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Delivery trip, Florida to NC
A friend at our marina just bought a 1991 Hunter Legend 40; and wanted
to deliver it from St Lucie Fla up to North Carolina. A retired captain agreed to take the boat and a few friends signed on as crew. Unfortunately the boat was not in such great shape, more on that later. It was a good deal but not ready for sea in many respects (more later). We left Saturday 2-19 with nice sunny weather and 15 kt winds clocking around from E to SE. Motorsailed up to Ft Pierce and out into the Gulf Stream. Day 1- departed the Ft Pierce sea bouy at about 1430. Wind ESE, seas a little choppy & confused. We noted the wind & spray seemed quite warm and our speed made good was higher than through the water by about 2.5 kt. We set 2 hour watches and jogged along. Seasickness... we all five put on 1/2 a scopolamine patch about 2 hours before heading through the inlet. The Ft Pierce inlet is basically a straight jettied cut about 200 yards long, with a good bit of current opposing the wind which set up sick-making lumpy breakers. Everyone was queasy before we even got all the way past the jetties. Once out in the open, the waves were smaller and all but 2 people felt better. Those 2 began puking and refused to go below when off-watch. They slept in the cockpit which was inconvenient & wet. One of these two felt much better after a day or so (although he got sick all over again when we hit a storm, more later). Lesson- try your seasickness medicine *before* ...long before... getting underway so as to know what to expect & how much to take. Day 2 (Sunday)- Sailing sailing sailing. We adjusted course to stay in the Gulf Stream which made it rather uncomfortable as the wind settled down to S and the seas built up. We were on a broad reach with a corkscrew motion, tough on the helmsman & rolling enough to make the ride unpleasant. Seas approx 8 feet, very few breakers. A dry ride at least. I was very careful to slather on thick sunscreen so as not to get burnt. Practiced taking some sun sights with a sextant. The novice sailors, who originally wanted to steer their whole watch, are sick of it by now. That afternoon we are all hanging around in the cockpit, talking and occasionally singing country songs. A few are drinking beer when off watch, I don't feel like it myself. It's like any other afternoon sail, with a bit more wave action perhaps and juiced up by the knowledge that we are more than 100 miles out to sea. The wind was freshening up to about 20, building the seas more. The boat was driving splendidly, actually it's easier to steer when hauling ass. Before leaving, the captain & I had gone over the steering with a fine toothed comb (along with all other systems) and done what we could to make it dependable (although undersized for this boat to start with). But we felt that a reef in the main would be in order & we preferred to do it in daylight. Note- this mainsail, which the new owner intends to replace anyway, is OEM Hunter sail... ie cheapo crap. It's light cloth, a bit blown, missing a batten (at least that's not Hunter's fault), only one reef point. Under reefed sail the boat continues to drive well & is a bit easier to steer. Unfortunately it's noisier than ever, and the motion is a bit harder to cope with. It's necessary to hang on at all times, and crawl from one place to another. I took off my scopolamine patch as I was not feeling queasy anymore, even when below navigating, but instead have a woozy headachy feeling not unlike a tequila hangover that won't go away. A few hours after taking off the patch I felt fine. Day 3 (Monday)- wind & sea continue to build. Now we're driving along in 30 knots, surfing 12 footers. In our first 24 hour run we covered 140 miles, our 2nd was 230... I considered that to be splendid sailing, but am getting tired or snatching a few hours sleep when allowed. The crewman who has taken up residence in the V-berth, the furthest forward in the hull, reports that it's impossible to sleep. Being far forward exaggerates the motion and the noise of waves against the bow is very discomforting. The wind continued to clock around, making the seas confused. One of our novice helmsmen gybed accidentally when a wave crest threw the stern around, but we stayed on the new tack because it is more favorable to get towards the western side of the Gulf Stream and close with Frying Pan Shoals (Cape Fear NC). Our batteries need charging so we get the engine running, which involves jumpering the starter solenoid. Now steering is a little bit easier with the prop stream. During the night we watch aircraft & ship actions in shore of us, it looks like some type of military training exercise. I can still ID most types of US ships & planes which interests the others. Day 4- Now we're 15 miles SE of the tip of Frying Pan Shoals, getting out of the Gulf Stream and closing on Beaufort NC. We're still well out to sea, about 100 miles from the nearest land. We narrowly miss some sort of debris sticking up out of the water, a massive set of steel pipes or possibly masts of some waterlogged wreck... we miss it by about 1 boatlength in the dark. I was steering at the time, and didn't see it until it was abreast of our running lights. In staring at this menace as it disappears astern, trying to point it out to the others, I lose our course and accidentally gybe. That's a PITA and the captain seems a bit disgruntled with me as he helps me do a controlled gybe back onto our course. Soon after that, a series of squalls begin. We roll up the jib and secure it. Wish we could take a second reef in the main. The rain squalls worsen with wind & rain. We see a ship and call on VHF to see if they've got a weather update. No, the mate on watch seems to have trouble speaking English and gives us the weather forecast we've already got (wind supposed to go light and back to the NE, no storm warning). Two of the crew are nervous and ask the captain to contact the Coast Guard. "Why" he asks, seriously. We're not really in any trouble and if we were, all the USCG could do would be to helo us off and abandon our friend's new boat. The captain doesn't seem very sensitive to the novice's emotional state, so I talk to the others a bit encouragingly. Sure it's unpleasant, but we've got everything under control, we've made great time, and will be home tomorrow. A squall of about 40 knots begins shredding the mainsail. Luff slides pop, the upper batten pocket is torn leach to luff, but if we take it down then the motion in this seaway is going to go from uncomfortable & difficult to move around, to impossible & dangerous. Besides, the bimini (which the captain liked but I would have gotten rid of much earlier) needs to be taken off. 4 men begin struggling to cut it down while not going overboard (or cutting themselves or each other). I steer. Halfway through removing the bimini, the worst squall yet hits. The boat still answers the helm despite laying over about 60 degrees. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the tip of of the boom skipping through the water, and concentrate on steering by compass & by heel angle. If I let the boat head up enough that the sail flogs, it will onle last a few seconds. If I bear away, the cross-sea will gybe us (plus we don't want to go that way, we want to go to Beaufort!). The rain is so heavy that it seems possible to float the boat up into the air on it. It stings even through layers of warm clothing & rain jacket, and drives it's way between closed eyelids if you face into it. We are going incredibly fast... possibly 15 knots. The transom is throwing a rooster tail farther than I can see in the dark & rain. The helm is incredibly responsive yet very heavy, it takes a lot of strength to steer. 2 crew puking again. An accidental gybe both shreds the main and rips the traveller off the bridge deck. Now we not only have the hazard of an unrestrained boom while trying to get the sail down, but there's a big hunk of metal flailing around over head. I borrow a knife and cut the traveler lines & the mainsheet & pull the bent remains of the traveler aboard. Then another crew & I begin to painfully wrestle the sail down. The wind is literally screaming, the waves roaring. Earlier I was thinking, 'I've been in worse gales than this, you can converse nicely in the cockpit, whereas I've seen wind & wave so loud you couldn't make yourself heard even by cupping your hand over the other's ear.' Now this is the case. I show my crewmate how to secure the sail as I haul it in inch by inch. After an incredibly long time, it's done. We wrap extra line around the tattered bundle of sail, and use mooring ropes to tie the boom down so it won't swing. Under bare poles, the boat is still heeling about 40 degrees and driving hard. Fortunately, the wind is carrying us towards Beaufort, now about 70 miles NNE. Day 4 (Tuesday)- Now is a long tedious time, motoring along watching the compass course, the boat rolling wildly in the seas. If I hadn't had the experience of the past 3 hours, I'd consider the motion unbearable. Even under motor power alone, we can surf forward on most of the waves & almost double our speed. As the wee hours of the morning wane & the sky clears, the seas settle down & the motion gradually decreases. Personally, I'm spent. The effort of steering in the squall made audible popping noises in my arms & shoulders, and then the wrestling match with the sail (the closest comparison I can make would be hauling in a heavy grade tarpaulin fastened to mad bull charging in random directions), has left me with almost no physical reserve at all. I can barely move. I fall asleep... almost in a coma perhaps... sitting at the nav table gripping the sides to keep in place. 