Nahanni V at Sea: The Wreck Edition

It took a long time to write this blog. Over five months. I have written it over and over in my head, but until now, I could not bring myself to tell the whole story of Nahanni V's untimely end. I can come up with lots of reasons and excuses, but I guess it comes down to not being ready to write it all down. 

So, get a drink and maybe a tissue. Here goes.

When we started on our trip two years ago, John's mom Lois was told she had about two years to live.  Her breast cancer had metastasized and she was expected to decline.  With her blessing (insistence), we decided to sail away with the promise to return to Canada when she needed care to die at home. During our 18 months of sailing, she visited us four times, logging hours of wonderful memories.

After Lois's fabulous Christmas visit with us in St. Vincent, she returned home to be told by her doctor that she had about three months left. John and I had already made plans to volunteer in Dominica, so we decided to follow through with that plan and then head up to St. Croix in February where we would leave our boat in the care of our friends and fly home.

We got to St. Croix on February 20, 2018 and were warmly greeted by our friends Shera, Jeff and Malea from So Blessed. They were the first cruising family we met when we landed in  Anguilla. They were now residing on land in St. Croix and had offered to help us out. They offered us their private mooring and agreed to check on our boat while we were away. They also loaned us a vehicle so we could get around before we left the island. Jeff helped us to navigate from Christiansted to Teague Bay, where we put Nahanni V on their mooring which was located within the waters of the St. Croix Yacht Club.

Malea, Simon and Wavey in St. Croix

Wavey with Butter, their foster puppy

Feeling confident with our plan to leave Nahanni V, we purchased plane tickets to fly back to Canada for the afternoon of February 22nd. We started packing up and prepared Nahanni V for a couple of months on her own. Simon was very organized and laid out his belongings in the salon so he could pack them up quickly on the morning of our flight.

The evening before our flight, we went out for a delicious sushi dinner with Jeff, Shera and Malea. We returned in the darkness to the Yacht Club around 10:00 pm to find the gates locked. Unable to get to our dinghy and back to Nahanni V, we returned back to Jeff and Shera's home where they welcomed us to stay overnight. At the crack of dawn, we were up and anxious to return to the boat and pack for our flight.

On Thursday, February 22, 2018 at about 0730, we arrived to the Yacht Club to find the gates open. We parked our borrowed car and started walking towards the dinghy. I looked towards the boat and saw nothing where Nahanni V was last floating.  I screamed to John that the boat was not there. There was a moment, when we all realized that our boat was gone and a feeling of panic sunk in. Seconds later, someone screamed, "There she is lying on the shore!"  We looked about a mile down the coast and saw our boat aground on the rocky shore.

Full panic then set in. Kids were crying, disbelief gripped me and all I could think of was to call the Coast Guard.  A worker at the club came forward and took me to the office phone.  I found a number, but the phones were out of order.  John tried calling on the VHF, but could not get good reception. I felt myself spinning out of control, trying to comfort the kids and problem-solve, while feeling like the core of me had just fallen out.

Eventually, one of the club members who was working on a boat, heard the commotion and offered to take us to Nahanni V in the club tender.  It was blowing about 20 knots and it was hard to get very close to our boat as it got more shallow. As we neared our grounded home, John prepared to jump in and check things out.  As he leaped overboard, a shivery sense of cold crept into me. I realized later I had been shaking with fear for his safety.

We watched as John swam to the boat and pulled himself on board. We could see him walking around on deck assessing the damage. It was far too risky for us to approach the boat by water, so we left him onshore and returned to the Yacht Club to find access by road.

John aboard Nahanni V

By this time, our friend Jeff had arrived. He drove us along the road above the wreck. We forged a path through the brush and cacti and made the final descent over a little rocky cliff to the rocky shore.

John has an amazing way of hiding his emotions in a crisis, but when we arrived to the boat, he looked shattered. In the time it took for us to get to him, he had saved our hard drives with all our photos and secured our passports that were fortunately floating in the cabin.  All Simon's stuff that had been ready to be packed simply slid out the huge hole in the side of Nahanni V.

