When boldness finds the bottom

It was American Protestant clergyman and author Norman Vincent Peale that said, “People who make no mistakes lack boldness and the spirit of adventure.” In the Scuttlebutt series of grounding stories, here are some bold moments:

At Cottage Park Yacht Club in Winthrop, MA, just south of the club lies Snake Island (part of the Boston Harbor Islands National Park), which at low tide extends to red nuns (#2 and #4, I believe) that one must honor when sailing to or from the Club’s marina.

That low tide extension has many, many rocks, which otherwise stand directly in the path to the sailing areas we most frequent.

Back in the early 90s when I was new to the Club and had my first Snipe, a group of us were reaching back to the marina during a 10-15 knot seabreeze day. I was trailing my friend and longtime CPYC Snipe sailor, the late John Lally, back to the club’s hoists, and when we were approaching “Snakey,” I could see that he was going to cut the corner.

It was roughly mid-tide and the rocks were not visible. Even though we all knew about the risks, seeing this local expert blowing off the red markers emboldened me to follow directly (or so I thought) behind him. “He must know the best path,” I thought.

Indeed, he did, and made it through unscathed. I did not.

On a fast beam reach, we hit a rock so hard that the boat stopped and the daggerboard drove hard into the fiberglass trunk. So hard, in fact that it took two of us on land pulling as hard as we could to release it.

Now, 30 years and two Snipes later, I’ll never cut that Snake Island corner again.
– John C. MacRae

While racing in Denver, Co at Cherry Creek Reservoir on a Capri 25, I was carrying the spinnaker to the bow for the set, and despite being outside of the buoys marking a stump area on the lake, we hit a stump.

I flipped off the bow, with the sail still in my arms. After the boat sailed over us, I pulled myself back aboard, we gathered the very wet spinnaker, launched it, and kept racing. Hardly missed a beat. By the way, the name of the boat was No Brakes.
– Mark Miller