As promised, here is the story of how Queequeg and her crew survived Hurrican Irma:
Queequeg, a 1982 Irwin 40 MK II
sailboat has been our home since 2011. She's a good, sturdy, well
built old girl and we'd hate to lose her. But the possibility of
losing her became evident in the early days of September, 2017.
We watched as Hurricane Irma developed
into an extremely large and powerful storm. She swept through the
islands in the north east Caribbean, leaving massive destruction in
her wake.
As it became apparent that Irma was
going to impact the Florida Keys, we found that we had some major
decisions to make. We knew about the storm far enough in advance that
we had time to make preparations, but what?
Queequeg was docked in one of the many
canals that run through the City of Marathon. Just leaving her at the
dock was not an option. Wind and waves would smash her to pieces
against the dock. We debated putting her on one of the mooring balls
at the City Marina. We rejected that idea, not so much because we did
not trust the moorings, but because we knew that other boaters might
not take adequate precautions to prevent their boats from breaking
free and crashing into Queequeg. That turned out to be a wise choice
and nearly 200 boats were lost or destroyed in the mooring field.
Once a few boats had broken free, the entire field became a row of
dominoes, with boats cascading down the field taking out entire rows
of boat.
Another option we considered was to
leave the Keys and sail north to the Everglades and anchor in the
Little Shark River. Boats have survived hurricanes by tying off to
the tall mangroves there. This might have been a good option for us
but we decided against it simply because of our ages. Bev and I are
not the spring chickens we used to be and health issues can crop up
at any time. The rivers in the Everglades are very isolated, with
virtually no means of communication available. No cell phone service,
no radio stations withing VHF range, etc. If any sort of emergency
happened, rescue would be nearly impossible.
After much discussion with friends, we
decided to “spider” the boat right in the center of the canal
where she is docked. There are buildings all around which should
provide some protection from wind. We set three anchors out on the
opposite side of the canal and ran several lines across the canal to
cleats on the opposite dock. All these lines were weighted so they
would sink to the bottom. This served two purposes. First it would
allow other boats to pass by without getting caught in the lines.
Second, if there was significant surge during the storm, it would
prevent excess tension on the lines. The surge would lift the boat
and the weights at the same time, keeping us safely tied up. At least
that was the theory. We doubled up the lines on our side of the
canal.
We also stripped the deck of
everything moveable and fragile. We took down all the sails, the
dodger, the bimini and the solar panels. We stowed everything below
deck, with blankets wrapped around the very fragile solar panels.
I made the decision to leave the wind
turbine in place. We were disconnected from shore power and I wanted
as much charge on the batteries as possible. We fully expected the
boat to take on water during the storm and it was imperative that the
bilge pumps continued to function. I knew that the turbine could be
damaged by high winds or flying debris, but I felt it was worth the
sacrifice.
Several other boats were being secured
near us. Our friends Rick and Mary on “Dark Star” spidered their
boat just forward of us and “Cloud Walker” spidered just aft of
us. “Thar Be Dragons” and “Miss Marilyn” were tied up in the
side canal just around the corner.
By late Wednesday evening the boat was
as prepared as we could make it. We were exhausted from all the work
that continued until well after dark. We packed the car with all our
valuables, all our memorabilia and of course our little parrot
Morgan. We drove to a friend's house to get a few hours sleep. As we
drove away from the dock, we were aware that we should have done more
to secure the boat, but we just didn't have the energy.
At about 3:30 AM we woke up, got in
the car and headed north. Our very dear friends, Tim and Julie had
offered to allow us to ride out the storm in their home in Hudson,
FL. We were thankful that we had filled the car with gas earlier in
the week as many gas stations were already closed. We were also
thankful that the traffic was light at that early hour. We made good
time up to Florida City, but we needed some coffee and some
breakfast. Just as we left “The Stretch” we spotted a Dunkin
Donuts shop that was open! We stopped and walked in and ordered some
coffee and some sausage, egg and cheese sandwiches. Waiting for our
food, we chatted with the owner. She told us that she had made the
decision to stay and ride out the storm rather than evacuate. Since
she wasn't leaving, she said she might as well make herself useful to
any passing evacuees. We don't know how she made out in the storm,
but we are very grateful for her to decision to stay and keep the
shop open.
