The Bermuda Breeze, By Lee Ann Avery
I was introduced to OPO through two women that were part of a weekend cruise on the Chesapeake Bay with the Philadelphia Sailing Club. They had met and become fast friends doing boat deliveries with OPO, and continued their friendship by arranging to go sailing together whenever they could. They knew I was looking for more challenging sailing, and to meet more people with a strong sense of adventure and the competency to handle whatever situations came their way. They gave me the web address and I signed up right away. I began reading the notices for crew and was envious of all the opportunities for exciting sails, but was frustrated by my heavy work schedule and commitments that never let me take advantage of the passages available.
I met Hank several times, and Nick and Grace at boat shows, and finally decided to go to Newport last fall to see the Swan fleet off and meet more OPO members. I was very impressed with the captains I met and the caliber of the sailors that had signed on for the trip. I determined that I was going to make the trip the next year.
I left the UN in August after six frustrating years of trying to make a difference in a wasteful, political bureaucracy. My immediate goal became to enjoy myself, sail as much as possible and catch up on all of the life I had been missing. The fall Swan migration to St. Martin was the perfect opportunity, and I could crew the second leg on a J46 - one of my favorite boats. I also needed to be with people of like interests, to be appreciated for my sailing skills, and to personally challenge myself physically and mentally, before deciding what to do with the rest of my life.
My first impression of my captain and fellow crew was how competent they were, and how ready they were to help each other and fully participate in this joint venture. I hoped I was going to measure up. Coastal cruising in mostly fair-weather, is not the same animal as dealing with getting a boat 1500 miles across an ocean. As Jon Ishmael had told me, once you leave you are committed no matter what the weather or sea conditions, so you just have to handle it. My experience and skills kicked in and I found that I had contributions to make. As we left Newport, a school of dolphins joined us to play in our bow wake. It was a good omen. I had never seen dolphins in all my years of chartering in southern New England. Several other schools joined us over the next few days.
The first challenge came when the shackle at the head of the genoa halyard cracked and the jib started sliding down and under the boat while I was at the helm. We quickly headed to wind, hauled the sail back on deck and used another halyard to re-raise the jib. We then had several days of light winds and flat seas. I found it hard to believe that we were several hundred miles out into the ocean, and it felt like we were on a lake. The third day, conditions were perfect to fly the asymetrical spinnaker. I had only flown a spinnaker once before, so it was great to refresh those skills.
Off to our starboard, another sailboat appeared. We tried haling them on the VHF several times with no luck. I kept my handheld on deck, and about an hour later they were haling us. It was Brian on “Pipe Dream.” We followed them throughout the night. It was one of the most beautiful nights with more stars than I had ever seen. I saw a shooting star that left a lasting trail in its wake. There were no planes, just stars.
We knew bad weather was coming on our fourth day out. In preparation for the gale, as the winds kicked up to 35 knots, I headed downwind so that we could set the storm stay sail and put three jerry cans of fuel into our tank. Patrick had told me to keep the boat flat and on my heading as there was no room for error. The pressure was on as I fought to hold the boat stable in 10 to 12 foot seas. After that successful operation, I was exhausted. We headed back on our southerly course, and the wind kept building. As it got dark, the gusts picked up to the 40’s and the waves built with many crashing over the boat and filling the cockpit. The boat handled well, and rode the waves without healing too much. Holding on became our main occupation. Patrick encouraged us with his faith in the boat, and we started cheering as the wind built to new levels. The highest wind speed that we saw was 53 knots. After 12 hours of gale, we were all ready for it to end. Many of us were more comfortable topside than below, so it became a strain to fit it the cockpit and keep ourselves stable. Hanging on down below was not any more fun.
After almost 24 hours, the winds finally started to abate. Morning came and the sun came out. When we could finally see the waves, we estimated them to be between 20 and 25 feet. With the sun out though, things seemed immensely better. With only 20 knots of wind, we put out the jib and soon could see Bermuda on the horizon. We were thankful that we had not sustained any damage from the storm. Our only regret was that we had not been able to play ZZ Top at the height of the storm because the tape player malfunctioned!!!
Of course it would have been too easy to just get to the channel, drop the sails and motor in. As we got to Kitchen Reef, we tried to start the engine - and nothing!! So, we tacked back and forth as Patrick worked on the problem. It seemed as if we had made one tack all the way from Newport to Bermuda, and now we had to tack quickly through the reefs. A few hammer taps on the solenoid and a jump with a screw driver, and we got the engine started. We made it in to the Customs dock by 3pm coming in second to Brian and his crew who had arrived an hour earlier. After a quick toast to reaching Bermuda, we checked in and the headed to the Dinghy Club for power hook up and showers. Dinner at Freddie’s was the cap to a great trip. We weren’t a lively bunch that night, but soon got our party act together as the other crews came in the next day. Shutting down the bars became a habit for the next few nights.
I said farewell to my crew, and new friends from “Hanano” as they left Bermuda. I transferred to “Vanish”, a J46 for the second leg of the adventure knowing that I would see all of my new friends in land again in St. Martin.
AJ Smith’s log of the Swan 46 Babe
N.A.R.C 2002
NEWPORT-BERMUDA
NOV. 3-8,2002
Sailing vessel “BABE” Swan 46
THE PLAN
The fleet meeting at the Newport Yacht Club ended on Sunday morning, and all the skippers were deciding which path to take to Bermuda.
The weather router predicted a frontal passage, which could produce heavy winds and seas for the Gulf Stream crossing. It was suggested, that the fleet sail SW along the Eastern seaboard, allowing the front to pass, then enter the stream at a position SE of Cape May, NJ.
Some boats chose the rhumb line course, Babe’s decision was to follow the bulk of the fleet along the East coast.
THE CREW
Capt. AJ
Carl
Jerry a.k.a. “The Chef”
Ray
Roger a.k.a. “Sparky”
Steve
UNDERWAY
Sunday Nov. 3, 2002
We had a traditional N.A.R.C start at 1210 on Sunday. The winds were from the NW @ 10kts., and all yachts were flying full sail on a broad reach heading to Bermuda.
Shortly after clearing Beavertail Light, our VHF and SSB stopped working. We contacted the fleet using a handheld VHF, and informed them of our situation.
Without these systems, all fleet communication would end once we were out of VHF (handheld) range.
Once at sea, we could see which boats were heading straight to Bermuda on the rhumb line, and which were sailing SW down the coast.
The winds soon diminished as predicted, and we motorsailed. When the engine was started, our VHF started working again.
One of our crew mates we called “Sparky” had diagnosed the SSB problem, blown fuse, and we searched the vessel for a 30 amp fuse, suitable for the SSB.
None onboard. While talking to another vessel on VHF during the 1800 rollcall, a possible fix was proposed. The single strand of a 16 gauge, stranded wire is pretty close to 30 amp tolerance. We found some wire, tried it and it worked. So far.
Monday Nov. 4, 2002
Monday morning 0900 rollcall, we contacted Starlight, Martine, Breaking Wind, Germainia and, Pachamama. Everyone was talking weather, and the reports were relayed to the fleet. We continued S-SW waiting for the front to pass and make our course for Bermuda.
0900 Pressure @ 30.25 Position 39 43.3’ N, 72 50.4’ W
2100 Pressure @ 30.20 Position 37 05.5’ N, 72 08.5’ W
By 9 pm, the winds were up to 20 knots from the NW, we had a triple reef in for the evening, full Genoa, planning to reduce Genoa if the winds kept increasing.
