TRUST YOUR INSTRUMENTS

     It's early .. 0 dark hundred, translated to mean 4:58 a.m.. First cup of coffee goes down quickly - and Jack, my Lab, Thomas, my cat, want to go outside to survey their dark kingdom before sharply barking and insistently meowing to come back indoors for breakfast. First on my agenda is to read a daily devotional from CBN (Christian Broadcasting Network) posted on my email.
This morning's inspirational post is about Trust. Maps. I'm particularly fond of maps, charts, GPS and God ... not in that order of importance.
         

     My first experience of "Trust your instruments and charts" was advice my father in law gave my husband, Eldon, and me as we were about to set out on our first short cruise from our home port of Winchester Bay, Oregon to Coos Bay, Oregon only a few hours journey sailing south along the Oregon coast. Easy maiden voyage for us on our 30 sailboat, Kharah.

     We hadn't owned Kharah for very long ... only a few months; and were busy outfitting her with sails, canvas covers, fenders, electronic gear and safety equipment boats have stored in case of emergencies.

     The morning breeze and tides were favorable to set off across the notorious jetty - slack tide on our way across the bar and calculated return trip would have the tide returning into the bay. There was a hint of clouds low on the horizon and bright sunshine as we set sail and headed south at two, three miles offshore. Our speed ... a mere 3 knots, closely 3 mph.

Our instruments? We hadn't purchased electronic navigation instruments yet; our trusted depth sounder built into the boat and compass would be sufficient to know the depth we followed on the charts, and the heading we calculated on the chart for a clear shot at arriving safely at Coos Bay, a mere three hours journey if our speed and wind calculations were correct.
     

     Wispy clouds grew taller and closer as the morning cruise progressed. I had a thermos filled with hot coffee and muffins along with a few hard boiled eggs that we enjoyed in the cock pit.
The sails furled and grabbed the slight breeze speeding us along ... some would consider at a snail's pace. Slowly, the sails became slack and flapped loudly. We drew in the sails and started the engine. The small diesel engine growled loudly without a sputter and hummed Kharah along at an accelerated speed of 3.2 knots. The ocean was calm as a gold fish filled pond. The sun blotted slowly out of view as fog erased the horizon and crept closer, threatening to blanket us in its cold embrace.
     

     I double checked our location on the chart for our compass heading, and confirmed our depth on the depth sounder, showing we were right on course and heading for Coos Bay: and Eldon steered confidently trusting my calculation and his tiny ship.
     

     The first tingling of moist fog surprised us as if a cold, wet, wave - soaked blanket draped across the bow. I went below deck and brought Eldon his sweatshirt and put mine on, a welcome sense of comfort from the increasingly frigid fog.

     The description of fog as a chilling, cold and wet hand grasping you is not a clear enough description when you cannot see more than two boat lengths in front, beside or behind your vessel inching its way through the milky dense shroud.

     Eldon turned off the engine and said, "We need to listen for the sounding of the bouy from Winchester Bay .. we should still be able to hear it."
    

     It was as quiet as a viewing at a funeral.

     Our decision came quickly - turn around and head back for the Winchester Bay harbor, instead of cruising on to the unfamiliar Coos Bay harbor.

     A soft rumbling ... astern of our vessel became louder. We held our course. The rumbling became deeper and there we saw it. A fast moving fishing vessel mere boat lengths coming up astern. We held our course. The Captain of the encroaching boat headed off to starboard and waved as they speedily passed, causing a bumpy ripple in the calm sea.

     Eldon and I thought the same thing at the same time! "Follow that boat!"
Of course, our small engine could never keep pace with the swift fishing boat quickly merging into the dense fog and soon out of view. But we took a heading of its course and plotted on the chart ... Yes, this course would head us safely back to Winchester Bay's whistle bouy even though we were visually lost in the fog.

     "Believe your instruments", took on a whole new meaning as we inched our way to the safety of the harbor. Stay on course .. don't deviate from the plotted course on the chart or the factual information from the depth sounder. Don't doubt your knowledge and that of your instruments.

     Our calculations brought us closer to the harbor - still not out of the fog - where we should be coming up on the whistle bouy. Eldon turned off the engine. And we listened. From a not too distant direction, we heard the muffled sound. ' Whooo oooo. Whooo oooo." Right on course - so true to our calculations, we practically bumped into its welcoming embrace.

     The fog diluted ... and images became familiar as we changed course and headed across the Winchester Bay bar .. an easy entry as the incoming tide was just beginning to churn across the jetty.
Our adventurous journey became unfamiliar territory in a seascape clouded and shrouded in the unknown. We had our good instincts and seagoing skills, a trusted vessel, charts and believable instruments. And we stayed the course, making necessary adjustments along the way, and
arrived safely back at home port to prepare for the next seagoing destination.

     My real life journey? I know where I'm heading, how to get there, and excitedly await untying from the dock to sail onto the next anchorage marked on my chart.

     Stay the course. Sail on with sails fully unfurled!