It is with gratitude and apologies that I pen these words.
In the wee hours of July 16, I was in Chimney Cove (as we locals call it) on the northeast end of Kelly‚Äôs Island in Conception Bay.
As a small child, I remember going to Chimney Cove on my Grandfather‚Äôs boat to get Kelly‚Äôs black earth for my mother‚Äôs flowers.
I swam there, caught tom cods and conners there, burned my hand there and had boil-ups on the beach there.
At approximately 1400h on July 15, I left port in Long Pond and headed for Chimney Cove.
I had provisions on board to sustain me until Thursday, and I had my own mooring.
I was a happy camper, and as I sat on the deck of EB Tide that evening and watched the sun go down, I thanked God for all my blessings.
At 0300h, I was awakened by a northeast wind.
It was blowing south-west when I went to sleep. I determined that my mooring had dragged inward a little, but after 30 minutes on watch, I was certain it was secure.
That it would snap was not a scenario I considered.
I decided to wait until first light to head to port.
At 0333h, the stern hit the wind.
I knew immediately that the mooring had snapped, as the buoy was attached to the boat, weightless. Before I had time to start the engine, she hit the rocks.
When I looked back, she was taking on water, so I donned my lifejacket and jumped.
Fear was not a factor. I did, however, thank my creator that I would not drown that night.
The beach was my haven. I walked ashore.
As daylight approached, I could see the tide had gone out. The swells were large, but EB Tide was on the rocks and going nowhere.
I thought I should record the situation, so I boarded her and took my camera. I saw my purse floating, so I took it.
Back on shore, I thought of my cellphone, so I reboarded and got it.
By now I was shivering, so I took my bag of clothes as well.
Dry and warm on shore, I knew the only thing that could get me off the beach in those swells was a dinghy. EB Tide‚Äôs anchor light hadn‚Äôt gone out. There was power.
I boarded her for the last time and called a mayday. It was 0600h, July 16.
Thank you to the Canadian Coast Guard for dispatching the Beaumont Hamel to come get me.
Sincere apologies to the commuters on board who had to disboard to accommodate my rescue.
Thank you to CPS Avalon Squadron for teaching me how to call a mayday ‚ÄĒ my response was immediate.
Thank you to the two guys of the Hamel‚Äôs rescue craft that took me to the waiting Dalton Girls; and thank you to her crew for dropping me safe and sound at my home marina.
I apologize to the staff at CBC whom I spoke to by telephone. While I don‚Äôt agree that people‚Äôs misfortunes/misadventures is news, I had no right to shout and name-call anyone. Thank you Mr. Quinn for respecting my wishes.
Last but not least, thanks to my dock mates for always keeping an eye out for me.
Bonita I. Pomeroy
Conception Bay South