Well, we weren't exactly "stranded". Stranded implies shipwrecked. A more appropriate wording might have been "temporarily stuck" or "terrifyingly inconvenienced". The truth is, AT THE TIME, I was convinced we were stranded. Since the keel was resting on the bottom, how could we know that we weren't, in actual fact, done for? In other words, "Stranded"?

When DRIVER's keel first slammed into the sea floor, my psyche was drenched by a wave of utter incomprehension. The thought "This isn't happening!!!" was followed by a long string of words I shouldn't have been saying within earshot of the kids. Jaja has nerves of steel, and it takes significant doings to rattle her. For the first time in a long while, however, her eyes went round and she gave me a look that meant: "This isn't happening!!!"

Great minds think alike.

The bow of DRIVER was headed towards the beach, and it seemed logical to turn us so that the bow was headed back toward the way we had just come. If there had been any wind, we could have honked the sails in tight to help heel DRIVER and reduce her draft. But the wind had died. I fired-walled the engine. Our power hungry, three bladed MaxProp propeller took a bite of the sea, and I pushed the tiller hard over. With the prop wash pushing against the rudder, we pivoted a little. Another swell ranged into the bay, lifted DRIVER to an upright position (although not high enough for the keel to leave the bottom). The swell receded, and we heeled over again. During the "upright position part" I was able to get the bow to pivot toward the empty horizon.

There wasn't a soul in sight. We were the only boat around. For some reason this made the grounding seem more serious. The black-sand shoreline was scattered with logs, and the barren hills were bleak. One reason that few boats visit Jan Mayen is because there are no natural harbors. There is an open bay on the northeast coast, suitable when the wind is southerly, and there is another open bay, suitable for when the wind is northerly. That's where we were. The perpetual swell which has free reign of the Norwegian Sea wraps around the island and infiltrates both bays - regardless of the wind direction.

As the next swell dipped into the bay, DRIVER rolled over, then back up again. This time, the keel actually left the bottom and we bumped ahead a half a boat length. My eyes followed the swell's path after it left us and I watched it dissolve into surf about a 100 yards away. I wondered, "How did we let ourselves get into such shallow water?"

I blamed it on the broken depth sounder.

Since there was no wind to help heel us, Chris was standing on the boom which was extended over the water, Jaja was leaning out, hanging onto the shrouds, and the girls were leaning over the life lines. Every fiber of our souls was willing DRIVER to float free. When the swells lifted us we all shouted "Come on! Come on!"

My perception of our predicament kept varying with the rise and fall of each swell. During one wave, I thought of ourselves as victims; all our efforts seemed heroic. But the next wave showed me clearly that we were idiots for running aground in the first place; our efforts seemed pathetic - a furtive last chance to save ourselves from destruction. For the sake of morale, I decided to adhere to the theme of "victim." No matter what the outcome, whether we floated free or became stranded on the beach, there would be plenty of time later to feel stupid.

The next swell rolled under us. DRIVER lifted, the engine roared, and we bumped ahead once, twice...then it was over. Instead of that awful sensation of keel banging down on hard sand, we floated free, back into deep water. It felt as if our keel was two inches above the wave tops - as if we floated on a cushion of air.

I shook my head. The entire grounding had lasted about 45 seconds - just enough stress to reduce the length of my life by at least a year. I mumbled under my breath, "Stupid, stupid, stupid..."