Several years ago we sailed a 43’ Hunter to Anegada from North Sound arriving later in the day than I would normally have liked. There was a kite boarding event going on at Pomato Point and much to my dismay the anchorage in front of the Anegada Reefs Hotel appeared full. We motored around the anchorage to see if we might spot someone getting ready to leave when I noticed an empty mooring ball in the far NW corner of the field. Wanting to make my approach to the ball upwind I made a wide swing around the outside edge of the anchorage. I felt I had enough headway that even if I did brush the bottom I could get around fast enough to not get hung up. Man plans, God laughs! And He must have gotten a good one this time for I ran hard aground. Or should I say hard “a-muck”. The bottom of the anchorage is a soupy almost mud like sand that brought us to a very abrupt and definite halt once our keel sunk into its grip. I reversed the engine in an effort to back out, but we didn’t move an inch. By now we were beam to the wind and getting pushed ever deeper into the muck. We had also become the main event of the happy hour entertainment. Frankly I much prefer being in the audience for these shows and not on stage - but I digress. Luckily one of the spectators took pity on us and came over in his dinghy to offer assistance. He suggested putting up the main in hopes of heeling ourselves over far enough to free the keel from its muddy trap. To say the least, I was not comfortable with the thought of being under full sail in the back of a crowded anchorage but neither was I comfortable with being aground, so I complied with his suggestion. I had read once where this was a doable solution but had never tried it. With much nervousness I hoisted the main and pulled her in. No dice. We moved not an inch. Next, still under full main, we passed our friend the auxiliary halyard allowing him to pull the top of our mast over even further. It seemed like all the shrouds and stays were creaking and cracking to their respective breaking points as he pulled ever harder and I revved the engine. I expected at any moment something (or everything) would snap. Luckily nothing did, but neither did we come free or for that matter even move. Our last hope seemed to be approaching from our bow in the form of a center console tender with a 50 or 60 horse outboard. This fine gentleman took our bow line and with full sail, full throttle, full port heel and 60 horses pulling on our bow, we finally started to inch forward and ultimately came loose! That happy moment was soon forgotten as it was followed by the moments of chaos that so often times interrupt those long periods of quiet blissful sailing. With only 2 of us on board we had to get everyone untied, get the main down and try not to run into anyone in the process - oh yes, don't forget to close the throttle. By we had attracted a much larger audience, many of whom I am sure were hoping to capture a YouTube video that would go viral and make them famous. Sorry to disappoint but fortunately for us and our immediate neighbors, things went fairly smoothly after that. Everything came together and we eventually tied to the mooring ball. Needless to say I was buying beers for my new friends at the bar that evening.

Footnote: Never allow draught/draft to exceed water depth

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WE all have those days..few of us are honest or humble enough to admit it..I'd like to buy you a cold one for such an honest story!

Years ago I sailed the Potomac river below Washington DC, which is well known for shifting sandbars. We had a 23-foot sloop with swing keel. Draft was 1.5 feet with the keel up, and 6-feet with the keel down. Since the river is narrow and we didn't want to tack unnecessarily on upwind legs I hit upon the idea of sailing with the keel down until we ran aground and then we'd tack and pull the board up just enough to free us, and then let it back down again. This strategy served us well.

On my first date with my (now) wife, back in the early 1980's I took her sailing and when we ran aground I sent her below to crank the board up. I yelled down below to be careful not to get her hand in the way of the winch handle if she lost control of it ... just as I heard it cut loose. Brr-rrr-rrr-rrr-WHACK! Oweeeeeee! It broke a bone in the back of her right hand. Amazingly she still married me!

We've all been there though thankfully not as harrowing as Jmon's tale.

By any chance was the boat named "Done Talkin"?

Nope!

Something to mention. Most charter companies request that if you are aground like this you call the charter company to get the boat off. More damage is often done getting the boat free then in the grounding. I know of two front crossbars that had to be replaced on cats after being dragged. They are very expensive!

Great story, and nicely told!

Here's mine:

It was our very first charter, and it was a freebie...must have been 1980 or '81. We had just sailed her down from Ft. Lauderdale, and Evelyn Whitney had arranged for an Editor of Yachting magazine to do an article on crewed charter boats...from the vantage of our boat.

My wife and I (and our mate) were nervous to say the least. Evelyn Whitney was the MOST influential broker back in those days, and she could make or break a new boat on the scene.

There were some glitches, but basically all was going well. Our plan called for a trip to Anegada. Now, I'd been to Anegada a hundred times, but never in a boat that drew 8' of water. There were no navigation aids, and certainly no GPS. And there was no dredged channel to the commercial dock; in fact the WAS no commercial dock. Typically, one would radio Lowell Wheatley at the ARH, and he would guide you in from shore. You know, like this: "Go left, go left, LEFT...OK now straight, now left..." It was a tense ride to say the least and we bumped the bottom more times than I can remember. Finally, Lowell said that was as close as I could get, and I dropped the anchor - which was merely a gesture, because I could feel my keel burying itself in the sand, like a flounder running for cover.

I was excited to get the hell off the boat and talk to Lowell - I hadn't seen him in a while. So my wife started serving lunch to our important guests (the Editor, her boyfriend, and her daughter) and I hopped in the dinghy.

Unfortunately, I broke my own strict rule of tightening the connecting clamps before taking off, and about halfway to shore the dinghy engine flew into the air, and subsequently in to the drink. About ready to cry, I dove down and attached a line and a fender to the engine and paddled into shore.

All the while, our guests were watching with binoculars, with my wife refuting everything that they saw: "Oh no, that's not possible! He just stopped to catch a lobster. He's like that! He gets distracted!"

Once on shore, I confessed what had happened to Lowell. He gave me an engine, I retrieved mine and brought it back to him, and he cleaned and purged mine, so that it was ready when we went ashore for dinner. All at no charge. Lowell was some kind of special guy!

Our guests were a bit confused, but once the lobster was presented, and the rum was flowing, no one seemed to care.

I loved Anegada back in those days...and I know that I'm not the only one who misses Lowell. He died way too young!

BTW, we had a very nice article written about us in Yachting. I have it somewhere...but am too lazy to look for it. It was entitled 'Leave It to the Skipper'. Ha! If they only knew!

Great story!

One nice thing about the muck in Anegada. It's fantastic holding if you prefer to anchor. Anchor sets instantly and holds like it's in concrete.
G

Should have been sailing with me in Beliez in the early 80,s. No catamarans for hire and only about 6-7 feet of water for miles and miles. I became an expert of getting out of the sand. LOVE CATS