Ghost Ship

[HenryC]

This story has been deleted due to potential copyright issues in the event it should ever be submitted for publication. - HC

[Bob23]

Great tale, Henry. Keep 'em comin'.
Bob23

[HenryC]

I had all kinds of adventures on the Pelican.  One night I camped out on Anclote Key with friends  and we were awakened  by all sorts if people outside our tent, on the beach.  Looking out, it was a group of picnickers from Gibsonton and Ruskin, the nearby winter quarters for carnies, circus and show people.  You can imagine our surprise, a couple of wigged out hippies suddenly finding themselves surrounded by little people, bearded ladies, the Tattooed Man, the Muscle Dude, and various other VERY strange people, all in bathing suits.  It was heavy.

Another time we rounded the end of the key and found ourselves in the middle of a Marine assault on the island (the local USMC Reserve Unit was conducting landing exercises, complete with amphibious vehicles, LSTs, and other heavy gear).  They had us surrounded, and the wind forced us through the melee.  Of course, as a sailboat, we had the right of way, so we sailed wing and wing through the whole first wave, scattering them like tenpins.

We left behind us a trail of groundings, near-collisions, swamped landing craft, and a traffic jam of stalled tracked vehicles on the beach as they maneuvered violently to avoid running us over.  They never had a chance.

[kahpho]

Let me see if I heard you right....

Two "heads" taking on the USMC on maneuvers... in a Pelican!!!

You sir, have my profound admiration!

LOL w/aching sides,
mel

[HenryC]

is that a fairy tale starts off "once upon a time", and a sea story starts off "now this is no shit, you guys".

Speaking of foggy days, sea fogs on the Gulf Coast are not too frequent, or severe, and when they do hit they usually burn off by noon.  So when they do hit hard, all day, they cause all sorts of problems.

The four of us (a friend and both our Dads) showed up one morning at Sunset Beach, near Tarpon Springs, and put the Pelican in for a day of fishing.  It was foggy, but the boat ramp was busy, so we put in and sailed a compass course towards the Anclote River Estuary for the spoil islands by the entrance channel.  There are a variety of habitats concentrated there, mud flats, shell, sandy bottom and beaches, mangroves, turtle grass, oyster bars and deep water channel, so it was one of my favorite spots, plus the water there was shallow and the Pelican had no trouble getting in or out and had little to fear from deep draft powerboats.

It was a good place to take shelter; as the day wore on and the fog lingered, we could hear the legions of the lost roaring around at high speed, as if going faster would help them find their destinations any quicker.  That coast is low and shallow, with few spots to put in.  One cabin cruiser came right up to us, brusquely asked us for a course to the river entrance and I gave it to him.  Before I could warn him about the spoil banks lining the channel he took off.  In the distance I could hear the sudden change in the sound of his engine as he ran his boat aground at full speed.  Ah yes, the sea is a harsh mistress, but I've seen worse.

By the time we decided we'd had enough (near sunset), the fog still hadn't lifted.  Visibility was under a 100 feet, but we knew our compass would take us back to the boat ramp without any problems.  All I had to do was steer a course to a spot well north of the launch ramp,   and then follow the coast south to where we needed to go.  Howard Park, half way to our destination and right on our way, would help verify our course, and it was very brightly lit up at night. 

On the way home, an old-timer in a small boat slowed down and gave us a compass course and distance to where "one of your buddies"  was stuck.  We followed his directions, and sure enough, found a large sailboat hard aground there.  A man and his son were aboard, and we must have presented quite a sight as we came alongside, two hippies and two old guys chattering in Spanish, we must have looked like one of those clown cars at the circus.  We all jumped aboard the yacht and were rocking her back and forth trying to break her free when one of my jib sheets fell over the side and got fouled on the sailer's prop.  Fortunately, we caught it before the Pelican was dragged under water, or my rig was ripped off.  Eventually, I had to strip down and swim under the yacht and untangle the mess. We gave up on the yacht, a rising tide would have to finish the job, but we did carry the yacht's anchor into deep water and deep-sixed it there so the man could winch himself off the bar as the water rose.  Funny, "Anclote" is the Spanish word for "kedge anchor".

Our next adventure was a rendezvous with a fast runabout filled with a bunch of stoned hippies--after nearly running us over in the fog, they came alongside and asked for directions.  I gave them a course to the Anclote River Channel entrance, but they had no compass.  I then suggested they were better off anchoring and conserving fuel until either the fog lifted or someone came along who could guide them in, but they had no anchor. I offered to give them my backup water jug in case they were stranded here, but the "skipper" just thanked me and said he had plenty to drink, proudly showing me an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels. I just pointed toward Tarpon Springs and they politely thanked me, and roared off into the mist. 

It was a long, slow sail back, and although we could hear the angry buzz of boats all around us, we saw nothing--except for an old Cracker putt-putting in a mullet skiff, followed by a caravan of a half-dozen power boats, throttled way back, so he could lead them home. The fisherman and I couldn't help but exchange grins as we passed each other, the citizens in his wagon train looked dead ahead, refusing to make eye contact with us.

[brackish]

"Of course, as a sailboat, we had the right of way, so we sailed wing and wing through the whole first wave, scattering them like tenpins."

An often quoted misconception, at least according to the gentleman who taught the basic coastal navigation course I took.  It reverts back to "least maneuverable vessel".  As a former member of USMC Company A, Fourth Amphibious Tractor Battalion, I know that an amtrack in the water, at least the version used up until the end of the Vietnam era, is far less maneuverable than any small sailboat.

Having been there on the other side of that story, I'll withhold my admiration, and refer to your opening statement....It's one of those dumb things you do when you're young.......

Frank 2

[HenryC]

You're absolutely right, of course, General Prudential Rule and all that.  What I should have done was simply headed to shore and pulled the Pelican up on the beach, and waited until they were finished, ROW or not.  There was little surf that day (just the turbulence and wakes from the landing craft) and it probably would have been safe to do that, even on the weather side of the island.

Sometimes though, you are forced by circumstances into doing dumb things.  I will tell you about my tangle with a Super Carrier in San Francisco Bay some other time.