Bart Senior wrote:
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.


Sounds like a good day to stay indoors with a hot cup of
something.


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

"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!)

Funny thing, 25 knot winds aren't (or shouldn't be) too
difficult to cope with, but cold air is much more dense and
that makes a given wind speed more powerful. And then of
course, being cold weakens the body on top of that.


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.


Putting the rail in shouldn't be bad. Why the trouble
controlling course? That is an indication of something
either going wrong or about to go wrong.

Well to make a long story short, the genoa furling line got away from
me, and unrolled itself.

That was a mistake. The furling line should always be
snubbed or stopped to prevent this happening, especially
when singlehanding.

... The pressure on it was so great I couldn't roll
it up fully.

Well, you're not supposed to take a furling line a winch to
avoid the risk of breaking the forestay, but this is one
circumstance where it might be justified.



... 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!


Ooops. Hate it when that happens.

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).

Yes there is. Use of wrong terminology is stupid. I bet part
of this is due to creeping hypothermia. When the body is
chilled the brain doesn't function as well.


....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.


I bet that was a scary 45 minutes.

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).


IMHO the boat was in danger of dismasting with an unrolled
and uncontrollably flogging genoa.


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!

Very much so, but I disagree with entering a strange harbor
under duress just because it's closer. If it's a difficult
entry then a mistake would be very costly. If it's an easy
entry with clear marks then that would be better. A
seaworthy vessel is safer standing off from shore than
running for shelter though.


(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.

This is a good point and one reason why I say that foresight
is the most important characteristic of a good skipper.

I also think that hypothermia played a part in the decision
making (or lack of it) process here.

Interesting story and some challenging situations that bear
thinking about. Thanks for posting this, Bart.

Fresh Breezes- Doug King