Ferrying to Danger

Another spooky sailing story...

Article by Jim Phelps

Height above water of W’Ouzel’s Montgomery 15 masthead: 22’3”. Height of the bridge, according to multiple sources: 27 feet. None of those sources indicated whether that was at high or low tide (were they cautious, and used the historic highest water level; or used a mean low low?) Tidal swing on launch day: from 4.3 to 13.5 feet.

Cabin for the week, with dock right in front—south side of the short canal spanned by the bridge. Launch ramp: head of the bay on the north side of the bridge. Earliest launch hour, around noon. High tide? 1400.

You think you know what is going to happen. Fortunately, not that. But close. Because there’s one more variable: current. Several sources say it can flow up to 2-3 knots. But only one— a kayaker’s account from 16 years ago— indicates which way! That author indicated firmly that the current “sets north in flood, south on the ebb.” Thus on launch day, it should be flowing north and slowing by the time we get over for a look, though we’ll be nearing a predicted “high high.”

So, the skipper’s plan: use a whitewater kayaking technique. Paddling upstream against the current one can move laterally across a river while neither gaining nor losing ground. Known as “ferrying,” this is how river-crossing barges, slung from cables, cross the river. Simply angle the bow slightly in the intended direction and let the current provide the lateral vector.

Since the current will be flowing north, we should be able to sidle up to the bridge and hold station while assessing the true height of the bridge on both ends of the slightly slanted opening. Probably too low, but let’s find out. If it’s a no-go, we’ll leave her on the north side overnight and make the passage in the morning.

Off we went, skipper at the helm, mate ready to assess the clearance. Under engine, a slow approach, gazing up. Yes, it will be very close, very close, let’s get a little closer… Wait, oh no, look at the foot of the pilings—the current is flowing south! And we’re nearly at the point of probable contact. Quick, reverse engine. But controlling the ferry angle going backwards, in an alarmed hurry, is challenging, and the skipper’s blown it, her stern is swinging, she’s spinning, almost parallel to the bridge now… we’re getting swept toward a broach against the pilings.

Quick, complete the turn and power out forward? That almost worked, and at least it wasn’t a broach, it was a moment’s pin just before the turn was completed, and we scooted back to the north—the skipper quivering a bit (but don’t alarm the mate with how close to disaster that really was. And never mind, for now, that the beloved Torqueedo seems to be running roughly. (Fortunately that turned out to be the brand new shear pin, installed in preparation for this trip, doing its job. It stayed partially intact just long enough to get us out of trouble, and easily replaced once diagnosed.)

The moral of the story: Don’t trust published bridge heights, right, got that. But don’t trust just one account of what the current will be doing either!

Given the tidal swings, you may have figured out that this all took place in the Gulf Islands of Canada, basically the same island chain as the San Juans of Washington state. Yes, Volume 5 of the Canadian Tide and Current tables gives direction and speed of tidal currents, but only for the major passes in the area. For a little one like the canal that separates North and South Pender, it’s hard to guess. Ask a local? Good idea, definitely will, next time. Got lucky on this one. •SCA•

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It’s October, so time for a few spooky sailing stories! Tell us about your scary moments afloat. Was it a thick fog, an encounter with a passing ship at night, a reckless jet skier, or just a sinking feeling? Send your horror stories—fictional or not— (any length) to josh@smallcraftadvisor.com and we’ll share some of our favorites with readers. —Eds