2 hours later... I awake to much less rocking motion. Dawn is showing but the wind has swung to the NW and turned cold enough to see your breath. I feel very much refreshed by sleep. Some water, some pitted dates & dry cereal (Sugar Pops), and while I feel like I've gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson, now I can face going up on deck again. We convince the captain to go below & rest. We see a few Navy ships milling around in the haze on the horizon, a destroyer and an aircraft carrier. The waves are calmer, we're putt-putting along, knowing that we will have many hours to go but knowing that we'll be in sheltered water today, and home later. We talk quietly about the squall, about how any man is overmatched in a real test against Nature, each crewman saying how great a job the others did. We also talk about the possible worst-case scenario: dismasting the boat, getting a line in the prop, and being disabled out of VHF range. We don't know it yet, but the water tankage in the boat (which we carefully filled before setting out) has mostly leaked out and is foul anyway. I remind them of the obstruction we almost hit before the squall, saying that this was the biggest danger we faced as it would surely have ripped the boat like a giant can opener... simply dumb luck that we missed it. Only one of the others had so much as glimpsed it. I shudder to think how many other close calls we might have had, totally unnoticed. I can face gales & surfing at 15 knots & potential broaches and/or dismastings, but long long hours of chilly motoring in a cross-swell really really bugs me. Occasionally I burst out, saying things like "Why can't the G@#&^## boat keep still for just one f*&*%# minute?" but quickly regain self-control. The weather has been calm but increasingly cold. We putt-putt along, pouring our reserve fuel from jerrycans lashed on the deck into the main fuel tank. We clean up a bit. As dawn turns into full daylight, we're approaching the sea-channel leading out from Beaufort Inlet just southeast of Morehead City. I expect to see the Cape Lookout lighthouse any second, but we never did see it. Instead a fog bank rolled over us, dampening everything. We ride along, keeping sharp lookout by the mast & blowing a foghorn every two minutes. As the fog begins lifting we see the bouys marking the channel. Once the boat reaches sheltered water our self-appointed cook leaps into action. The stove & oven warm the boat nicely, helping to dry things out a bit. The first serving is a plate of hot sweet rolls. Later we have a feast of eggs with mushrooms & onions, along with bacon and a large helping of fancy mashed potatos. At this point we are heading up a narrow canal from Morehead City towards the Neuse River, the exact opposite of the open sea. The boat is so level that it's almost eerie & unnatural. The last hours of the trip are uneventful, more like a car ride on uncrowded streets than sailing. We talk a while, then fall into companionable quiet. Occasionally we tell jokes, other times one or another of us talks a while about his personal life. We've been tested severely and we passed. Sometime shortly after 8 oclock that evening, we tie the boat into her new home slip, looking the worse for wear but ready for our friend to begin his own adventures with her. I drove home, eager for my 1st shower in 4 days, and long long sleep in an unmoving bed. |
On Wed, 23 Feb 2005 16:59:50 -0500, DSK wrote:
We've been tested severely and we passed. ========================== And you wuz a bit lucky... Glad to hear you made it in one piece. If you had it to do over again, would you have gone offshore or up the ICW? |
Did you ever consider reefing the sails?
Sherwin D. DSK wrote: A friend at our marina just bought a 1991 Hunter Legend 40; and wanted to deliver it from St Lucie Fla up to North Carolina. A retired captain agreed to take the boat and a few friends signed on as crew. Unfortunately the boat was not in such great shape, more on that later. It was a good deal but not ready for sea in many respects (more later). We left Saturday 2-19 with nice sunny weather and 15 kt winds clocking around from E to SE. Motorsailed up to Ft Pierce and out into the Gulf Stream. Day 1- departed the Ft Pierce sea bouy at about 1430. Wind ESE, seas a little choppy & confused. We noted the wind & spray seemed quite warm and our speed made good was higher than through the water by about 2.5 kt. We set 2 hour watches and jogged along. Seasickness... we all five put on 1/2 a scopolamine patch about 2 hours before heading through the inlet. The Ft Pierce inlet is basically a straight jettied cut about 200 yards long, with a good bit of current opposing the wind which set up sick-making lumpy breakers. Everyone was queasy before we even got all the way past the jetties. Once out in the open, the waves were smaller and all but 2 people felt better. Those 2 began puking and refused to go below when off-watch. They slept in the cockpit which was inconvenient & wet. One of these two felt much better after a day or so (although he got sick all over again when we hit a storm, more later). Lesson- try your seasickness medicine *before* ...long before... getting underway so as to know what to expect & how much to take. Day 2 (Sunday)- Sailing sailing sailing. We adjusted course to stay in the Gulf Stream which made it rather uncomfortable as the wind settled down to S and the seas built up. We were on a broad reach with a corkscrew motion, tough on the helmsman & rolling enough to make the ride unpleasant. Seas approx 8 feet, very few breakers. A dry ride at least. I was very careful to slather on thick sunscreen so as not to get burnt. Practiced taking some sun sights with a sextant. The novice sailors, who originally wanted to steer their whole watch, are sick of it by now. That afternoon we are all hanging around in the cockpit, talking and occasionally singing country songs. A few are drinking beer when off watch, I don't feel like it myself. It's like any other afternoon sail, with a bit more wave action perhaps and juiced up by the knowledge that we are more than 100 miles out to sea. The wind was freshening up to about 20, building the seas more. The boat was driving splendidly, actually it's easier to steer when hauling ass. Before leaving, the captain & I had gone over the steering with a fine toothed comb (along with all other systems) and done what we could to make it dependable (although undersized for this boat to start with). But we felt that a reef in the main would be in order & we preferred to do it in daylight. Note- this mainsail, which the new owner intends to replace anyway, is OEM Hunter sail... ie cheapo crap. It's light cloth, a bit blown, missing a batten (at least that's not Hunter's fault), only one reef point. Under reefed sail the boat continues to drive well & is a bit easier to steer. Unfortunately it's noisier than ever, and the motion is a bit harder to cope with. It's necessary to hang on at all times, and crawl from one place to another. I took off my scopolamine patch as I was not feeling queasy anymore, even when below navigating, but instead have a woozy headachy feeling not unlike a tequila hangover that won't go away. A few hours after taking off the patch I felt fine. Day 3 (Monday)- wind & sea continue to build. Now we're driving along in 30 knots, surfing 12 footers. In our first 24 hour run we covered 140 miles, our 2nd was 230... I considered that to be splendid sailing, but am getting tired or snatching a few hours sleep when allowed. The crewman who has taken up residence in the V-berth, the furthest forward in the hull, reports that it's impossible to sleep. Being far forward exaggerates the motion and the noise of waves against the bow is very discomforting. The wind continued to clock around, making the seas confused. One of our novice helmsmen gybed accidentally when a wave crest threw the stern around, but we stayed on the new tack because it is more favorable to get towards the western side of the Gulf Stream and close with Frying Pan Shoals (Cape Fear NC). Our batteries need charging so we get the engine running, which involves jumpering the starter solenoid. Now steering is a little bit easier with the prop stream. During the night we watch aircraft & ship actions in shore of us, it looks like some type of military training exercise. I can still ID most types of US ships & planes which interests the others. Day 4- Now we're 15 miles SE of the tip of Frying Pan Shoals, getting out of the Gulf Stream and closing on Beaufort NC. We're still well out to sea, about 100 miles from the nearest land. We narrowly miss some sort of debris sticking up out of the water, a massive set of steel pipes or possibly masts of some waterlogged wreck... we miss it by about 1 boatlength in the dark. I was steering at the time, and didn't see it until it was abreast of our running lights. In staring at this menace as it disappears astern, trying to point it out to the others, I lose our course and accidentally gybe. That's a PITA and the captain seems a bit disgruntled with me as he helps me do a controlled gybe back onto our course. Soon after that, a series of squalls begin. We roll up the jib and secure it. Wish we could take a second reef in the main. The rain squalls worsen with wind & rain. We see a ship and call on VHF to see if they've got a weather update. No, the mate on watch seems to have trouble speaking English and gives us the weather forecast we've already got (wind supposed to go light and back to the NE, no storm warning). Two of the crew are nervous and ask the captain to contact the Coast Guard. "Why" he asks, seriously. We're not really in any trouble and if we were, all the USCG could do would be to helo us off and abandon our friend's new boat. The captain doesn't seem very sensitive to the novice's emotional state, so I talk to the others a bit encouragingly. Sure it's unpleasant, but we've got everything under control, we've made great time, and will be home tomorrow. A squall of about 40 knots begins shredding the mainsail. Luff slides pop, the upper batten pocket is torn leach to luff, but if we take it down then the motion in this seaway is going to go from uncomfortable & difficult to move around, to impossible & dangerous. Besides, the bimini (which the captain liked but I would have gotten rid of much earlier) needs to be taken off. 4 men begin struggling to cut it down while not going overboard (or cutting themselves or each other). I steer. Halfway through removing the bimini, the worst squall yet hits. The boat still answers the helm despite laying over about 60 degrees. