| TRAVELS OF DURSMIRG VOLUME IV THE ROGUES OF ST. AUGUSTINE AND OTHER SOCIAL MISFITS Chapter 26 |
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HURRICANE DAVID SEPT 3, 1979
September 1979, Jane and I were night watchmen at the San Sebastian Marine over on the San Sebastian River.
This is where we lived aboard our sailboat Dursmirg at the dock with electric and water service in exchange for
guard duties.
We were away days working on our Flamingo Apartment project while the boatyard was busy noisily producing
wooden shrimp trawlers.
Nights the boatyard work crew went home and we had a very quiet place to reside.
We kept our boat Dursmirg and our night watchman job for the next 18 months at San Sebastian Marine.
Jane and I bought a waterfront lot and got a permit and built our own dock. Below is a view of the dock at high tide
and low tide (If you Google-earth it’s the only dog-legged dock north of the fort on the same side of the bay.)
Then we moved to our own private dock, which we would build by ourselves up Hospital Creek adjacent
to the Fountain of Youth tourist attraction and the WFOY radio station.
When we had built our boat Dursmirg we would have never believed that we would spend $90,000 just for a place to
tie our boat. Well, we did and even did the back breaking work of building a 580 foot cement decked dock to boot.
(As an old friend of ours used to say of us back then we were; “Peers of the world’s great pier
builders.”) In the above photo Jane and I were in the process of building our great pier. Some of the
pre-stressed cement decking material is stacked behind us just ready for our sweat and toil to install it.
Each twenty foot piece weighed one thousand two hundred pounds and we handled it all using our
heads instead of our backs.
Florida with its five seasons, spring, fall, winter, summer and of course hurricane season always gave something to
dread and something to look forward to. Depending upon your degree of vulnerability the anxiety associated with
the June through November threat that could range from near panic to mildly amused. If you owned and were
responsible for a dock, boat or a waterfront home an approaching hurricane could drive you to distraction.
Until you actually have experienced a direct hit where Mother Nature steps beyond your ability to fend for yourself
and the reality of having your life snuffed out in a snap of a finger like a bug splattering on a windshield you just
haven’t come to grips with the enormity of a full blown hurricane.
Jane and I not only had a boat but it was our one and only home and it was definitely a waterfront home. We also
took responsibility for a very large dock and the other boats tied there.
We have over the years had many a lengthy discussion about what we would do and where we would go with our
floating home in the event of a direct hurricane hit. We both agreed that if the winds were under one hundred miles
an hour we would stay with the boat. If the winds were going to exceed one hundred miles an hour we would do the
best we could for the boat and then run for our lives.
(As I write this I can tell you that we have lived through a hurricane direct hit with 150 MPH sustained winds and I
assure you human life is not sustainable out in that kind of a storm unprotected.)
Well, the dreadful day came and the fearful and frightening news arrived… Hurricane David that had just devastated
the Caribbean rampaged its way up the Yucatan Channel where we heard of a sailor being heroically rescued by a
big seagoing freighter from his foundering sailboat.
Hurricane David unmercifully pounded the seas and flattened or sunk everything in its brutal path.
(We later discovered that the sailor snatched up out of deaths grip in the perilous boiling cauldron of the Yucatan
Channel was our dear old friend Buck Taylor who you may have met in volume 3 of Travels of Dursmirg; “Down in
the Florida Keys Swinging in a Summers Breeze”.
Buck was a boat builder, old navy man and real sailor who knew these waters well.
Back to San Sebastian Marine and the approaching Hurricane David;
David had just slam-dunked the Indian River area on its way up Florida’s east coast where another sailing friend
Grant Ball decided to ride out the hurricane at anchor out in the open Indian River leaving his protected dockage up
Crane Creek at Melbourne.
Riding on two anchors Grant’s 30 foot Cheoy Lee took a severe pounding and brutal beating.
One anchor parted early on in the storm.
During this killer storm Grant was alone on his boat. His inquisitive nature led him to a bad decision and he foolishly
decided to peer out and gingerly pried open his front hatch…surprise!
