Speaking of maritime fiascos, I'll relate this incident that happened to me about 15 or so years ago.
So I invited a few friends to go sailing on San Diego Bay. I rented a 22 foot sloop from a local sailing club. I was the only one among us who really knew how to sail, so I was pretty much single-handing it. I welcomed anybody to take part if they wanted to, but they were free to sit back and enjoy the sunshine, if they chose. Mostly it was just me at the helm, with the jib sheets tied together with a
sheet bend, wrapped around the other side of the
mainsheet fiddle system, such that I had full control of the boat without having to move away from the tiller. The weather was excellent, the breeze was good, and we were well stocked with beer and music, so it was easy to just sit back and relax.
Before I continue, I should give a brief summary of the "rules of the road" on the water. The primary, number one rule on the list of
rules of the road list for boats -- the rule upon which most of the other rules are based -- is:
The least maneuverable vessel has the right-of-way. [Edit: OK, that rule is not speifically on the list, but it's the foundation for the other rules that are on the list; this is a summary after all]. It is for this reason that sailboats (sailing with wind power alone) generally have the right-of-way over power boats, for boats of approximately the same size. That's because power boats are generally more maneuverable. Exceptions include a small sailboat and a large ship: the small sailboat is more maneuverable than the large ship, and besides, the large ship is probably restricted to the channel. Thus the large ship has the right-of-way. Boats restricted to the channel have the right-of-way over small sailboats. Another example is a power boat presently engaged in fishing. If a boat has its engines turned off and fishing lines out, it obviously isn't very maneuverable. It has the right-of-way. You get the idea.
So there we were. 'Beautiful day on the water. And there weren't many other boats out. We pretty much had the whole bay to ourselves. Sailing along,
close hauled on a starboard tack, I looked aft and a bit to the port side and noticed one or two small, military boats slowly approaching in the distance, up the center of the bay (i.e., up the channel). I'm not sure if they were Coast Guard or Navy. It was the type of boat that's small, maybe 26 foot, fast, powerful, and more maneuverable than you can shake a stick at. So I didn't change my heading. I had the right-of-way. Looking around some more, trying to keep aware of my surroundings, I didn't notice any other boats in the vicinity.
So a minute or so later, as a friend was handing me a beer, he stopped short, "Oh, sh*t. You should look behind you," he said, mouth gaping. It was that small, military boat just a few feet away now (close enough that with a small stretch I could reach back and touch it), with a large caliber machine gun mounted to the bow. Behind the machine gun was a soldier with his finger near the trigger aiming the machine gun directly at my face. "GET THE F**K OUT OF THE CHANNEL!" Yelled another soldier standing next to him, both looking at me.
For a moment I froze. But it was just a moment. I did not determine whether the boat as Navy or Coast Guard. The only thing I really noticed was this large caliber machine gun pointed directly down my face. "... You got it." I turned to face forward, "Ready about..." I tacked to the right, directly to a beam reach, trying to get the hell away from that situation as fast as I could.
"What a jerk," I grumbled to the passengers, although I was probably talking out loud to myself more than anything. "Sailboats absolutely have as much right to use the channel as any other boats, particularly when there are no large ships around. We even had the right-of-way. Trust me, we didn't do anything HOLY SH*T!" I exclaimed.
Just then a large, nuclear powered submarine surfaced just about 20 or 30 meters behind us, pretty much where we just were. It might have been an Ohio class sub, but I'm not sure. All I know it was big, it was silent, and it was a submarine. I say it was silent, but I do recall it honking at us with its "whistle." "Whistle" is a poor name for this because it's more like a really, really loud fog horn. Suffice it to say it made its point. "H o l y S h * t" is the phrase we all said slowly, pretty much in unison.
"Well, that explains that," I said.
The moral of the story is that if you encounter another boat with machine guns mounted to its bow, no matter how maneuverable it happens to be, stay out of its way.
At the time, I lived on my bicycle and would ride on Main Street in traffic up to 35 mph in a major metropolitan area.