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the tip of of the boom skipping through the water, and concentrate on steering by compass & by heel angle. If I let the boat head up enough that the sail flogs, it will onle last a few seconds. If I bear away, the cross-sea will gybe us (plus we don't want to go that way, we want to go to Beaufort!). The rain is so heavy that it seems possible to float the boat up into the air on it. It stings even through layers of warm clothing & rain jacket, and drives it's way between closed eyelids if you face into it. We are going incredibly fast... possibly 15 knots. The transom is throwing a rooster tail farther than I can see in the dark & rain. The helm is incredibly responsive yet very heavy, it takes a lot of strength to steer. 2 crew puking again. An accidental gybe both shreds the main and rips the traveller off the bridge deck. Now we not only have the hazard of an unrestrained boom while trying to get the sail down, but there's a big hunk of metal flailing around over head. I borrow a knife and cut the traveler lines & the mainsheet & pull the bent remains of the traveler aboard. Then another crew & I begin to painfully wrestle the sail down. The wind is literally screaming, the waves roaring. Earlier I was thinking, 'I've been in worse gales than this, you can converse nicely in the cockpit, whereas I've seen wind & wave so loud you couldn't make yourself heard even by cupping your hand over the other's ear.' Now this is the case. I show my crewmate how to secure the sail as I haul it in inch by inch. After an incredibly long time, it's done. We wrap extra line around the tattered bundle of sail, and use mooring ropes to tie the boom down so it won't swing. Under bare poles, the boat is still heeling about 40 degrees and driving hard. Fortunately, the wind is carrying us towards Beaufort, now about 70 miles NNE. Day 4 (Tuesday)- Now is a long tedious time, motoring along watching the compass course, the boat rolling wildly in the seas. If I hadn't had the experience of the past 3 hours, I'd consider the motion unbearable. Even under motor power alone, we can surf forward on most of the waves & almost double our speed. As the wee hours of the morning wane & the sky clears, the seas settle down & the motion gradually decreases. Personally, I'm spent. The effort of steering in the squall made audible popping noises in my arms & shoulders, and then the wrestling match with the sail (the closest comparison I can make would be hauling in a heavy grade tarpaulin fastened to mad bull charging in random directions), has left me with almost no physical reserve at all. I can barely move. I fall asleep... almost in a coma perhaps... sitting at the nav table gripping the sides to keep in place. 2 hours later... I awake to much less rocking motion. Dawn is showing but the wind has swung to the NW and turned cold enough to see your breath. I feel very much refreshed by sleep. Some water, some pitted dates & dry cereal (Sugar Pops), and while I feel like I've gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson, now I can face going up on deck again. We convince the captain to go below & rest. We see a few Navy ships milling around in the haze on the horizon, a destroyer and an aircraft carrier. The waves are calmer, we're putt-putting along, knowing that we will have many hours to go but knowing that we'll be in sheltered water today, and home later. We talk quietly about the squall, about how any man is overmatched in a real test against Nature, each crewman saying how great a job the others did. We also talk about the possible worst-case scenario: dismasting the boat, getting a line in the prop, and being disabled out of VHF range. We don't know it yet, but the water tankage in the boat (which we carefully filled before setting out) has mostly leaked out and is foul anyway. I remind them of the obstruction we almost hit before the squall, saying that this was the biggest danger we faced as it would surely have ripped the boat like a giant can opener... simply dumb luck that we missed it. Only one of the others had so much as glimpsed it. I shudder to think how many other close calls we might have had, totally unnoticed. I can face gales & surfing at 15 knots & potential broaches and/or dismastings, but long long hours of chilly motoring in a cross-swell really really bugs me. Occasionally I burst out, saying things like "Why can't the G@#&^## boat keep still for just one f*&*%# minute?" but quickly regain self-control. The weather has been calm but increasingly cold. We putt-putt along, pouring our reserve fuel from jerrycans lashed on the deck into the main fuel tank. We clean up a bit. As dawn turns into full daylight, we're approaching the sea-channel leading out from Beaufort Inlet just southeast of Morehead City. I expect to see the Cape Lookout lighthouse any second, but we never did see it. Instead a fog bank rolled over us, dampening everything. We ride along, keeping sharp lookout by the mast & blowing a foghorn every two minutes. As the fog begins lifting we see the bouys marking the channel. Once the boat reaches sheltered water our self-appointed cook leaps into action. The stove & oven warm the boat nicely, helping to dry things out a bit. The first serving is a plate of hot sweet rolls. Later we have a feast of eggs with mushrooms & onions, along with bacon and a large helping of fancy mashed potatos. At this point we are heading up a narrow canal from Morehead City towards the Neuse River, the exact opposite of the open sea. The boat is so level that it's almost eerie & unnatural. The last hours of the trip are uneventful, more like a car ride on uncrowded streets than sailing. We talk a while, then fall into companionable quiet. Occasionally we tell jokes, other times one or another of us talks a while about his personal life. We've been tested severely and we passed. Sometime shortly after 8 oclock that evening, we tie the boat into her new home slip, looking the worse for wear but ready for our friend to begin his own adventures with her. I drove home, eager for my 1st shower in 4 days, and long long sleep in an unmoving bed. |
OK, I just re-read the message and saw that you did reef the sails. I'm
puzzled why the boat was heeling over 60 degrees, as you described it. Maybe you didn't have enough of a reef set? You might have tried heaving to, until the squal passed. Sherwin D. DSK wrote: A friend at our marina just bought a 1991 Hunter Legend 40; and wanted to deliver it from St Lucie Fla up to North Carolina. A retired captain agreed to take the boat and a few friends signed on as crew. Unfortunately the boat was not in such great shape, more on that later. It was a good deal but not ready for sea in many respects (more later). We left Saturday 2-19 with nice sunny weather and 15 kt winds clocking around from E to SE. Motorsailed up to Ft Pierce and out into the Gulf Stream. Day 1- departed the Ft Pierce sea bouy at about 1430. Wind ESE, seas a little choppy & confused. We noted the wind & spray seemed quite warm and our speed made good was higher than through the water by about 2.5 kt. We set 2 hour watches and jogged along. Seasickness... we all five put on 1/2 a scopolamine patch about 2 hours before heading through the inlet. The Ft Pierce inlet is basically a straight jettied cut about 200 yards long, with a good bit of current opposing the wind which set up sick-making lumpy breakers. Everyone was queasy before we even got all the way past the jetties. Once out in the open, the waves were smaller and all but 2 people felt better. Those 2 began puking and refused to go below when off-watch. They slept in the cockpit which was inconvenient & wet. One of these two felt much better after a day or so (although he got sick all over again when we hit a storm, more later). Lesson- try your seasickness medicine *before* ...long before... getting underway so as to know what to expect & how much to take. Day 2 (Sunday)- Sailing sailing sailing. We adjusted course to stay in the Gulf Stream which made it rather uncomfortable as the wind settled down to S and the seas built up. We were on a broad reach with a corkscrew motion, tough on the helmsman & rolling enough to make the ride unpleasant. Seas approx 8 feet, very few breakers. A dry ride at least. I was very careful to slather on thick sunscreen so as not to get burnt. Practiced taking some sun sights with a sextant. The novice sailors, who originally wanted to steer their whole watch, are sick of it by now. That afternoon we are all hanging around in the cockpit, talking and occasionally singing country songs. A few are drinking beer when off watch, I don't feel like it myself. It's like any other afternoon sail, with a bit more wave action perhaps and juiced up by the knowledge that we are more than 100 miles out to sea. The wind was freshening up to about 20, building the seas more. The boat was driving splendidly, actually it's easier to steer when hauling ass. Before leaving, the captain & I had gone over the steering with a fine toothed comb (along with all other systems) and done what we could to make it dependable (although undersized for this boat to start with). But we felt that a reef in the main would be in order & we preferred to do it in daylight. Note- this mainsail, which the new owner intends to replace anyway, is OEM Hunter sail... ie cheapo crap. It's light cloth, a bit blown, missing a batten (at least that's not Hunter's fault), only one reef point. Under reefed sail the boat continues to drive well & is a bit easier to steer. Unfortunately it's noisier than ever, and the motion is a bit harder to cope with. It's necessary to hang on at all times, and crawl from one place to another. I took off my scopolamine patch as I was not feeling queasy anymore, even when below navigating, but instead have a woozy headachy feeling not unlike a tequila hangover that won't go away. A few hours after taking off the patch I felt fine. Day 3 (Monday)- wind & sea continue to build. Now we're driving along in 30 knots, surfing 12 footers. In our first 24 hour run we covered 140 miles, our 2nd was 230... I considered that to be splendid sailing, but am getting tired or snatching a few hours sleep when allowed. The