During the night we lost electrical power to the nav and wind systems. Voltage was dropping and the engine couldn’t charge batt’s.
Tuesday Nov. 5, 2002
0600 Position 37 52.4’ N, 73 48.5W
By Tuesday morning the pressure was coming up a bit, and we were motorsailing again.
Once the front had passed, and we were at our target WP, we changed course for Bermuda 130 T, We expected to reach our Gulf Stream entry WP by Weds. Morning.
At 1145, “Sparky” diagnosed the electrical problem, bad belt on main alternator. We replaced belt with spare. The electrical system was now charging normally.
1230 Pressure @ 32.50 Position 37 28.6’ N, 73.03.5’ W
1600- News of more developing weather heading our way. Savannah Girl, another Swan 46, had the latest weather fax and High Seas forecast and relayed to the fleet. Heavy weather was expected for the next two days, with winds to exceed 50 knots. Ouch!
Boats were advised by another weather router to head for cover.
Savannah Girl, Martine, Lady Francine and a few others headed for Cape May, NJ.
As a crew we all discussed our options and comfort factor. The problem was we were receiving weather forecasts from NOAA,(offshore forecast) which forecasted 40+ knot winds from the NW. The info from other sources was much worse. We didn’t want to over react to second hand reports, we kept analyzing all input from other boats and decided to wait until the 1800 roll call to make our decision to keep going or turn back.
1745 Position 37 15.2’N, 72 29.4’ W
1800-rollcall, after a position report from the fleet, we talked to the boats ahead of us. Laughing Lady was the closest, approx. 100 nm ahead of us. They were pressing on to Bermuda along with Caribe, Breaking Wind, Vanish, and Sky among a few others.
As a team we all discussed our options and decided to continue on for Bermuda.
We were at the tail end of the fleet now with all others either, ahead of us, or heading to Cape May.
1900- I received a call on SSB from one of the boats heading to Cape May. The Captain of this vessel was a light hearted experienced sailor, and a friend.
When I told him our plan, he relayed his concerns about the weather. We talked for a moment and before we signed off, he wished myself and “Babe” the best of luck in a voice that was much more serious than our usual light heart conversations. His voice stuck in the back of my mind.
Wednesday Nov. 6, 2002
0600 Position 36 49.2 N, 71 29.0 W
We were now in the Gulf Stream. We motorsailed most the night due to light winds and by morning winds were building.
0930- Pressure @ 29.57 winds gusting to mid 30’s
Our course to Bermuda was approx. 130 T. The winds were building from the South and veering. We had a triple reef in with 1/3 Genoa out. Seas were very confused 15+.
To make our track we need to sail almost closehauled, steering as much as 180T. The Gulf Stream was very focused at our entry point, causing more current velocity and a more confused sea state.
With the wind on our nose standing watch was a visual challenge. The salt spray driven by the increasing wind made just keeping your eyes open difficult. With bottled water in the cockpit to rinse our eyes we pressed on.
Sometime during the day we rigged our staysail stay and then rigged our staysail. Triple reef main, staysail rigged and motoring at 2000 RPM to maintain course control in the confused seas. If we fell off too much we would be in a long finger of the Gulf Stream prolonging the roller coaster ride.
1530- Pressure @ 29.40 (This is the lowest pressure encounter by “Babe”)
1530 Position 36 15.1’ N, 70 40.7’ W
Winds S-SW at 45-55+ knots. Seas big and confused. Just keeping a hand hold was very difficult. Since the beginning of the trip all hands wore their life jacket and harness when going topsides, day or night. This practice continued.
During the day “Sparky” headbutted the bulkhead in the fwd head. This caused a cut on his head that required at least 7 stitches. We patched him up with our first-aid kit and removed him from the evening watch schedule for safety. The boat was being jerked around pretty good and being forward, even below was becoming hazardous. The staysail came apart and we were forced to unfurl a small patch of Genoa for stability.
1800- Pressure 29.45 and rising slowly, we hope. Position 36 04.5’ N, 70 26.3’ W
1800 rollcall was short and sweet. Most vessels ahead of us were just encountering the weather we had been battling in the Stream all day.
2030 winds increasing again. Max gusts so far in the high 50’s. W-NW
We dropped the mainsail, using the small patch of Genoa. The winds had veered enough to turn off the engine by now and we were making good speed toward our WP just outside the Stream. The liferaft jumped its mount and was lashed to the port rail. Electrical power failure. Engine won’t start( a continuing problem not mentioned before) All navigation lights not working.
Thursday Nov. 7, 2002
0130- Pressure @ 29.77 Position 35. 24.4’ N, 69 38.4’ W
Winds now gusting over 60 kts. (Max. wind gust at 62.5 kts.) 55 kts. Sustained, with equivalent sea state.
Furled Genoa completely. Now running on bare poles. Wind behind us, making 7 kts. SOG To Bermuda.
0730-Pressure @ 29.45 Position 35 03.3’ N 69 12.2’ W
0730 Wind down to 40-50 kts. We unfurled a patch of Genoa, and planned to unfurl more if wind permits.
1530 Pressure @ 30.00 Position 34 47.9’ N, 68 14.2’ W
141 nm to Bermuda, winds decreasing now from 40-50 kts, to 20-30 kts. From the W-NW
Friday Nov. 8, 2002
0730 winds decreasing (NW at 15-20kts), engine on main up, single reef, 2/3 Genoa.
We now had Bermuda in our sights and planned to arrive around midnight.
The weather finally broke and the sky was blue and winds light.
Saturday 0145 Entered Town-Cut, St. George’s, Bermuda. We cleared in at 0800.
Once cleared by Customs, we motored over to the wharf where the rest of our fleet were docked. Land at last:)
Caribe, Pipe Dream, and Laughing Lady welcomed us in. That’s when I noticed the shape of the fleet. The torn sails, and weathered gear did not grab my attention as much as the smiles and confidence of the crewmen. We all learned much, and raised our threshold a couple notches.
Trip highlights:
The electrical and engine problems required hrs. of trouble shooting in very adverse condition.
Top wind speed 62.5 kts.
Lowest pressure 29.40
18 hours to cross Gulf Stream.
Seas BIG and confused.
Navigational sidelights lost in storm.
Radar reflector lost.
Life raft almost lost.
Genoa leech torn but not serious.
Mainsail head board torn at sail slides.
The main salon cabinets (dishes, provisions, soda, gear, etc.) could not hold their contents during storm and the resulting debris was a constant challenge.
During this passage, Jerry and Ray labored in the galley, in very adverse condition. The meals prepared were unbelievable for the conditions. I take my cap off to these crewmen.
Steve was our radioman, and the most positive force on the boat. Nothing could get this guy down and his high spirits kept us all in good cheer.
Teamwork and communication kept our crew together, we all depended on each others ability to stand their watches, make good decisions, and all took turns “stepping up to the plate”, when needed.
Capt. AJ Smith
N.A.R.C. 2002
Newport to Bermuda
S/V “Babe” Swan 46
A Babe's Story: Newport to St. Martin with NARC 2002
Sunday morning dawned clear, windy and COLD. After spending two nights on
an unheated boat in temperatures near 20ºF, this thin-blooded Texan was
ready to head to warmer latitudes. Well finally, today was the day! The
NARC fleet was scheduled to depart Newport at noon for Bermuda and St.
Martin.
