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Whether
it’s a pair of oars or a paddle, I’ve always been comfortable
on the water. So when an opportunity to try a different kind of
boating came about, I was very interested. When the weather turns
brisk and the rivers stop running in Idaho, some of us look toward
new climates and new adventures to pass the time. When a friend
asked me to help crew some shrimp boats to Croatia, I had found
what I was looking for. Wintertime in North Idaho brings plenty
of chilling weather and this year, buckets of snow. I was a bit
apprehensive leaving the fresh powder for the choppy seas, but some
things are too good to pass up.
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The
boats at the shipyard in Morgan City |
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I
had never been on the open ocean for an extended period before. This was
a new experience and I was a bit nervous. But I’ve never gotten
seasick and can tie a mean bowline, so I figured I’d be just fine.
The trip was set to leave the beginning of the year and take thirty to
fifty days. We would go from Louisiana to Trinidad and then cross the
big pond to the Canary Islands. From there, we would head north into the
Mediterranean and follow the African coast east to Croatia. Having the
support of loved ones and NRS, I said goodbye and set off for the bayou.
From
New Orleans, we headed for the boats a couple hours away in Morgan
City. When we pulled into the shipyard, I caught first sight of
home for the next few months. The two rust-covered former shrimp
boats, Miss Christine IV and Miss Christine V, were a sore sight.
Just looking at them, I knew this was going to be interesting. The
crewmembers were a hodgepodge of people with interesting pasts.
On one boat, there was an old Army helicopter pilot, a previous
underwater welder and dive shop owner, a college student, and an
ex-Coast Guard captain that grew up at Mackay Bar on Idaho’s
Main Salmon River. On the other boat was a friend that has been
living and working at youth adventure camps in Europe for the past
few years, our captain and his girlfriend that no one had ever met
and me.
After a week of cleaning, stocking and trying to communicate with
the Croatian owners, everyone was ready to go. Two days before departure,
my captain and his girlfriend finally showed up. He was a gruff
man, a lifelong sailor, boat builder and very Cajun. His girlfriend
was nice but it was obvious she hadn’t been without the luxuries
of dry land and fast food before. My gut told me to jump ship before
we left the dock, but my sense of adventure won.
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Rigging
the flag for the journey |
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Two
weeks behind schedule we set out. Seeing the rusty boats running
with open throttles was exhilarating. The breeze was stiff with
a weather forecast predicting rough seas in the Gulf of Mexico.
After a day of weaving through oilrigs and dodging barges, we broke
into the Gulf. Once out to sea we were greeted with calm seas and
no one in sight. Everything went smooth for the first day in the
Gulf until the one thing we all feared most happened…the toilet
backed up.
After
a full day of trying to use a bucket on rolling seas, it was time
to fix the problem.
Imagine
a sunny day in the Gulf of Mexico. The boats are chugging along
at a steady ten knots and a strong breeze is picking up. A grizzlied
individual emerges from the wheelhouse dressed in a full body harness
and a twisted smile on his face. Moments later we loop a rope off
the boat and he wraps the other end around his body, securing himself
with a knot. Hoisting himself over the side of the boat, he positions
himself above the gray water outlet. Making himself comfortable,
he takes the bilge pump hose and stuffs it into the pipe.
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Meanwhile, I don knee high rubber boots and rain bibs and head for
the bathroom. Armed with a hose and a mop handle, I’m working
from the top. I don’t know how I got stuck with this position,
and I’d soon regret it. “Hit it!”, I holler. With
a thump, the bilge pump turns on and he holds on tightly while the
hose tries to break free. At the same time, I’m snaking another
hose down from the top. Seeing the water level rising I scream,
“Cut it off!”, over the roar of rushing water. Expecting
an event similar to the eruption of Old Faithful, I close the lid
and hope for the best. As the force of water hits the lid, water
sprays violently from the sides. Tugging the bilge hose free, water
sprays everywhere while the tank empties to a trickle. After a few
episodes similar to this, the floor of the bathroom is ankle deep
in water and the clog is free. Pulling the hose out of the pipe
for the last time water flows freely and the tank finally empties.
Climbing back into the boat he looks up with a big smile on his
face and shouts, “I told you it would work!” As I wade
through the destruction of the bathroom, I can only shake my head. |
As
the sun was setting behind the horizon, the wind and the waves began to
grow with such force that by morning they were crashing over the wheelhouse.
