Sunshine & Crosses

Chambers Cove, Newfoundland

August 26, 2009

I gazed through binoculars at the 300’ cliffs of Chambers Cove, sunlight glinting off the cross at the cliff’s edge. Giant windmill blades moved lazily in the summer breeze. It’s a far different scene than the early morning of February 18, 1942. With the cliffs obscured by blinding sleet, the U.S. Navy destroyer Truxtun smashed onto the rocks. Farther down the coast at Lawn Point the supply ship USS Pollux, traveling in convoy, came to grief. The lead ship, USS Wilkes hit the rocks but was able to back off.

Then the nightmare really began. The men could see the cliffs, almost touch them. But frigid water, roiling currents and a growing mass of oil slickened debris filled Chambers cove. The water temperature was 30 degrees Fahrenheit. After several harrowing attempts, a small group made it ashore. From there one sailor, blackened by oil, clawed his way up the cliff face and began to follow a barbed wire fence, hoping it would lead to a settlement.

Eventually he came to the local mine and told his tale. The men went to the clifftops and looked down at the scene. By this time, men had begun to jump into the water only to be smashed into the cliffs, carried out to sea, drowned under debris or frozen into immobility. A few made it ashore.

The men from the local community of Lawn began to haul the sailors up, one at a time. Literally dragging them up the cliff. A small fire was built and the growing number of survivors tried to stay alive.

After realizing another ship was in distress, rescuers from the small community of St. Lawrence made their way to Chambers Cove. The men were taken into homes in the local communities and nursed throughout the night by the women. First order of business was to scrub the oil from them. One woman kept scrubbing and was muttering that she couldn’t seem to get the black off. The man came to enough to mumble, “Ma’am, I’m black. It won’t come off.” That man was Lanier Phillips a cook. Later he said the way he was treated by the Newfoundlanders changed his outlook on life. “I wish the world could go to St. Lawrence and take a lesson on love and humanity.” This American Life did an episode about the tragedy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJkbkBbTaYI&feature=related

In all 203 perished and 168 survived.

It’s a gripping story and “Standing into Danger" by Cassie Brown tells it well. Over the years, survivors came back to visit their rescuers and the U.S. Navy donated a hospital in appreciation. The local economy was mining and a lot of the rescuers suffered from black lung. Now the mines have shut down and the communities are scraping by.

Whew!

Little Burin, Newfoundland

August 25, 2009

Bill did indeed come a knockin'. We rocked around a bit. The wind howled in the rigging. But our anchors held fast and we even managed to sleep. It was a good drill in prepping the boat and us. Hope we don't have to do it again for a while!

And so began the task of putting it all back together, including dumping the tires back over the side - a much more enjoyable task than putting them up there in the first place! A fisherman came by later and said they were going to be tearing that wharf down next year and we could've just cut the line on the tires and dumped them in the harbor.

And almost ready to go again . . .

Hunkered down for Bill

Little Burin, Newfoundland

August 23, 2009

The last 36 hours have felt like we've been in a neck and neck America's Cup Race. We've been tweaking sails, kicking the motor in for a course lift (OK that part wasn't American's cup racing), basically doing everything possible to get tucked in somewhere before Hurricane Bill hits. Of course he's changed his mind and instead of heading for the Avalon, he's headed for the Burin Peninsula, right where we're headed!

So we're looking for a perfect, snug hidey hole and hoping Bill's strength will diminish before he gets here. The fish plant at Little Burin seems to offer the right mix. We passed by the rusting hulk of 3 draggers at least 100 feet each and tied up to a huge wharf on the back side of the plant which should act as a wind shield. It's a little cove so there's not much room for waves to build up.

We got busy stripping everything we could off the boat: sails, kayak, jerry cans of water & fuel, it all got tucked up under the plant. Alun, single-handing aboard SV Sarah a 1966 fiberglass boat, came in and began to make his preparations. From St. John's, he'd been up to Labrador and was about at the end of his summer cruise. It was encouraging to have another cruiser to discuss tactics with and share some of the work.

These tires caused us a lot of concern. We started playing that "what if" game. "What if we're pinned against the dock with the gunwale under the tires, then the tide comes up and we're basically pinned under the tires with the water rising?" or "What if we're pinned against the tires and they snap our shrouds (those are the thin steel cables that hold up our mast)?" You know just little thoughts like that.

Our solution, haul these massive tires up onto the wharf. Not as simple as it sounds. We used the halyard tied around a tire with one of us guiding it and one raising it.

Two tires have become Andante's fenders so hopefully they'll ride up as we ride up. It's a very protected spot and we feel good about it as a place to ride out the storm.

The strategy that's evolved is to stay loosely tied to the dock with the stern closer in and the bow out at a 45 angle. Our Manson Supreme Anchor, our primary anchor, is going off the bow and our 2nd anchor, a Bruce, is going off amidships to keep us pulled away from the dock. Added to that the guys on the big fishing ship have loaned us a bunch of huge fenders. Andante looks a little like those science class experiments where you try to design cushioning around an egg and drop it from the 2nd story. If your egg doesn't break, you win.

Alun had a local friend that loaned him a car and we all went into Marystown for pizza.

Bill is set to hit here around midnight -2am. Sunday/Monday night. Which beg two questions:

Why do these things always hit in the middle of the night?

and

Couldn't the National Hurricane Center have come up with a better name than Bill?

Andante stripped down! The name on that big boat behind us . . .Katrina.