It vanished, hinges and all in less than half a nanosecond.
Grant then got his fill of Hurricane David as it came screaming down his now wide open hatch.
Well, we were dockside with our 20 ton Dursmirg at the San Sebastian Marine far up the San Sebastian River on the
west side of downtown St. Augustine.
We were directly in the cross-hairs of this rapidly approaching destructive engine of death and destruction.
It was just Jane and I and our boat.
Where we docked our boat Dursmirg over on the San Sebastian River is where the river basin widens out to its
widest.
Across the river from our dockage place was located a large open expanse of marsh grass and mud flats. Cyclone
high tides would soon flood over this vastness with the incoming storm surge of Hurricane David forming a great
wind whipped bay where waves would be driven into turbulent seas by typhoon force winds.
(An interesting fact; the wave height would be checked by the marsh grasses. The waves over the marsh grass
could not exceed the water depth over the marsh grass. So, huge waves were prevented from forming over these
marsh grasses. We were in effect in the lee of a giant natural breakwater.)
The dock we were tied to was massive but old and its wooden decking treacherously suffering long neglect from a
lack of maintenance by an apathetic owner. Two 75 foot shrimp trawlers in various stages of construction were tied
at one end of this dock and our Dursmirg tied at the north end. I would now have responsibility for the whole
abandoned boatyard and all of its trawlers.
First erratic wind shifts followed by an on-again off-again misty rain dancing down to earth floating in a rhythmical
decent driven by these gusty bursts of variable winds. Then the sky becoming an obliterated pervasive gray totally
without definition and the misty rains intensifying into a steadier downpour as the wind intensifies.
When the wind builds to over 40 knots sustained, the driven rain is no longer coming down but being driven
horizontally.
At 60 knots the noise level from the wind makes outdoor conversation into a screaming match… and this is only a
gale.
The hurricane force winds destroy on an exponential curve. The destructive force at 80 knots is not double that of
40 knots but four times as great. Thus 120 knots is 16 times as destructive as at 40 knots, and human life in the
open with 120 knots of hurricane wind is not sustainable.
By late afternoon the boatyard crew had all run for their lives and home to shelter. Except for the hauling wind that
was beginning to scream the place was eerily quiet and tranquil. As always ahead of the approaching hurricane the
storm surge begins to build as the wind driven flood brings the oceans water and waves further and further inshore.
The high tide waters do not recede but continue to flood ever higher and higher.
By dusk that frightful night we had done all the preparation work that was humanly possible and we were only then
driven by our own nervous and apprehensions energy.
The unrelenting wind kept building, the oncoming tidal wave of water still kept rising and by 11 PM that night Jane
and I were both mentally and physically ready to collapse. At this point we would collapse into an unconscious
snooze totally overpowered by our fatiguing exhaustion from our long hours of frantic preparation and dreadful
anxiety.
The rising tidal surge had brought the flood tide waters to the top of the dock as I made my last inspection rounds of
the boatyard that spooky worrisome night.
All was as good as I could make it and I disconnected our shore power cord in the event of the worst.
One last listen to the VHF weather radio before collapsing into an unconscious sleep told us that Daytona Beach
was about to be flattened and we were next!
This was September 3, 1979. The day before Jane had turned 35 and the next day I would turn 39 years old.
Early the next morning I opened my eyes startled…it almost sounded silent, the wind had dropped below 40 knots!
Everything is relative because normally 40 knots of wind makes lots of noise and this was only relatively quiet
compared to the screaming howling wind storm we had gone to bed with just a few hours earlier.
We hurriedly turned on the weather radio and surprise!
In the night after hurricane David had slam dunked Daytona Beach it took an abrupt turn out to sea and marched off
shore sparing us.
It was my birthday and we got to keep our boat!
next chapter
September 1979, Jane and I were night watchmen at the San Sebastian Marine over on the San Sebastian River.
This is where we lived aboard our sailboat Dursmirg at the dock with electric and water service in exchange for
guard duties.
We were away days working on our Flamingo Apartment project while the boatyard was busy noisily producing
wooden shrimp trawlers.
