COMMON SENSE IS THE BEST DEFENSE WHEN BARGING INTO UNSAFE WATERS Fred Dyson – Dyson's Starboard View – Messing About in Boats   In these spaces we have covered some of the basics of boating:  don't sink, don't hit things, don't blow or burn up, and be considerate.  Now we will go on to the "rules of the road" and common sense.   The rules of the road are the traffic laws for vessels and are designed to keep damage and injury at sea to a minimum.  Like on land, you must yield to a vessel on your starboard (right).  However, unlike the land rules, at sea the most maneuverable boat must "give way" or give the right of way to any vessel that is less maneuverable.  That means a powerboat must give the right of way to sail boats, rowboats, canoes, kayaks or drunks.  Similarly, an upstream-bound vessel must yield to boats going with the current.   The rules also state that a vessel restricted in its maneuverability because of the type of work it is doing or its draft (depth) has the right of way.  This means that a Cook Inlet gill netter with his nets in the water or a Sea Land container ship in the channel off of the Fire Island shoal both have the right of way over a wind surfer or jet ski.   In addition, all boat operators must use common sense in deciding a prudent response in a potential collision situation.  All vessel operators are required to avoid collisions even when they have the right of way.  Being right is a small consolation if you have been run over by a garbage scow.   An old buddy of mine, name Mort, learned this lesson in the fog one night.  He lived on a eighteen-foot log boom tug called the Mud Hen.  He was heading home from a world-class grog shop at the end of Lake Union.  Through the mush in his head and mist on the lake he heard a foghorn close on his starboard bow.  He grabbed his own foghorn, a battered, brass, hand-held, mouth-blown affair, and gave a mournful sound.  He heard an answering blast - close at hand.   Through red-rimmed eyes he beheld a red running light high above his head.  It was a huge Foss tug about to run him down!  He reversed his engine, but it was the bow wash from the tug that saved him from being rammed.  Mort held on as his stout little tug bumped and scraped down the side of Foss's finest and then he looked up to see the precursor of doom.  An eight-inch cable was rubbing by his wheelhouse.  This indicated that the mother of all barges was coming through the fog at over ten knots (11.6 mph).   Sailors are used to terror in the night, and Mort rose to the occasion.  He grabbed one of his tie up lines and made it fast (tied it to) a cleat on his bow.  He threw the line over the cable, took a couple wraps, and then pulled hard on the bitter (loose) end.  The Mud Hen healed over to port with the tension on the line, but quickly swung around to follow the cable disappearing into the fog.  Mort secured the tie-up line, shook his head as the Mud Hen's bow was lifted high in the water and the little tug began to plane at more than twice her normal speed.   Mort realized that the Foss crew probably did not know he was hanging on their towline and that there was nothing he could do to improve his lot until the fog cleared or the tug slowed down.  So he went below, secured the engine, locked the prop shaft, lashed down the wheel, downed a half-bottle of aspirin, and laid his throbbing head on his bunk.  Thus began the legendary record voyage of the Mud Hen.  Mort had left the grog shop at 2:15 a.m. and was in Renton, Wash. at first light.  This is a speed record for eighteen-foot displacement hulls.   When the tug slowed to shorten the towline, Mort woke up.  While the tug crew spooled in line, a shaky Mort and an exhilarated Mud Hen made their getaway.   Mort tried for several years to convince the Lake Union bar flies and wharf rats that the Mud Hen could make eleven knots, but no one believed.  After a while Mort started doubting it himself. That night did change his life, though.  He stopped drinking out of unmarked bottles, and decided he would stay out of the shipping lanes when he was "three sheets to the wind" (drunk).   Valuable information:  A collision at sea can ruin your day. TOP          MESSING ABOUT IN BOATS          HOME