At the weather routing meeting, there were differences of opinion among the
skippers and the weather guru. The meteorologist recommended a longer route
heading southwest along the U.S. coast to a point south of Cape May, NJ
before heading east southeast to Bermuda in order to avoid crossing the Gulf
Stream during an approaching frontal passage. Some of the skippers argued
that a more direct route along the rhumb line would reduce the fleet's
exposure to unfavorable weather. Onboard Babe, a Swan 46, our crew opted to
rely on the experts and take the westerly route.
With great excitement, we joined the fleet for a beautiful start with many
of the boats sailing abreast at the starting line. (Photo 0932) Babe's crew
consisted of Captain A.J. a professional captain and NARC veteran, Carl a
financial analyst from New Jersey, Ray a retired airline pilot, Roger and
Jerry petroleum engineers living in Kuwait and Kazakhstan, respectively, and
me. All of the crewmembers had some sailing experience although none, other
than A.J., had been on an offshore passage.
As we rounded Beaver Tail light, the fleet split into two groups, with the
rhumb line group sailing southeast and our group sailing southwest. As the
wind lightened, we were joined by dolphins, which, we hoped were a good omen
for Babe. While motorsailing that first afternoon, each of the crew spoke
of why they were making this passage and what they hoped the experience
would bring. Most wanted to gain the seamanship that only comes with
offshore experience. Some were even hoping for some heavier weather in
which to test their skills. In the back of my mind, I recalled the ancient
warning about being careful what you ask for.
During the second night out, the winds shifted to the north and increased to
30 knots as the first cold front came through. This created a very confused
sea, causing Babe to pitch unpredictably as the waves fought one another for
control. During this time, the SSB failed and the alternator stopped
charging the batteries. Little did we know this was to be only the
beginning of our electrical problems. Of more concern, were the
inconsistent forecasts and warnings we were able to pickup on the VHF. From
a nearby boat, we heard that one respected weather router had advised the
boats to head for Cape May due to an intensifying weather system which would
result in gale force winds in our area. However, NOAA forecast the winds
not to exceed 30 knots with gusts to 40 knots. Most of the boats in our
group apparently had decided to put in at Cape May to wait out the weather.
As we had already seen similar conditions and did not want to further
lengthen our passage, Babe elected to continue to Bermuda.
Just as we entered the Gulf Stream the next evening, the winds shifted to
the southeast and increased to 50 knots with gusts to 60knots. The barometer
dropped to 29.2 inches from 30.2 inches the previous afternoon. Due to the
conflicting wind and current, the seas were more confused and bigger than
the night before, now exceeding 30 feet. Sailing that night under a triple
reefed main and storm sail, we sailed as close-hauled as possible against
the southeasterly gale in order to make a course which would carry us across
the Stream. During several watches we were unable to make any headway and
were carried due east by the Gulf Stream. Conditions on deck continued to
deteriorate with the sea spray becoming blinding and waves breaking into the
cockpit on a regular basis. It was beginning to look as though we had only
two options, head back across the Stream northwest toward shore, or be
carried east of Bermuda by the Gulf Stream. Finally, the water temperature
dropped indicating we had escaped the Gulf Stream's main current and we
began to make headway toward Bermuda.
However, our relief was short-lived as the wind shifted to the
west-northwest and increased to 50 - 60 knots sustained with seas estimated
at 30 - 40 feet. The scene around Babe was now surreal: huge uplifted
mountains of water followed by deep canyons waiting to swallow Babe and her
crew. By now the batteries had failed and the engine's starter circuit was
broken. In addition, the storm sail blew out making Babe uncontrollable.
So we dropped the mainsail and sailed under bare poles making 5 knots. That
night we flew downwind in the dark with no navigation lights, compass light,
or cabin lights. We used the starter battery to power the instruments,
which created an eerie glow in the cockpit. During that night, Ray said
that it was like playing a deadly video game to keep the wind indicator
pointed aft in order to prevent the boat from broaching. Several times, the
night would fill with the roar of a train, warning those on watch to hold on
quickly as a wave was about to crash on the cockpit.
Each of the crew stood watch and took the helm during the heavy weather.
Much of the credit for this goes to Captain A.J. for allowing the crew to
take responsibility for the boat with his occasional advice and supervision.
We had become a team working together to accomplish whatever the present
task was. One of the more amazing accomplishments was that of Ray and Jerry
who served as the chefs and provided hot dinners in all but the worst of the
storms. It was a disorienting sight to see steaming pots and the stove
swinging at angles of 45 degrees. While the boat was tossing about every
cabinet door broke open and the contents flew across the cabin. Despite
continuous cleanup efforts, the salon became a tangle of wet gear, clothes,
cans, water bottles, and half-sleeping bodies.
After five days at sea, the wind fell to 30 knots allowing for a reefed
genoa and some exciting sailing on to Bermuda. (Photo 0937 A.J.) Roger, now
referred to as "Sparky", was able to replace alternator belt and jury rig a
starter circuit so that we could start the engine and recharge the
batteries. Sparky also used a strand of wire to repair the blown
under-rated fuse in the SSB allowing us to once again contact the rest of
the fleet. We then learned of the damage inflicted on several of the other
boats en route to Bermuda. We finally anchored in St. Georges' harbor at
0130 on Saturday morning.
The next two days were spent making the boat as shipshape as possible,
exchanging stories with the other crews, visiting the local pubs, and
touring beautiful Bermuda. One afternoon while enjoying fish & chips and a
couple of pints, one of my crewmates announced to the bartender that he had
decided to move to Bermuda and that he had found several employment
opportunities in the local newspaper. The bartender, who had previously
been an amicable fellow, turned to the would-be immigrant and put him on
notice that he would not be welcome as a resident despite the warm reception
he had received as a visiting yachtsman. During the next hour I observed an
ongoing debate between the barkeep and the sailor over the future of Bermuda
and the role, or lack thereof, that my crewmate would play therein. It
often reminded me of watching a couple of young steers butting heads just
for the fun of it.
By Tuesday, Nov. 12th, everyone was ready to get back to sea and on to St.
Martin. Babe left Bermuda at 0930 hours in company of Pipe Dreams, a
sistership Swan 46. (Photo 0974 Pipe Dreams) This was great fun and
provided a great photo opportunity for both crews. We soon parted company
with Pipe Dreams and motorsailed on in light unfavorable southerly winds.
The benign weather allowed us to troll a fishing line in hopes of providing
some fresh fish for the skillet. About mid-day the crew jumped to life when
the call of "fish on!" rang out and the reel mounted on the pushpit began to
whine. A magnificent marlin briefly broke the surface with the lure in its
bill. But the line broke when the fish sounded under the boat.
On the third day out, a pair of sparrows landed on the boat. It is a
mystery how these land birds came to be 400 miles from the nearest land.
The poor birds were exhausted and had a hard time holding on to the boat.
One sparrow landed on the wheel as if to attempt to commandeer Babe in order
to return home. (Photo 0986 bird on helm) The little bird soon became our
pet and spent the night in a makeshift birdhouse, which Roger made from a
cereal box. The next morning the sparrow took flight and a gust of wind
carried him away, never to be seen again.
One of the more exciting phenomenas we encountered on the leg to St. Martin
were the isolated tropical squalls that developed each afternoon and
continued until midnight each night. The squalls were intense, compact and
recognizable as towering white columns with dark gray downpours of rain
beneath them. When we were unlucky enough to collide with one, the wind
increased from 15 knots to 30 knots for 15 to thirty minutes with rain so
heavy that the bow was hardly visible from the helm. With sails set for
much lighter winds, Babe was forced to bear off to a broad reach to avoid
being overpowered by the increased winds. Once the rain passed, the wind
stopped and a dead calm prevailed over the now confused seas. With no wind
to stabilize the rig and the boat being randomly tossed in all directions it
was a challenge to control the boat. When the wind did begin to return it
would often clock 360º around the boat before settling on a direction.
