The mother ship

We prefer to anchor out rather than tie up at a slip. Not only is it cheaper, but the solitude and spectacular views make it much more enjoyable. Far too frequently, however, our solitude and relaxation are spoiled when some ignorant or inconsiderate boater drops the hook just a bit too close, as though Ariel were the mother ship.

The scenario often plays out like this: We arrive early at a favorite anchorage, scope out our spot, drop the hook, let out plenty of rode, back down to dig in the anchor, then shorten up the scope to 5:1, depending on conditions. We soon have Ariel cleaned up and dinner cooking. Just about the time dinner's on, a mast appears outside the companionway. I step outside to see a guy dropping anchor only a few yards from our anchor.

And that's only part of the fun. Usually the skipper lets out just enough rode to get the anchor on the bottom, then he cleats the line, kills the engine, and goes below - job done. One fella followed this approach with one modification: he actually backed on the anchor with a scope of about 1:1, plowing a furrow 200 feet through the anchorage before he finally gave up and went below. Nice. This guy's slightly more knowledgeable twin brother showed up at another anchorage and dumped 100ft of chain in a pile on the bottom before retreating to the cabin.

Being the nice guys that we are, my dad and I generally up-anchor and head to another spot - one that is, naturally, more exposed or deeper or....

Not anymore. Now, we've developed a new protocol.

Step One: At the first sight of a new arrival, stand on deck and make self as visible as possible, squaring shoulders with newcomer. Establish eye contact with the skipper as soon as possible. If it's not possible to maintain eye contact with skipper, give foredeck person "the stare." Often times, the less confident foredeck person will grow uneasy and gently suggest to the skipper that "maybe this is too close."

Step Two: When skipper proceeds undaunted, tell him/her (no need to yell due to proximity) how much rode you have out and that they're anchoring too close. Note: This point is often unheeded since the skipper doesn't know what that means - if s/he did, s/he wouldn't be anchoring on top of you in the first place.

Step Three: Sit back and enjoy the show while maintaining stare. By now there is generally hollering - i.e., condescending remarks hurled between the foredeck person and the skipper - as they attempt to coordinate their operation.

Step Four: When newcomer has anchored, dinghy over with photocopied "Anchoring Tips and Techniques" from Dashews and explain the problem, kindly asking the skipper to leave. Skipper will likely be baffled by such words and concepts as rode, scope, windage, swing radius, underbody. Generally, this discussion is enough to encourage the skipper to move. If he doesn't . . . suck it up and move, or deploy fenders and try to get some sleep.

Not very satisfying, is it?! Sometimes people are just plain clueless. If they are, and you love your boat, you must move - or shorten scope even more and enjoy a sleepless night.

Last summer I came out of the cabin after dinner and made out the silhouette of a small boat anchored 20 feet from Ariel. After no response to yells, I used our high-powered spot to rouse the sleepy skipper. I kindly told him that he was probably a bit too close. Obligingly, he hauled in about 20 feet of rode (in 18 feet of water) and motored 200 feet away, where he cut the engine, threw the anchor over the side, and retreated to the cabin before the anchor hit the bottom. Wouldn't you know it, he was upwind. And, yes, a short while later he drifted down on us. Fortunately, he realized it and, once again, up-anchored and headed into the nearby marina, doing every boat in the anchorage a favor.

Come on, guys, all it takes is a little reading and a bit of practicing. There's no excuse for not caring to care.