Danger
Intensity
Mayhem
Mona Passage
Rough Seas
Stay Strong
Tough as Nails
If You Thought The Last Post Was Bad...Try This One
1/02/2018 |
| Just after sunrise, trying to look un-traumatized. |
I know what you must be thinking, because I’m thinking it
too: how is it POSSIBLE that in less than three weeks after their terrifying,
hair-raising, nightmarish passage to Samana, the Moxie crew experiences
ANOTHER, even MORE terrifying and life-altering passage to Puerto Rico?!?! I feel sheepish telling you this story,
heaping more of our drama onto your laps.
But for the same reasons I felt I should tell you my last awful tale, I
need to tell you this one, too. EVERYONE
HEAR THIS: The sailing life is beautiful but it is REALLY HARD. That is the reality.
The passage from Samana, Dominican Republic to Mayaguez,
Puerto Rico, is 135 nautical miles and takes 24 hours or more to complete. This passage is named the Mona Passage, and
it is notoriously dangerous, with trade winds on your nose, great variation in
depths that cause huge waves, a rocky shoreline, and shoals to avoid because of
the rough water. It is essential to make
this trip with a good, solid weather window, with favorable winds. We had this good window and were given the
green light by Chris Parker, our go-to weather guru. We left the marina at
Samana at 5:20 pm on December 30. Our
friends stood on the jetty and cheered us on as we departed. My friend Cheryl took these photos of our
exit:
 |
| Here is me screaming out at our friends, "Hey cool kids! Did you hear? Puerto Rico is the new DR!!" |
The first few hours of the trip were peaceful and calm, the sunset stunning. The kids went to bed at 7:30 pm, Trav took
the first solo watch from 8:30 to 11:45, and I took a nap. My solo watch began at midnight. The seas had kicked up by then, the winds
too. We were at 18 knots of wind at that
point, right on the nose, which was more than had been predicted, but still
ok. The waves were increasing in height
and Moxie was pitching UP and DOWWWWN. UP and DOWWWWWN. Pretty uncomfortable but not awful.
Not yet.
I had an weird feeling at the beginning of my
watch. I couldn’t relax. To be honest, I never really “relax” while
underway, especially on a watch, but this feeling was different. It was like I was waiting for the other shoe
to drop. I had an audio book to listen
to, but I couldn’t bring myself to put my headphones on. Something inside me told me to pay close attention,
to stay on guard. At 1 am, it happened.
KA-KLUNK-KLUNK-KLUNK.
I heard the most awful noise from below my feet in the cockpit. I immediately killed the motor and Trav leapt
up from the cabin. “That sounded like we
collided with something, didn’t it?” he asked.
I shone our spotlight into the water and Trav could see what we had
hit. My heart sunk when he told me: it
was a line to a fishing trap. We had run
into it, part of it was trailing behind us, and the rest of it was tangled around
our prop. We had been motoring along at
6 knots and this line had stopped our 24,000 pound boat in her tracks.
We had been told that fishing nets and traps are not set in waters
deeper than 100 feet. We were in over
250 feet of water. What the hell???!?? Trav grabbed the boathook and hooked the line
to cut it. I shone the light and handed
him his knife. As he grabbed it, the
plastic grip slid off the hook, and he lost it in the water. “SHIT!”
He used our other boat hook to grab it again and cut the line. But the line had been holding us to the
bottom, and now we were drifting.
I knew what was going to happen next. I couldn’t look at Trav when I feebly said, “Please
don’t go in that water.” To which he replied, “Jen, I have to. I have to cut the line from the prop.”
“Can’t we just drift and wait until morning?”
“No, that’s too dangerous.
We will drift to shore.”
Captain’s Note
from Trav: Everything is freakier at night.
Tenfold. If we had hit the fishing
line in the daytime, it would still have been dangerous, but not nearly as
scary. When I first looked down at the
rudder assembly, it was cocked to one side and I thought in my sleepy haze that
we might have damaged the rudder and may have lost our steering. I said, “Oh God.” Jen said, “What?” I took
back my words and said, “Nothing.” My
mind started racing- what would we do if the rudder was damaged and we couldn’t
steer. We were a mile and a half from a
rocky shore that the wind and seas were pushing us towards. When day broke, the winds would only
increase. We were offshore from a country
where there was no coast guard and limited help options. It was a fix it yourself situation, and that’s
why I had to jump in. I had complained
in the DR about having to get permission from the government to sail from one
port to the next- I wanted more autonomy, and now I had it. Careful what you wish for.
Trav put the boat
ladder out, I retrieved his snorkel, mask, fins, and his diving flashlight. He took off his t-shirt, put his gear on, and
jumped into the pitch black, rolling seas.
This was the very worst moment of my entire life. I shone
the spotlight into the water where he had gone down. Moxie was pitching up and down on a
rollercoaster of continuous, large swells, and I had to hold on tightly as I
leaned over the side with the light. I knew that if any part of the boat hit Trav
on the head while he was under it and knocked him unconscious, he could be
trapped under the boat and would drown.
