We'd been watching the NOAA forecast for the weekend weather and a dry, cold front was supposed to blow through the area on Friday evening bringing gusty winds and high waves. Wanting to avoid any nasty weather and get to PIB as soon as possible, we arrived at Herl's Harbor at 6pm on Friday. We noticed a line of clouds forming to the north during our drive up north and now that line had advanced closer. It only took us 30 minutes to stow our provisions, untie the dock lines, and back Therapy out of her slip. As we cleared the West Harbor channel and entered Lake Erie, the line of clouds was almost upon us.
I knew that we would be cutting it close and probably get into PIB just as the sun was setting, so, with no wind and barely a ripple on the water, we goosed the Yanmar diesel into gear and began motoring toward South Bass Island. Ten minutes later, the line of clouds marking the advancing cold front was directly overhead and immediately the wind speed went from nothing to 20 knots. Knowing that we could make better time with the engine off and sails unfurled, we flew the jib on a course through the South Passage and around the southern end of South Bass Island.
It didn't take long for the waves to come and before we reached South Bass Island, they were beginning to break over our bow sending a shower of water into our faces. The wind was now blowing 25 knots and the water was a milky white color as the wind blew the foam from the top of each wave into a fine mist. On top of that, it was getting dark quicker than I anticipated since the line of clouds were now covering the setting sun.
With our running lights on, we furled the jib and motored into the harbor at PIB. One other sailboat came into the harbor at the same time and had the same idea of tying up at one of the many empty moorings available. That was easier said than done. With the wind blowing hard and a considerable chop in the harbor, it was really difficult to hold Therapy close to a mooring for any period of time. After making a half-dozen unsuccessful passes, I ran up on foredeck with a boat hook in hand and managed to grab a mooring without being pulled into the Lake, threading two dock lines through its ring. We were safe.... or so I thought.
It was now just past 9pm and I had forgotten about eating dinner. Connie, on the other hand, hadn't. No problem, we'll just call the water taxi for a lift into town and grab a quick bite at one of the local restaurants. The water taxi had a difficult time with the waves in the harbor and after a couple of attempts, finally got close enough for Connie and I to jump on board. With a visiting boat taking up space on the Boardwalk dock, the water taxi let us off at the adjacent fuel dock. With the exhausting wind and waves now behind us, we walked along the dock to what I'm sure would have been a delicious dinner.
I say "would have been" because we never made it. Without ever seeing that the dock made a 90 degree turn to the left, I continued to walk in a straight line. You can only imagine my surprise when 2 seconds and 12 feet later I was floating head-over-heels in the water. My wallet, which had been in my pocket, was been replaced with 10 pounds of lake water and sea weed. After climbing up the dock using an iron railing, the water taxi driver offered to take us back to the boat. I think he kept a relatively straight face and a genuine sense of concern as Connie laughed uncontrollably during our return trip.