Soon after, several other people arrived including a National Park Service Ranger.  Calls had been made to salvage companies and we waited for someone to come and assess the damage. John shifted into turbo problem-solving mode, looking for ways to save the boat. Jeff went and got a large pump for us to try and pump the water out, but the hole was too large and water continued to pour in.

After an assessment by the salvor, we learned that there was no way the boat could be pulled off until the following Monday, due to the weather forecast of windy conditions. The pump did nothing to reduce the amount of water inside and every wave pushed the boat higher onto the rocks. We were informed by the park ranger that we could be fined up to $1,000,000 USD if our diesel spilled and polluted the marine park surrounding us.

After this assessment, John and Simon left to go to the marina in Christiansted to make inquiries about hauling the boat there once it got towed off the rocks. While they were gone, Wavey and I remained at the site, watching the waves bash Nahanni V. John specifically instructed us not to enter the boat as it was unstably perched on a section of rocks. Wavey was desperate to get into the boat to salvage her things and it was all I could do to keep her with me. We sat and cried, feeling like parts of us were being shredded apart too. We talked a lot about how we were going to get through this tragedy.

When John and Simon returned, we carefully went on board and retrieved a few more items. By this time, it was late afternoon and we were all completely exhausted. 

We returned to Jeff and Shera's where they gave us space to process the day, fed us pizza and comforted with ice cream. The kids watched a movie and cuddled with "Butter," a rescue puppy they were fostering. This darling little dog turned out to be the best therapy for the kids (and us all, really.)

Butter with my shoe

Exhausted, Simon fell asleep with the puppy

I called the airlines about our missed flight. As soon as the kind voice on the other line asked why we missed the flight, my eyes flooded, and I began to sob uncontrollably. Despite not having cancellation insurance, our tickets were refunded. Simon told me I should cry every time I wanted my money back for something.

After a fitful sleep for all, we returned the following day to the wreck site. 

We had been warned to expect some looting, so we were not surprised to find that someone had smashed the lock on our outboard engine and walked away with it.  It didn't look like much else had been taken, but then again, we weren't sure what was missing as everything was shaken up. 

Overnight, the boat had been pushed higher onto the rocks and so there was less water inside.  This made searching for items easier. It also made it easier to assess the damage. It did not look good for repairing and sailing Nahanni V again.

We all had some time inside and started to take items off.  The kids' cabin had been soaked and many of their belongings were damaged. The aft cabin where John and I slept, was high and dry and had no water damage. Lockers on the port side where we kept our gear were underwater, but items on the starboard side were fine which included all of our homeschooling materials. (The kids did not share my joy in this revelation.)

Using dry bags and grocery bags we located on board, we formed a bucket brigade from the boat to the rocky beach and passed items out of the boat and up onto the shore into our borrowed vehicle. We stopped for several breaks to process our feelings about our loss.

Taking a break after hauling things up

After working for a few hours, the salvage crew arrived to take the diesel off the boat. Five guys with a pump, generator and several five gallon jerry cans rappelled down the "path" and entered the boat.  Our recently-filled tank contained 400 litres of diesel, now had to be emptied and the fuel carried up the cliff by hand. It was a nasty job in the full heat of the day.

Setting up the pump to get the diesel out

Waiting for a diesel can to be filled by the crew inside the boat.

While the diesel was being removed, the kids started to comb the beach searching for our belongings that had gone out the hole, out to sea and washed back on the shore.  There were constant squeals of excitement as they located items like clothing, bedding, musical instruments, gear and food. We couldn't help but smile when one of the first items found was Simon's t-shirt stating not to "rock the boat."

Underwear that had washed up on shore

My flute

Wavey waiting for items to wash up

Handing gear up the rocks

We brought items to Jeff and Shera's and filled their patio with many items that were sodden and encrusted with sand, salt and seaweed. We hosed things off, threw stuff in their washing machine and tried to salvage what we could. Their kitchen was filled with our electronics, bits of the first aid kit, and gear as we all tried to clean items to get them working again. We emptied their cistern at one point with all our washing and hosing.

While all this was going on, Jeff and Shera were trying to maintain their lives and their jobs while supporting us through this crisis. Lee, Jeff's Dad kindly arranged for us to stay in a two bedroom vacation home that was not being used. It also happened to be a few minutes' drive from the wreck site. So, we stopped schlepping the sodden remnants of our boat life to Jeff and Shera's, and started to crowd it into our new luxurious refuge.

