The Excellent Adventure

Yesterday, a boat down the dock from us caught on fire, and burned pretty thoroughly. The hull might be salvageable, the contents are destroyed, and the owner’s dog, who was asleep inside at the time, died.

We’re all pretty devastated. Jason and I talked about it last night, and while I was not going to blog this, out of respect for the man whose home and best friend were lost, I changed my mind, because there are a few lessons here for anyone who lives in or around boats and marinas. I offer these thoughts in tribute to our friends. Some are things we got right, some are things we got wrong.

• Know Your Neighbors. We’re all pretty close here in this marina, so we were able to call the owner to come home almost immediately. We know pretty much where people work, and were able to find the right phone numbers. We had people to meet him at the gate so he wouldn’t walk face first into the destruction of his home without someone to catch him. But no one knew how to contact the owners of the boats on either side to call them. Naturally, the harbormaster will contact them today, but harbormasters are “during business hours” folks, and sometimes, that’s just not fast enough. They were lucky in that the liveaboards responded rapidly enough to prevent damage to their boats, but considering how the wind was howling yesterday, that was merely a matter of luck. And when all was said and done, a watch was established, so that someone would cruise by every half hour or so all night to make sure the boat neither re-ignited nor sank. Everyone knows who the night owls are and who the early birds are, so it was easy to establish a comfortable rotation.
• Test Your Call Boxes. There are big blue-lighted emergency call boxes at the end of each dock, and when one (of many) responders tried to use them to call the fire department, they did not work. I’m assuming it’s a problem 911 was having yesterday, because several folks reported not being able to connect to 911 with their phones either. Thankfully, at least one person got through, and the fire department showed up promptly. But people’s confidence in the call boxes needs to be restored.
• Do Fire Drills. We were so focused on the burning boat, we grabbed people’s dock hoses, and ran straight past the fire hoses installed on the docks. What’s fascinating is that the firemen reported that the small hoses have better pressure than the soakers, so it was probably A Good Thing that the little ones got used. Nice that the right choice was made, but would have been nice if it had been intentional. We also took this opportunity to figure out that the soakers won’t reach the boats at the end of the dock… like ours. Additionally, no one had an electric high-volume pump, so the feet of water in the bilge had to stand until the marina maintenance man could be called in (on his day off) to come pump it out. And it would have been good if we’d had a stash of tarps somewhere (other than our personal ones) to try to shield what was left of the boat from the weather.
• Batteries Can Explode. We all know to pay attention to our electrical systems, including batteries. What no one on this dock knew was that smaller batteries, such as those in your cell phone, can explode with equal destructive power, if they’re left plugged in to the charger. Additionally, when you’re a liveaboard it’s easy to get lazy about daisy chaining power cords and extenders. Don’t.
• Explore Any Odd Noises Thoroughly. Several of us heard the odd “pop” that was probably the battery exploding. But we all looked outside briefly, and went back about our business. And none of us went back up to check again later. Understandable, but in this case, not the right answer.
• Leave A Window Open. No one saw anything, until the canvas of the cockpit cover shredded, and a “blowtorch” of flame and smoke shot out into the fairway. By that point, there was little to save besides the hull. That’s because, as the fire chief pointed out, boats are designed to keep air in and water out, so all the normal signs of fire are suppressed until disaster. If there’s any way to leave a hatch or portlight open or at the very least uncovered, that’s ideal, so that people can smell smoke, see flickering light, and otherwise be alerted to the danger. None of us who heard the pop could have seen the flame, because the boat was sealed tight against yesterday’s rain, and had no portlights facing the dock.

Hopefully, there’s something there that someone reading this can use, to prevent the next boat fire, or help their marina become better prepared. We here are spending today being very sad, and we’ve taken up a collection to try to help.

And once again, I’d like to praise my neighbors here in the marina. Everyone showed up at a dead run, grabbing hoses, buckets, making phone calls, bringing hand warmers, and being useful in whatever way they could manage. And then after everything was handled, they gathered together in small groups in various boats to talk it over, reconnect, and figure out what else could be done to help. This is a fabulous group of people and I’m really honored to call them neighbors.

Related posts:

1. A Close Call
2. Wicked Claustrophobia
3. Elephants Needed
4. Up to Napa
5. Lessons and Luck as a Liveaboard

Tags: fire, living aboard, marina, safety

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