Well, OK; maybe it wasn't the absolute WORST takeoff from a dock we've ever made, but it was definitely among the top 5. Maybe one of the top 3, since a MOB (man overboard) was involved.
There we were, 5:40 in the morning of April 15, 2014. Nicaragua. Looked very much like this:
Sun was rising, it was already getting warmer, and the weather was calm. We had a weather-window and we'd already squared-away our exit the day before with the local officials. Time to skedaddle.
Oopsie-daisy.
Upon backing out of our slip a 3-knot ebb current that I hadn't fully appreciated (no, really) immediately spun The Fox sideways and beam-to the finger pier. We gently tapped the end of the dock but successfully avoided all contact with the Italian-flagged sailboat that was moored next to us. We gave large throttle and within moments we'd gotten the bow back in the direction where it belonged, i.e., pointing away from everything solid. Disaster averted, and it wasn't even 0600 yet. We'd been awesome. We motored stately into the estuary.
Oopsie-daisy.
Seems that One Of Us (tm) had neglected to tie one of The Fox's fenders very well. Overboard it went into that 3-knot ebb current, immediately followed by The Man who was thiiiiis close to retrieving it. All I saw from the helm was a butt going over the side followed by legs and feet. As Marty Robbins might say, many thoughts raced through my mind as I stood there. ("Now's my chance!" versus "Oh crap, how will I explain a missing husband to the authorities?") I shifted the helm into neutral to prevent any contact between husband and propeller while I lowered the swim step on the stern* and tried drifting closer to my MOB. IIRC, the site of the incident was approximately where this pic over there on the right shows. Marina Puesta del Sol is just out of frame to the right; the estuary's mouth is a ways to the left. Adjust this pic to imagine sunrise plus strong left-flowing current: --->
*Yes, we have a LifeSling. But in these conditions where a strong current is running in a narrow seaway, the swim step was the best, fastest option. But, if we'd still had our Sailomat wind vane mounted on the stern it would have been impossible for me to lower the swim step at all, and I'd have deployed the LifeSling. Or something.
Between GB's well-motivated swimming and my impeccable steering, boat and MOB met within seconds and GB climbed back on board via the swim step. We were both surprised to see that he was leaking blood all over the cockpit - blood from a frillion short, straight cuts all over his legs, hands, and forearms. Seems he had instinctively tried to break his fall by grabbing whatever was in reach -- in this case, the small barnacles clinging to The Fox's hull. Turns out, the shells of live barnacles have very sharp edges. I hear you don't even feel the cuts at first.
It all ended well. GB was back safe on board, and once we surfed out of the estuary into open water, I put The Fox on autopilot and we took turns disinfecting his cuts with hydrogen peroxide and rubbing alcohol. Stimulating. Or so I hear.
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