Beautiful day. Calm and sunny. We stayed close to shore to enjoy the scenery and stay out of the high winds.
Farther out, the gale was still raging. Around 3:30, we heard a man on the VHF radio, talking with the Humboldt Bay Coast Guard. He sounded young and scared. He was single-handing a small trimaran, 45 miles west of Fort Bragg. He said the wind was blowing 35 and 40 knots, and huge waves were tossing his boat around like crazy. It had been going on all night and all day. He had a sea anchor out and a small stormsail. We really felt for him, especially after what we'd been through last night. But he's in far greater danger than we were. He's all alone, 45 miles from land, in a flimsy trimaran instead of a sturdy, sea-worthy, full-keeled ketch. The Jofian could take the weather he's in; a trimaran can't. Trimarans are fine on a lake, where it doesn't matter if you flip over; they don't belong on the ocean. But the guy wasn't asking for rescue; he mainly wanted to know when the wind was going to let up. He said he'd listened to the weather forecast, and there hadn't been any mention of anything like the stuff he was in. The Coast Guard couldn't tell him when the weather would improve. They told him to contact them again in three hours.
Then the skipper of the "Magic Carpet" came on (one of the sailors we'd heard yesterday). He spoke to him reassuringly. Told him to eat some hot soup and let the wind carry him in towards shore, where it was calm. He also told him to contact him on the VHF any time he wanted to talk with someone.
A fisherman came on (probably the same one I talked with yesterday) and told him the wind wasn't going to die down; it was always rough in that area and two or three boats a year were lost out there. Nothing like cheering the kid up.
Ironically, the name of the trimaran was "Good News".
We soon arrived at Fort Bragg. The entrance to the Noyo River was narrow and tricky but not rough. It would be a mess in a strong westerly, though.
We took one look at the marina and decided not to go into it. It looked crowded and small, with no room to turn around. On the other side of the river was a nice, long float, with only one boat tied to it, so we tied up there, even though we figured it was private. There weren't any "No Trespassing" signs.
When we walked through the gate, we saw a sign that said the dock belonged to the Noyo Fishing Center, which was just across the street but was closed.
We bought some snapper at a nearby fish store and took it back to the boat. As we were getting on the boat, we heard the loudspeaker at the Coast Guard station across the river broadcasting another trans-
mission from the guy on the "Good News", so we quickly turned on our VHF. It was nearly six o'clock, and he was ready to be rescued. He said, "I want to get out of this while I'm still alive." He sounded about ready to cry. He was poorly equipped for a sea voyage; he didn't have a life-raft or an EPIRB, but at least he had a GPS, so he was able to tell the Coast Guard his exact location. What a wonderful invention the GPS is! He also had a wet-suit, so the Coast Guard told him to put it on.
Roy and I walked out to the end of the jetty and watched a couple of SCUBA divers going in the water. It was dark when we got back to the boat. There was a man on the dock cleaning fish. He worked for the Noyo Fish Center, so we asked him for the name and home phone number of the owner. He gave them to us, and Roy phoned him to ask permission to stay overnight.
I listened to the VHF while I fixed supper. The SAR (Search and Rescue) helicopter was ten miles from the "Good News". I could hear the transmission between the two loud and clear. The helicopter had its landing lights on, and the trimaran had its mast lights on. In a few minutes, the helicopter pilot could see the "Good News". He told the guy to put on his wet-suit and PFD and to take off his weight belt. The young man on the "Good News" did as he was told, but he said his PFD (Personal Flotation Device) wasn't inflated. The pilot told him to inflate it and be ready to jump in the water when told to do so. The helicopter lowered a basket and a rescue swimmer. The swimmer swam over to the "Good News", told the guy to jump in the water, and helped him get in the basket. Then the basket was pulled back up to the helicopter. Having watched the Search and Rescue demonstration at Port Angeles, I could clearly visualize the entire operation.
Roy and I were very happy the sea drama had reached a successful conclusion. And we had permission to stay at the dock.
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