Armed with full bellies and a nearly
full gas tank, we continued on our trek to Hudson. By early afternoon
we arrived at Tim and Julie's home. We got settled in and got an
update on the storm track. It was starting to look more like the Keys
would take a devastating hit and that the storm would continue north,
possibly even impacting Hudson. Our friends had recently installed
hurricane resistant windows (but not doors) and their house sits
several miles inland and 26 feet above sea level, so we felt we'd be
relatively safe there.
Tim and I spent the next couple of
days preparing the house for the storm. We reinforced all the doors.
We fueled up two generators, one that Tim had in his work trailer and
the 2K portable we had for the boat but brought with us in the car.
We pumped 110 gallons of water from their well into two drums and
filled the bathtubs with water. (Tim's well pump ran on 220 volts and
the generators were 110 so if the power went out we would not be able
to pump water from the well.)
The time went by slowly as Bev and I
starting second-guessing ourselves. Did we do enough to secure the
boat? Did we really bring all the things that are important to us?
What will we do if the boat is destroyed?
Tim and Julie also opened their home
to others. A neighbor from Marathon, Jane, came up a day or so after
us, and Julie's son brought his wife and son. By the time the storm
hit, there were twelve souls camped out in the house, ranging in age
from 4 to 94!
We continued to watch and wait. The
spaghetti models all started to converge on the Keys. The exact point
of landfall kept shifting, but we were learning that this storm was
so big, so powerful, it wouldn't matter much exactly where the center
hit. We knew the destruction would be widespread. We mentally
starting preparing for the worst.
By Saturday the storm was hitting the
Keys and all communication with the islands was lost. There were no
news reports from the Keys. The phones were out in the Keys. We knew
it must be bad down there but had no way to know how bad.
We continued watching the spaghetti
models, which were still shifting but it looked more and more like
Hudson would also take a big hit.
As it turned out, the storm took a
last minute jog to the east and weakened slightly as it passed by.
The peak of the storm passed Hudson in the early hours of the
morning. We actually slept through most of it. I woke up a few times
to see the trees swaying in the winds outside the hurricane windows,
but it was spooky because the bullet-proof glass deadened the sound.
As expected, the power went out.
The next morning, we looked around and
things didn't look so bad. A few branches stripped from trees, leaves
blown everywhere, one tree down across the street. But...no power, no
phone service, no way to know how anyone outside of our little area
made out. We had no way to know if we still had a home to go back to,
or just how bad the devastation was. Our only contact with the
outside world was a transistor radio. The news was sketchy at first,
but gradually the total picture emerged. 6 million people throughout
the state of Florida were without power. Millions had evacuated. Gas
stations were closed all over the state. We learned that the eye of
the storm had passed directly over Big Pine Key, where we had friends
who had decided to ride it out at home. It would be a week before we
learned if that had made it through.
After two days of “camping in” at
Tim and Julie's, Tim called a meeting. He told us that the fuel for
the generators was running low and that the 110 gallons of water we
had stored were gone. He asked us if any of us had another place to
go. Bev and I said that we might be able to go to my sister Jane's
place in Kentucky. Others also said they could make other
arrangements. So for the second time in a week, Bev and I packed the
car with virtually everything we owned including Morgan, and we
headed north. Luckily, we were able to find the ONE gas station open
and fill the tank.
Two days later we arrived in
Lexington. Jane and Tracey welcomed us, along with their two dogs
Derby and Abby.
For the next few days, we watched
nervously as the news from the Keys trickled in. Cudjoe Key and Big
Pine had taken a major hit. Marathon had escaped the eye, but still
had massive devastation. We had no news about the fate of our boat
until some days later when there were some aerial pictures posted on
the net. These pictures painted a horrible scene. Before the storm
there were 226 boats on moorings in Boot Key Harbor and dozens more
anchored. The overhead pictures showed the harbor almost empty of
boats. There were boats in the roadways, boats in yards, boats piled
up under bridges, etc. We nervously scanned the pictures until we
found Queequeg. She was floating! Unfortunately, she was not exactly
where we left her. She had apparently broken free from some of her
lines and was resting bow first against the dock. “Cloud Walker”
was also turned around and resting stern first into the next dock.