crewman who has taken up residence in the V-berth, the furthest forward in the hull, reports that it's impossible to sleep. Being far forward exaggerates the motion and the noise of waves against the bow is very discomforting. The wind continued to clock around, making the seas confused. One of our novice helmsmen gybed accidentally when a wave crest threw the stern around, but we stayed on the new tack because it is more favorable to get towards the western side of the Gulf Stream and close with Frying Pan Shoals (Cape Fear NC). Our batteries need charging so we get the engine running, which involves jumpering the starter solenoid. Now steering is a little bit easier with the prop stream. During the night we watch aircraft & ship actions in shore of us, it looks like some type of military training exercise. I can still ID most types of US ships & planes which interests the others. Day 4- Now we're 15 miles SE of the tip of Frying Pan Shoals, getting out of the Gulf Stream and closing on Beaufort NC. We're still well out to sea, about 100 miles from the nearest land. We narrowly miss some sort of debris sticking up out of the water, a massive set of steel pipes or possibly masts of some waterlogged wreck... we miss it by about 1 boatlength in the dark. I was steering at the time, and didn't see it until it was abreast of our running lights. In staring at this menace as it disappears astern, trying to point it out to the others, I lose our course and accidentally gybe. That's a PITA and the captain seems a bit disgruntled with me as he helps me do a controlled gybe back onto our course. Soon after that, a series of squalls begin. We roll up the jib and secure it. Wish we could take a second reef in the main. The rain squalls worsen with wind & rain. We see a ship and call on VHF to see if they've got a weather update. No, the mate on watch seems to have trouble speaking English and gives us the weather forecast we've already got (wind supposed to go light and back to the NE, no storm warning). Two of the crew are nervous and ask the captain to contact the Coast Guard. "Why" he asks, seriously. We're not really in any trouble and if we were, all the USCG could do would be to helo us off and abandon our friend's new boat. The captain doesn't seem very sensitive to the novice's emotional state, so I talk to the others a bit encouragingly. Sure it's unpleasant, but we've got everything under control, we've made great time, and will be home tomorrow. A squall of about 40 knots begins shredding the mainsail. Luff slides pop, the upper batten pocket is torn leach to luff, but if we take it down then the motion in this seaway is going to go from uncomfortable & difficult to move around, to impossible & dangerous. Besides, the bimini (which the captain liked but I would have gotten rid of much earlier) needs to be taken off. 4 men begin struggling to cut it down while not going overboard (or cutting themselves or each other). I steer. Halfway through removing the bimini, the worst squall yet hits. The boat still answers the helm despite laying over about 60 degrees. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the tip of of the boom skipping through the water, and concentrate on steering by compass & by heel angle. If I let the boat head up enough that the sail flogs, it will onle last a few seconds. If I bear away, the cross-sea will gybe us (plus we don't want to go that way, we want to go to Beaufort!). The rain is so heavy that it seems possible to float the boat up into the air on it. It stings even through layers of warm clothing & rain jacket, and drives it's way between closed eyelids if you face into it. We are going incredibly fast... possibly 15 knots. The transom is throwing a rooster tail farther than I can see in the dark & rain. The helm is incredibly responsive yet very heavy, it takes a lot of strength to steer. 2 crew puking again. An accidental gybe both shreds the main and rips the traveller off the bridge deck. Now we not only have the hazard of an unrestrained boom while trying to get the sail down, but there's a big hunk of metal flailing around over head. I borrow a knife and cut the traveler lines & the mainsheet & pull the bent remains of the traveler aboard. Then another crew & I begin to painfully wrestle the sail down. The wind is literally screaming, the waves roaring. Earlier I was thinking, 'I've been in worse gales than this, you can converse nicely in the cockpit, whereas I've seen wind & wave so loud you couldn't make yourself heard even by cupping your hand over the other's ear.' Now this is the case. I show my crewmate how to secure the sail as I haul it in inch by inch. After an incredibly long time, it's done. We wrap extra line around the tattered bundle of sail, and use mooring ropes to tie the boom down so it won't swing. Under bare poles, the boat is still heeling about 40 degrees and driving hard. Fortunately, the wind is carrying us towards Beaufort, now about 70 miles NNE. Day 4 (Tuesday)- Now is a long tedious time, motoring along watching the compass course, the boat rolling wildly in the seas. If I hadn't had the experience of the past 3 hours, I'd consider the motion unbearable. Even under motor power alone, we can surf forward on most of the waves & almost double our speed. As the wee hours of the morning wane & the sky clears, the seas settle down & the motion gradually decreases. Personally, I'm spent. The effort of steering in the squall made audible popping noises in my arms & shoulders, and then the wrestling match with the sail (the closest comparison I can make would be hauling in a heavy grade tarpaulin fastened to mad bull charging in random directions), has left me with almost no physical reserve at all. I can barely move. I fall asleep... almost in a coma perhaps... sitting at the nav table gripping the sides to keep in place. 2 hours later... I awake to much less rocking motion. Dawn is showing but the wind has swung to the NW and turned cold enough to see your breath. I feel very much refreshed by sleep. Some water, some pitted dates & dry cereal (Sugar Pops), and while I feel like I've gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson, now I can face going up on deck again. We convince the captain to go below & rest. We see a few Navy ships milling around in the haze on the horizon, a destroyer and an aircraft carrier. The waves are calmer, we're putt-putting along, knowing that we will have many hours to go but knowing that we'll be in sheltered water today, and home later. We talk quietly about the squall, about how any man is overmatched in a real test against Nature, each crewman saying how great a job the others did. We also talk about the possible worst-case scenario: dismasting the boat, getting a line in the prop, and being disabled out of VHF range. We don't know it yet, but the water tankage in the boat (which we carefully filled before setting out) has mostly leaked out and is foul anyway. I remind them of the obstruction we almost hit before the squall, saying that this was the biggest danger we faced as it would surely have ripped the boat like a giant can opener... simply dumb luck that we missed it. Only one of the others had so much as glimpsed it. I shudder to think how many other close calls we might have had, totally unnoticed. I can face gales & surfing at 15 knots & potential broaches and/or dismastings, but long long hours of chilly motoring in a cross-swell really really bugs me. Occasionally I burst out, saying things like "Why can't the G@#&^## boat keep still for just one f*&*%# minute?" but quickly regain self-control. The weather has been calm but increasingly cold. We putt-putt along, pouring our reserve fuel from jerrycans lashed on the deck into the main fuel tank. We clean up a bit. As dawn turns into full daylight, we're approaching the sea-channel leading out from Beaufort Inlet just southeast of Morehead City. I expect to see the Cape Lookout lighthouse any second, but we never did see it. Instead a fog bank rolled over us, dampening everything. We ride along, keeping sharp lookout by the mast & blowing a foghorn every two minutes. As the fog begins lifting we see the bouys marking the channel. Once the boat reaches sheltered water our self-appointed cook leaps into action. The stove & oven warm the boat nicely, helping to dry things out a bit. The first serving is a plate of hot sweet rolls. Later we have a feast of eggs with mushrooms & onions, along with bacon and a large helping of fancy mashed potatos. At this point we are heading up a narrow canal from Morehead City towards the Neuse River, the exact opposite of the open sea. The boat is so level that it's almost eerie & unnatural. The last hours of the trip are uneventful, more like a car ride on uncrowded streets than sailing. We talk a while, then fall into companionable quiet. Occasionally we tell jokes, other times one or another of us talks a while about his personal life. We've been tested severely and we passed. Sometime shortly after 8 oclock that evening, we tie the boat into her new home slip, looking the worse for wear but ready for our friend to begin his own adventures with her. I drove home, eager for my 1st shower in 4 days, and long long sleep in an unmoving bed. |
WaIIy wrote in
: Most excellent story along with superb writing. Thanks I'll second that. You should submit this great story to the sailing rags. It would be a great break in between the thinly disguised advertising "stories" to move product. Very well written. Glad you're all safe. A friend and I moved another friend's Endeavour 35 from where he left it on the dock at Daytona Beach, up the ditch to Mayport, then at sea to Charleston. After a great night of excellent winds, the sun rose and we left the autopilot steering to get some breakfast. As we set chatting of our great luck, a HUGE, empty, wooden cable reel that was easily larger than the boat floated by several boatlengths away. I still shudder at the thought of ramming that damned cable reel in the total darkness of the preceding night. The Raymarine 2KW radar never made a blip. The reel was totally radar transparent, even 10 boatlengths away with the low pole-mounted antenna. Got any idea the lat/long of those pipes sticking up? Are they on the chart? |