During the twice-daily SSB net, the boats exchanged positions, weather and
fishing reports. We kept an on-going position plot of the nearby boats as
we raced toward St. Martin. Vanish, a J46, had left Bermuda a couple of
hours after us and her sails were just visible on the horizon. For the last
few days, we played cat and mouse with Vanish. Watching her chasing us
through these Caribbean waters reminded me of an eighteenth century
privateer pursing a trading vessel in hope of riches and booty. On the last
day Vanish took the lead and we followed close behind to St. Martin,
dropping anchor in Marigot Bay at 2015 hours on Sunday, Nov. 17th. With the
crews of several other boats we went ashore and found a bar serving late
night pizza. We kept the kitchen and bar open until early the next morning
sharing good times with shipmates and fellow sailors.
After a day of enjoying St. Martin's Caribbean hospitality, it was time for
everyone to return home. Each of Babe's crew returned home with new friends
and memories to last a lifetime.
Patrick’s answer to Skipper TimTulloch’s, of the Swan 48 Savannah Girl
Hi Tim,
Last spring I had Hinano, the Swan 48, surfing on huge waves in consistent
45-knot winds and pegged the boat speed at 16 knots through the water. Very
exciting! I was letting 3 of the 5 crew get the heavy weather, fast action,
time on the wheel. The other 2 crew were working their way up to handle the
boat in such a mode. It was actually one of the most experienced crew, who
owns his own 50' Alden, who steered Hinano to 16 knots. The wind was coming
off the port quarter and I had a full jib out. With that sail alone Hinano
was maxed out. When the wind comes abaft the beam I put away all the main
sail. If the main is left out I have found this to present several problems.
1) The main torques the boat to windward making for difficult control. (It
is easier to pull a boat than to push it.) 2) The main blocks the wind to
the jib slowing the boat down. 3) It is guaranteed that one of the crew will
jibe the main. Even with a preventer, a jibe is hard on the equipment and
causes damage.
There is still the problem of jibing the jib, which is not a pleasant thing but is more
difficult to do. Last spring if the crew had jibed the full jib in 45 knots
we would have lost at least the sail. After an hour of our high speed heavy
weather sailing, I reefed the jib to slow Hinano down so the reaction time
was not so demanding. That is when I let the remaining two crew on the wheel
so they could work on their heavy weather steering.
With the main not being up, I can set both running back stays. I always have
the inner forestay set up when the wind builds to 35 knots. The Swan rigs
are so tall and spindly, they need all the extra supports possible to keep
them in place.
I have never in my life hove-to. I hear Bob Fritz on Sky did so. I respect
his decision tremendously. Next stormy trip I am going to heave-to and bake
turnovers, like Bob did, then carry on so the crew can have the experience.
What a fun thing to do in the middle of a storm.
We were close hauled during the worst of the weather approaching Bermuda. I
have never sailed a boat that went to windward well in over 35 knots. Wind
resistance on the hull and rigging overcomes all lift of the sails. To stay
on course, I set the staysail, then ran the engine at 1800 rpms. The
staysail has a low center of effort and high lift component compared to a
furled jib which has a high center of "push the boat over" and little
aerodynamic lift. Of course either sail helps to keep the boat from rolling.
As the wind shifted to a beam reach, I did not feel comfortable being
broadside to huge and at times breaking waves. We turned ten degrees more
down wind. When a breaking wave smacked us good on the side, washing over
the dodger and filling the cockpit with water, we immediately turned down
wind to a broad reach. On the new heading I was able to set some jib. The
jib rolled out above the staysail and we speed off towards the Med rather
than Bermuda. The crew was happy to hear the engine shut down. This was a
more comfortable and safer tack than beam to. As the wind shifted to the
north, we were able to shift our course back to Bermuda. In all I was not
pushing the boat.
My route: This could take a couple thousand words but I will try to keep my
explanation short. From Newport to Bermuda, I saw no reason to go west a
full day and 120 off the rhumb line to go through a narrower part of the Gulf
Stream. As with any river, the more constricted the flow, the faster the
current and the higher potential for "confused", dangerous, breaking waves.
The wider flow area on the rumb line had a slower current speed over a
broader area which to me is far safer. The wind was predicted to shift to
the north west and the current was running south. The Gulf Stream was
carrying Hinano south to Bermuda with a free 50-75 miles per day. I wanted
to stay in that favorable current as long as possible. By maintaining a
rumb line course, Hinano would arrive in Bermuda two days before the boats
that took the western route, two less days in stormy weather. Seventeen
boats took the western route and three boats sailed the rumb line route. In
retrospect, I would not have changed my strategy.
The weather routers predictions I have heard in person and listened to on
the Single Side Band radio have been as accurate as one could hope for.
When it comes to sailing skills, it seems weather routers may not always
have a suitable amount of first hand experience of sailing in high winds
in the Gulf Stream yet they seem to want to give expert advise on what sea
conditions will develop. Their weather predictions are accurate but their
wave predictions are not. I listen to what the weather routers have to
say and use that as part of the total equation for planning a passage. The
problem with that is now if I make a mistake I have to look hard for someone
else to blame the mistake on! There is a good book a crew gave me which I
now carry on every trip to Bermuda: GULF STREAM Companion, The Art of
Navigating the Gulf Stream by the editors of Ocean Navigator magazine.
I have people coming on these Swan trips wanting and expecting heavy
weather. They can sail in 20 knots any time back home. Last fall all I could
find for the charter people was 35 knots of wind. They were very
disappointed. There are name brand boats I would not want in 45 - 50 knot
winds. The Swans, no problem. The excellent fun crews from OPO , the strong
winds and the Swans are what keep me interested in these trips. It is a lot
of fun for me to see my OPO crew go through the stages of apprehension then
conquest as they learn that high winds and seas are really not that bad as
long as they are dealt with in an orderly fashion.
Let me know what you think about all this.
Patrick
Answers from David Appleton
Answers from David Appleton who me met on the way out of Newport and joined our fleet in Bermuda. Dave was the skipper on a catamaran with the owner and one other crew and was in the same weather we were in.
Vessel: s/v Palm Coaster, a Lagoon 4100 catamaran
Crew: David Appleton, Captain
Daryl Dumala, Mate
Peter Stevens, Crew/Owner
Departed: Warren RI, 0830, 11/3/02 to fuel in Newport, 1200;
Newport, RI 1300, 11/3/02
Arrived: St. George, BDA 11/8/02 at 1430.
1. Course and route choice: WE headed due South from Newport to about 39x71 to pick up boost NE side of ward eddy, then SE to about 27.30x68.30. Then rhumb line SE to BDA. WE knew of low over south central US, having seen it on the Weather Channel at a restaurant in Warren prior to our departure, but we thought we would get well south of its track if we made all possible speed SE Monday & Tuesday. So we though we’d actually benefit from the south westerlies then northerlies from the frontal passage, expecting to be clear of the Gulf Stream before the NE component of high pressure manifested itself.
2. Highest wind speed: sustained, 50-54, gusts perhaps to 60+ (but I cannot guarantee calibration of the wind instrument). Lowest barometric pressure 998 mb (again calibration suspect, I think we were reading about 5 mb too low).
