We used to be charterers, but we never crashed into someone else’s boat (even if we did come close one time!)
It was windy, upward of 20 knots. It was a relatively crowded anchorage – not Lakka crowded, where your neighbor could hand you a cup of coffee over the sugar scoop in the morning, but crowded enough that we were already worried about potentially dragging anchors. We arrived in time to select a sandy spot close enough to swim to the beach, and pulled back on our own anchor hard enough to know it was well dug into the sandy bottom. We weren’t going anywhere.
Others, however, were. Of the many charter boats in the small bay, one of the larger decided they didn’t like their site and wanted to lift anchor and move closer to shore. The captain, Italian (which has unfortunately challenged our generally favorable impression of Italians), was heading our way. We watched in disbelief as he motored towards us, passed us briefly, then pivoted and dropped his anchor ON TOP OF OURS. There is an obvious rule when it comes to anchors, wind, and boats. If you drop your anchor in the same place as another boat, your boat is going to blow into the same spot as the other boat. It’s not rocket science. Peter immediately yelled that he had to move: he dropped on our anchor and he was going to hit us. The captain yelled back, “Don’t worry about it.” We didn’t believe him.
In a “thank all that’s holy for technology” moment, Peter started up the video on his phone and captured it all. The larger cat swinging toward us on the strong wind, his crew and I hustling fenders along the side as he broadsided us. The captain pulling away and heading forward, only to t-bone our port bow. With the most horrendous crunch. At that point Peter yelled, “Captain, you HAVE to move!” The Captain’s reply? “I don’t have to.” All along the way, Peter yelled. A lot. (I really hadn’t realized he had it in him.) There were a lot of fucks given. At one explosion of yelling I took him by the shoulders and told him it wasn’t helping and he needed to calm down. Then I yelled unholy hell at them.
Ultimately they got away from The Fish, pulled their anchor and made for the headland of the anchorage, though not before we got the boat name and the name of the charter company. A couple of men in a dinghy who had watched the whole thing assured us the cat wouldn’t leave the area until we knew we were going to be paid for the damage done to the port bow (cosmetic, but still). Of course they all disappeared, hightailing it out and away, accepting no responsibility for their actions. The charter company referred us to their insurers, to whom Peter sent the video of the whole shit storm, and photos of the damage. As we waited for instructions over the next few days the charter company told us that the egregious captain told them there wasn’t any damage to our boat, video and photos be damned. We haven’t been able to get a quote for the repairs yet (it’s remarkably challenging to find people to do it!) so we haven’t done them, and of course haven’t been reimbursed. Stay tuned. You know as well as we do this story isn’t over!