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I turned too late and the boom struck me on the nose and threw me to the boat’s side. I tried to hang onto the lifelines as I wheeled over them, but the momentum was too great and I lost my grip. Happy Times whooshed by as I fell in the water.

Mike uttered a rare curse as he saw what happened and started to bring the boat under control. He had just started the engines and begun lowering the sails when I was knocked overboard. He let the sails drop completely and told Mikayla to throw the Lifesling.

I knew that I’d been hit pretty good. I didn’t know if my nose was broken or not. Blood and snot gathered above my lip and I wiped it off. Mikayla hates the sight of blood.

Mike passed me once and walked down the rear steps to grab me. The boat’s wake only shoved more water down my gullet. “Throw me something!” I yelled.

Mikayla threw a Mustang Survival Rescue Stick, but evidently she needs a lesson in throwing downwind versus upwind. The stick automatically inflated about 150’ away and sailed downwind to our friends on s/v Tevakenui who scooped it up.

Mike circled the boat again and pulled the rope of the Lifesling closer to me. I was able to swim and bob in its direction. I grabbed the line, sticking the collar under one arm, and Mikayla pulled me in. I climbed aboard and Mikayla took charge.

She quickly gave me a towel to wipe off the blood. Then she helped me out of my wet clothes and into some dry ones. She grabbed a cold pack and I applied it right away.

Michelle and Geoff of s/v Eclipse dinghied over immediately. Geoff came on board to examine the injury and offer assistance in anchoring off Green Island. Ironically, we were only a few hundred feet from our chosen spot for the night when the accident happened.

As soon as I saw Geoff, I said, “When we talked recently about practicing a man overboard (MOB) drill, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.” He grinned.

Our crew quickly found a spot and dropped the anchor. By then Eclipse and Tevakenui also had their hooks down. Mark from Tevakenui came over, checked my eyes and decided that I didn’t have a concussion. He offered some suggestions on pain relief. Michelle came aboard, too, and offered ideas on how to care for my nose. It bled for three or four hours, and I had to keep sticking rolls of toilet paper in one nostril to keep it from dripping. At least the Crockett proboscis is still intact, though a little battered.

North Star the morning after.
©2012 Cheryl Crockett Lezovich

Crews from three sailboats had gathered on Dupwala—Happy Times, North Star and Kamaloha—to share cocktails and appetizers on the beach in the late afternoon. We lingered past sundown when the wind suddenly picked up and turned chilly. Lightning and thunderclouds on the horizon sent us scurrying back to our boats for cover.

Mike, Mikayla and I sat down to dinner on Happy Times around 8 p.m. when the show began in earnest. Lightning flashed all around, sometimes lighting up the entire anchorage in the Eastern Coco Bandero Cays. The wind piped up some more and the rain fell in sheets.

We had returned to the boat in time to batten down the hatches, secure laundry and release the dodger. Mike attached our water catchment system to HT’s water tank and quickly topped it off. He filled one five-gallon container after another with rain, enough to wash a few buckets of laundry and a few rounds of dishes.

We disconnected all our electronics from the outlets and shut down several breakers as the lightning continued. We left on the anchor light and VHF radio for a while and eventually turned them off at the electrical panel. Some cruisers place computers and cell phones inside their ovens for protection during electrical storms. We’ll do that next time.

Suddenly a large bolt of lightning struck, and Mikayla and I jumped a foot in the air. The anchorage lit up like Times Square, and we stepped into the cockpit to check on Happy Times and the other boats.

North Star took the hit. The bolt traveled down the mast and disappeared somewhere, but not out the through hulls, which might have sunk her. The 51’ Tayana, lying only 200’ from HT, lost its alternator and two battery chargers, which fed four banks of batteries, a voltage regulator, two chartplotters, a spare handheld Global Positioning System (GPS), single sideband radio (SSB), VHF radio and a tricolor masthead light.

As soon as the immediate danger passed, Steve appeared outside and shined a flashlight on the mast, sails and elsewhere to assess the damage. The scent of smoke hung in the air and the shards of North Star’s tricolor lay on the deck.

I tried to raise Kamaloha on the VHF to check on its status. Charlie and Maureen maintained radio silence as lightning still broke on the fringes of the anchorage. North Star overheard my call and returned it with a brief report. A British monohull lying 300 yards away saw the lightning strike and called North Star. When the lightning quit, the Brits hopped in their dinghy and headed to Steve’s boat to offer assistance. Little could be done at the time, yet Steve appreciated their concern.

North Star’s engine and generator remained in operating condition. The battery chargers, however, proved to be the greatest loss. The electric flush toilets were among many things that no longer worked. It’s a good thing they had a bucket onboard.

Steve, Kim and Tim visit Happy Times.
©2012 Cheryl Crockett Lezovich

A lightning strike never happens at a good time. Steve, Kim and 17-year-old Tim had left Manzanilla, Colombia, only two weeks ago after spending seven long months there, stuck in the boat yard as they wrangled to get the teak removed, the bottom painted and other major repairs completed. Yet in all this, there were things to be grateful for.

Moments before the strike, Kim was about to make cocktails in the blender and Steve reluctantly agreed to turn on the generator. Only when the generator is running can Tim play on his Xbox so he headed right away to his berth. At any other time Tim would be stretched out in his favorite spot in the salon, the one where he rests his feet on the mast. Made of metal.

Steve and Kim are thankful that no one was injured due to the accident. They can always replace boat parts, but not a son.