Wayne.B wrote:
And you wuz a bit lucky... True. If anybody had gone overboard in those squalls, it would have been hopelss to try and find them. If we had hit that debris off Frying Pan, whatever the heck it was, we'd have almost certainly sunk... most likely in moments. But, as I told my wife, mixed in there was many hours of quite enjoyable sailing. Driving a 40 foot keelboat surfing at 14 knots isn't something I get to do every day, unfortunately ;) Glad to hear you made it in one piece. If you had it to do over again, would you have gone offshore or up the ICW? We didn't have the time. We made it in 4 days, on the ICW it would have taken closer to ten. Doing the ICW with a few short inlet-to-inlet outside hops would have been ideal (until the weather turned cold, anyway). It's in the nature of deliveries that the boat is not likely to be perfect and you have schedule constraints... two reasons why I don't like to do deliveries, most of the time. It also shows why I have chosen to "deliver" my own boats, the few times it's been an issue. Fresh Breezes- Doug King |
DSK wrote:
Good tale, Doug, and you ended up with approximately the same number of people you started with. Two queries: 1. Why do this at this time of year? 2. What were your approximately 24-hour runs? -- Good luck and good sailing. s/v Kerry Deare of Barnegat http://kerrydeare.home.comcast.net/ |
sherwindu wrote:
OK, I just re-read the message and saw that you did reef the sails. I'm puzzled why the boat was heeling over 60 degrees, as you described it. Because there was one HECK of a lot of wind! During the peak of the worst squall, I was too busy to really gauge the wind, but it could easily have been 50+. We measured 40+ at the tail end of the first squall on my hand held Kestrel wind gage. .... Maybe you didn't have enough of a reef set? You're right, we didn't. But the sail only had a single reef. ... You might have tried heaving to, until the squal passed. We thought of that, but there are couple of issues to consider. We didn't have any foresail set, and no practical way to set any in the time allowed under the conditions prevailing (the boat's roller furler did not work very well). We did not have any familiarity with how the boat behaves when heaved-to, generally not a fin-keeler's strong suite. And the mainsail was already in the process of shredding, which is why I tried to keep from luffing up too much anyway. IMHO it would have flown apart flogging if we had brought the boat through a tack. Of course, it came apart anyway, but at least it waited until almost the end of the squall. It's a very different ball game, delivering somebody else's newly bought boat. If had been my own boat, things would have been very very different from the start! Fresh Breezes- Doug King |
Armond Perretta wrote:
Good tale, Doug, and you ended up with approximately the same number of people you started with. Thanks, glad you enjoyed it. The authorities frown coming back with fewer, and they get downright nosy if you bring back more! ... Two queries: 1. Why do this at this time of year? 'cuz that's when my friend bought his boat! 2. What were your approximately 24-hour runs? Well, I dunno exactly, since I wasn't the captain and sort of just piddled with navigating. We made 140 miles in our first 24 hour run, and in the next 48 hours we made over 350. Once we were on the axis of the Gulf Stream, we were usually going at least 8 kt SOG and occasionally hit 13. Say what you like about Hunters, that one at least is a fast boat! Fresh Breezes- Doug King |
Larry W4CSC wrote:
Very well written. Glad you're all safe. Thank you very much. A friend and I moved another friend's Endeavour 35 from where he left it on the dock at Daytona Beach, up the ditch to Mayport, then at sea to Charleston. After a great night of excellent winds, the sun rose and we left the autopilot steering to get some breakfast. As we set chatting of our great luck, a HUGE, empty, wooden cable reel that was easily larger than the boat floated by several boatlengths away. I still shudder at the thought of ramming that damned cable reel in the total darkness of the preceding night. The Raymarine 2KW radar never made a blip. The reel was totally radar transparent, even 10 boatlengths away with the low pole-mounted antenna. And stuff like that can be really hard to spot, what with waves & a jib in the way etc etc. One reason why I'd be interested in a boat with positive flotation and perhaps a Kevlar hull! Got any idea the lat/long of those pipes sticking up? Are they on the chart? Not on the chart, and I have no idea what it could have been. The best answer I can give as to location is that it's approx 15 nm SE of the tip of Frying Pan Shoals (Cape Fear). You're the only person (so far) to be interested in that question. It was by far the scariest moment of the trip for me! Fresh Breezes- Doug King |
Great story, Doug. Thanks for sharing. Frank |
wayneb wrote: If you had it to do over again, would you have gone offshore or up the ICW? =========================== On Thu, 24 Feb 2005 07:11:14 -0500, DSK wrote: We didn't have the time. We made it in 4 days, on the ICW it would have taken closer to ten. Doing the ICW with a few short inlet-to-inlet outside hops would have been ideal (until the weather turned cold, anyway). ========================== Not a hypothetical question for me since I'm going to face that choice in late May when we take our trawler north for the summer. Hopefully we'll have better weather then, but the Gulf Stream is always a big question mark for weather and seas. I'm figuring it will take 2 1/2 days offshore from Ft Pierce to Beaufort but am planning some alternative ports like St Mary's, Charlotte or Savannah in case weather deteriorates unexpectedly. We might be looking for crew if you're interested. |
Wayne.B wrote:
wayneb wrote: If you had it to do over again, would you have gone offshore or up the ICW? =========================== On Thu, 24 Feb 2005 07:11:14 -0500, DSK wrote: We didn't have the time. We made it in 4 days, on the ICW it would have taken closer to ten. Doing the ICW with a few short inlet-to-inlet outside hops would have been ideal (until the weather turned cold, anyway). ========================== Not a hypothetical question for me since I'm going to face that choice in late May when we take our trawler north for the summer. Hopefully we'll have better weather then, but the Gulf Stream is always a big question mark for weather and seas. I'm figuring it will take 2 1/2 days offshore from Ft Pierce to Beaufort but am planning some alternative ports like St Mary's, Charlotte or Savannah in case weather deteriorates unexpectedly. We might be looking for crew if you're interested. We are not constrained by time, and last year we did a much larger number of offshore hops because Bob is bored of the ICW. I always make him convince me it is safe to go, although I make up my own mind based on weather forecasts etc. The one time I let him convince me against my better judgment we had a horrible time. Anyway, we always (after the first time) go offshore from Miami (we always stop in Miami because we have grandchildren there) to Ft. Pierce. Hate all the bridges that we get into otherwise. We usually go inside from Ft Pierce and up the Indian River anchoring around Melbourne, Titusville, Daytona, St. Augustine, and Fernandina or St. Mary's. That's 5 days. We've also gotten into the habit of doing offshore from the St. Mary's River to Charleston. That way we avoid all the tides in Georgia. We have more grandchildren in the Charleston area. And on the way back this time we also went from Charleston to the Cape Fear River and that worked out pretty well, although we missed Georgetown and the Waccamaw which are very pretty. But OTOH we also missed the rockpile and the pontoon bridge and a lot of shoaling. Each of these trips takes about 24 hours - sometimes a little less. That's about as much as I want Bob to go without sleeping, which he doesn't do very well under those circumstances. He doesn't want to take crew either (even if we could get someone). When we came up the Cape Fear River, we went in to Southport, but moved the next day to Masonboro to rest up. I suggested that we go out Masonboro and come in at Beaufort as a day trip, but he vetoed the idea and then we promptly ran aground which REALLY irritated him (we were right in the middle of the channel). It would probably have been a better idea to do that. grandma Rosalie |
I think the problem was not so much the time of the year, but you probably
sailed when there were winds out of the NW, N, or NE. That makes for very steep waves in the Gulf Stream with it's northerly flowing current. There are days in the winter when the winds are more favorable. I have sometimes waited up to a week for the winds to clock around to give a more favorable crossing. Shortening sail should be the first thing on a sailor's mind, short of fighting off catastrophes, like a hole in the bottom of the boat. Maybe I'm extra cautious because of having a 22 footer, but I think bigger boats can also get into trouble, especially in the Gulf Stream. Sherwin D. DSK wrote: Armond Perretta wrote: Good tale, Doug, and you ended up with approximately the same number of people you started with. Thanks, glad you enjoyed it. The authorities frown coming back with fewer, and they get downright nosy if you bring back more! ... Two queries: 1. Why do this at this time of year? 'cuz that's when my friend bought his boat! 2. What were your approximately 24-hour runs? Well, I dunno exactly, since I wasn't the captain and sort of just piddled with navigating. We made 140 miles in our first 24 hour run, and in the next 48 hours we made over 350. Once we were on the axis of the Gulf Stream, we were usually going at least 8 kt SOG and occasionally hit 13. Say what you like about Hunters, that one at least is a fast boat! Fresh Breezes- Doug King |
sherwindu wrote:
I think the problem was not so much the time of the year, but you probably sailed when there were winds out of the NW, N, or NE. Nope, winds were E when we first headed out from Ft Pierce, clocking slowly around to SSW. ... That makes for very steep waves in the Gulf Stream with it's northerly flowing current. Boy does it ever. Another issue is that the waves tend to build up in a certain direction and take a long time to die down. We were sailing in a cross-swell most of the time which made steering tricky. ... There are days in the winter when the winds are more favorable. I have sometimes waited up to a week for the winds to clock around to give a more favorable crossing. I would too, normally. But this was a delivery. Shortening sail should be the first thing on a sailor's mind, short of fighting off catastrophes, like a hole in the bottom of the boat. Maybe I'm extra cautious because of having a 22 footer, but I think bigger boats can also get into trouble, especially in the Gulf Stream. Sherwin D. Bigger boats, like maybe freighters and/or Navy destroyers? ;) The ocean is plenty big enough to humble man's grandest creations. Fresh Breezes- Doug King |
sherwindu wrote:
I think the problem was not so much the time of the year, but you probably sailed when there were winds out of the NW, N, or NE. That makes for very steep waves ... I read Doug's post to say they encountered following winds for the majority of the passage. Unless they were heading south .... The point is that even with following winds, this stretch of the coast typically provides pretty good seas for a small yacht. I have made offshore runs on this stretch a number of times, and in most cases I had periods of rather large following seas, and I am not talking about gale conditions, just typical early summer/late fall days and nights. It is worth wondering why this trip was scheduled for February, but as Don Rumsfeld has famously pointed out, you go with the trip you have. -- Good luck and good sailing. s/v Kerry Deare of Barnegat http://kerrydeare.home.comcast.net/ |
Wayne.B wrote:
Not a hypothetical question for me since I'm going to face that choice in late May when we take our trawler north for the summer. There are lots of options but going ICW all the way is slow. ... Hopefully we'll have better weather then, but the Gulf Stream is always a big question mark for weather and seas. I'm figuring it will take 2 1/2 days offshore from Ft Pierce to Beaufort but am planning some alternative ports like St Mary's, Charlotte or Savannah in case weather deteriorates unexpectedly. If you go out to the middle of the Gulf Stream looking for favorable current, or follow a rhumb line all the way, you end up about 120 miles out which is too far IMHO for weather contingincies. ... We might be looking for crew if you're interested. Thank you, I'm definitely interested but not sure I'll be able to take the time off. Please keep me in mind! Rosalie B. wrote: We are not constrained by time, and last year we did a much larger number of offshore hops because Bob is bored of the ICW. I always make him convince me it is safe to go, although I make up my own mind based on weather forecasts etc. That sounds like a good decision method. ... The one time I let him convince me against my better judgment we had a horrible time. But I bet it was a learning experience ;) Anyway, we always (after the first time) go offshore from Miami (we always stop in Miami because we have grandchildren there) to Ft. Pierce. Hate all the bridges that we get into otherwise. That's one of the places, like New Jersey, where it's just an exercise in masochism to try and run the ICW. We usually go inside from Ft Pierce and up the Indian River anchoring around Melbourne, Titusville, Daytona, St. Augustine, and Fernandina or St. Mary's. That's 5 days. And still a relatively pretty stretch o' country IMHO We've also gotten into the habit of doing offshore from the St. Mary's River to Charleston. That way we avoid all the tides in Georgia. We have more grandchildren in the Charleston area. Oh c'mon! Sure the tides are big but this is the least developed and prettiest part of the whole coast? There are zillions of beautiful anchorages, rivers & creeks to explore... heck we could spend months cruising Georgia and SC! And on the way back this time we also went from Charleston to the Cape Fear River and that worked out pretty well, although we missed Georgetown and the Waccamaw which are very pretty. But OTOH we also missed the rockpile and the pontoon bridge and a lot of shoaling. True. Ever made the side trip up the Waccamaw to Conway? The problem as I see it, making inlet to inlet hops, is that sooner or later you're bound to hit an inlet on the wrong tide with something ugly brewing... poor visibility, offshore breeze against ebbing tide, sudden T-storm, etc etc. I'd rather do a slightly longer hop & overnight, then rest up at anchor if need be. You still save a few days. When we came up the Cape Fear River, we went in to Southport, but moved the next day to Masonboro to rest up. I can't make up my mind if going out around Cape Fear is better than the river & Snow's Cut. If the tide is against you there, it's long uphill battle. ... I suggested that we go out Masonboro and come in at Beaufort as a day trip, but he vetoed the idea and then we promptly ran aground which REALLY irritated him (we were right in the middle of the channel). It would probably have been a better idea to do that. That's a shallow boring stretch anyway, and the bridges are a big PITA. A bonus is that you can overnight at Lookout Bight, one of my favorite places (when it's not too crowded). I've plotted doing Beaufort to Little River as an overnight, saving 1 day or so. Fresh Breezes- Doug King |
DSK wrote:
snip Rosalie B. wrote: We are not constrained by time, and last year we did a much larger number of offshore hops because Bob is bored of the ICW. I always make him convince me it is safe to go, although I make up my own mind based on weather forecasts etc. That sounds like a good decision method. ... The one time I let him convince me against my better judgment we had a horrible time. But I bet it was a learning experience ;) Well not so much for him - it's taught him to say that I don't want to sail and am chicken. It's also made me really BE a chicken whereas before I wasn't really. It was also right after his heart attack, so I was quite anxious about being on the boat anyway. Anyway, we always (after the first time) go offshore from Miami (we always stop in Miami because we have grandchildren there) to Ft. Pierce. Hate all the bridges that we get into otherwise. That's one of the places, like New Jersey, where it's just an exercise in masochism to try and run the ICW. We usually go inside from Ft Pierce and up the Indian River anchoring around Melbourne, Titusville, Daytona, St. Augustine, and Fernandina or St. Mary's. That's 5 days. And still a relatively pretty stretch o' country IMHO We've also gotten into the habit of doing offshore from the St. Mary's River to Charleston. That way we avoid all the tides in Georgia. We have more grandchildren in the Charleston area. Oh c'mon! Sure the tides are big but this is the least developed and prettiest part of the whole coast? There are zillions of beautiful anchorages, rivers & creeks to explore... heck we could spend months cruising Georgia and SC! I love the area, but Bob hates it. He hates having to worry about running aground on a falling tide and he doesn't like to have nothing to look at. (We have a 50 foot boat and a 5 foot draft, and it takes us three days - we usually do Jekyll, anchor in the Wahoo, and then Thunderbolt) And on the way back this time we also went from Charleston to the Cape Fear River and that worked out pretty well, although we missed Georgetown and the Waccamaw which are very pretty. But OTOH we also missed the rockpile and the pontoon bridge and a lot of shoaling. True. Ever made the side trip up the Waccamaw to Conway? No we haven't The problem as I see it, making inlet to inlet hops, is that sooner or later you're bound to hit an inlet on the wrong tide with something ugly brewing... poor visibility, offshore breeze against ebbing tide, sudden T-storm, etc etc. I'd rather do a slightly longer hop & overnight, then rest up at anchor if need be. You still save a few days. We have had some hairy inlet entries, but Bob doesn't mind that, and I don't really either. We've been into Ft. Pierce against an outgoing tide with a wind from the ESE and big rollers coming in to the shore, and we managed OK. The last time we came into Charleston it was heavy, heavy fog. We couldn't see the ATONs until we were within about 35 feet of them. I saw a big ship coming out of the inlet WAY before I could see him in person (and the radar was set just to show the jetties and not much past that - we don't usually have it set longer than 3 miles), and I wouldn't have been able to see him even then if he hadn't had a black hull. (We went outside the channel) We do have a computer chart in the cockpit with prior trip tracks on it. When we came up the Cape Fear River, we went in to Southport, but moved the next day to Masonboro to rest up. I can't make up my mind if going out around Cape Fear is better than the river & Snow's Cut. If the tide is against you there, it's long uphill battle. We've done this twice, once we went to Bald Head (which I will not do again) and this time to Southport. If you stop there, you can pick the time to go through Snow's Cut. ... I suggested that we go out Masonboro and come in at Beaufort as a day trip, but he vetoed the idea and then we promptly ran aground which REALLY irritated him (we were right in the middle of the channel). It would probably have been a better idea to do that. That's a shallow boring stretch anyway, and the bridges are a big PITA. A bonus is that you can overnight at Lookout Bight, one of my favorite places (when it's not too crowded). I've plotted doing Beaufort to Little River as an overnight, saving 1 day or so. The other time we came into the Cape Fear River, we went out Little River and it was a day trip to Cape Fear. I'm sure that you could do Little River to Beaufort easily. But I really don't like the Rockpile section. Fresh Breezes- Doug King grandma Rosalie |
Doug,