3. Sail combinations for storm conditions: Having no storm canvas, we reefed the genoa to about 20%, the size of a kitchen tablecloth. We dropped the main to the third reef Tuesday night (which required a trip to the boom to reeve an outhaul to the third reef clew which was no rigged for jiffy reefing). We ran this way through Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. When wind speeds reached the 40 knot range Wednesday afternoon, we dropped the main altogether, lashed it into it’s “stack pack” lazy jack/sail cover package, then fixed the boom in a more or less rigid configuration using the main sheet, the topping lift, and a preventer line rigged from the end of the boom to the starboard stern docking clear. Thus configured the main & stack pack became our storm trisail. In addition, the topping lift firmed up with the preventer and main sheet formed a make shift back stay for this boat which features swept back shrouds and no back stay to accommodate the massive roach on the main sail.
4. & 5. Inner Stay and Stay Sail. We were not so equipped. Had we been, I certainly would have set them.
5. Storm tactics: ROUTING. We routed ourselves to get maximum advantage from gulf stream induced currents as described above (1) We expected the low to be a benefit. We planned to get as far SE of the NE tracking low as we could by 0800 Wed. when the forecasters we copied (NMN and Herb) predicted it would exit the mainland between DelMarVa and Cape May. So we expected to moderate our experience of this low with every mile we pt between us and its epicenter. We set our sails as described above (3) and this sail plan worked nicely giving us excellent speed SE, enabling us to reach off perpendicular form the low’s track, standard procedure when you find yourself on the dangerous side of a low.
EQUIPMENT: Palm Coaster had virtually no equipment for storm conditions. So we rigged the make shift storm sail plan described above (3), and fashioned a warp line with bridal using ground tackle, rode and extra chain, removing this gear from the anchor locker forward to the cockpit very early, as soon as things looked like thy could go to storm conditions (Tues. Morning). So we were prepared to run off and drag a warp for steering control, and to slow us (thus avoiding the pitch pool danger).
If we had proper storm sails (storm stay sail and storm tri sail) we would have set them. And if we had a sea anchor I would have been close to deploying it.
CREW SAFETY: We required crew to wear type I pfd while topside and all the time when on watch. Our SOP in a seaway requires we wear a harness and tether, and that we hook on at all times topside (offshore, no matter how calm), We also made sure we adhered to our watch schedule, insuring all got adequate rest and nutrition.
BOAT CHECKS: we adhered to our hourly boat checks with increased vigilance regarding watertight integrity, the rig and monitoring weather conditions.
COMMUNICATIONS: We established communications with Bermuda Harbor Radio on 4125 kHz (the 4 meg safety channel they monitor) Tuesday afternoon as things looked like they could get dices…. And when we developed a compromise in the hull with substantial sea water ingress (below #8), we issued a “pan, pan” to BHR, advising them we were in jeopardy and setting up a regular com schedule to advise them of our condition every 6 hours.
7. Jibes? We executed several intentional jibes and twice jibed accidentally. We always had a preventer rigged firmly between the back of the boom at the clew and either the stern cleat or the midship cleat. And we did our controlled jibes very slowly holding the boom firmly with preventer and sheet as we jibed it over carefully. And the preventer saved us when following seas and miscues on the helm led to accidental jibes. Thus we never whacked it over uncontrolled inviting damage. The rig handled all this well.
8. Damage: Hull: stern seam; both hulls developed leaks at the stern between the hull and step unit on the transoms where the riser for the first step meets the bottom landing. This let go due to poor design and poor construction practices and materials. This compromise allowed water to flow in almost entirely unabated each time a wave hit this area (only 4-6” above the water line).
Hull: Mountainous seas and steady 45 to 50 + knot winds put enormous strain on the hull and it flexed to the point of breaking some of the structure supporting the main saloon floor. This also caused another leak to develop between the anchor locker (a wet locker in which sea water is designed to enter and leave through a drainage system) and the starboard hull and cabins. Thorough inspection in Bermuda revealed no serious compromises so we continued to St. Thomas expecting less severe conditions, and the owner resolved to have it surveyed by qualified personnel there.
Hull: Door between the main cabin and cockpit, two sliding “patio: doors are a poor design for a seaway, and proved a problem. They would slide fiercely with the pitching and rolling of the boat, and occasionally crashed against stops, even though we fashioned stops out of PVC pipe to limit the scope of the opening. Sure enough one broke its frame and this allowed seawater to enter the cabin, even when the door was closed, whenever we experienced boarding seas in the cockpit.
Engine: Starboard engine sucked air into the raw water system and the impeller failed to reestablish free flow. Fortunately we had the port engine if we needed power.
We were able to repair all these problems in Bermuda and continue our voyage with minimal delay (only one day more than we had planned).
9. Do differently?: Insist on proper storm equipment. Inspect the boat more thoroughly. Insist on a good sea trial prior to embarking on a voyage of this magnitude (which would have revealed the problems we encountered with the hull seam at least). Other than that, I’d probably do the same things. Over all, the voyage worked out well. And considering timing (the owner’s, mine, and Mother Nature’s), in my estimation, the Nov. 1 to 18 window is the best for this voyage (end of the tropical storm season and before the Blue Northers really star to kick in). So waiting this one out would only put us in the path of the next one. And on a voyage of this length at this time, I expect to see gale force wins at some point. Had we not left when we did, we would probably not embarked at all.
Leave sooner: I’d originally scheduled us to leave 11/2/02-but the owner was not ready and this proved impossible. Had we left then, weather conditions were more favorable and we might have fared better.
John Moore who participated in the 2002 NARC Rally
This was generously e-mailed to us by John Moore who participated in the 2002 NARC Rally aboard his own Hunter 50.
Dear Hank,
I always amazed at how some people find it necessary to blame others for their own decision. As a captain of a vessel you are soley responsible for the safety of your vessel and your crew or passengers. It's real black and white; if you feel someone else is to blame then you've abdicated your responsibility.
Hunter has been great. Although we had no real structural damage they are redesigning the interior furniture and even sent us a new engine control mechanism at no charge. (something we broke ourselves in the heat of the battle)
The story I wrote on the plane back won't be published in CW as Nim’s article covers much of the detail on a broader basis, but I've copied it here for your reading pleasure. Keep up the good work and good sailing!....................John
Storm driven back to basics
Nancy and I were excited when we read about the North Atlantic Rally to the Caribbean (NARC) . We had been gunk-holing along the New England coast and reluctantly left the abundant Maine coast to head south for the winter. We originally planned to enter the West Marine Caribbean 1500 again, but we were still in Boston touring the USS Constitution, which incidentally was celebrating her 205th birthday. As I walked her gun deck, I was fascinated by thoughts of 18th century mariners crossing oceans with only a compass, sextant, timepiece, chip log and lead line to guide them. I almost felt ashamed of the amount of cruising resources we have on board Break’nWind, our Hunter HC-50. Today, theoretically, we could take the boat out of Constitution Marina, set a route into the GPS-plotter- autopilot, get off the boat, and pick it up at Marblehead Harbor. In any event, the NARC rally leaving from Newport would allow us to squeeze in a few more days in Naraganzet Bay instead of having to beeline it for Hampton, Va. where the Caribbean 1500 would start.
At the Sunday skippers meeting Real Weather router, Susan Genetts, spoke of a significant weather event that would intensify on Wednesday and Thursday as two lows converged near Bermuda.( see fig.1) Although she cautioned against a rhumbline route to Bermuda, she did suggest that a slower, longer route along the east coast to the south might allow enough time for the system to form and spin off to the north east. Again I thought of the Old Ironsides mariners leaving port with only a barometer and a weather eye to the sky.