Nights the boatyard work crew went home and we had a very quiet place to reside.
We kept our boat Dursmirg and our night watchman job for the next 18 months at San Sebastian Marine.
Jane and I bought a waterfront lot and got a permit and built our own dock. Below is a view of the dock at high tide
and low tide (If you Google-earth it’s the only dog-legged dock north of the fort on the same side of the bay.)
Then we moved to our own private dock, which we would build by ourselves up Hospital Creek adjacent
to the Fountain of Youth tourist attraction and the WFOY radio station.
When we had built our boat Dursmirg we would have never believed that we would spend $90,000 just for a place to
tie our boat. Well, we did and even did the back breaking work of building a 580 foot cement decked dock to boot.
(As an old friend of ours used to say of us back then we were; “Peers of the world’s great pier
builders.”) In the above photo Jane and I were in the process of building our great pier. Some of the
pre-stressed cement decking material is stacked behind us just ready for our sweat and toil to install it.
Each twenty foot piece weighed one thousand two hundred pounds and we handled it all using our
heads instead of our backs.
Florida with its five seasons, spring, fall, winter, summer and of course hurricane season always gave something to
dread and something to look forward to. Depending upon your degree of vulnerability the anxiety associated with
the June through November threat that could range from near panic to mildly amused. If you owned and were
responsible for a dock, boat or a waterfront home an approaching hurricane could drive you to distraction.
Until you actually have experienced a direct hit where Mother Nature steps beyond your ability to fend for yourself
and the reality of having your life snuffed out in a snap of a finger like a bug splattering on a windshield you just
haven’t come to grips with the enormity of a full blown hurricane.
Jane and I not only had a boat but it was our one and only home and it was definitely a waterfront home. We also
took responsibility for a very large dock and the other boats tied there.
We have over the years had many a lengthy discussion about what we would do and where we would go with our
floating home in the event of a direct hurricane hit. We both agreed that if the winds were under one hundred miles
an hour we would stay with the boat. If the winds were going to exceed one hundred miles an hour we would do the
best we could for the boat and then run for our lives.
(As I write this I can tell you that we have lived through a hurricane direct hit with 150 MPH sustained winds and I
assure you human life is not sustainable out in that kind of a storm unprotected.)
Well, the dreadful day came and the fearful and frightening news arrived… Hurricane David that had just devastated
the Caribbean rampaged its way up the Yucatan Channel where we heard of a sailor being heroically rescued by a
big seagoing freighter from his foundering sailboat.
Hurricane David unmercifully pounded the seas and flattened or sunk everything in its brutal path.
(We later discovered that the sailor snatched up out of deaths grip in the perilous boiling cauldron of the Yucatan
Channel was our dear old friend Buck Taylor who you may have met in volume 3 of Travels of Dursmirg; “Down in
the Florida Keys Swinging in a Summers Breeze”.
Buck was a boat builder, old navy man and real sailor who knew these waters well.
Back to San Sebastian Marine and the approaching Hurricane David;
David had just slam-dunked the Indian River area on its way up Florida’s east coast where another sailing friend
Grant Ball decided to ride out the hurricane at anchor out in the open Indian River leaving his protected dockage up
Crane Creek at Melbourne.
Riding on two anchors Grant’s 30 foot Cheoy Lee took a severe pounding and brutal beating.
One anchor parted early on in the storm.
During this killer storm Grant was alone on his boat. His inquisitive nature led him to a bad decision and he foolishly
decided to peer out and gingerly pried open his front hatch…surprise!
It vanished, hinges and all in less than half a nanosecond.
Grant then got his fill of Hurricane David as it came screaming down his now wide open hatch.
Well, we were dockside with our 20 ton Dursmirg at the San Sebastian Marine far up the San Sebastian River on the
west side of downtown St. Augustine.
We were directly in the cross-hairs of this rapidly approaching destructive engine of death and destruction.
It was just Jane and I and our boat.
Where we docked our boat Dursmirg over on the San Sebastian River is where the river basin widens out to its
widest.