Ever heard of anyone durably and successfully covering a fiberglass hull with Kevlar ? What kind of positive flotation would you consider ? Cordially, Courtney DSK wrote: Larry W4CSC wrote: Very well written. Glad you're all safe. Thank you very much. A friend and I moved another friend's Endeavour 35 from where he left it on the dock at Daytona Beach, up the ditch to Mayport, then at sea to Charleston. After a great night of excellent winds, the sun rose and we left the autopilot steering to get some breakfast. As we set chatting of our great luck, a HUGE, empty, wooden cable reel that was easily larger than the boat floated by several boatlengths away. I still shudder at the thought of ramming that damned cable reel in the total darkness of the preceding night. The Raymarine 2KW radar never made a blip. The reel was totally radar transparent, even 10 boatlengths away with the low pole-mounted antenna. And stuff like that can be really hard to spot, what with waves & a jib in the way etc etc. One reason why I'd be interested in a boat with positive flotation and perhaps a Kevlar hull! Got any idea the lat/long of those pipes sticking up? Are they on the chart? Not on the chart, and I have no idea what it could have been. The best answer I can give as to location is that it's approx 15 nm SE of the tip of Frying Pan Shoals (Cape Fear). You're the only person (so far) to be interested in that question. It was by far the scariest moment of the trip for me! Fresh Breezes- Doug King -- s/v Mutiny Rhodes Bounty II lying Oriental, NC WDB5619 |
Courtney Thomas wrote:
Doug, Ever heard of anyone durably and successfully covering a fiberglass hull with Kevlar ? Yes, I know of about a half dozen over the past ten years. None of those have been tested in a severe collision though. All but one look great, although you have to budget for a paint finish rather than gelcoat. There are also several semi-custom or low-volume production boats, like C&C or Jeanneau, with Kevlar hulls from the factory. I suspect that they'd fare much better against most types of impact damage than conventional fiberglass. There are also many production boats with positive flotation, notably Sadler & Etap. What kind of positive flotation would you consider ? Don't know for sure, but there's a wide variety of foam types to choose from. If you're going to put a Kevlar skin over a hull, you could fair it out with an inch or two or microballoons under the Kevlar and gain a heck of a lot of positive flotation right there. The flotation would have to be an absolutely closed cell type foam of proven longevity, it would have to be distributed through the hull so as to produce proper trim & stability when flooded, it would have to be secured in place, and the volume is of course a big trade off... IMHO you'd be giving up mostly small corners of nearly unusable space anyway, but you'd definitely sacrifice some stowage. A tricky thing to accomplish, but certainly not impossible. And for somebody considering a lot of passage making type sailing, a big big plus. Fresh Breezes- Doug King |
DSK wrote in
: One reason why I'd be interested in a boat with positive flotation and perhaps a Kevlar hull! I like Geoffrey's Amel much better than the Endeavour. The Amel Sharki has two watertight compartments forward...the chainlocker rear bulkhead is the first and drains overboard, then the V-berth, head and forward locker are forward of the main cabin bulkhead whos rubber-sealed hatch can be locked closed with a bar and all the drains into the bilge have valves on them to prevent flooding through the drains. The other watertight bulkhead is the rear bulkhead in the aft cabin, which is about 2' forward of the stern lockers, which also drain overboard. It's not great, but it's all VERY strong and reassuring that you can seal up a good part of the boat that will remain afloat longer than unprotected ones. Got any idea the lat/long of those pipes sticking up? Are they on the chart? Not on the chart, and I have no idea what it could have been. The best answer I can give as to location is that it's approx 15 nm SE of the tip of Frying Pan Shoals (Cape Fear). You're the only person (so far) to be interested in that question. It was by far the scariest moment of the trip for me! Thanks. I'll make a note on our charts. I'm headed down in the morning and we may just take a cruise to sea with whoever's interested overnight and come back Sunday before the rain gets here. Someone should probably find them and put up a big float with a radar reflector on them. I sure would try to do that if I sailed the area often, especially if Cape Fear was my home port. Those orange ball markers aren't that expensive. Did anyone report the hazard to the authorities? |
DSK wrote in
: Oh c'mon! Sure the tides are big but this is the least developed and prettiest part of the whole coast? There are zillions of beautiful anchorages, rivers & creeks to explore... heck we could spend months cruising Georgia and SC! I always hear something like this down on the docks from the folks passing through, but can never figure out why they are so anxious to get to Florida so they can line up bow anchor to swim platform with the idiot in front of them in that awful crowded ditch down there....?? There were some people from CT in a beautifully-kept 50' trawler at Ashley Marina a year ago who said something like this about exploring our area. I asked him if he'd ever been up in the lake above the dam in Lake Moultrie. He had no idea he could get there, so we hauled out the charts and I drew him a line up through the lock, which is free. Now invited to go as tour guide/pilot, I took them up for a day or overnight. We got back 3 days later and they've been coming back to Charleston to STAY ever since. I think the trawler was the biggest boat to dock at The Dock Restaurant, just below the dam in Moncks Corner. The Portuguese Bridge kinda spoiled the restaurant view until we had lunch...(c; The Missus made the locals happy as she had opened all the curtains so the restaurant crowd could get a look into her "living room", as I heard one lady put it 2 tables away. The catfish stew was delicious, as usual. Transients hardly ever go up there. I've never figured out why. By the time we got back, the trawler bottom and seawater passages were all fresh-water-flushed from just above Goose Creek, not a bad idea at all!.... Stay in the deep part of the lake if you go. There are vast underwater forests full of stumps that are NO FUN in big areas of the lake. There's 60' of water at the dam and plenty of depth in the cross-lake channel. I brought along an old map of the area before they flooded it in the 30's. We charted several of the submerged towns, tracking several church steeples on their sonar. The buildings are still all there, underwater, abandoned. |
One reason why I'd be interested in a boat with positive flotation and
perhaps a Kevlar hull! Larry W4CSC wrote: I like Geoffrey's Amel much better than the Endeavour. The Amel Sharki has two watertight compartments forward...the chainlocker rear bulkhead is the first and drains overboard, then the V-berth, head and forward locker are forward of the main cabin bulkhead whos rubber-sealed hatch can be locked closed with a bar and all the drains into the bilge have valves on them to prevent flooding through the drains. The other watertight bulkhead is the rear bulkhead in the aft cabin, which is about 2' forward of the stern lockers, which also drain overboard. It's not great, but it's all VERY strong and reassuring that you can seal up a good part of the boat that will remain afloat longer than unprotected ones. Bulkheading is a good idea and it gives up less stowage than positive flotation. It's helped save a number of boats colliding with stuff in the Southern Ocean. But it's not quite as foolproof... easier & cheaper to install but it presupposes perfect maintenance on the drains, valves, hatches, etc etc. Got any idea the lat/long of those pipes sticking up? Are they on the chart? Did anyone report the hazard to the authorities? To the port captain at Morehead, the USCG acknowledged also. We probably should have made a bigger deal out of it and filed a written report. Fresh Breezes- Doug King |
Larry W4CSC wrote:
I always hear something like this down on the docks from the folks passing through, but can never figure out why they are so anxious to get to Florida .... snip... I brought along an old map of the area before they flooded it in the 30's. We charted several of the submerged towns, tracking several church steeples on their sonar. The buildings are still all there, underwater, abandoned. Cool! Larry, I just read this to my wife who got a big smile of anticipation... we're definitely going! DSK |
On Thu, 24 Feb 2005 12:07:33 GMT, Larry W4CSC wrote:
A friend and I moved another friend's Endeavour 35 from where he left it on the dock at Daytona Beach, up the ditch to Mayport, then at sea to Charleston. After a great night of excellent winds, the sun rose and we left the autopilot steering to get some breakfast. As we set chatting of our great luck, a HUGE, empty, wooden cable reel that was easily larger than the boat floated by several boatlengths away. I still shudder at the thought of ramming that damned cable reel in the total darkness of the preceding night. The Raymarine 2KW radar never made a blip. The reel was totally radar transparent, even 10 boatlengths away with the low pole-mounted antenna. Got any idea the lat/long of those pipes sticking up? Are they on the chart? Along with lurid accounts of absurdly heavy weather, it's hazards like this that are enough to put me off sailing (before I've even started). Can anyone offer a few crumbs of comfort on the prospects of surviving such encounters? -- Martin Smith, the New Conservative Party. http://www.newconservativeparty.org |
On Thu, 24 Feb 2005 08:02:07 -0500, DSK wrote:
----------- snip ------------- One reason why I'd be interested in a boat with positive flotation and perhaps a Kevlar hull! Great story, Doug. Fine adventure, well described. FYI, the newer Hunters (like my little 36) do have a Kevlar layer from stem to keel. (Typical Hunter penny-pinching. Why pay for a full layer when most people sail the boat forward g.) Al s/v Persephone Newburyport, MA |
I brought along an old map of the area before they flooded it in the
