By Colleen Ellison-Wareing

We spent five blissful days on anchor aboard our 31-foot sailboat, Katie3. I was enjoying our surroundings as well as the solitude (my cell phone had gone for a swim days earlier). Then the winds shifted.

Ever the safe captain, my husband Mike knew the wind change meant we had to move.  He hoisted the anchor, weed-laden and at least 20 pounds heavier than when it was set, and moved us to a spot where our bow was to the north. After anchoring anew, he set the anchor alarm on his iPad. When the winds died down, he took the dinghy to buy provisions.

I sat happily on the shady side of the deck, reading a book from my favorite new author. A few pages in, I looked up and thought the view seemed different, but the book called me back. At some point, my concentration was interrupted by the sound of a ship’s foghorn seemingly coming from the Katie3’s deck locker. Lifting the lid, I realized it was the anchor alarm — we had drifted 75 feet from where the anchor had been set!

I knew that we had put down almost all of our 100 feet of chain, and the wind continued to blow after we moved, so it seemed reasonable that the boat had drifted back. I snapped up my life jacket, went to the bow, and examined the anchor. Katie3 was at least 50 feet away from a small islet off the bow, a private island to my south, two sailboats north of me, and a couple of large powerboats to the east. Seeing as how I expected my husband back any moment, I returned to my book.

In the 70 minutes that followed, Capt’n Mike did not appear but violent gusts of shifting wind certainly did. One dragged the boat 15 feet towards the islet and another 15 feet towards the private island.  By now I had finally abandoned my book and was keeping watch. Soon I noticed a couple on a sailboat taking out their anchor to my port side. I waved to the sailboat and yelled, “Don’t anchor there; my anchor is dragging!” The wife asked if I needed help and I shouted that I did. Her husband’s response was, “We will anchor over there,” and off they sailed.

The skipper of one of powerboats hollered, “Do you need help?” Again I replied, “YES!”  Deftly maneuvering his dinghy, he arrived and tied off on the swim platform of Katie3. We introduced ourselves and I (calmly) explained to Rob that I was waiting for my husband to return but in the meantime the anchor was dragging. Rob started the engine as I let out the rest of the anchor chain, but we still continued to drag. He suggested I drive the boat while he lifted the anchor, but I asked if we could switch jobs. He agreed.

I was very careful as I began bringing up the anchor as years before I watched a boater pull up the rope and anchor before losing her footing and letting the entire length slide back in. Rob approached the bow to assess how it was going just as our dinghy roared into the channel. I let Rob know that my husband was back, and he jokingly bellowed, “I am not having an affair with your wife!”

Rob and Mike worked together and soon secured our situation while I reflected on what occurred. I lacked skills and confidence and was lucky Rob was around to take control before I was harmed or Katie3 collided with another boat. Before setting out for an extended sail, I should have insisted to Capt’n Mike that I needed training for both expected and unexpected conditions. Maybe he would have taught me, I might have taken a hands-on boating course, or I could have gone out with a knowledgeable sailor while Mike looked after our children. It took me 22 years before I had the confidence to handle a sailing mishap, and that is far too long for comfort.