Poughkeepsie to Kingston, New York - 13 nautical miles sailed
It was a disappointing result, yet breathtaking finish to a heroic effort.
Our two anchor system worked to perfection as it kept the boat stationary in the thin anchorage and provided for an uninterrupted, restful sleep. Today would be the first of several rainy days, so we began with a lesiurely Sunday breakfast of blueberry pancakes topped with strawberries and maple syrup, then a bowl of fried Jimmy Dean cholesterol pork pucks to help keep our salt levels up.
It was time to pull anchor and proceed to our next destination. There are a few ways to retrieve anchors and in our situation we decided the best method would be to take the dinghy out to the stern anchor and remove it first, as I had dropped it in less than five feet of water and we were halfway to low tide so there was no way to get SeaLight in close enough to retrieve it. I pulled myself in the dinghy with the anchor rope to the anchor and tried to pull it up.
Impossible. The anchor was welded to the bottom, stuck into the heavy clay mud that came up on the boat hook when I poked around in the bottom. I tried pulling with my hands, then attached the rope to the dinghy's steel towing loop and used the full force of the dinghy engine to unstick it. Nothing worked. I'd had to remove the anchor line from the boat so I used a floating yellow ball to attach to the rope close to the anchor and mark its location while the rest of the the anchor line sank to the gooey bottom. I returned to SeaLight and we anchored her in deeper water to keep her out of the shallows and give us time to formulate a plan.
We decided to wait until the bottom of low tide then we'd both return and try to wrestle it out, and if that didn't work I'd get in the water and try to dig it out. Well, none of that worked, and I didn't even bother getting in the frigid water after digging thoroughly into the bottom muck with a paddle and not getting it to budge one bit. It was clearly hung up on something, maybe a big rock, maybe something else.
I was ready to abandon the anchor, but then we discussed it more and decided to hang on until 5 pm when the rising tide would give us space to get SeaLight in and try to haul it up with her much more powerful engine. So, we waited. We had grilled cheese and ham for lunch. We chatted. Dad had a nap. I did some writing. The time went quickly, and shortly before 5 pm we pulled up our primary anchor and began the retrieval operation. After four five attempts and as many temporary groundings, I finally snagged the anchor line from the bow and cleated it down to the boat then Dad gave it full power in reverse. The boat lurched sideways. The anchor would not come free. I used my sailing knife to cut the line from the boat as it was pulling us into the shallows. It was hopeless.
After a crew meeting, some serious discussion, a spark of an idea, a few mathematical calculations, and a review of some online clips from Western movies, we came up with an audacious, but foolproof plan to free the anchor. We re-anchored SeaLight in deeper water then Dad and I put on balaclavas, our camo rainsuits, cowboy hats, then strapped on utility belts, and dinghy'd back to the stuck anchor where we retrieved the anchor line and dragged it into shore, which was only about fifty feet and we had at least a hundred feet of rope.
I fashioned a lassoo noose in the bitter end of the rope as Dad kneeled down, put his ear to the adjacent railway tracks, and listened. "1 mile out," he said as he pointed in the direction of the oncoming train. "Are you ready?"
I swung the lassoo, testing the rigidity of the loop and estimated throwing distance. "I'm ready, Dad."
The train approached, wheezing steam, coughing noises, screeching steel. I began twirling the rope above my head as Dad held out his hand. Steady.....steady.....steady.
The engine reached us and roared past, but I held my focus and watched both Dad and the cars speeding past behind him.
"Okay, now!" he yelled, snapping down his hand. I hurled the lassoo towards the approaching car with the thick steel rods protruding from the connection assembly, throwing it as Hercules would. The coiled rope at my feet rapidly disappeared as the lassoo flew towards the train then caught one of the rods, tightened, then ripped the anchor line into the air. Both of us fell to the ground and covered our heads. There was a nuclear explosion of mud, clay, and water as the rope tightened and ripped the anchor from the bottom. Attached to it was a six inch thick electrical cable that pulled free from the botttom then in an instant ripped across the surface of the water, decapitating the tower from a passing fishing boat, reducing a low flying cormorant to a puff of feathers, snapping a green marker buoy in half, then electrocuting every living river creature as the cable ripped away, producing an awesome display of sparks, fire, and vaporized water. The lights from Poughkeepsie went dim.
As the liberated anchor and three hundred feet of fiery, smoking electrical cable whizzed over my head I realized we hadn't entirely through through the retrieval part of the plan.
The anchor ripped through the vegetation canopy alongside the tracks, uprooting trees and bushes, sending mud and dust and roots and berries rocketing into the air as the electrical cable trailed behind like a whip, snapping and popping. I felt a little twinge of regret when I saw two river hobos abandon their fire and run like mad down the shoreline, trying to avoid the oncoming chaos, and the anchor did miss them but the cable whacked them squarely and send them plummetting into the cold waters. But then I figured they were probably overdue for a bath anyway so I didn't feel so bad.
Dad and I though it would probably be best to skeedaddle out of Poughkeepsie before the authorities put two and two together and came asking uncomfortable questions. We returned to SeaLight, hoisted the dinghy and anchor, and were on our way to our next stop, which we hoped would be as exciting at this one had been.
Wow! That is an incredible tale!
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