Chapter 32 Coping Techniques
“Holy shit!”
Jeff exclaimed, as we watched huge waves crash over the seawall and break into
the terminal’s parking lot. The wind’s ferocity had grown much stronger by the
time it reached the south side of the bay. With miles of fetch to build upon,
the waves were enormous—frightening, even. I tried to open the car door and
found it nearly impossible to push against the wind. Jeffery stepped out to help Juliet
from her seat. A wave breached the wall and doused him with salt water. “Let’s
get her inside!” He yelled over to me. “I’m going down to the dock and find out
what’s happening with Tim!”
I grabbed Juliet’s arm and we pushed
our way into the foyer of the terminal. Once we made it to the shelter of the
brick building, the noise of the wind died substantially. “Man—this feels like
the Oregon coast!”
“I don’t like this one bit!” Juliet
replied.
We walked through the terminal doors
and found Christine standing next to the giant Christmas tree in the lobby,
chatting with one of the Alaska ferry employees. Juliet ran over to the pair
and gave Christine a big hug. “Hey, Miss J!” she exclaimed. “Fancy
meeting you guys here on this fine winter’s day.”
“Hi there. I’m sure glad you guys
could come help—it’s flippin’ intense on this side of town!” I said, and nodded
a cursory greeting toward the ferry worker. I continued, “Is your Jeff out there already? My Jeff just went down to see what can
be done.”
“Yeah, my Jeff’s trying to help push the fenders back in—I guess they keep
popping out every time a new wave shows up. It’s deadly down there right now. I
didn’t bring the right kind of apparel, so I’m staying in here where it’s dry
and warm.”
“Well then, would you mind hanging
out with Juliet while I go down to help the guys?” I asked.
“Sure! Miss J and I will keep each
other company, won’t we?”
Juliet nodded and then said, “Be
really careful, Mom. It’s not safe out there.”
“I will—wait here and I’ll be back
as soon as I can.”
I sensed a sort of dread and deja vu as I walked through the terminal
doors. My mind replayed a similar incident—one that required me to leave my
daughter in someone else’s care while I dealt with a dismasting. Why does it feel like I’m eternally handing
off my kids? An icy blast shook me back to the present crisis as I turned
toward Zodiac’s gate.
I stared in awe at the scene below
me. The ramp was covered in glazed ice and as I followed it to where it met the
dock, I was shocked at how the entire structure moved—not merely moved, but
undulated… The floating dock actually pitched, yawed and rolled in uneven
rhythms. Snow covered over two-thirds of the concrete float, frozen into
glacier-like sheets. I could make out four men in foul weather gear; they
struggled to keep their balance as the dock threw them about with each swell.
There were three other vessels beside the Zodiac
that were tied alongside; they all lunged and rocked in separate tempos. Zodiac had the worst of it, as she was
moored on the east side of the dock. The waves seemed to be arriving from a
northeasterly direction and smashed her into the dock with each impact. Without
her masts to balance her, she had no defenses against the pounding surf. Her
deck was covered by a 2x4-framed structure, plastic-wrapped to keep the
topsides dry for winter restoration. The weather cover worked against her
now—its windage providing more surface area for the gale to assault.
I held onto the rails and carefully
picked my way down the slippery ramp. When I set foot on the icy dock, I
immediately fell sideways. “We’re all going to die out here.” I muttered. Searching, I spotted Jeffery alongside the other Jeff—yanking on frozen mooring lines. Further down the pier, I recognized Grant, one of the captains from the large whale watching vessel across from us. His six-foot, four-inch frame was almost completely covered in waves as he pulled on the lines of the Victoria Star. The dock surged once more and I grabbed for a piling to steady myself.
I heard the unmistakable sound of Zodiac’s 500-horsepower Caterpillar
diesel grumble and splutter, then spring to life. I looked over toward the
gangway—the only uncovered portion of her deck. Tim leaned out to check the
engine’s cooling water and then yelled down toward me. “We’ve got to get off
the dock! Are you coming?”
I swallowed hard and paused—unable
to reply. A dozen scenarios raced through my mind in a matter of seconds—only
to be blotted out by the urgent sound of the captain’s voice. “Chris! Now or
never—I can’t wait!”
....
~ Chris
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