Breakfast at the Brant House

Patio at Brant House

Large deck and ocean view

For the next two days we continued to return to the boat to remove what we could. Each day there was evidence that someone had been on board while we were away, but now it hardly seemed to matter.  One day we caught a group of young men aboard, who left with empty hands. I approached them with a bit of a tongue-lashing, but backed down after talking to them. Perhaps they had just been curious. 

In our efforts to take things off the boat, our thinking shifted from "save our stuff," to "what are we going to do with all this stuff?" I was concerned that our stuff would pollute the waters and beach for years to come, and at the same time, I was tired of hauling it off and up the hill. The kids continued to find treasures on the beach and we continued to try and dry out what we could save.

Simon rappelling down the rocks

Simon and the ship's wheel

Tough kids

We were told that when she was pulled off the rocks, Nahanni V would likely sink, and everything would be submerged or float away.  Many people came to help us carry heavy items up the cliff and strip Nahanni V of what could be salvaged. 

Our final day on the rocks was probably the most physically challenging as we took as much as we could off including the stove, propane tanks, sails, booms, solar panels, and electronics. We also took all the galley equipment off and all the food that was dry.

Teamwork up the rocks

Jeff suggested that we could likely sell the windlass which John had so carefully installed during the refit of Nahanni V. Jeff kindly offered to remove it from the deck by cutting it out with his sawsall, while John removed himself from the scene and choked back the tears. It was the first of many saws that would later tear into the boat and rip out gear and fittings.

Jeff taking out the windlass

During this first surgical intervention, the kids and I got the container of Sharpies out that had been floating inside, but still worked. I encouraged them to climb onto the deck and write and draw messages to Nahanni V. It is a hard thing to take a permanent marker to something that you once made every effort to keep clean. However, both Simon and Wavey nodded their acknowledgment that the rules had changed. 

We all had a chance to express our feelings and thoughts and in some ways start saying goodbye to our girl. I asked John to take our Canadian flag and hang it upside down - the universal sign of distress. It was symbolic for me that she was dying on the rocks.

I have never been to a military boot camp, but I imagine the four days following the wreck were as physically demanding. Each day our adrenaline-soaked activities included climbing, balancing, lifting, carrying, and rappelling ourselves in and out of the boat, and up and down the cliff. We were mostly in full sun with temperatures above 30 C. It was exhausting physically and emotionally. For the first time in my life, I felt I had no physical reserve at the end of each day. I was completely spent. I was impressed that the kids never once complained about the work.

It was also a challenge to meet our basic needs at times.  For anyone who has lost their home suddenly, it is a shock to be without a toothbrush and clean underwear. Jeff and Shera were amazing at meeting our needs, however, we had to start to figure out how to sustain our own recovery efforts and not keep relying on their generosity and support. This event of course, had also been disruptive to their lives.

In these four days, we also had to come to terms with what happened to our boat and home. We were plagued with the "what ifs," and the "coulda, shoulda, wouldas." As it turned out, the mooring failed because a pin in the swivel failed.  We had checked the mooring before we left the boat, pulling the chain/bridal connection up to just below the surface, but had not dived on it, as the water was quite cloudy. It had been blowing 30 knots when we left her, but all seemed secure. It was a mooring installed by Jeff himself and was less than a year old.  They had kept their own boat, So Blessed on it previously. We had no reason to be concerned that it would fail.

Failed swivel

Same part at chandlery

We also had to process our feelings for Jeff and Shera who had offered us their mooring and agreed to care for our boat in our absence. They had offered us their mooring in good faith because they are kind and loving people. We did not blame them or anyone for the loss of our boat. The phrase, "shit happens," resonated frequently with us.

We must admit that we beat ourselves up for awhile about what we "shoulda" done, but since that didn't change anything, we prompted each other to knock it off when the dark thoughts started. We experienced a constant flow of gratitude for the loving help we were offered, including Shera's amazing cooking and Jeff's strong back. At one point, Wavey concluded that this whole experience would one day be, "a mud stain in the rest of our lives." Whoa. 

