Where to Anchor?

Years ago we joined my wife’s extended family for a long weekend at Palm Beach, Waiheke Island. One of the uncles had his boat anchored off the beach along with half a dozen other boats. On Saturday, I joined the Uncle and two others for a day of fishing. After a few hours, we returned empty handed. On our return, the tide was now high, and the Uncle was deciding how far out to anchor.

Judging by the other anchored boats, I noticed that we might be too close to the shore. I raised my concerns, but I was assured by the ‘Captain’ (the Uncle), that we should be fine. I looked again and noticed we were much closer to the beach than any of the other boats. As we lowered the anchor, I sensed there was not a lot of confidence from everyone on the chosen spot. As usual, it’s Captains’ boat – so it’s Captains’ decision.

We worked out that it would be low tide around 9:30pm. We would come back to the beach then to check on the boat. That evening, whilst the extended family birthday celebration was still going on, the Uncle and I went back to the beach, and there was the boat, sitting nicely on the beach with its bow facing the ocean. The anchor rope was stuck under the hull, but the anchor was nowhere to be seen! As we searched for the anchor, I could hear colourful words being said with total disbelief of what just happened. I could hear my own words swirling around my mind although I didn’t say it, “I told you so!”

We checked our watches, and we agreed that we’d come back down to the beach when the tide turned, at around 3am. We left the beach and headed back to rejoin the celebration.

At 3am, my alarm quietly woke me up. I remember feeling annoyed by this thinking, “that it could have been avoided… that I wouldn’t have needed to wake up so early.” In my frustration, I laid in bed a few minutes longer than my alarm’s warning. Eventually, clothed in wetsuit top and swimming shorts, I headed down to the beach. When I arrived, I could see about 50 metres down the beach what appeared like a silhouette of a man holding on to the bow of the boat. As I got closer, sure enough, Uncle was frantically holding on to the boat as the water was now getting under it. I immediately felt bad for delaying and not getting down to the beach earlier.

The anchor rope was now free from under the boat, and the anchor along with the anchor chain had broken off on the seabed somewhere.

The surf was bigger but under a metre. The wind also picked up. I couldn’t help thinking that this is like a movie being played out in real life. Even more strange, we weren’t the only fools on the beach at that time of the morning. A guy and his dog walked right past us, but he did not offer to help or even ask if we were alright. Not even a glance in our direction.

With the tide nearly at its fullness and sufficient water under the boat, we could now drag it into the water. Getting past the waves was challenging, but as soon as we got the auxiliary motor going, we managed to get out into the deep water with no problem. But the main engine wouldn’t work. In the early hours of the morning, we were going round in circles, working out what to do.

Along the beach were a row of upside-down dinghies, but they were invariably chained and locked. Around the point from Palm Beach, is a little beach. Right off this little beach is a pontoon. We could tie the boat there until we found the anchor in the morning. We decided that I would swim back to the beach, borrow a dinghy – hopefully, one was not chained up. We would row back in it after we tied the boat to the pontoon.

The plan sounded great, but I had one problem, I have a serious fear of deep water. At 3:30am when the moonlight was very dim, my fear was off the scale. The Jaws’ movie soundtrack was playing loudly in my head at this point. Looking at Uncle and how distressed he was, helped me to block out my fear. I remember jumping in the water to swim back, I didn’t touch the bottom. Whilst swimming back to the beach, Uncle kept the boat out far enough to avoid being dragged back in by the swell.

In the meantime, I caught a good wave, and body surfed a fair bit of the way. When my feet touched the sand, I was overjoyed and totally relieved. Just as I was coming out of the water, Aunty - the Uncle’s partner arrived on the beach, spotted me and asked if we were alright. After a quick update, I sent her back to get two oars.

I ran toward the dinghies, praying one wasn’t chain locked. Sure enough, the first one I checked was locked. I checked the second, it wasn’t chained. “Praise the Lord” I sung out loud. I dragged it down the beach. I estimated the dinghy to be over 2 meters long. It was heavy. The adrenalin was pumping. It wasn’t far to drag it as the water was high.

Aunty arrived soon after with the oars. I grabbed them and threw them in the dinghy, now at the water’s edge. I hopped in and started paddling out. The first wave flipped the dinghy 180 degrees, right over my head. I dragged the dinghy back to the beach, got all the water out, and tried again. The waves flipped it 180 degrees right over my head again. I dragged it back to the beach and emptied the water out. I wasn’t going to let the waves beat me a third time. I decided the only way to beat the waves was to swim with one hand and tow the dinghy with the other.

The Aunty standing on the beach seemed distressed, but I took no notice of the fear on her face as I was determined to get back to Uncle and his boat. Swimming and towing the dinghy against the waves was extremely challenging, but my previous basic pool lifeguard training paid off. The one-arm swimming technique they said, is like filling the basket around your waist. You stretch, pull, and push into the basket. Easy in theory, but in the elements, it’s a whole new kettle of fish.

I eventually made it to the deep water, and I could see Uncle circling the boat around. I suddenly realised that it’s in the middle of the night, and it’s way too dark for me to be seen. So I called out as loud as possible. With the motor going, he had trouble hearing me and once he nearly went right over me! Eventually, he heard me calling. I climbed on to the boat and tied the dinghy to the stern. We headed to the pontoon and secured the boat there.

We jumped in the dinghy, armed with an oar each, side by side, and paddled back towards Palm Beach. It felt like we were two SAS soldiers going on a secret mission. In a way we were.

Uncle was relieved and the flow of “thanks” and “well-done” kept coming. Personally, I was just thankful not to be attacked by a shark. I was also thankful that Uncle, in his 60’s, was ok. He was still mostly dry.

We got to the beach with no hassle. We dragged the dinghy back to its original place, and the Aunty was waiting for us on the beach with fresh dry towels, utterly relieved to see us.

This Uncle and I built a strong bond from this incident, and the story resurfaces sometimes during family gatherings, drawing laughter, reminiscing about our early morning adventure.

As for the anchor, well I didn’t wake up for the search, and it was found the next morning where the boat would have been battered by the waves. I figured I’d stay in bed, and let others add their names to the story.

As I write about this thrilling adventure, there are few learnings one could take away from this. An obvious and a fundamental one, is to be sure where you anchor yourself to. As believers of the living God, He is the only One we need to anchor ourselves to.

"This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast” (Hebrews 6:19).

In His richest blessings
Frank Po Ching

P.S. What’s your story? I’d love to hear it. Contact me and let me know. You can also join us for our Zoom men’s group this Friday morning and share it with us.