While I was stressing about my scratch, I got an email that referred me to this link about Ghost Rider, a Nordhavn 47.
It’s a heart wrenching story; difficult enough to live though, probably even harder to write about.
So that ended my pity party pretty quick.
I had a close call with a submerged jetty in Florida. We’d only had Dauntless 8 months at that point. For something so dangerous, basically a rock wall just under water, the charts whispered Danger, instead of yelling it. I slowed and finally figured it out in the nick of time. It is one of the reasons I now travel with two navigation programs running. When the situation gets complicated a second view is extremely helpful.
The chart data is not incorrect; it’s just our mind is not seeing what it expects. Therefore, it tries to come up with a logical explanation based on its initial (false) assumption. A dangerous false path. A primary cause of aircraft accidents in fact.
And it happens in the classroom all the time, especially in science, even more so in Earth Science. In Earth Science classrooms students are learning concepts for everyday physical occurrences that they see all the time, like phases of the moon or why the sun rises in the east. But long before they step into any classroom, their minds have already developed an explanation. Many times, that initial explanation is incorrect, though logical with a limited number of facts.
A Harvard study looked at this phenome using Harvard students, who presumably had had a good science education just to get into Harvard in the first place. They found that students, even after having been taught the correct explanation for various physical phenomena, generally reverted back to their initial false explanation. In other words, it is difficult to un-teach concepts that have been incorrectly conceived. (This was a major focus of my second Master’s, in Science Education).
Tragedies happen because even in the face of new information, facts on the ground so to speak, we ignore what’s in front of us and keep trying to fit what we’re seeing with our initial explanation.
Earlier this summer, cruising south along the coast of Ireland, we were cruising at night because of the tides and currents. I see a red light in the sky off in the distance. Looking at the chart, the only explanation I could come up with was it looked like a radio tower on land about 10 miles in front of us. I don’t see any other lights, therefore it’s not a boat, otherwise I would see some combination of red, green or white light, at least two out of those three. There was nothing on the radar within 3 miles.
The seas were a bit rough, so we were bouncing around a bit and I attributed the movement of the red light to that, since radio towers on land don’t move. I periodically look at this light for the next 15 minutes. I’m sitting in my usual spot on the starboard side of the bench seat in the Krogen pilot house.
About a minute from impact, I realize it’s a sailboat coming directly at us. I grab the wheel, turning hard to starboard. He passes about 100 feet off our port side. I hail him on the VHF radio, “Sailing vessel showing a top red mast light”. He doesn’t answer, but his light suddenly turns white. Yes, he was moron, but I let him get so close because initially my mind had decided I was looking at a light far away and it then tried to fit that assumption to subsequent facts as they materialized.
Most of the time we catch it in time; sometimes we don’t.
Ghost Rider, RIP