The rally started Sunday at noon. The winds were light and the seas were flat as we ghosted by Fort Adams. Although Nancy and I usually double hand, this leg we were joined by friends Sheena and Phil Gazoontite. Phil ,an experienced sailor, recently had a heart valve replacement and this was Sheena’s first blue water passage. We took advantage of the calm seas to go over boat safety, operations and watch standing. Two weeks earlier they had made a passage with us from Marblehead to Boston in 35knot headwinds so they had a chance to reef and perform an impromptu MOB exercise as our horseshoe buoy was washed out of its holder.
We soon settled into the routine, had a great dinner and started our 4-4-4-6-6 watch system. Monday was another light air day, however when we tuned in to Herb Hilgenberg’s Southbound II net, we heard warnings of serious weather building and recommendations to stay put or put into Cape May. Later during the NARC roll call many felt Herb was too conservative and the original call by Susan was still good. Up until this time we had been lumping along so as not to reach Bermuda until Saturday. With Herb’s comments we reassessed our route plan and decided after a mini-M call to Susan to get across the Stream quickly and rhumbline it to St Martin, by- passing Bermuda. Our plan was to get south as quickly as possible to avoid the intensifying lows. Tuesday morning, as we approached the Stream, the winds had piped up to 20 - 25knots, but fortunately the seas were still relatively flat as we watched the water temperature climb from 61F to almost 80F.
The Gulf Stream is an amazing phenomena: a giant river in the Atlantic with a flow rate that exceeds all the rivers of the world put together and a major factor in balancing the earths polar and equatorial temperature differences.
We feel lucky, because although the winds have been building, we’re almost across the Stream as we note water temperatures steadily dropping. By 1530 the temperature is down to 74F and the 4 to 5 knot north-east setting current has almost diminished, so we jibe and head south. The winds continue to build, but our staysail and double reefed main continue to move us south at 8 to 9 knots.
Although our watch system gives me more bunk time than I’m used to, I can’t seem to get my mind to shut down so my body can get some sleep. I lay awake thinking of "what if"’ scenarios and questioning the route decision in the face of the impending gale.
Wednesday 0200: The winds are steadily blowing in the low forties and the seas are now 15 to 18 feet. Unlike the Pacific seas we‘ve experienced, these seas are steeper, confused and seem to be coming from two directions at once. Twice we’ve had breaking waves fill our cockpit. Thankfully the water is in the 70s and not the 50 degree New England version. Shortly after our second bath, Casper ( our autopilot) begins to operate erratically by occasionally giving up the helm, causing the boat to round up with a deafening roar as our now triple reefed main and reefed staysail flog violently. This mandates that one of us leave the comfort of our dog house and stand by the helm in the event Casper decides to let go of the wheel again. We’re still making good speed, but the apparent wind has got to be close to 55knots, which drives the salt water into our sore, red eyes. I initially put on my diving mask but it soon fogged up and I couldn’t see the compass.
Wednesday 0830: The winds continue to build with sustained velocities over 50 knots and gusts even higher. BW is over canvassed so we decide to take the main down completely. Phil volunteers to go forward and wrestle down the balance of the main and secure it. This probably should have been done several hours earlier, but none-the-less it needs to come down as the helm is becoming difficult to manage in the building winds and seas.
Phil goes forward with his harness securely tethered to the jackline. I can barely see him through the spume as he claws his way forward. On his signal the staysail goes crazy as I bring us into the wind, ease the sheet and unstop the main halyard. Time seems to stop as Phil fights with the small piece of spectra cloth that seems to prefer to stay up. Finally with his full body weight hanging from the headboard, the main retreats to the boom where it’s secured. Phil returns to the cockpit victorious but exhausted; he heads below to re-hydrate and get some shuteye.
Wednesday 1600: The winds are still in the low 50s, but the seas have built to over 24 feet. Phil and I are both on deck with the girls below when we are overcome by a fierce wind that whipped the seas into a white froth of energy. Later we concluded it must have been a micro-burst or white squall. One minute we were in control, the next I was ripped from the wheel, while Phil was lifted off his feet slammed into the underside of the bimini and then dropped on his chest on to the binnacle with such force that he broke off the engine control throttle lever. Fortunately our harnesses and tethers kept us aboard. Instinctively I regained the wheel, but Phil who had undergone open heart surgery 18 months earlier was left clutching his chest. This high energy wind left almost as quickly as it had come upon us. The only evidence it even occurred was the pain in Phil,s chest and the water which was again draining out of the cockpit as a result of our roundup. As we slowly collected ourselves we noted Casper was permanently on "STANDBY" and all the instruments said "SeaTalk Failure." We’re still heading south, but now it’s 100% hand steering. All we have is our magnetic compass, our Windex and our handheld backup GPS. Now were really beginning to feel like 18th century mariners!
Wednesday night was a long one with Phil and I trading off the helm every one to two hours. In the early hours of the morning we traveled up the front off a particularly large wave only to find it had no backside. Our freefall seemed to last forever. Gone was the constant noise of the running seas; we were falling in a new medium : air. Finally, with an enormous crash, we hit the bottom of the trough. Inside, the girls had retreated into the quarter berth as fire hose streams of water would periodically be blown thru the hatch gaskets and miscellaneous missiles would leave their silos and fly through the cabin space.
It seemed as if dawn would never break, but when it did we were amazed , if not intimidated by the size of the waves. On a crest you could easily imagine a three story building nestled in the canyon-like trough. We told the wives there are no choices; they have to steer during the day so we can rest for repairs and night driving. Nancy was up on deck in no time and took over the helm. Sheena, who had never steered before, much less in a Beaufort 10 storm, agreed to give the helm a try. They traded helm watches as we soaked up four hours of much needed sleep.
Thursday 1200: Winds starting to abate a bit, seas still running large. Up on deck I assess the damage to BW. (our nickname for Break’nWind) All looks well except the boom is noticeably lower. A closer inspection reveals the solid boom vang, a 2 inch stainless tube, was bent from a straight chord to a semi-circle from the impact. The forward running lights were gone and the MOB buoy was gone along with the stern anchor. The SSB/HAM radio antenna tuner was inoperable and the mini-M no longer operated. In short, we had no instruments, no autopilot, and no means of communication except the VHF. BW was yet one step closer to being an 18th century vessel .
I spend several hours trying to eliminate the Sea Talk error and install the back up auto-pilot. Unfortunately my mind is not thinking clearly and I have no success with the instruments or the auto-pilot. Thanks to the storm, we’re now back to basics just like Old Ironsides( possibly with the exception of our handheld GPS). After spending one night and the better part of the day hand steering, it’s clear that we need to make for Bermuda. The specter of hand steering all the way to St Martin or the Virgins is not an option. Our sleep deprivation is starting to manifest itself in little ways. Everyone by now has been sea sick except Sheena who has been pumping, feeding us and steering during the day. Our helm time by midnight is down to 15 minutes on 15 minutes off. Once during my turn I see a large black island dead ahead of us on a collision course. My heart pounds as I think of us being ship wrecked on this desolate, uninviting, black rock. I rub my salt burned eyes and begin to laugh; I laugh so loud I wake up Phil in the dog house. My island is actually the canvas covered dingy that is setting in the deck chocks on the cabin top. Later in the wee dark hours of Friday morning, I’m steering to a star when I began to notice a form taking shape in the heavens. At first I’m not sure, then I become certain, it’s an Angel Pony! I wake up Phil once again. "Phil it’s a damn Angel Pony up there…Look!" Phil snaps his tether on the helm padeye and says," think you’ve had enough at the wheel John." By sunrise Friday morning we’re both hallucinating; thank God the wives take over.