As the day went on, the swell got bigger and people got sick. By some
fortunate luck of the draw, I was unfazed by the waves. So I manned the
wheelhouse while the others found solace in our newly functioning toilet.
For the next couple of days we rode the roller coaster waves and hoped
for some relief from the storm. Long shifts on watch and little sleep
made for very long days.
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Riding
the roller coaster during the storm. Notice the platform on the
rear of the boat knocked loose by a wave. |
In the mayhem, the two boats had taken different courses and
lost contact. Before separating, we had talked about stopping
briefly in Grand Cayman to calm our nerves. So, we rounded
Cuba and headed for the small British territory. |
Grand
Cayman has a large sheltered bay on the north side of the island,
which looked very inviting but is not for large boats. In fact,
an enormous reef with few small channels blocks the bay. However,
to a headstrong captain who thinks he can fit, the channel is plenty
big enough. The channel proved to be wide enough, but not nearly
deep enough. After a few minutes of crunching metal and trying to
back off the bottom, we killed the engine. There was just too much
wind at our back and not enough water to float us. It was official…we
were ship wrecked on a Caribbean island.
After
a few hours and help from a few locals, we managed to get off the
reef. After calling it a night, we spent the next morning surveying
the damage. Hitting the bottom had caused the nozzle around the
prop to bend into the prop’s path. The rudder was also ready
to fall off. We had some major work to make the ship seaworthy,
if we could get it running again.
On
a brighter note, we learned that the other boat had made it
through the storm. They were anchored off the correct side
of the island enjoying the sun and the break in the weather.
After another day of trying to fix the boat, it was obvious:
more work needed done than we could safely manage. Being three
weeks behind schedule and foreseeing another couple of weeks
delay, I made my decision. Since the boat needed major repairs
and I had a limited amount of time, I was going home. After
a few days enjoying life in the Caribbean, of course.
Tom
enjoying the wildlife |
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The
next day my friend and I caught a ride in to the mainland
with the local who was helping with repairs. For a few
hours, it looked like we would be sleeping on the streets
for the night. We were having no luck getting a ride out
to the other boat. Despite numerous setbacks, the guy
who was helping us wouldn’t give up. Finally, he
told us to wait on the dock for his friend to come and
pick us up. He told us he was working on a dinner cruise
and once the passengers were off, his friend would take
us out to the other boat. Sure, we thought, he's finally
tired of helping and just wants to get rid of us. Fully
expecting to never see a boat, we piled our gear on the
dock and waited. |
It was a
dark night and we couldn’t see out to sea very well. Then
after a few minutes, we could hear music and boisterous laughter.
Soon a large mass materialized in the darkness and headed right
towards us. As the object came into view, we started laughing
at what was meeting us at the dock. To the yelling and excitement
of the passengers, the three-mast sailing galleon shot a fake
cannon toward us. As they pulled into the dock, the crew of
the pirate ship were swinging from the yardarms and riling up
the passengers After practically pushing the passengers off
the boat, the crew welcomed us aboard. Within a few minutes,
we were being greeted alongside the Miss Christine V with warmth
and lots of confusion.
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The
pirate ship on Grand Cayman |
Two
days later, I caught a flight back to the states from the
island. I was both sad and relieved to head home from the
craziness of the trip. Most of the crew stuck around waiting
for boat repairs and enjoying the sun before the long cruise
across the pond. Once the boats made it out of Grand Cayman,
they ran into more mechanical trouble and had to island hop
down to Trinidad. They spent another few days there working
on the boat before heading across the Atlantic. They eventually
made it to Croatia, about a month and a half behind schedule.
Out of eight original crew members only two made the entire
trip.
I
know I missed an even bigger adventure leaving early, but
any good boater knows when to call it. Plus, there was a lot
of excitement and plenty of memories while I was still around.
Looking back at the trip, I learned quite a bit and had a
good time; there were personality conflicts, horrendous weather,
shipwrecks and pirate ships. Because of this, the trip will
be one I’ll never forget. When I think of that time,
I can’t help but smile.
Being
on the water in a completely foreign craft was a lot of fun
and I hope I will have another opportunity like that again.
Coming back to the great winter we had here in Idaho was definitely
not a bad thing, though. As soon as I got home, I went skiing.
Trevor
Fulton
NRS Customer Service
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