- Local News for Southern Sailors - September 2002 Next Story
HURRICANE PREPAREDNESS
Another Tropical Storm Drill
By Alan Horne
Just three days after we dropped Island Lady in the water for the first time, the weather reports said that a strong tropical storm was drawing a direct bead on our area. The weatherman kept saying the storm could grow to hurricane strength before landfall and that everyone should maintain close watch for further developments. 
After asking many other people around Blind Pass Marina what they planned to do and learning that even some of the more sane-acting ones planned to remain on their boats to ride out the storm, I decided to take the chance as well.
Not knowing what to expect from the storm or how the boat would fare on its own, I figured that I had better stay on board to run the bilge pumps, man the dock lines, and do my best to protect all of the hard work and investment that we had put forth so far.
We were planning to move aboard in just ten more days, so Margo stayed at the townhouse 22 miles north of the marina, in order to continue preparations for the move, while I went in search of supplies to ride out the storm.
At 11:00 p.m. I checked and slackened the dock lines for the umpteenth time... The rising storm surge was up already about six feet above normal.
Alone in the still uncompleted and quite naked cabin, I was fixing a cup of instant coffee with a propane torch and an empty beer can.
Outside, the wind was howling through the rigging of the neighboring boats, but we still did not have our mast installed... in fact, we did not even have a mast purchased yet! The wind was gusting to about 60 miles per hour, and Island Lady was bobbing back and forth between the pilings. It was actually more comfortable than I thought it would be, but my shoes had been wet for hours, and my feet already felt like Sunsweet prunes. The temperature and humidity were still stifling, even though the heavy rains had been coming off and on for the past several hours.
The portable radio said Tropical Storm Keith was still offshore about 40 miles, and was heading straight for us at about 20 miles per hour.
Each time I heard the nearby rigging howl to a higher pitch in the raging winds, I thought of my mother firmly planted on mid-Michigan soil. Whenever I had ever said anything to her about wanting to live on a boat, she would say, "What if a hurricane comes?"
I wondered briefly if mom had wished this storm on me with her fears. Dread is often as effective as wishing FOR something in making it come to pass!
Most of the other boats in the marina were "live-aboards," and almost everyone appeared to be on their boats riding out the storm... (A few people put out their fenders, checked their dock lines, and headed for the nearest mainland motel!)
My coffee started to boil, and simultaneously the smoke alarm began to blare, scaring me half out of my soggy tennis shoes! I briefly wished I hadn't installed the smoke alarm first thing and wondered if it would go off every time we cooked in the cabin!
In preparation for the storm earlier in the day I had gone in search of fenders and kerosene lanterns, but the area was already sold out to the people who knew they had to shop early for hurricane supplies.
We still didn't have battery power installed aboard Island Lady, but I had managed to find a box of emergency candles at the hardware store and several used tires from a nearby service station.
I had tied the tires over the sides for at least some protection from the dock and neighboring boats, brought along two hand-powered bilge pumps, changed the batteries in my flashlight and set the candles out to burn one at a time. I had also brought along a box of Ritz crackers, a jar of instant coffee, a jug of water, three beers, and a two-liter bottle of cola... I might sink, but I wouldn't get thirsty!
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11:00 p.m.: The portable radio I had brought along said the winds were still 5 or 10 mph below hurricane strength and announced a "mandatory evacuation of the barrier islands." I put on a scuba mask and an upside-down snorkel so I could see and breathe in the wind-blown spume and stuck my head out the hatch to see if anyone seemed to be making any effort to leave their boats... Many portholes showed lights and no one else was out, so I popped my drenched and wind-blown head back inside and closed the hatch.
We had only lived in Florida a few years by this time, and I didn't really know what to expect of a strong storm. Many of the people had told me that they had ridden out Hurricane Elena aboard their boats in this marina, and they were going to do the same with Keith. Each person I had talked to seemed to relish the challenge of the storm, and there had seemed to be an air of excitement all through the marina. Even when the wind gusts died down a little, I could occasionally hear the sound of good-natured shouts and laughter among some of the sailors outside adjusting their dock lines to the rapidly rising storm surge.
12:01 a.m.: The radio said that the causeways and bridges across Tampa Bay were now closed because waves and high winds were pushing cars and trucks off the causeways and into the bay!
I had a great deal of trepidation to start with, but now I was starting to seriously wonder if I had made the right decision in choosing to be here! Was I following the advice of boat-maniacs? Did these people really know what Mother Nature was going to dish out for us, or were they just hoping for the best?
I had read all of the stories of sailors who had weathered hurricanes offshore, and thought to myself...what the heck, "We're tied to a dock!" I never considered that you might be safer aboard your vessel in a powerful storm if there were no solid objects nearby!
Most of us could never afford boats like these without making them our homes. In looking around the marina before the storm, I had estimated that the average liveaboard boat was about 33 feet long and probably worth about $40,000. Most were sailboats, with the smallest being about 23 feet and worth less than $3,000. And the largest was 62 feet and easily worth over $200,000. At this point, our surveyor had placed Island Lady much closer to the $3,000 end of the spectrum than to the $200,000 end, but he had said, "Upon completion she should be worth around $70,000. (...after we added $200,000 in labor and materials I suspected!)
12:15 a.m.: The storm was picking up... Island Lady was pitching and yawing so much that standing up was impossible without hanging on tight to the bulkheads or compression post. The rain was hitting the ports and hatches with such force that it squeezed through the seals in a steady flow! A loud clunking noise was coming from the cockpit. Thus alarmed, I peeked out to see one of my toolboxes floating in water above the cockpit seats! (Make a note: larger cockpit drains!)
The wind was really screaming now... it sounded like a dozen 747s were taking off outside... the eight-foot tidal surge was now about l8 inches over the dock, with waves twice that high, and the lightning was flashing like a strobe light... and bright GREEN! I had to look twice to be sure I wasn't hallucinating, but it was definitely GREEN lightning!
1:00 a.m.: As I started pouring a coffee mug full of cola, the boat lurched heavily, and a loud bang filled the inside of the cabin. We were hitting something hard... or it was hitting us!
After donning my soggy tennis shoes and foul weather jacket again, I crawled through the companionway to find that the dock lines had all gone slack in less than 15 minutes; the tidal surge had dropped over two feet! Island Lady and nearly every other boat in the marina were all hitting the docks!
Quickly, I tightened the dock lines, then jumped six feet down from the bow to the seaweed-covered dock to help one of my new neighbors adjust the lines on other nearby boats that had been abandoned by their owners prior to the storm.
While we were tightening the lines on a neighboring Coronado 35, I lost my balance and nearly fell into the rushing waters under the dock! I realized that the wind had just stopped for a few moments as if someone had thrown a switch, and I had been leaning into the wind so hard that when it stopped, I was seriously off-balance!
Several sailors from farther down the dock converged on us, shouting above the wind and rain, to ask if either of us had suffered any damage during the peak of the storm... and as near as I could tell in the dark, Island Lady's only blemishes were black tire marks ground into her freshly-gelcoated sides.
Bending over to examine her more closely, I felt a cold breeze on the backs of my legs... It appeared that my only damage was losing the entire aft-end of my foul weather bibs!
One of the guys said: "I know this is crazy, but to tell the truth, I'm rather enjoying this... I have a guest aboard from up North and she's terrified!"
We all laughed and agreed that there was some kind of perverse pleasure in battling the elements and winning.
Almost as if the laughter had cast some spell over the storm, the rain and wind died down to a comparatively calm 35 mph... We all looked up to see the moon peering out from behind the clouds, as the eye of Tropical Storm Keith passed directly overhead.
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