Friday, 0600: The winds have dwindled down to 15 to 20knots and have begun to come out of the north quadrant. We roll up the staysail, roll out the jib and the boat starts moving again. At 1600 we hear the welcome voice of Bermuda radio asking our ETA. We give him our ETA and our approach course headings. He confirms our approach and offers to track us on their VTS radar until we reach the spit buoy at the entrance to the St. George Town cut. I’ll bet Old Ironsides never had service like this.
At 2200 we approach Her Majesty’s Customs Dock with one last challenge: we have no engine control lever, it’s dark and there is a cross wind. So with Nancy in the engine room and Sheena relaying engine commands, we come alongside the dock amid shouts of "Reverse - Neutral- Full ahead- Stop." All we needed was a brass ship’s telegraph and the two century regression would be complete. Although we were incredibly tired; we tied up with an inner feeling of profound accomplishment. Thanks to this storm, we were taken back to seamanship basics: no pushbutton autopilot, no plotters, not even a depth instrument. Our confidence bar has been significantly raised and I believe we’re better seamen for it.
Lessons learned:
Weather - There are many obvious advantages in joining a rally, however there can be a tendency to inadvertently abdicate one of the fundamental responsibilities of a captain: that of being solely responsible for the safety of the crew and vessel. I don’t believe if double handing, Nancy and I would have left port with a weather prediction that stated: " Most notably, the prevailing windfield and weather is anticipated to be significant for the vicinity of Bermuda……..winds associated with this low pressure system will likely be strong, reaching into the 40-50KT range." We did leave along with the rest of the rally fleet, albeit several boats wisely held up in Cape May after heeding Herb’s warnings. Although we made a decision to bypass Bermuda, the intensifying low became such a dominate weather feature in the western Atlantic it was impossible to avoid once across the stream.
Boat contingency planning - Knowing and understanding how to fix a boat critical system failure would have made the difference between aborting to Bermuda verses continuing on to St. Martin. When the instruments and auto-pilot failed, we were forced to hand steer. This limited our passage to our physical steering limits which in this storm were about 3 days and 2 nights. Had I been able to repair the auto-pilot the extra 4 or 5 days to St. Martin would have been possible. My troubleshooting skills were diminished because of fatigue and sea sickness. I tried to wire in a spare auto-pilot not realizing that the dockside and sea trials necessary to calibrate the new control head would be impossible to undertake in the storm. The solution was simple once we were safe in the St. George Harbor. I simply removed elements from the sea-talk network one at a time until the system came back. It was a 30 minute fix. The auto-pilot key pad in the cockpit by the helm had failed after being immersed repeatedly. When I disconnected the Sea Talk cable from this pad, the entire system became operational. The lesson here is that we cruisers need to embrace a contingency planning process that deals with all the catastrophic events that could befall us at sea. We have so many more resources at our disposal than our sailing forefathers, but unless we become resourceful, a storm such as this one can easily reduce us back to basics. Our resourcefulness can be enhanced if we develop action plans before the battle.
John and Nancy Moore have been out cruising for the last 7 years, initially on their J-130 Break‘nWind throughout the South Pacific and more recently along the East coast and Caribbean in their new Hunter’s Child HC-50 also named Break’nWind. John, an electrical power engineer, is currently writing a series of articles on Contingency Planning for Cruisers.
Les Shapiro who sailed aboard the Swan 48 Caribe in the 2002 NARC
The following story was written by OPO member Les Shapiro who sailed aboard the Swan 48 Caribe in the 2002 NARC. It was also printed in the January Issue of SpinSheet Magazine.
BLUE WATER ODYSSEY
By Les Shapiro
What happens when a longtime Chesapeake Bay Sailor decides to do some blue water sailing? One awesome experience.
Through Offshore Passage Opportunities (“OPO”) an organization run by Hank Schmitt, I secured a crew position on a Swan 48. The Swan delivery, part of the North American Rally to the Caribbean (“NARC”), was participating in the trip south from Newport, RI to St. Martin with a stop in Bermuda.
On Sunday morning November 3, eighteen boats left Newport. Caribe, a Swan 48 that was captained by Hank Schmitt and six crew including myself, was part of the fleet that left the Newport Yachting Center in calm conditions. That morning Sue, the NARC fleet weather router, held a weather briefing. She advised the boats heading south to avoid sailing directly to Bermuda (the rhumb line) because of a large weather system that would greet the fleet just as it would be crossing the Gulf Stream. The combination of north cold air and south warm air coming together can cause extremely undesirable weather conditions.
I soon learned about the impact of opposing forces in the Gulf Stream on sailboats and how warm eddies and cold eddies and meanders could add or detract from boat speed. Blue water sailing requires skills way beyond those required for Chesapeake Bay sailing.
We were advised about the weather conditions, and the decision was made to head southwest and cross the Gulf Stream at one of the narrowest points to minimize our time in the dreaded Stream before we headed directly to Bermuda. The winds were light as we crossed the Gulf Stream.
About a day out of Newport, Herb, an amateur weather router in Canada for sailboats in the North Atlantic, was advising (by HAM radio) boats headed to Bermuda to take cover for several days in Cape May, NJ. Herb warned of a weather system developing to the north and heading south. Also, combined with a hurricane in the North Atlantic near Canada, this system could have a severe impact on our fleet. Several boats decided to take cover in Cape May. However, Caribe and most of the NARC fleet continued on to Bermuda.
Three days out of Newport the cold frontal system coming down from the north hit us with a vengeance. We clocked sustained winds from 40 to 60 knots and seas of 15 to 20 feet for a 36-hour period, gale conditions of Force 10. Steering the boat while on watch in those wind and sea conditions was exhilarating. The ocean was humbling. In the aft cockpit the boat appeared to be climbing a mountain of water and when the Swan reached the crest of a wave it would come surfing or slamming down with such force that at times I was concerned the boat would break apart. The Swan 48 did not break apart. The Swan was tremendous as it cut through the turbulence like a knife and moved forward with great boat speed. On a close reach with a triple reefed main and a handkerchief of jib we reeled off 200 miles in one 24-hour period with lots of seasick sailors. To make matters more interesting for Caribe, the heavy seas caused our life raft to break loose from its lashings on the the deck somewhere between Newport and Bermuda. Down below life for the crew was difficult. Doing basic tasks that required moving about the cabin took more energy and time than similar tasks on land. At the boats constant 15 to 20 degree angle of heel, you were operating against additional gravitational forces and stuff was flying or shifting around in the cabin. You constantly needed to brace yourself when moving about in anticipation of another lurch of the boat.
We arrived in Bermuda Friday Morning November 8. We discovered there were many equipment failures throughout the NARC fleet from the heavy weather on the first leg. An assessment of damage as the boats arrived revealed a Swan 46 with a snapped boom, bent stanchions; travelers ripped from decks, and autopilot and steering systems failures from the extreme forces. And there were a number of bruised sailors from the pounding and severe motion.
After a needed rest in Bermuda we sailed out of St. George’s harbor on Tuesday November 12 and arrived in St. Martin on Sunday November 17. We dropped the hook in St. Martin’s Marigot Bay at 2:00am after sailing in at night under a full moon. The sail from Bermuda to St. Martin was mostly in 15-20 knot winds and 5-foot seas. After the heavy weather sailing on the first leg 15-20 knots seemed like calm conditions.
