It's hard to believe that a day that started off so nicely could end in near disaster, yet by evening, Jofian was in the most precarious predicament of her entire life.
After breakfast, Roy put his Royak in the water and scrubbed some more of the yuck off the hull, but the current was so strong, he soon gave it up.
The day was very pleasant: blue sky, fleecy clouds, ideal temperature. The scenery along the canal was lovely: lots of large, green trees and expensive homes. The canal is only 12 miles long, so we were through it before noon. Our timing was perfect. Just before we emerged into Delaware Bay, the most enormous barge I've ever seen went by. It must have been as high as a six-storey building. I was very glad it had gone by before we got there. Two large freighters were approaching, but the first one crossed in front of us before I reached the channel, and the second was far enough away that I was able to cross the channel and get outside the channel before it got close. It passed me just before I came to shallow places, so then I was able to get back into the channel.
Wilmington lies on the Christina River. Roy was at the wheel when we reached the buoys marking the river entrance. I thought he had seen the buoys, but it turned out, he was looking at two other buoys and nearly missed the entrance. Fortunately, I said something in time for him to turn.
The good old "Waterway Guide" lied to us again. I'll never believe another word in that book. It said there were several marinas up the Christina River. There was one small marina near the entrance, but it was too shallow for us to go into. There were no other marinas. I tried to call the Harbor Master on VHF for information, but there was no response. Then I put out a call to any marina operator. Again no response. We had gone a mile or two up the river.
Ahead of us was a low bridge, and the chart showed shallow water past the bridge, so we decided to go no farther until we had some positive information. On the right bank, was a sturdy retaining wall, and beyond the wall we saw green grass and trees, so we thought it was a city park. Roy decided to tie to the wall for a brief time, so we could walk around and get some information. I didn't like the idea of tying to that wall, because there was absolutely nothing to tie to, and it was metal, not wood, but Roy went up to it anyway, after carefully checking the depth and finding it to be 19 feet. Since there was nothing to tie to, I attached the throwing anchor to the center line and tossed it over the wall. Then I climbed over the wall into the "park".
Almost immediately, I realized I'd goofed. In front of me was a chain-link fence with a gate and a guard shack. To the right were buildings that appeared to be some sort of light manufacturing plant. There were monitoring cameras all over the place. When I reached the guard shack, I was greeted by a security guard wearing a large badge. She immediately demanded, "How did you get in here?" With visions of being hauled off to the local hoosegow for trespassing, I blurted out my story. Fortunately, the guard believed my farfetched tale. She even let me look in the phone book, but I couldn't find any marinas listed. I did, however, find a listing for the Port Director, so I called him and was told there were no other marinas in the Christina River than the one we had seen, but we could tie to two old barges near the entrance.
By the time I got back to the boat, a young man was talking with Roy. The man's name was Dave. He works here at Noramco, a pharmaceutical firm. He's a machinist, but he also has a small sailboat and loves to sail. He was warning Roy that there were large cement blocks next to the wall, and the Jofian was probably sitting on them. When the tide went out, she'd only have two or three feet of water underneath her even though there was plenty of water farther away from the wall. The tide was already going out--fast. As soon as I heard this, I took a look at the depth gauges. The one on the starboard side (next to the wall) was already down to five feet. I called to Roy a couple of times that we'd better get out of there right that moment. By the time he stopped talking and started the engine, it was too late; we were sitting on the cement blocks in three feet of water. He gunned the engine, and the people on the other side of the wall (four or five by then) tried to push us off, but to no avail. A Marine Patrol boat tried to tow us off. Half an hour earlier, they would have succeeded, but now it was too late. We had no alternative but to wait until the tide went out and came in again.
The great danger was that as the tide went out, Jofian would tilt farther and farther to port, eventually getting her port rail under water. Then she'd fill with water and sink, resulting in tens of thousands of dollars damage. Roy and Dave set about fastening the Jofian to the wall so she couldn't fall over. Roy got out two more anchors, attached them to the strong hundred foot lines he'd bought for going through the Panama Canal, put the anchors over the wall, and winched the lines tight. He had the bow and center attached and was getting ready to attach the stern, when to our dismay the stern suddenly slipped off the block into deeper water, causing the boat to twist around so the bow was against the wall while the stern was sticking out into the river. By then she was starting to list to port. Roy attached two lines to the stern, including one he wrapped completely around the hull near the stern, and anchored them to the wall. Then he climbed the ladder while we all held our breath, afraid the boat would go over with him on it. He tied two lines around the mast and spreaders. The other ends of the lines were attached to the grate over a storm drain in the lawn. Dave had brought two come-alongs from the shop, so they were used to tighten the lines. So there hung our beautiful Jofian, the sorriest sight imaginable. The bow had slid way down the wall, fortunately protected by the bow anchor. The stern was sticking up in the air, and the entire boat was listing thirty degrees over the river. We both feared she wouldn't make it. If any one of the lines gave way, the strain on the other lines would have probably caused them to part and the Jofian would have gone over on her side, and that would have been the end of her.
Roy got his camera out and took several pictures of her in case we had to file an insurance claim.
Everyone here was just as nice as could be. Dave knocked himself out helping Roy, a security guard named Shirley drove me to a super market and back so I could get a dozen eggs (at the time, I wondered if I'd ever be able to cook them), and Larry from the Fireboat Station next door invited us to make ourselves at home in the firehouse while we waited for the tide to turn.
I phoned the Coast Guard and found out the next high tide would be at 4:03 a.m. By the time the boat was all tied up, it was about seven o'clock, so we had a long wait ahead of us. There was nothing more we could do for the boat, so we invited Dave and Larry to go to supper at a restaurant with us. Larry declined but Dave accepted and drove us to a Sizzler, where we enjoyed a delicious meal, despite our fears for the Jofian.
When we returned, we were relieved to see the Jofian just as we had left her, except her stern was much farther out of the water. Nearly the entire rudder was exposed, and the propeller was two feet above the water line. The tide had slowed down and soon turned. The tide came in as fast as it had gone out. We could actually see it rising. What joy as the Jofian righted herself! By eleven o'clock, she was upright and afloat. The Fire Chief had given us permission to raft to the Fire Boat, about 100 feet ahead of us. Roy started the engine, released the lines, and Jofian floated away from the dock effortlessly. The current was strong and a low bridge was just beyond the Fire Boat, so Roy quickly turned the Jofian around, and with Larry's assistance, we tied to the Fire Boat. What a relief to be afloat again!
Larry gave us the grand tour of the Fire Boat. It had been an old fishing boat that the Fire Department had bought in 1989. The Firefighters had refurbished it themselves, and they did a terrific job. The boat had everything and really looked nice. The pilot house was paneled and had all kinds of instruments. The engine room was huge and had two powerful engines. The galley and crew's quarters were attractive and roomy. We greatly appreciated the tour. And Larry even gave me a Marine Firefighter T-shirt!
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