Rick,
Great story. The gods were with you.
Here's what I have done:
Get a floating polyethylene painter for your dingy. About twice the cost,
but well worth the peace of mind.
-Bruce
 
1983 Ta Shing Panda 40 PH "Whisper"
http://www.svWhisper.com <http://www.svwhisper.com/>

  _____

From: owner-baba-l@ballreich.net [mailto:owner-baba-l@ballreich.net] On
Behalf Of Sonadora
Sent: Monday, June 19, 2006 12:00 PM
To: baba-l@ballreich.net
Subject: RE: [Baba-L] propeller protector

I can relate directly to this one.

Last season we anchored out on a beautiful end-of-summer day. Absolute calm.
We dropped the anchor and started backing up. I was on the bow and the
anchor had just grabbed when the motor went dead. The look of ‘I didn’t do
it’ on my wife’s face told me this wasn’t good. Then, looking behind my
wife, I noticed ‘Punkin’ (our orange and black zodiac) ass up at the stern
of the boat.

There was that sudden rush of realization that I knew what the problem was.

The sun was down. The anchor was down. We were safe. I assured my wife this
wasn’t a problem and decided we could deal with it in the morning.

All night I tossed and turned with horrible visions of thousands of feet of
rope in a tangled mass around the prop shaft, destroying the bearing,
bending the shaft, twisting the prop. I imagined myself diving hundreds of
feet below the surface, knife clenched in my teeth, trying to feel my way in
the murky water until I reached the knotted painter. I wondered how many
times I would have to come up for air. I pictured myself dropping the knife
into muddy blackness.

There were other strange goings on in the night including a near miss in the
fog by drunks on a speeding john boat, but that’s another story.

I woke up to a cool morning. The fog was lifting and I looked over the side
hoping it had all been a bad dream. It hadn’t. Punkin’ was still there, butt
up.

I shuddered as I thought of the cold, cold water. It had to be about 32.1
degrees F. I mean, this is Minnesota.

I talked it over with my wife and threw on my life jacket. I tied on a
harness and kissed my wife and kids. Descending down the ladder, I looked up
at their concerned faces. Down…down the 3 rungs I went. Holding my breath I
jumped into the…very warm…water.

I swam around to the side and ran my hand along the painter, preparing to
remove my life jacket and plunge into the depths. I continued to reach down
until…

The Baba 30 prop shaft is about 30” below the surface. For me, that’s an
arm’s length. I could feel the rope. The painter had wedged between the
rudder and the hull before getting too tangled in the prop. There were maybe
two turns on the prop which I easily unwound. Then, pulling the rope out of
from between the rudder and hull, Punkin’ plopped down and we were free.

I’ll never do that again, he thought.

Cheers,

Rick Beddoe

s/v Soņadora, 1978 Baba 30

http://sail2live.com <http://sail2live.com/>

be sure to check out our 48 hour film project entry!

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Received on Mon Jun 19 10:42:48 2006