Dawn's Observations
The wreckage of the aft cabin
Yesterday, I told you about my experiences in saving the Victory from sinking. Here is Dawn's take on the same day:
Dawn’s Observations:
The day the Victory almost sank, I couldn’t go out to her with Penn.
The knock on the door, so early in the morning, affected the rest of my week in Abreojos. I knew that there had to be something wrong.
Before going to bed that night, I walked down to the beach to check and see if the running lights were still on. They were, so I went to bed confident that she’d be there in the morning.
After the knock on the door, Blackie said in his broken English, “The lights, they are out. She is sinking.”
I couldn’t face it. The last thing Penn needed was to see me upset. I was so afraid. I just told him to go. I would meet him there later.
After Penn left, I put on my foul weather gear, boots and walked down to the beach. I was ready to do whatever needed to be done. I turned the corner to where I could see the beach and saw Penn and the others going out on the pangas.
The Victory was sinking, bow first. From the beach, there were times when I couldn’t even see the bow. Several fishermen offered me rides out to the boat, but I said “No.”
What could I do? There were already about ten people on the boat.
The whole town was watching, with concerned looks on their faces. Most people probably thought that she was going down. From the shore it looked like there were only a few inches before water started coming over the deck.
I tried communicating with the local fisherman, but I don’t speak Spanish and they didn’t speak English. I tried drawing a diagram in the sand.
The pilot berth is so high off the cabin floor, that for the bow to be down, the pilot berth must be under water. I knew it was bad.
An American gentleman came down to the beach to see me. It was Danny. He speaks fluent Spanish and had a VHF radio. He was a God send.
I communicated with Penn over Danny’s radio.
Pickup trucks kept pulling up with hoses and equipment. Then the diver pulled up.
Danny and I talked with him while he put on his gear.
Penn was telling me to order the Splash Zone. Danny helped me communicate the order. I had to get the order in today. It had to make it on a bus today or it wouldn’t get here tomorrow. There wasn’t time for the crisis to be over.
We went to Danny’s house and got on the phone to the marine store. They wouldn’t take a credit card, so we had to wire the money.
Danny took me up to Western Union to wire the money. It was going to cost $500. We had the cash, but it would wipe us out. The Western Union store was closed.
Someone told me that the Splash Zone was taken care of. It had been ordered by the coop and would be here in the morning. (Penn’s note: The coop paid $82 for the same Splash Zone that the store was going to charge Dawn $500 for.)
Danny called his wife, Maggie. Maggie was on the computer trying to find the nearest haul out location for us. She was in San Diego and had a good Internet connection. She could find information much faster than I could here in Abreojos.
She gave me the number, but the cell service was off and on. It kept cutting out. I couldn’t call.
I remember looking out at the boat and seeing Penn with a sail or a tarp. He said he was going to put the sail over the hole. I thought he had gone insane. How was he going to save a concrete boat that filled with water with a sail?
Then the diver arrived and Penn stopped fooling around with the sail. Something else must be going on. To me, the sail seemed like trying to paddle up river with a wet noodle.
The panga with the diver’s assistant came back into the beach. They needed a mechanic. Danny took the diver’s assistant and me in his pickup truck to find the mechanic.
We went to the mechanic’s house. The mechanic went behind a dumpster filled with pipes and tubes and got a big long pipe and threw it in the back of the truck. I remember thinking that I couldn’t possibly know what was going on, nor could I communicate with them. I just had to trust that they knew what they were doing.
When we got back to the beach, I noticed that the boat was riding higher in the water. I talked to Penn on the radio and he said they were getting her pumped out and it looked like it would be OK for now.
The diver came back from the boat and I thought to myself, “that’s it?” He was only out there for what seemed to be a few minutes.
It wasn’t until I talked to Penn later that I learned that the diver had used a little Splash Zone to stop the leak. I didn’t even know that there was any Splash Zone in the town.
After I got the information from Penn that the leak was stopped, everyone started coming ashore. Penn was on the last panga. He jumped off and came walking up.
