It all started good and well. We set out for a weekend sail to the northernmost part of San Francisco Bay up into the Napa River. We actually left late Friday night and sailed off into the moonlight to Tiburon where we moored for the night. It’s a long trek, which I wanted to do all under sail, so I figured leaving in the morning from Tiburon would allow us enough time to do that and enjoy the river. Had a nice breakfast in Tiburon at a local café just steps from the dock and sailed off. It was a perfect, sunny day with mild breeze and favorable current. We entered the river and got about half way through the 10 mile stretch of sailable water. This river is challenging because of the many shallow spots, though I have a very nice plotter and full detail so I knew where to go (or so I thought.) The breeze picked up as we sailed on a beam reach, about to round one of the curves in the river. I guess I wasn’t paying attention to the plotter since I was right in the center of the river. Suddenly I felt that boat come to a full stop. I knew right away we ran aground. A quick look at the plotter showed that we were just outside the deep channel and the sounder showed 4 ½ feet. I went for the daggerboard uphaul and started pulling. For those who don’t know, mine is the heavy one (180 lbs) and it must have stuck in the mud so I had to use my whole body to pull on the 6:1 block & tackle. We spun around more than 90 degrees in the meantime and the jib backwinded. I asked Dawn to uncleat the jib sheet, completely losing site of…. what happens right after the jib backwinds? Yeah. A moment after she went for the jib sheet, over comes the boom. Whoosh! Pow! Boom meets Admiral’s forehead. Her face was pale, tears ran down her eyes, but scariest of all, blood was everywhere! All she could say, over and over, “I want to go home.” I knew I had to move quickly and decisively, despite the panic that was setting in fast. She needed immediate attention and the boat was out of control. I ran down into the cabin and grabbed a couple of paper towels. Put them on her forehead and had her apply pressure. I told her to stay there and not move, being sure to keep applying pressure while I get us out of danger. As quickly as I could, I took down the sails, pulled up the daggerboard and dropped anchor. I cleaned her up and put ice on her head. The bleeding mostly stopped, but not completely. She seemed “with-it,” though obviously in a lot of pain and scared; but I was fairly confident she didn’t suffer a concussion. The cut was deep but fairly small. After settling her in down in the cabin with ice, I proceeded to quickly clean up the blood, pull up anchor and head back. Obviously home was the destination. I knew from past experience that you only have approximately 6 hours after a cut when stitches can be put in. With a 60 mile trek ahead of us, I had my work cut out for me. Fortunately, with the Mac under power, this is doable. Also with the Mac, you can get out of a grounding, as we did. In hindsight, this could have been really ugly had we been stuck there without a sole in sight. But the story doesn’t end here. The Mac needed yet another opportunity to be the hero. We approached the harbor entrance approximately 8:30 p.m. Through the darkness, I noticed a flashing light off my starboard side. It was a sailboat with sails down and no lights, waving a flashlight in our direction. Shortly after seeing them, I could hear them yelling. Wind was blowing 20 knots and the current about 3 knots as they’re drifting closer to the break-wall. Quite the pickle for yours truly. I know full well the mariners’ code and respect it highly. But then, there’s my injured wife who I need to get to the hospital quickly. I looked at her and asked if she could hang in there a bit longer. “Let’s go help them,” she said. The sailboat’s engine failed and they couldn’t see well. When they saw me approaching, they thought we were on a collision course, so they dropped their sails, now a sitting duck. This was as much as I could gather trying to yell through the howling wind. We gave them a tow into the marina and go them to a dock safely. Then it was off to the hospital where Dawn got the laceration glued (not stitched) and as an added bonus, received a Tetanus shot. She’s in good spirits now, though I don’t know if I’ll ever get her on board again.
This was quite the humbling experience to me as a sailor. It was 100% my fault. I should have known better. I’m truly bummed with guilt and feel like dope. I am grateful for the Mac, though, as were the new friends we made at the marina. As much as I want a large keelboat someday, this experience would have been much worse, had we been in one. Well that’s my little story. Thanks for reading. Not sure if one can learn from this experience. Hopefully someone can. BTW. I am changing my tagline from “Tripple-Reefed” to “Accidental Gybe.”
Fair Winds,
Leon
accidental gybe
pearls are nice 
! Thanks for the post. It is refreshing to be part of this great site where sailors relate their mishaps not just their speed records. But then with a Mac my speed records are WOT not 3 sheets to the wind. 