Across the river from our dockage place was located a large open expanse of marsh grass and mud flats. Cyclone
high tides would soon flood over this vastness with the incoming storm surge of Hurricane David forming a great
wind whipped bay where waves would be driven into turbulent seas by typhoon force winds.
(An interesting fact; the wave height would be checked by the marsh grasses. The waves over the marsh grass
could not exceed the water depth over the marsh grass. So, huge waves were prevented from forming over these
marsh grasses. We were in effect in the lee of a giant natural breakwater.)
The dock we were tied to was massive but old and its wooden decking treacherously suffering long neglect from a
lack of maintenance by an apathetic owner. Two 75 foot shrimp trawlers in various stages of construction were tied
at one end of this dock and our Dursmirg tied at the north end. I would now have responsibility for the whole
abandoned boatyard and all of its trawlers.
First erratic wind shifts followed by an on-again off-again misty rain dancing down to earth floating in a rhythmical
decent driven by these gusty bursts of variable winds. Then the sky becoming an obliterated pervasive gray totally
without definition and the misty rains intensifying into a steadier downpour as the wind intensifies.
When the wind builds to over 40 knots sustained, the driven rain is no longer coming down but being driven
horizontally.
At 60 knots the noise level from the wind makes outdoor conversation into a screaming match… and this is only a
gale.
The hurricane force winds destroy on an exponential curve. The destructive force at 80 knots is not double that of
40 knots but four times as great. Thus 120 knots is 16 times as destructive as at 40 knots, and human life in the
open with 120 knots of hurricane wind is not sustainable.
By late afternoon the boatyard crew had all run for their lives and home to shelter. Except for the hauling wind that
was beginning to scream the place was eerily quiet and tranquil. As always ahead of the approaching hurricane the
storm surge begins to build as the wind driven flood brings the oceans water and waves further and further inshore.
The high tide waters do not recede but continue to flood ever higher and higher.
By dusk that frightful night we had done all the preparation work that was humanly possible and we were only then
driven by our own nervous and apprehensions energy.
The unrelenting wind kept building, the oncoming tidal wave of water still kept rising and by 11 PM that night Jane
and I were both mentally and physically ready to collapse. At this point we would collapse into an unconscious
snooze totally overpowered by our fatiguing exhaustion from our long hours of frantic preparation and dreadful
anxiety.
The rising tidal surge had brought the flood tide waters to the top of the dock as I made my last inspection rounds of
the boatyard that spooky worrisome night.
All was as good as I could make it and I disconnected our shore power cord in the event of the worst.
One last listen to the VHF weather radio before collapsing into an unconscious sleep told us that Daytona Beach
was about to be flattened and we were next!
This was September 3, 1979. The day before Jane had turned 35 and the next day I would turn 39 years old.
Early the next morning I opened my eyes startled…it almost sounded silent, the wind had dropped below 40 knots!
Everything is relative because normally 40 knots of wind makes lots of noise and this was only relatively quiet
compared to the screaming howling wind storm we had gone to bed with just a few hours earlier.
We hurriedly turned on the weather radio and surprise!
In the night after hurricane David had slam dunked Daytona Beach it took an abrupt turn out to sea and marched off
shore sparing us.
It was my birthday and we got to keep our boat!
next chapter
We owned an impressive collection of anchors at the time
accumulated over our many years of cruising. The largest being a
150 pound North Hill, next a 100 pound kedge, a 75 pound high
tinsel Danforth and a hodgepodge of nine others down to our
smallest a 35 pound British plow. This was the time to press them all
into action…which we did plus tying to everything of merit on shore.
We had the ground tackle and we used it!
As the storm approached we witnessed the usual dreaded signs we
had seen so many times before over the years as these killed
weather systems approach.
accumulated over our many years of cruising. The largest being a
150 pound North Hill, next a 100 pound kedge, a 75 pound high
tinsel Danforth and a hodgepodge of nine others down to our
smallest a 35 pound British plow. This was the time to press them all
into action…which we did plus tying to everything of merit on shore.
We had the ground tackle and we used it!
As the storm approached we witnessed the usual dreaded signs we
had seen so many times before over the years as these killed
weather systems approach.