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Fathers
Day weekend, 2001. We got a late start Saturday evening,
so we didn't arrive at the lake until well after 10:00
p.m. I've never been a huge fan of launching the
boat in the dark, but there's a fair amount of overhead lights
around the Lucerne Valley Marina and the moon was full with
clear skies.
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decided (after some prompting from a local employee who
insisted that we couldn't sleep on the boat in the parking
lot) that we would go ahead and launch the boat and then just
tie up in a slip at the marina for the night. The launch
went smoothly, and before long we were securely tied into a
slip. With the girls bedded down, my wife and I enjoyed
a quiet (except for the guy loudly snoring in his boat next to
us) star filled evening. I always sleep like a baby when
I know I'm tied securely to a dock, and this night was no
exception. I woke up refreshed and ready for a day on
the lake. |
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Once underway, we fished a little, let the girls play on the
beach a little, and were basically having just another
wonderful day on the lake. Then, things began to go
slightly awry. We were on our way down towards the dam,
and my wife decided to ride on the front of the boat for a
while. Before you start telling me how bad of an idea
this is, let me just say that the boat has a large rail around
the front, and she seemed totally safe and comfortable
there. Well, the local Park Ranger stopped us and
informed us that you can't really ride on the bow unless
you're straddling one of the rail posts, or unless you're
traveling at wakeless speeds. He was very nice, and
offered a polite warning and sent us on our way.
We took this opportunity to explain to our girls the good
thing the Ranger did by helping us avoid something that might
have been unsafe. |
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Well, underway once again, I'm cruising along at a nice
comfortable cruising speed, cutting through some increasing
winds and mild chop, when suddenly, totally without warning,
the engine suddenly dies. All indications are that we
are totally out of gas. I switch off the key, the gas
gauge drops to empty, switch the key back on and it goes back
to full. Ok, so far no huge problem, I'm out in the
middle of the channel, and I've got time for some basic
trouble shooting. I removed the air cleaner, pumped the
throttle, and sure enough, there is no gas being shot into the
carburetor. Ok, I have to assume that the gauge is lying
to me. Now it's time to start dealing with the problems
that are quickly growing in intensity. The wind is
pushing us towards the east canyon wall, a steep, rocky, very inhospitable
looking place that I really do not want to become too intimate
with. Flaming Gorge is a deep, steep lake, so the
anchors aren't doing much to slow our progress as the wind
continues to shove us closer and closer to the large
rocks. The radio isn't much help, our range again severely
limited by the narrow steep nature of the canyon. I
finally got the front hook to catch, and we stop about 15 feet
away from the canyon wall. Time to take a breather and
work the radio again. |
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I did manage to contact one person for a few minutes, but I
wasn't prepared to give my position correctly as I hadn't had
time to really look the map over, and so we lost contact with
him before he could be any help. Finally, we flagged
down the first passing boat we had seen since things turned
sour. The passing boater came over, we explained what
had happened, and he said he would go drop off his passengers
and return to take me to the Cedar Springs marina for some
gas. After he left, we waited and watched our
position. A couple more boats passed but now I didn't
really want to flag everyone down, so we let them pass without
hailing them. Unfortunately, the wake from a large
cruiser going by bounced us around enough to yank out the
front hook, and we were off an running with the wind
again. Now things got scary! |
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I had the oars out, at one point pushing us off the rocks with
an oar as the wind continued to push us along the canyon
wall. Luckily, the wind finally pushed us around a
slight bend in the wall, and we drifted out to about 40-50
feet from the wall. I got the anchor to catch again, and
we seemed to be relatively safe again. I just sat down
to catch my breath for a few minutes when who should pass but
the same Ranger who had pulled us over for bow-riding a little
earlier. We responded quickly to our radio request for
help, and before too long we were under tow on our way to the
marina. |
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After a bit of a struggle to get us pulled up to the fuel dock
(with lot's of enthusiastic help from the young eager crew at
Cedar Springs Marina) we had a bunch of gas on board and the
boat was once again running under her own power. As I
finished the day out, trailered the boat and headed for home,
I played the scenario over in my mind, chocking up the
mistakes I had made that turned the situation critical.
First, I think I should have taken steps to anchor the boat
first, instead of allowing the wind to drift me close to shore
while I tried my trouble-shooting steps. Second, once my
position was secure, I should have immediately determined my
location so that I could call for help and get my position
known right away. And third, (and most obvious) I should
have bought some gas somewhere before I went to the
lake. This one though I'll cut myself a little slack on
though, as I was running on the assumption that I had filled
the boat before winterizing it. Apparently I didn't, but
I kept thinking that I did, and since this was only the second
time out for the year, the first being a very short afternoon
on Jordanelle Reservoir, I felt
confident that the gauge was correct. At one point I
remember thinking to myself "wow, I sure haven't used
much fuel yet" but the gauge was going to empty when the
key was off, and I'm not sure I've ever seen a gauge fail in
the "full" position. I did have the dash open
this spring, putting a new depth finder gauge in, so I'm
assuming that I caused the fuel gauge problems myself at some
point during that work. I haven't had a chance to look
into the problem yet, so I'm not sure that is what happened,
but rest assured, the boat will not see the water again until
I am sure I have 100% accurate gauges. |
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I think also, in looking back, it's situations like these that
give me such respect for boating in general. You still
must be as self-reliant as possible, and you must always hold
yourself totally accountable and responsible for every aspect
of your crafts performance. This episode is just one
more of life's lessons that I will certainly never forget, and
hopefully by sharing it with you, you can also benefit from my
experience without having to feel the adrenaline yourself. |
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