The wind howled out of the east for two days pushing the heat of July off the cool waters. Misty haze grew under the blue sky, a slow fading of the daylight brightness as I rounded the corner heading south in the lee of the land. “Raggedy Annie” fairly flew along in the calm water.
My quick downwind run was like that of many of the larger sailboats—under jib alone. Although I missed the cooler downdraft off the mainsail, I kept it furled. It was just too windy for my little boat. A short way around the corner I reached into a small cove. As soon as the anchor was set over the side I went for a cool-off swim before a leisurely lunch. The water was delicious—and lunch no less. As tempting as it was to stay, I weighed anchor and sailed out of the cove.
A nice broad reach south had about it a blustery, flat-water speed run. The boat handled easily under jib alone, and I was having a delightful sail. The forestay in its sheath of the CDI roller furler seemed a tad bit loose when I’d released the sail from its tight furl. Later I recalled wondering about it. I had paid no attention to it once I was in the southbound channel tearing along.
In what seemed like an incredibly short time, I rounded the shoal buoy to head due east into the one-foot waves and wind. The motor started on the second pull. I furled the jib almost all the way in, leaving a small patch for greater visibility for other boats to notice. I motored along to the east toward the marina about a mile away. Raggedy Annie bounced along gently, a sedate matron of the waters.
I stood at the tiller thinking of chores ahead: a pump-out, some fuel to buy, groceries from the store up on the hill, collect any mail from the marina … All of a sudden a loud snap bang rang out. I saw the mast slowly start to fall aft as lines and shrouds slackened. By the time that had registered I was already ducked down below the cabin top. The mast came down atop the companion way slide and lay still, the tip bobbing lightly behind me some 15 or 16 feet. I stood up and looked around in amazed silence, the motor burbling along as usual. The boom hung off a bit to starboard. The mast lay amidships in line with the keel. I continued to motor along. The lines and shrouds were okay except for the topping lift. I hauled that in to keep it from the motor. I didn’t need it fouling the prop! All seemed as secure as could be. The mast was fast to the tabernacle. It was just as if I had planned it, lowering it prior to getting ready to trailer somewhere else. Holy Cow! I thought. Was I lucky or what? The mast didn’t even touch me! And, there is no damage apparent anywhere! Wow!
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