“That’s a new noise” I said as we lay in the berth trying to sleep. A few seconds later we hear the noise again. Sounds like something is coming loose. “Is it coming from our boat? Is that the dodger rattling?” Shannon asks. “Sounds like it, but I guess I should go check.” It’s about 4am. As I work to get out of berth another gust hits. Nymeria is now heeling quite a bit with the wind making it difficult to move and get prepared to go outside. After a few minutes of gusts and rattling, finally I open the hatch for a look outside. The storm is well and truly here. The wind is howling by at a steady 35+ knots, with gusts up to 50, maybe more. The rain is coming in waves, straight across the water, seemingly not falling at all. I can see several other boats heeling wildly in the wind. Our lines seem to be holding strong, so I venture out the companionway to get a better look at the new noises.
Several hours earlier.
“Looks like we’re going to see a real tropical storm tonight” I said as I am yet again refreshing the National Hurricane Center dashboard. The depression we have been watching has officially been upgraded to Tropical Storm Nicholas. Its new predicted path takes it way too close to us for comfort. It’s around 3pm, we’ve got about 5 hours before the wind is predicted to get here. I head outside to do a cursory check on the boat, and our lines. I look at the brand new jib we just installed, and question our choice to leave it up. We probably still have time to take down the sails, and maybe the dodger and bimini. I wonder if we should? Nymeria has dealt with 30-40kt winds just fine before, and all our predictions show around 30-35 max sustained. Reluctantly I decide to leave things as they are, but I’ll make sure everything is as secure as I can make it. I grab a few extra lines, add a preventer to the boom, and lock down the furling system on the jib. I check all our dock lines as well, all 8 lines seem secure and reasonably tight. Finally, I grab some more lines and go secure the dingy, Lady, to its dock. Reasonably satisfied, I head back below and continue checking the weather.
Around seven, after dinner, Shannon and I are watching some TV when the rain starts. Softly at first, then growing harder. “Is it here?” I ask as I excitedly head to the door to look outside. Other than the rain, nothing much seems to be happening. Disappointed, I settle back into the TV and the hurricane center website. The rain lessons slightly and I relax again. The predicted arrival time of winds comes and goes.
“Wow!” I exclaimed. Without warning the boat is heeling wildly. “I guess it’s here now.” I need to see, so I don my foul weather gear for the first time and head out the door. The noise is the most telling part. 50 boats in the area all making their unique sounds. From a constant drone of the wind through the standing rigging, to the flapping of slightly loose sails or bimini covers. Once tight halyards banging rhythmically on whatever they can. All the other boats I can see are dancing in the gusts. Masts bending to the will of the wind like wheat in a field. As I step onto the dock, I’m struck by a gust and it nearly takes my balance away. I’ve never experienced wind like this, and the rain is nearly horizontal. After a few minutes, I decide it is time to head back into the cover of the boat. A quick glance at all the lines, still holding, and a cursory look at the rest of the boat shows Nymeria is holding her own so far.
The wind and rain continue to steadily rise for the next few hours. We’re up to 30+ kts steady with gusts in the upper 40s now. Nicholas has officially been upgraded to a category 1, and is on a direct path to us. Neither Shannon or I are able to sleep much. So we decide to venture out to take another look at everything and make a run to the floating bathrooms just in case the water keeps rising, gets above the bulkhead and limits us to our pier for a while. Nymeria still is looking and holding well. I’ve re-tightened some of our dock lines but overall we seem to be weathering everything ok. That is not the case for some of the other boats in the area. I’m noticing several torn biminies, some missing entirely, a few sails that have come loose and are flapping wildly. I attempt to help save one, as I would hope others would do for us, but there is just too much wind. I’m barely able to get one more good wrap on the jib, but it is still loose and flapping. That’s the best I can do, I don’t want to risk myself, or make anything worse. Just need to hope the sail doesn’t shred itself. The water is now about an inch below the walkway. Still lower than Harvey, but still rising.
“I don’t think we should be out in this.” Shannon tells me. “I don’t want to get hit by any flying things.” I had been enjoying this new experience of watching, and it was helping me remain calmer, but she is right. I had not considered the chances of getting hit by something. I guess years growing up in tornado alley teaches you some things. We head below and try to get as much sleep as we can. It’s really not working though.
That’s when the rattling starts.
The noise is definitely something loose on Nymeria. As I exit the companionway, everything I can see still looks ok. Bimini is still there, dodger is still attached… but the noise is coming from here. Bimini supports are still split, I can’t seem to move them any more than normal. I step out of the cockpit and start feeling around for anything loose. The dodger still seems solid, Nothing is torn or loose that I can see. As I turn toward the stern I see the issue. The solar panels have separated from the bimini and are pulling wildly in the wind. It’s too windy to properly re-attach them, or even look for the actual failure, so I start looking for another solution.
The mounting rack still seems to be quite solid. When we installed the panels, due to a parts shortage, we overbuilt a strong aluminum rack for the panels to sit on. That seems to be something I can work with. I’m able to grab the rack and pull it back down, but I have nothing to attach it to.
“Shannon!” I yelled into the boat, “I need some help out here!” She was still getting her foul weather gear on. As she comes out of the companionway, I’m still holding down the panels. “I need some lines. There should be several spare in the lazarette below me.” Shannon grabs a few old dock lines and hads one end to me. I’m currently hanging off the side of the boat with most of my weight holding down the panels. Each gust seems to want to lift me out. I manage to use one hand and get a line through the rack and tie it off. “Help me hold this down and tie it off to that stern cleat.” With our combined weight holding down the line, we are able to get it secure to the boat. I use several more lines and continue to secure the rack down in other locations. “I think that’s the best we can do.”
Ten minutes, maybe. But it felt like an hour of struggle. We stay in the cockpit and watch for a bit to see if it will hold. It all seems good enough. A quick glance around shows that we are not the only boat with issues, but we are the only ones outside doing anything about it. We are in the middle of the peak storm it seems.
The next few hours seem to last for days. We don’t say much, we just listen. Listen to the orchestra of howls, hums, whistles, flaps, clangs, bangs. Just before sunrise the wind starts to abate, and things start to settle down. We both crash and fall asleep almost immediately.
Two hours later, I wake up to the sun poking through some clouds and calm winds. The rain has stopped, and the clouds seem to be clearing. Shannon follows me out to have a look. Nymeria is still floating proudly. Our quickly tied down panels are still attached, and already charging the batteries. Other than the extra lines holding them down, there seems to be nothing wrong.
That isn’t the case for some of the other boats around us. We can see several torn and flapping sails, broken dodgers, lots of missing fabric. I am able to get aboard our neighbor’s boat that had the jib get loose overnight and secure it. All in all, everything seems good though.
After very little sleep, we walk our way up to our friends house with a bottle of champagne, tell our stories, have some breakfast, then promptly get back to the boat and go to sleep until the next day.
After a good nights rest, I’m able to assess the damage to the panels and their mount to the bimini. Looks like it only pulled itself out of the connectors due to some loose set screws. With a few hours of work, I’m able to put everything back together and secure it as good as new.