30's. We charted several of the submerged towns, tracking several church steeples on their sonar. The buildings are still all there, underwater, abandoned. . What's the visibility? Any diving possibilities? |
On Thu, 24 Feb 2005 08:02:07 -0500, DSK wrote:
You're the only person (so far) to be interested in that question. It was by far the scariest moment of the trip for me! Not the only one. I share your concerns, even though my '70s C&C has a pretty thick solid laminate by today's standards. I was wondering if anyone hit the MOB button on the GPS...it's a good way to get the fix immediately, but the crew or rather the navigator has to know to do it. I don't mind wind and waves, but I''m anal enough about low, heavy crap in the water that I've called in twelve foot logs and floating picnic tables off Toronto from a Zodiac to the Coast Guard at dawn with a GPS fix...and heard it in the next radio Notice to Mariners G What I was doing in a Zodiac at dawn off Toronto is another story. R. |
On Wed, 23 Feb 2005 16:59:50 -0500, DSK wrote:
A friend at our marina just bought a 1991 Hunter Legend 40; and wanted to deliver it from St Lucie Fla up to North Carolina. A retired captain agreed to take the boat and a few friends signed on as crew. Great story, by the way, particularly for this time of year when half of us are on the hard! What kind of preventers and jacklines did you have rigged? What kind of tethers and harnesses did the crew have, or did the owner or skipper provide them? What kind of foul weather gear did you have, and did it work well enough in the conditions? (I know it wasn't freezing, but I bet it got pretty damn chilly in spots with that 40-50 knot wind). Thanks, R. |
|
New Conservative wrote:
Along with lurid accounts of absurdly heavy weather, it's hazards like this that are enough to put me off sailing (before I've even started). Can anyone offer a few crumbs of comfort on the prospects of surviving such encounters? Yeah - this is a good lesson in "pick your weather". People on delivery voyages seldom have that option. Pleasure sailing season in the North Atlantic ISN'T in February IMO. I bet the story wouldn't have been that exciting if they had gone in May or June. In 3-1/2 years of sailing from Vancouver Canada, through the Panama Canal and ending up in Annapolis MD, I can only recall 3 episodes of weather "bad enough" to remember (and nothing as bad as the original poster). We got very good at watching the weather and deciding for _ourselves_ when it was time to make a passage. Evan Gatehouse |
rhys wrote:
Great story, by the way, particularly for this time of year when half of us are on the hard! Thank you, glad yoou enjoyed it. What kind of preventers and jacklines did you have rigged? Preventers... none. IMHO a preventer might have saved the traveler (but then it might not) and probably would have resulted in a shredded main much sooner and possibly a serious (ie flooding) knockdown. One reason we didn't rig a preventer to the main boom was that there was no place to secure one, other than the mooring cleats. What kind of tethers and harnesses did the crew have, or did the owner or skipper provide them? I have a wide poly webbing harness with a shock absorber; the captain brought two harnesses & long tethers; two of the crew bought SOSpenders the day before departure. The jacklines were galvanized cable put on by the delivery captain; these proved a bit troublesome in that they definitely interfere with footing and also bang up the deck. However I don't doubt that they would have functioned to keep a person from getting lost overboard. The biggest problem is accessibility. With an afterthought jackline, not fitted to the boat, much of the time you can't be hooked on while working. For example, the biggest risk we had of a person going overboard was when unrigging the bimini... involving two people standing up on the coaming, at the height of the squall, wrestling with the thing... unhooked to jackline of course. Later, when working at the mast, I had to unhook too. It slows you down and makes it more risky IMHO. What kind of foul weather gear did you have, and did it work well enough in the conditions? (I know it wasn't freezing, but I bet it got pretty damn chilly in spots with that 40-50 knot wind). I didn't notice the chill until later. Foul weather gear varied... I had a one-piece Gill dinghy racing suit, which was great until I wore out the knees crawling on the deck (it was old anyway). After a change into dry socks, I was comfy. I plan to get another one-piece racing suit, as I think it's more limber & more waterproof than bibs & jacket. I've also worn my dinghy racing neoprene booties offshore and find them better than "offshore" gear... your feet get wet but stay warm. As long as you have a place to stow the wet stuff, and don't run out of dry towels, it's the way to go. Fresh Breezes- Doug King |
Doug,
Would the potential flooding knockdown be due to an inability to release the preventer from the cockpit, or what ? What would you recommend for properly securing such a preventer, on that boat, since you say it had only cleats ? Courtney DSK wrote: rhys wrote: Great story, by the way, particularly for this time of year when half of us are on the hard! Thank you, glad yoou enjoyed it. What kind of preventers and jacklines did you have rigged? Preventers... none. IMHO a preventer might have saved the traveler (but then it might not) and probably would have resulted in a shredded main much sooner and possibly a serious (ie flooding) knockdown. One reason we didn't rig a preventer to the main boom was that there was no place to secure one, other than the mooring cleats. What kind of tethers and harnesses did the crew have, or did the owner or skipper provide them? I have a wide poly webbing harness with a shock absorber; the captain brought two harnesses & long tethers; two of the crew bought SOSpenders the day before departure. The jacklines were galvanized cable put on by the delivery captain; these proved a bit troublesome in that they definitely interfere with footing and also bang up the deck. However I don't doubt that they would have functioned to keep a person from getting lost overboard. The biggest problem is accessibility. With an afterthought jackline, not fitted to the boat, much of the time you can't be hooked on while working. For example, the biggest risk we had of a person going overboard was when unrigging the bimini... involving two people standing up on the coaming, at the height of the squall, wrestling with the thing... unhooked to jackline of course. Later, when working at the mast, I had to unhook too. It slows you down and makes it more risky IMHO. What kind of foul weather gear did you have, and did it work well enough in the conditions? (I know it wasn't freezing, but I bet it got pretty damn chilly in spots with that 40-50 knot wind). I didn't notice the chill until later. Foul weather gear varied... I had a one-piece Gill dinghy racing suit, which was great until I wore out the knees crawling on the deck (it was old anyway). After a change into dry socks, I was comfy. I plan to get another one-piece racing suit, as I think it's more limber & more waterproof than bibs & jacket. I've also worn my dinghy racing neoprene booties offshore and find them better than "offshore" gear... your feet get wet but stay warm. As long as you have a place to stow the wet stuff, and don't run out of dry towels, it's the way to go. Fresh Breezes- Doug King -- s/v Mutiny Rhodes Bounty II lying Oriental, NC WDB5619 |
There's lots of diving always going on
Very interesting. Thanks. |
Courtney Thomas wrote:
Doug, Would the potential flooding knockdown be due to an inability to release the preventer from the cockpit, or what ? Yes. If the boat accidentally gybes, for whatever reason, in severe conditions, there is a risk that the preventer will hold the sail aback and knock the boat further over than it otherwise would go... and do to the fact that the preventer is still holding it, keep the lee side pressed down and possibly begin taking on water. Boats with large and/or low companionways, and/or large cockpit lockers opening into the hull are particularly at risk of flooding (in this or other scenarios). Another risk with a preventer is that when the boat heels or rolls far enough to dip the boom end, at good speed... or perhaps just into a wave crest, that it will either spin the boat around or carry something away. I have not liked preventers but up until very recently have never had a problem with accidental gybes. What would you recommend for properly securing such a preventer, on that boat, since you say it had only cleats ? I said it had mooring cleats, which are both the wrong type and in an awkward place to secure something like a preventer. You want to be able to cast it off quickly. I'd suggest setting up a big jam cleat, perhaps leading it fair to a jib sheet cleat. Fresh Breezes- Doug King |
On Mon, 28 Feb 2005 19:31:14 -0500, DSK wrote:
I said it had mooring cleats, which are both the wrong type and in an awkward place to secure something like a preventer. You want to be able to cast it off quickly. I'd suggest setting up a big jam cleat, perhaps leading it fair to a jib sheet cleat. =================================== That is a common situation. You can secure a good sized snatch block to the mooring cleat with a short piece of line, and then lead the preventer line aft from the snatch block to a cockpit winch where it can be released or adjusted. This is common practice in my experience. The snatch block can also be fastened forward to the toerail or a lifeline stanchion base on many boats. |
On Fri, 25 Feb 2005 07:19:31 -0500, DSK wrote:
If you go out to the middle of the Gulf Stream looking for favorable current, or follow a rhumb line all the way, you end up about 120 miles out which is too far IMHO for weather contingincies. ============================ That is true but you can shade the course a bit to the west for the first half of the trip and still get a piece of the gulf stream. I can average over 8 kts with the trawler so getting a full kick from the stream is not as important. |
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