 |
|
|
ALMOST CONTAINED BY A CONTAINER SHIP
By Bill Badgley
|
|
December 6, 2004. Unless directed otherwise, large ships must stay in the vessel traffic lanes in Puget Sound, Boundary Pass, the Strait of Georgia and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Small vessels should stay out of the lanes as much as possible. Sometimes it is not possible to stay out of the lanes, and extra watchfulness is called for. As this story points out, despite their size, large ships move very fast, and when close aboard they are frightening.
--Bob Hale
The name Hapag-Lloyd doesn’t roll off the tongue easily, but there the name was, on the side of the container ship that had been growing steadily larger for the past twenty minutes or so. The ship was southbound in Puget Sound. The speed of container ships has always been a marvel to me. How can that much weight and mass move so fast?
My wife Judi was at the helm of our Beneteau Fast 32.5 sailboat. We were sailing south, with the town of Kingston as our destination. The northeasterly wind that had given us a wonderful ride from Port Townsend had veered almost 120 degrees as we neared Point No Point, and we were forced to tack into a strong southerly as we worked our way downsound.
We were sailing southeast on starboard tack about three miles north of Apple Cove Point, with Edmonds off our starboard bow. My plan was to tack back to the southwest, but I wanted to pick up a line that would give us a better shot at Kingston. The container ship was rapidly closing the north-south gap between us, but it was obviously headed well to the east of us, since we were far enough abeam to read its name, located about mid-ship.
Judi tacked when we got on a line to fetch Kingston, and I handled the jib sheets. We had settled down on port tack and I was cleaning up the loose lines when I heard Judi ask, “Bill, what about that freighter?” I figured the container ship couldn’t be a factor. It should be nearly abeam of us and quite a distance to the east of us at that.
My mind was lost in the thought of tying up at Kingston when Judi again asked, “Bill, isn’t that freighter getting a bit close?” It had been a long pull that afternoon and we were tired. I was just about done getting the cockpit cleaned up when I heard Judi call my name a third time. This time her voice had a noticeable air of concern in it.
This time I looked up -- and saw the bow of the container ship coming straight at us. The ship was still heeling from the huge turn it had just taken, and we were lying dead center on its new course. I felt like I could almost count rivets on the hull.
Our current course was the only one that would take us out of danger, but there was absolutely no way that we would sail clear in time. With Judi at the helm, I fumbled to start the engine (and fortunately succeeded), and pushed the throttle to the top of the green. I wondered if the skipper of the container ship was enjoying the sight of elbows and fannies frantically scrambling around the cockpit of the sailboat directly off its bow.
The next few minutes lasted about two years, as we watched the separation angle slowly open between our two vessels. I felt as if we were caught in a dream (maybe nightmare would be more accurate), where I knew we were in danger but unable to move out of the way. Finally, the rivets faded and the ship passed safely behind us. Once again I could read “Hapag-Lloyd” on the side.
As I reviewed the chart later, I determined that we probably had about four miles of separation between the container ship and ourselves when the ship began its southbound turn at Buoy SE off Point No Point. At that moment, the ship was closing at the rate of a mile every three minutes. My initial inattention to Judi’s concern probably cost us about two miles of separation. The remaining two miles would have been used up in another six minutes.
I’m now paying a lot more attention to my wife and to the movement (and turning points) of large ships.v
|
|
|
|
|