I could tell he was dead. He hugged me and kind of collapsed on me. I could feel his exhaustion.
Dawn’s Observations:
The day the Victory almost sank, I couldn’t go out to her with Penn.
The knock on the door, so early in the morning, affected the rest of my week in Abreojos. I knew that there had to be something wrong.
Before going to bed that night, I walked down to the beach to check and see if the running lights were still on. They were, so I went to bed confident that she’d be there in the morning.
After the knock on the door, Blackie said in his broken English, “The lights, they are out. She is sinking.”
I couldn’t face it. The last thing Penn needed was to see me upset. I was so afraid. I just told him to go. I would meet him there later.
After Penn left, I put on my foul weather gear, boots and walked down to the beach. I was ready to do whatever needed to be done. I turned the corner to where I could see the beach and saw Penn and the others going out on the pangas.
The Victory was sinking, bow first. From the beach, there were times when I couldn’t even see the bow. Several fishermen offered me rides out to the boat, but I said “No.”
What could I do? There were already about ten people on the boat.
The whole town was watching, with concerned looks on their faces. Most people probably thought that she was going down. From the shore it looked like there were only a few inches before water started coming over the deck.
I tried communicating with the local fisherman, but I don’t speak Spanish and they didn’t speak English. I tried drawing a diagram in the sand.
The pilot berth is so high off the cabin floor, that for the bow to be down, the pilot berth must be under water. I knew it was bad.
An American gentleman came down to the beach to see me. It was Danny. He speaks fluent Spanish and had a VHF radio. He was a God send.
I communicated with Penn over Danny’s radio.
Pickup trucks kept pulling up with hoses and equipment. Then the diver pulled up.
Danny and I talked with him while he put on his gear.
Penn was telling me to order the Splash Zone. Danny helped me communicate the order. I had to get the order in today. It had to make it on a bus today or it wouldn’t get here tomorrow. There wasn’t time for the crisis to be over.
We went to Danny’s house and got on the phone to the marine store. They wouldn’t take a credit card, so we had to wire the money.
Danny took me up to Western Union to wire the money. It was going to cost $500. We had the cash, but it would wipe us out. The Western Union store was closed.
Someone told me that the Splash Zone was taken care of. It had been ordered by the coop and would be here in the morning. (Penn’s note: The coop paid $82 for the same Splash Zone that the store was going to charge Dawn $500 for.)
Danny called his wife, Maggie. Maggie was on the computer trying to find the nearest haul out location for us. She was in San Diego and had a good Internet connection. She could find information much faster than I could here in Abreojos.
She gave me the number, but the cell service was off and on. It kept cutting out. I couldn’t call.
I remember looking out at the boat and seeing Penn with a sail or a tarp. He said he was going to put the sail over the hole. I thought he had gone insane. How was he going to save a concrete boat that filled with water with a sail?
Then the diver arrived and Penn stopped fooling around with the sail. Something else must be going on. To me, the sail seemed like trying to paddle up river with a wet noodle.
The panga with the diver’s assistant came back into the beach. They needed a mechanic. Danny took the diver’s assistant and me in his pickup truck to find the mechanic.
We went to the mechanic’s house. The mechanic went behind a dumpster filled with pipes and tubes and got a big long pipe and threw it in the back of the truck. I remember thinking that I couldn’t possibly know what was going on, nor could I communicate with them. I just had to trust that they knew what they were doing.
When we got back to the beach, I noticed that the boat was riding higher in the water. I talked to Penn on the radio and he said they were getting her pumped out and it looked like it would be OK for now.
The diver came back from the boat and I thought to myself, “that’s it?” He was only out there for what seemed to be a few minutes.
It wasn’t until I talked to Penn later that I learned that the diver had used a little Splash Zone to stop the leak. I didn’t even know that there was any Splash Zone in the town.
After I got the information from Penn that the leak was stopped, everyone started coming ashore. Penn was on the last panga. He jumped off and came walking up.
I could tell he was dead. He hugged me and kind of collapsed on me. I could feel his exhaustion.