Richard
Final Approach
- Joined
- Feb 27, 2005
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Ack...city life
Bill Jenning's post in Flight Following reminded me of one of my 'favorite' I'm-gonna'-die stories.
We were sailing in the San Pedro Channel out of Long Beach bound for Morro Bay. It was a perfect sunny day, vis was unlimited, air temp about 75, light-mod winds, no swell to speak of, and ship traffic was light and orderly in the channel. The boat is secure for passage and we're settled in for what is likely to be a wonderful last leg home.
South of Santa Barbara the shipping lanes make a dog leg around Anacapa Is., the most easterly of the Channel Is. This is right where I see a light layer of sea fog. Multiple targets on the radar but so far no problem. I had learned to not try to contact these ships 'cause the bridge is mostly occupied by foreigners with faulty English. Too much frustration and confusion... The other guy with me decides to get some shut eye and climbs into his bunk.
Here comes a problem. Something inside of me didn't feel right as soon as I saw him 24 nm out. I plotted his speed and bearing using the radar and figured my skills must be rusty because it looked like he kept changing speed. I double checked through the binoculars. I must be seeing things or maybe it's an inversion, now his port side is in view where only minutes before his bows were on me. Back to the 'scope and his bearing is unchanged. Huh? That was my 2nd warning. Back outside with the binos I see he's now crossing to my right. Double huh?
Knowing better, I tried to get him on the radio trying multiple freqs. Nothing, although another ship came back and said if it's who he thinks I'm trying to contact I better watch out. No further explanation. Now I'm sweating. I hate this pit in my stomach and all because some clown is running down on us and because I knew I should've acted sooner.
I made my course change (early and obvious) 75* to the left. Now we're in the fog and although I can see blue sky above us I do not have a horizon. 12 miles and no change in relative bearing. Knowing better, I waste time continuing to call him. I swing another 20* to the left and bump up our speed. 8 miles, no change. I can't believe this, we're nearly 1/4 nm off Anacapa Is. I dare not get any closer to the island.
I switch the radar to the smallest ring scale (1/4 nm) and see him at 2 miles, no change in RB. I look at the water, it's like glass. I make a run towards the island. I'm no longer sweating. In fact, my hands are cold and clammy and the pit in my stomach is gone. I feel strangely calm and content. I look again at the water and see how soft it looks. I look up into the sunshine and marvel at the circular rainbow around the sun as it shines through the thin veil of fog. I know this side of the island drops off quickly but there are some wash rocks around. We must be only a couple hundred yards off the island.
I slow our speed as we close in on the island and watch as our blips merge. I am at peace. Just then we take a 4' swell on the bow. Then another. Now it's flat again but we're running through a large swath of foam. It was his bow wave and wake we ran through. There wer no more than a few seconds from when we passed over his bow wave to when we ran through his wake. I'll bet someone on deck could have spit on us.
I spent years trying to figure out what happened. The best I can think of is that he made a course change at the same time I made mine. We were on the left side of the lane to minimize our exposure to ships. (ships were not required to stay in the lanes, the lanes were only a suggestion) Previous experience taught me sticking close to the islands was to play it safe. This ship made several couse changes to the left, right, and back to the left. I saw the first two but it was the last change which went unnoticed...and was the most important.
On a previous trip I had watched a steamer pass within 2 nm of us and then shut down 4 nm upwind of us. He called us asking for directions to San Francisco! I told him to turn his 100 nm radar on and look for the gap in the headlands. Anyway, in spite of using all your knowledge to do what you think is the correct thing, there still will be someone out there--who you think are equally, if not better, skilled--trying to kill you.
When Bill spoke of the hair on the back of your neck being raised, boy, do I know.
We were sailing in the San Pedro Channel out of Long Beach bound for Morro Bay. It was a perfect sunny day, vis was unlimited, air temp about 75, light-mod winds, no swell to speak of, and ship traffic was light and orderly in the channel. The boat is secure for passage and we're settled in for what is likely to be a wonderful last leg home.
South of Santa Barbara the shipping lanes make a dog leg around Anacapa Is., the most easterly of the Channel Is. This is right where I see a light layer of sea fog. Multiple targets on the radar but so far no problem. I had learned to not try to contact these ships 'cause the bridge is mostly occupied by foreigners with faulty English. Too much frustration and confusion... The other guy with me decides to get some shut eye and climbs into his bunk.
Here comes a problem. Something inside of me didn't feel right as soon as I saw him 24 nm out. I plotted his speed and bearing using the radar and figured my skills must be rusty because it looked like he kept changing speed. I double checked through the binoculars. I must be seeing things or maybe it's an inversion, now his port side is in view where only minutes before his bows were on me. Back to the 'scope and his bearing is unchanged. Huh? That was my 2nd warning. Back outside with the binos I see he's now crossing to my right. Double huh?
Knowing better, I tried to get him on the radio trying multiple freqs. Nothing, although another ship came back and said if it's who he thinks I'm trying to contact I better watch out. No further explanation. Now I'm sweating. I hate this pit in my stomach and all because some clown is running down on us and because I knew I should've acted sooner.
I made my course change (early and obvious) 75* to the left. Now we're in the fog and although I can see blue sky above us I do not have a horizon. 12 miles and no change in relative bearing. Knowing better, I waste time continuing to call him. I swing another 20* to the left and bump up our speed. 8 miles, no change. I can't believe this, we're nearly 1/4 nm off Anacapa Is. I dare not get any closer to the island.
I switch the radar to the smallest ring scale (1/4 nm) and see him at 2 miles, no change in RB. I look at the water, it's like glass. I make a run towards the island. I'm no longer sweating. In fact, my hands are cold and clammy and the pit in my stomach is gone. I feel strangely calm and content. I look again at the water and see how soft it looks. I look up into the sunshine and marvel at the circular rainbow around the sun as it shines through the thin veil of fog. I know this side of the island drops off quickly but there are some wash rocks around. We must be only a couple hundred yards off the island.
I slow our speed as we close in on the island and watch as our blips merge. I am at peace. Just then we take a 4' swell on the bow. Then another. Now it's flat again but we're running through a large swath of foam. It was his bow wave and wake we ran through. There wer no more than a few seconds from when we passed over his bow wave to when we ran through his wake. I'll bet someone on deck could have spit on us.
I spent years trying to figure out what happened. The best I can think of is that he made a course change at the same time I made mine. We were on the left side of the lane to minimize our exposure to ships. (ships were not required to stay in the lanes, the lanes were only a suggestion) Previous experience taught me sticking close to the islands was to play it safe. This ship made several couse changes to the left, right, and back to the left. I saw the first two but it was the last change which went unnoticed...and was the most important.
On a previous trip I had watched a steamer pass within 2 nm of us and then shut down 4 nm upwind of us. He called us asking for directions to San Francisco! I told him to turn his 100 nm radar on and look for the gap in the headlands. Anyway, in spite of using all your knowledge to do what you think is the correct thing, there still will be someone out there--who you think are equally, if not better, skilled--trying to kill you.
When Bill spoke of the hair on the back of your neck being raised, boy, do I know.
