It was one of the worse days I've seen here today
in Connecticut. The forecast winds were much
stronger than predicted, and it was cold as hell. I
decided not to go out and run any errands today.

This story that happened TODAY to a friend of mine
who is trying to get his boat down the ditch to Florida.
Names changed to protect his privacy. Minor editorial
changes.

Worth discussing.

Questions:

What was his first mistake?

What was his second mistake?

Etc...


************************************

"Oh god, I'm glad to see you. I'm alive!" is neither my
normal nor a politically correct greeting. But that was
how I felt tonight when I stepped off the boat and saw
sister and brother-in-law walking down the marina ramp
to take me home. I was cold and soaked through, alternately
tasting salt spray and fresh rain water on my face. Only the
rigorous exercise of the past few hours balanced my heat loss
from the wet 25 knot gusts I'd subjected myself to. (I must
have looked like a Weather Channel meteorologist reporting
live in the midst of a hurricane!)

I left the Marina on the lower part of the river at 12:30 pm
with a sense of optimism. Why not? The nor'easter was well
past Montauk and heading out to sea, and the forecast was for
20 to 25 knot winds DIMINISHING. Plus a peek out the
cabin hatch revealed more light and less winds than when
morning had broken. So I made a decision to depart - with
a plan to make a final go-no-go decision at the mouth of the river.

The winds were either nearly downwind or later on a beam reach,
so I chose test sailing on no main and only a tightly rolled up genoa
- sort of a poor man's storm sail. This proved to be a good
decision, because it was all the healing I wanted. The boat was
balanced and cruising along at 5.5 knots (theoretical maximum hull
speed is 6.5 knots). But while I was enjoying my friendly
relationship with the weather, the wind and waves gradually
increased until I was having trouble controlling my course. After
a broach that put the rail in the water I decided to turn around,
lower the sails and motor home.

Well to make a long story short, the genoa furling line got away from
me, and unrolled itself. The pressure on it was so great I couldn't roll
it up fully. So I headed back to my home port with it flogging in the
wind. It was a seasaw trip into the building waves, but I was making
2.5 knots headway and confident I could get home. Then the genoa
sheet pulled out of the clew and made a dive overboard for the prop,
promptly shutting down the motor -- within a stone's throw of the
harbor!

Abruptly I was at the mercy of waves and wind; it was time to issue
a "mayday" call to the Coast Guard (technically I should have issued
a "pan pan", but under these circumstances there's no arguing the
language). The Coast Guard is excellent, but it's always a bit scary
when they ask you how many people are on board (don't respond
with "why do you want to know - in case we DIE!) We drifted
eastward neither closer nor away from the shore -- never in immediate
danger -- and made contact with the Coast Guard on a 15 minute
schedule. Seatow arrived 45 minutes later and did a fine job of t
owing us to a nearby harbor.

Damage to the boat: (1) one seriously blown out genoa, (2) a line
wrapped around the prop I'll have to assess tomorrow in SCUBA
gear, and (3) one of the shrouds (wire standing rigging) has pulled
loose (indicating how close I came to losing the mast).

Damage to us: possibly no damage to the dog - although it's hard
to project into the mind of a dog. Me? Disheartened and bruised ego
around my poor decision today. I have to go take a hot bath and
think about this some more.

Sailing is a great teacher. Here are some initial lessons (for sailing
and for life):
(1) when you're getting yourself into trouble, pick the nearest
safe harbor to regroup - not the one most familiar or convenient.
(other harbors were closer, but I didn't know them and my workload
was 100% so I couldn't risk figuring it out in the moment. Of course
I could have studied it the night before!
(2) Even when you are in overload, you still better notice the clues.
The way circumstances creep up on you is a little like the trainers'
urban legend: put a frog in warm water and heat it up slowly and
the frog won't notice the change until it's too late (MIT tried and
failed to replicate this, but the story lives not for its accuracy but
because it makes a good point.
(3) Mother Nature's is neither your friend nor your enemy. In
my years of flight instruction I was keenly aware the both the craft
and the pilot have their limits. Aircraft limits are expressed in terms
of G forces on the structure, ability to fly into known ice conditions,
IFR equipment on board, and the like. Human limits are measured
in a myriad of piloting and navigation skills, ability to respond
correctly when something/everything goes wrong, ability to continue
to function under stress and workload above 100%, confidence
and competence, and the like. If you want to be an old pilot or
sailor someday, build your resources and never exceed either your
own limits or that of your craft. Today we were prepared enough
to survive.
(4) You get life back exactly as you set it up. I set myself up to
be an "adventurer," but I didn't want it to look like this. Be careful
what you set in motion (it's not a matter of circumstance or luck),
and when it shows up in a form you never wanted or expected.
well just smile and take full responsibility for it all.