My grounding experience was horrific. Very early in my career we were approaching an anchorage that was divided down the middle by a nasty, sharp rocked ledge covered in weeds and grass. I left the helm to the first mate while I scurried around getting the
anchor and chain ready. I was a little too focused on my task and didn't notice, until it was too late, that my FM had cut the corner and was driving us right to the rocks.
We hit and continued forward, sails fully up, scraping further on to the ledge. It wasn't too deep and we were heeled way over. The wind was blowing up a chop and the waves were just big enough to lift us off the rocks only to come crashing down on them, again and again, with the most god-awful noise I ever heard.
I tried to induce more heel with weighting the leeward side. I tried sailing off with the additional heel. I tried putting my dinky little 6hp motor in the well, only to have it jam with weeds immediately. I was becoming nervous I'd cause some damage I couldn't repair. I couldn't believe how far on to the ledge we had gone.
In the midst of my struggling a couple of sailors at
anchor rowed over and took my kedge
anchor and rowed it out past the ledge for us. I put the
rode through a stern quarter snatch block and ran it to my
winch. I cranked the boat off, backwards, into the deeper water. I was waiting for my rudder to break.
We thanked them profusely, took up the kedge and
rode, adjusted sail and took off for another anchorage. I was way too embarassed to spend the night there. Upon inspection that fall when I hauled the boat I was psyched to discover almost zero damage to my hull. Score one for the '68 Bristols.
What a learning experience. Now I get everything in order much further in advance and we are both navigating on the approach. I'm not sure how many 'get out of jail free' cards the Maine coast will give.