I knew that if he didn’t come up, I couldn’t go in after him, because I
couldn’t risk putting myself in danger and leaving our kids alone on the boat. I knew that there was a chance that I could lose
him forever, right then, at that moment.
He came up. “I’m
studying it to see how I should cut it.”
He went down again. My stomach
churned. He came up again and took a big
breath. “You’re doing great, Trav.” He
went down again. Time inched forward. After an eternity, he came up clutching a
tangle of nylon line and a makeshift soda-bottle float. “I got it off! Get the
camera!” My hands were shaking so badly
I could barely snap the photos. Here’s
what I took:
I was terrified that the prop or the shaft were
damaged. We started the motor. It seemed ok.
Trav went below and checked the shaft- also ok. We slowly resumed our course, still not 100%
confidant that nothing had been damaged. We did not discuss what had just
happened- I knew that if I did I would lose it.
My teeth began chattering. I knew
that if I let them chatter I would cry.
I set my jaw and clenched my fists. I put the snorkel gear away.
By now, the seas had really picked up. We needed to raise the mainsail to steady the
boat and to do so, Trav had to go to midship and haul the halyard while I kept
the boat pointed into the wind. The
problem with this was that Trav was already nauseous from his rolly,
saltwater-gulping swim. Standing midship
to raise the main with the boat rocking back and forth was absolutely sickening
for him. After he got the main up, he vomited
several times over the side. I was
worried that real seasickness, the debilitating kind that doesn’t go away,
would set in and Trav would be out of commission. We still had 15 hours or more to sail.
We sailed ahead in the increasingly rough ocean. Seawater splashed us relentlessly, we were
soaked to the skin, even with our raingear on. After an hour or so, we felt the first drops
of rain. The clouds ahead were huge and
black. We were headed into a squall.
The skies looked clearer to our port side, offshore. We headed that way to try to skirt the
squall, but the problem with that was the further offshore we went, the rougher
the seas were. The first squall seemed
to hit us fairly lightly, rain and wind, slightly bigger waves. But an hour after that, the second squall
hit. The seas were the roughest
then. The waves were 10-12 feet high
with a heavy wind chop on them. They crashed into us, again and again and
again. I had to keep reminding myself
that Moxie is a tough, bluewater boat and she is made for this kind of
movement. The minutes crawled by. Trav tried his best to fight the seasickness. My heart raced and I told myself again and
again to take deep, calming breaths. I wished
and wished for the sun to rise, but we had two hours of darkness left to get
through. I was so relieved and grateful
when squall subsided and the sun edged it’s way into the sky at 6:20 am.
The kids woke up around 7:30 am. The seas were super rough,
and the cockpit was soaked. Hud and Viv tried
to stay below but it was too rolly and they joined us topside. When you are in rough seas, all you can do is
sit quietly and wait. It’s hard to move,
going below to get something you need takes a fair amount of effort. When it’s rough, we usually don’t even
talk. There’s no other way to describe
it: it’s miserable.
 |
| You can see the strap where I am clipped in to the boat. |
As the day went on, the seas eventually calmed. We listed to podcasts of “Story Pirates.” I had made a ton of food for the trip (30
quesadillas!!- my friends had teased me that I had made enough quesadillas to
get us to Columbia) but we were all pretty queasy and no one could really eat. The fishing line Trav had cut from the prop
was still on our deck. Hud asked what it
was and I told him we would tell him later.
I still wasn’t ready to talk about it.
Uncannily, at EXACTLY 5:20 pm, EXACTLY 24 hours from our
departure, we dropped our anchor in Mayaguez, Puerto Rico. We went about our usual anchoring chores, I
wiped the salt from the stainless steel and woodwork. Hud made us a New Year’s
Eve dinner of salsa, guacamole, bean dip and cheese dip. We gratefully ate it.
To say that these sailing experiences have humbled us is an enormous
understatement. I feel changed in a way I
can’t really describe. This is all I
know:
1.
My husband is truly, truly amazing. He is my hero.
2.
My kids are tough as nails.
3.
I am stronger than I knew I could ever be.
4.
Moxie is a badass boat.
5.
We will never sail at night again. Ever.
 |
It’s a new year, and we’re on a new island. Happy New Year, dear readers. Stay present, live in the moment, stay calm,
be positive, keep paying attention, and most of all, be grateful. xo
32 comments
Geez, Jen! My heart is in my mouth reading this. Big love to all of you from the Jones/Knechtel clan. Happy new year, Julias! 💜❤️💛💙🧡💚
ReplyDeleteThanks Sue. Big hugs to all Knechtel/Jones clan members. xoxo
DeleteOMFG JEN. Not for the faint of heart is RIGHT. You guys be safe out there!!