After four days of hauling about 1000 pounds of stuff up the cliff, we braced ourselves for Monday; the day when the boat would be pulled off the rocks.  We were ready on the shore when the salvage crew of four arrived at 10:00 am. They tied ropes to the hull and inflated flotation bags inside the cabin.  They expected Nahanni V would sink when pulled off the rocks and prepared us that they might not get her the eight miles to Christensted where the marina was prepared to haul her out.

Tow boat and crew

The kids had prepared for this event by bringing their recorders and music. Shera had suggested they play Amazing Grace to Nahanni V as she was pulled out to sea. They also used up the rest of the Sharpie ink by writing on rocks, shells and the shoreline to commemorate the day. Waves of emotion washed over us this day.

While we watched the tow boat get ready, we found a shady scrap on the rocks to sit as a family. John commented that it would have been nice to have our binoculars to watch the operation. Just then, we noticed a black case floating towards us on the shore. Wavey waded out to retrieve the case which contained Simon's waterproof binoculars. They must have been tucked away in a locker on the port side. The strangest part about their sudden appearance, is that for the past year, Simon had been unable to find them on the boat!

After several efforts and breaking the tow rope twice, Nahanni V was wrenched from the rocks that had impaled her port side. 

As she was towed out, she initially floated level with her deck just above the water. But as soon as the tow got underway her bow suddenly sank. One of the forward flotation bags must have popped. The crew sent a diver down who attached another flotation bag, and re-floated the bow. Unfortunately, this scenario repeated itself several times during the day as the tenacious crew re-floated the boat before limping into Christensted. 

Sadly, we watched most of Nahanni V's final voyage as we followed along the shore in the car. We even went to the house for lunch and watched the passage from the balcony of our borrowed home.

Watching the tow from our balcony while eating lunch

We arrived at the boat yard in the late afternoon and waited for Nahanni V to arrive. We sat in the office's air conditioning and the kids distracted themselves with their books.  I couldn't help but see the irony of the books in the waiting area.

By the time Nahanni V was delivered to the travel lift, there was another problem. Being mostly submerged, and with the tide out, she was too deep now to be pulled into the slip to be hauled.  The boatyard crew were now in overtime mode and the salvage crew were exhausted.  We made a plan to haul the following morning at high tide; the salvage crew would also have to float her higher to get her out.

                           

We arrived the next morning to find our dying boat being hauled.  Water poured out of the hole as she was lifted out. Our foul weather gear hung out the side, bits of radio parts dangled, and spice containers floated out the companionway.  I shuddered to think of our stuff, now littering the waters and shores around St. Croix.

Witty Simon commented that the gushing water out the hole was like the Nahanni River. (My sister Liz later commented in an email that it was the Nahanni River of Tears.) We were grateful for the salvage crew's efforts and happy that no one was hurt in the dangerous operation.

The yard decided that the hull was too compromised to be supported by jack stands, so the boat was laid down on her side. In many ways, this was her final resting place.

With all the drama of the tow and haul out over, our efforts switched to dealing with the 1000 pounds of stuff we had salvaged. While the kids and I went "home" to clean and organize our belongings, John worked to sell what we could off the boat.  

Once onshore, Nahanni V had a new flock of visitors to see what remained.  It didn't take long before John sold the rig, masts, sails, engine, bimini, hatches, windows, stainless rails, stantions, and cabinetry. Someone even bought the lead from her keel.  

Inside the salon

Doghouse and bimini being lifted off boat

Engine being lifted out

Lead cut out of keel

Lead missing from keel

We also found a local marine store with a consignment section. The compassionate owner Steve, took on some items to sell for us while giving us free drinks and ice cream whenever we came into his shop.

Selling our inflatable dinghy in store

Cabinetry taken to consignment shop

Each time we visited Nahanni V, I realized how very much this loss was like a death. Our boat and home were gone and we now were going about settling her affairs and putting her to rest. For each of us, this process happened in different ways.

People were very kind throughout this whole process. Our misfortune brought forth empathy and stories from everyone we met. This island had experienced two major hurricanes in the past year that had destroyed homes, business and sunk boats. This devastation really helped us to put our own loss into perspective. Our misfortune by comparison, was less significant. We had not lost everything. We were safe. We had support.

