Getting around the Hesquiat Peninsula was rough. Very, very rough. For one, the forecasted 11-13 knots of wind was actually more like 20-25 knots, directly on the bow. This is complicated by the area around the Peninsula and for several miles offshore being less than 200ft deep, making for steep, brief periods of waves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Things didn\u2019t pick up until we were a few miles offshore and over halfway down the peninsula; at that point, turning back would have been every bit as bad, if not worse, for nearly as long as just continuing through, so we did. It was not comfortable, and as the bow punched through waves repeatedly, my partner asked the question: \u201cwhat\u2019s that banging sound?\u201d and I asked \u201cwhere\u2019s the anchor?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
The anchor had been knocked out of place and was hanging by the chain, banging against the fiberglass of the bow. I suited up into my full foul-weather gear, got my offshore PFD and tether set up, and went forwards into the pouring rain and waves crashing over the bow. I had to go back to the cockpit partway through to get the boat hook, and with the help of the boat hook I was able to wrestle the anchor back into the cradle and re-secure it. We punched through several waves while I was up there, with me hanging onto the bow rail for dear life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thanks to my foul-weather gear, I wasn\u2019t completely<\/em> soaked, only my hair and anything not covered by the jacket and bib, but I was physically exhausted and spent several minutes catching my breath. I had returned to the cockpit laughing like a maniac while my partner had been very worried for me; I can only imagine her perspective seeing me up there while we punched through waves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n