“Thar Be Dragons” was dismasted, with her mast lying across the
canal on the dock on the opposite side of the canal! As we looked
more closely at Queequeg, it looked like her mast was bent. Not
broken off, but sitting at a strange angle. Replacing the mast would
be a very expensive project if that became necessary. It would
probably cost more to replace the mast than the boat was worth. It is
even possible that the hull could be compromised by the breaking of
the mast, which was keel stepped. The overhead picture also showed
another boat, which we did not recognize, resting against the swim
platform at the stern of “Dark Star.” We found out later this was
“Rock Steady” which had broken free from the mooring field and
drifted down the canal the day after the storm.
It would be another few days until our
friend John posted a picture taken at ground level. He lived in the
condos on the other side of the canal and rode out the storm at home.
(“Never again,” he told us later.) He managed to get a good angle
on a very still day. The picture showed the boat, clearly floating
properly on her waterline and it showed the mast standing tall and
straight. The overhead picture must have been taken at a strange
angle. The mast was not bent after all. It looked like we still had a
home!
It would be over a week before we
could return to Marathon. The authorities were not allowing anyone to
return until basic services had been restored. Electricity, water,
sewer, etc were all damaged by the storm and would have to be
functioning before anyone could be allowed to return to the Keys.
As we waited for the “go ahead”
from the authorities, we gradually gathered information about how our
boat got twisted around. As it turned out, we wouldn't get the whole
story until well after our return. As the storm struck, Queequeg rode
out the wind and surge quite well until “Cloud Walker” broke free
of her moorings and crashed into Queequeg. Lines got tangled, lines
broke or worked free of the cleats and both boats got tangled
together and crashed into the dock. At one point, Queequeg was
actually sitting above the dock due to the surge.
When we finally were allowed back in,
we found Queequeg floating but she did suffer some relatively minor
damage. One lower diagonal shroud had broken free causing a slight
bend in the mast. One lifeline stanchion was cracked. The blades on
the wind turbine were, as expected, pretty twisted and broken. The
topside paint was worn away, along with the name, along the port
quarter. Other than a few dings and scratches, that was about it.
Below deck everything looks fine. We
didn't take on any water beyond the little leaks that happen whenever
it rains. The batteries were at 90% of capacity even after many days
of not being charged. This means that the bilge pumps must not have
had to do much work.
The area immediately surrounding the
dock was almost knee deep in debris. There was seaweed, tree
branches, roofing, insulation, shoes and who knows what filling the
entire area. Capt. “Sandy” of Miss Marilyn had arrived a few days
before us and had removed most of the larger bits of debris, but he
left a day or so after we arrived and that left Bev and I as the only
ones to finish cleaning up the yard. The two of us spent two weeks
raking seaweed and other junk into barrels and carting it all out to
the street. We had a mountain of debris piled up when the FEMA crew
arrived to cart it away. A week later, we had another mountain!
Thanks to my sister, we had a chain saw to cut up the larger branches
and take down a dead tree! Thank you, Jane!
Keys Rigging replaced the broken
shroud and the one on the opposite side and straightened the mast. I
have been working on repairing the scratches and repainting the
topsides. We still need to have new name decals made, but Bev's son
Ben can do that for us when we're ready. One item we haven't yet
addressed is the broken stanchion, but that will have to wait until
things calm down for the welders in the area. I'm sure they are quite
busy!
We had the bottom cleaned and
inspected. The bottom paint is scratched off in a few places and
there are some chips in the fiberglass, but no visible major damage.
All in all we feel very fortunate to
have made out as well as we did. It could have been a lot worse. We
have our boat/home. We have out health. There are others who have
lost everything. There were even some fatalities among the boaters
who tried to ride out the storm on their boats.
As the boating community tries to
rebuild, we feel we must do a little to help others who lost more
than we did. We gave away a spare sail. We gave away our old dinghy.
We pitched in a little money and a few items for the marina's
Christmas bike fund. Bev and I know that our efforts at “paying it
foward” are modest at best, but if everyone pitches in a little, it
will make a difference.