For the next ten days, there was a time of personal recovery while we sifted through the piles of stuff.  We started to sleep again and our appetites improved. Cuts and bruises started to heal and we laughed more. 

The kids' job was to decide what they wanted to keep. They washed every little piece of Lego, dried out their Pokemon cards and threw out games and toys that were beyond saving. They played with Malea and recovered how kids recover: by making slime, doing archery, jumping off of cruise ship docks, and swimming in the ocean. Shera and Jeff continued to support our efforts and brought some fun back into our days.

 

 

Hermit crab races

We also started researching how we were going to get our stuff back to Canada. Shipping costs were prohibitive and we weren't sure if our stuff was even worth keeping. So we decided we would take what we could with us on the flight back to Toronto.

Having no luggage to pack things into, John had the great idea of going to Home Depot and getting moving boxes.  We checked with the airline and found that the large-sized moving boxes met the maximum luggage dimensions. We would have to pay a premium to bring them with us, but as long as we kept them to 50 lb each, we would not pay for overweight baggage. We purchased 10 large boxes and one carry-on bag, and made our way home, stopping at Steve's consignment store to borrow his bathroom scale.

Cheaper than buying all new luggage

Packing and weighing

Three ready to go

Almost all boxes ready to go

After days of redistributing our boxes to meet all the requirements, we booked our flights back to Canada. We also booked airport transportation to pick us up in Canada as no one had a vehicle big enough for us, our luggage and our ten boxes. 

We left a pile of items and clothing that did not make it into a box, which Jeff and Shera kindly offered to donate for us. I shed a tear or two as we sold our trusty Sailrite sewing machine (which had been a wedding present) and all our sewing materials which were too heavy to take home.

Galley items and food to be donated

Before we left St. Croix, we drove to the wreck site for a final visit. We scrambled down the path and walked along the shore. Bits of our existence on Nahanni V still littered the beach. We reflected about our experience over the last two weeks and how working together as a team and a family had made us stronger.

Our final leg of this journey was getting over 500 pounds of stuff and ourselves to the airport.  Jeff was a huge help to get everything and all of us to the check-in desk.

All boxes, carry-ons and us fit in 2 SUVs with some on top

Arriving at airport

 

As you can imagine, we were not a welcomed sight when we lugged our boxes and carry-ons to the check-in desk. For me, getting to this desk was like running the last mile of a marathon, and no one was going to stop me from getting to the finish line. The woman assisting us seemed intent on giving us a hard time. At one point, she said that the baggage would cost double what we estimated it to be, simply because I had a different last name than the rest of my family. 

Luckily, John sensed that this woman might just tip me over the edge, and feared that I might say or do something regrettable. So, he looked me square in the face and sternly commanded me to go and stand with the children. Thankfully, I did as I was told. Another woman, more jovial than the former, came to our rescue.  John charmed her silly, and we paid less than we imagined. Without our knowledge, Simon videoed woman #1 putting our stuff on the conveyor belt.

I won't go on and on about our efforts in moving this 500 lbs of stuff through security. I will simply say that we were grateful for the assistance and generosity of others in getting to this finish line of sorts.

A lightness overcame us all, as we waited at the gate to board our flight. Our carry-ons breathed with relief as we removed cold weather clothing and dashed to the washroom to don pants and sweaters. Wavey ceremoniously threw her doomed flip flops in the trash. We boarded the plane and enjoyed an uneventful and pleasant flight back to Canada. 

Wavey was happy to sit beside an infant for the flight!

On March 9th at 4:00 am, we piled out of the airport bus in Niagara-On-The-Lake, shivering in our ill-fitting winter clothing. John's patiently-waiting mother was awake, and greeted us warmly. We filled her front entrance with boxes and hugs. 

At this moment, this journey ended, and another began.

__________________________________

When you live on a cruising boat, people around you rarely refer to you by your first or last name. They call you by your boat name. It becomes a part of who you are. After the loss of Nahanni V, our collective identity became a little confused. Who were we the crew of? How do we sign off on emails? Where do we belong? 

It was our cruising friends who maintained that the spirit of our sailing boat would always remain with us. In many ways, we will always be The Nahannis.