ReplyDeleteIt was crazy. Deep breaths. Hope to see you guys out here in the blue! xoxo
Deleteomg!! you are an amazing family...happy happy happy new year...pffff wow adrenaline..., so happy that you made it xxxx
ReplyDeletelove, Renate
Renate! Thank you for reading! I was so happy to meet you- I felt at the time we would have been soul sisters if we had had more time together. :) Keep doing the awesome work you do for all the young surfers of Cabarete. xoxo
DeleteI am so thankful you are all okay and Trav was able to release you from the trap and line. You are such an amazing woman, wife, mother and heroine. I sat here reading your blog crying and praying even though you were certainly safe by the time you wrote this. Such a scary adventure and pray you have no more dangerous events. Travel safe and keep up your blogs . We love you ❤️💋
ReplyDeleteSylvia, the kindness of your words and supportiveness is so appreciated by our whole family. we can feel your love and we love it!! Big hugs from Team Moxie xoxo
DeleteYou have now experienced what every real boater fears the floating lost fish traps....my dad and brother (or mom) hit a HUGE net in the middle of the night too and your story sounds just like theirs...congrats on surviving the passage...now just remember these times and know that you can handle whatever comes your way...Happy New Year ❤❤❤
ReplyDeleteDarcie, I KNOW- it was so crazy, and it could happen again, that's boating life!!! Thanks for reading and for your insights and support. Big hugs!!
DeleteWhat a read Jen!...so freaking scary!! I love you all and I am sooooooo very glad you are all okay. Never, never again will you sail at night. Happy New Year, tons to be so thankful for....xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
ReplyDeleteKP- thank you. And I KNOW- it was insanity. Night sailing is off the table. Sending you love! xo
DeleteWOW! What a frightening, heart-racing adventure you guys endured for hours!!! Glad you are all safe!!!
ReplyDeleteIt was nuts. Thank you for reading, Cindy! Wishing you peace, calm, and love in 2018.
DeleteYou are all amazing. I am so grateful you are safe and made this passage safely with all the troubles you were having. The force is with you. Happy New Year!
ReplyDeleteThanks Ulli! I do feel the angels, good forces of the Universe, and other guardians were with us that night. I do not want to push our luck, however! We appreciate your support. Big love!
DeleteDitto evryone’s comments! Glad you are safe. Growing up in Friday Harbor I didn’t venture into blue water often, mostly puttered around the archipelago and Canada, but my Dad and I were in large swells one day in a storm that we’ll never forget. Thank you for sharing your story. Reminds me of another...”Red Sky In Morning”. Read when back in Telluride, if you haven’t already. Love to you all and Happy New Year!
ReplyDeleteHi Jamie! I read that book and it scared the bejeesus out of me. Now I feel like I almost lived it! Thank you for reading and the biggest happiest new year to your whole gang. xo
DeleteWhen you guys get back from this incredible adventure, you really need to write a book. In fact, you might just want to skip the book and write the screenplay.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Mike. That's a high compliment. Big hugs and Happy New Year!
DeleteOMG! What a great story! My friend Bev and I we're on the edge of our seats the whole time.
ReplyDeleteThanks Jamboree! I hope to not provide any more edge of your seat reading from now on though. :)
DeleteHoly shit that was a nail bitter!! Tougher than nails is RIGHT!!
ReplyDeleteStasia, I KNOW-- it was SO CRAZY. Taking a deep breath now in Puerto Rico. Viv and I just painted our toenails sparkly purple. She said, "Shouldn't we save this color for a fancy occasion?" I replied, "My friend Stasia says not to wait for occasions to be fancy. She says we should be fancy whenever we feel like it." She likes that idea and so do I. Here's to being fancier and and loving it in 2018! xoxo
DeleteHi Julia's!!! Heard you on the koto radio today!! Unbeknownst to you I've been following your journey! Stay safe and keep the news coming! Xo love lordog
ReplyDeleteLORDOG!!!!! So happy to hear from you!!!! Thanks for reading and we love you! xo
DeleteIt reads exactly like talking to you! SO wonderful -- all of your stories need to be turned into a book -- I am serious! MUCH love as always!
ReplyDeleteMom, you are always my biggest cheerleader. Thank you. I'm sorry we keep creating such stressful stories that you have to process. If Hud or Viv did that to me I would throttle them! LOVE YOU!!!!
DeleteYikes. Glad you made it. Those always make for great stories....after the fact when you can say it all went well in the end. Not fun to live through, though. Stay safe.
ReplyDeleteHi Green! You are SO right. Trav was just going to email you because he rebuilt the lifting pump on the watermaker and is just waiting for clearer water to test it! We'll let you know how it goes. Hugs to your fam!!
DeleteJen, please know that you too are a hero in many of our eyes!!! You are an amazing role model for HUD and Viv... your determination, love, strength and hope shine through each of your posts, and you are greatly missed here in Telluride! Stay vigilant, safe and always smiling you beautiful woman!
ReplyDeleteThank you. That really means a lot. Your words made my day. xo
Delete