The approximately 1500 ocean miles that we covered in the 15 days including a three-day stop in Bermuda was a grand experience. I made the trip to find out how ocean sailing in small boats works. Through OPO’s program I found out how the watch system works, how food is prepared and eaten underway (sometimes it can’t be prepared and eaten), how a sailboat operates in heavy ocean weather, how a crew in a small space relates to each other, how important weather routing is to an ocean passage, and how ocean navigation works. My thanks to our very able crew that also included Emil, John, Robert and Bianca, Julian on the Bermuda leg and Richard on the St. Martin leg.
I’m hooked on blue water sailing. Over the winter I will consider the possibility of selling my 36-foot S2 11.0A coastal cruiser to buy a heavy displacement blue water cruiser or continue to look for blue water crewing opportunities. On the other side there are plenty of sailing challenges on the Chesapeake Bay.
Answers from Bill and Renee
Answers from Bill and Renee who participated in the NARC Rally for the start of their one- year honeymoon cruise aboard a J-46 named “Vanish”. However they did take OPO members as extra crew for the trip south.
All is well with us. After a brief, cold trip up north we're back on Vanish
getting ready to explore the windwards and the leewards.
Below are answers to your questions. Also our website www.vanish.net has
lots of photos, video's and info. Feel free to use our names and let us
know if you have any other questions.
Thanks,
Bill & Renee
Hi Bill,
I hope you are well and enjoying the tropical sailing.
Nim asked me to do a little piece on why equipment broke on some
boats and not others in the NARC rally. I am contacting all the boat
captains.
Would you please tell me:
1) Why did you go the route you chose?
The Sunday weather briefing left me a bit confused. All I've learned about
deliveries is get the boat from point A to point B as quick as possible. If
the weather doesn't look good, don't go. The concept of heading southwest
as a delay instead of just waiting in Newport didn't sound right, but with
group dynamics and schedules we went along.
As we reviewed the weather data, we discarded the rhumbline route thinking
we didn't want an extra 100 miles of gulf stream. We also were not too
pleased with heading to the waypoint off of Cape May. This called for
heading west of a warm eddie then heading southeast once we were passed it.
Again to go over a 100 nm in the wrong direction and pass on the wrong side
of an eddie because of a forecast four days away didn't make much sense to
us. Instead we decided to split the difference, trying to pick up the east
side of the warm eddie and hit the stream at a narrow point where it had a
favorable direction. In general this plan worked. We did gain about a knot
and a half from the warm eddie, and another two knots from the 40 nm of
stream we went through.
2) What was the highest wind speeds you saw?
52 kts.
3) What sail combinations did you use at the worst of the weather?
(see attached email I sent from offshore on Thursday 11/7/02.) It goes
through our whole sail progression and a rundown of our conditions.
4) Did you set an inner forestay?
5) Did you use a stay sail?
We keep an inner forestay set whenever we go offshore. In any kind of wind
or seas we quickly switch to a hanked on staysail and a reefed main. This
combination works very well on the J/46. The boat is balanced and not
overpowered, until the wind really starts to blow.
6) What storm tactics did you use?
Our biggest challenge was setting the storm trysail. We had never taken the
sail out of the bag before and nobody cherished the idea of figuring out how
to rig it in 35+ knot winds. It was mid afternoon. I pulled the sail out
of the locker and put it the cockpit. We stared at it a bit and then Bill
Lowsteader and I talked about how to rig it. At the 4 PM watch change, with
all hands on deck, the call was made to set the sail. Renee was on the
wheel, Bill L. and myself were on the foredeck, Dave Sipes was on the
halyards, and John De Rochemont was on the sheets.
In case we had a problem with the trysail we decided to rig it in its
separate track before we took our double reefed main down (we don't have a
third reef). We took the sail out of the bag tied it to the deck and slowly
put the cars in the track. All was going well except the third car didn't
fit, it was too small. Luckily it was the only one.
Sail in track, it was time to get the main down. I recall heading to the
leeward side of the boat and getting hit with a wave that lifted me clear
off the deck. Tethered in, holding on to the shrowd, and adrenaline was all
that kept me on the boat. The main came down no problem. Just as it did,
Renee said she started seeing 40-45 kt winds. Just in time!
Bill L. hung on the boom to derig the first reefing line which we used as
the trysail outhaul. I climbed up the base of the mast to switch the main
halyard to the trysail. We checked our work and hoisted the sail. All
looked great!
Start to finish it took two hours, but it was the best call we made. The
boat settled down as we cruised along at 7+ kts.
7) Did you jibe at any time?
8) What damage did your boat suffer?
The day after the storm we had a problem with a new preventor - it wouldn't
prevent us from jibing. About 50 miles out of Bermuda we bent two
stanchions due to the faulty preventor.
During the storm we took some heavy waves. One broke the zipper on the
starboard corner of our dodger causing a basket full of stuff (flashlights,
handheld VHF, etc.) to get launched. Our bad for keeping the basket that up
there.
Also, in port we found that the shackle from the storm trysail halyard
chafed away part of the main sail track. I should have had the pin for the
shackle facing outboard.
Finally - the brand new reef line we used as a trysail outhaul was almost
completely chafed through. Nim has a good picture of this.
9) Would you do anything differently?
I would have waited it out in Newport.
Answers from Hank Schmitt
Answers from Hank Schmitt aboard the Swan 48 “Caribe” NARC Rally fall 2002.
1) Why did you go the route you chose?
A: I wanted to stay with the main body of the fleet since Sue had them going south and staying along the coast. I ended up splitting the difference and being the next boat west of you but cutting the corner and being inside the main body of the fleet.
2) What was the highest wind speeds you saw?
A: 57 knot gust. We had mostly 40 to 45 for about 18 to 24 hours.
3) What sail combinations did you use at the worst of the weather?
We had a double reef set before it got dark the 2nd night for the first minor blow before the stream. Crossed the stream as a non-event and then had a triple reef in Tuesday afternoon before it got dark again. We were then able to reef the jib as much as needed, which was about 80% to 90%, during the worst, and adjusted the furling line every 3 or 4 hours so as not to start a chafing problem in the line.
4) Did you set an inner forestay?
Yes we had it set from Newport, but did not rig the storm sail, which would have been a better sail than the rolled up jib.
5) Did you use a staysail?
No
6) What storm tactics did you use?
Personal experience has lead me to prefer keeping an active approach in weather up to 50 knots, keeping speed up and steering the boat around waves. We had and kept the wind forward of the beam for most of the heavy weather and had no near jibes or death experiences.
7) Did you jibe at any time?
No
8) What damage did your boat suffer?
We lost the liferaft with one wave, but were below making the 1800 radio check and did not even feel it go. The lashing did not break, the liferaft just worked itself out of the lashings under the cover. The lashings were from beam to beam rather than tied for and aft as well.
9) Would you do anything differently?
I think the direct route sailing with reduced sail was probably the best route. The stream was a non-issue for the boats that got through early. As the leader of the group I think at times it may have been better to delay the start, but it would have been difficult to do since the weather was so nice the first 2 days and we would not have left until Thursday or Friday otherwise. All the private boats were very adult about what damages they had and about their experiences and I did not get any complaints other than a couple of boats that did not think much of the weather routing. I disagree in that the weather report was right, but we did not all do the right route based on the information we had.
Regards,
Hank
Answers from John & Judie Thompson Sailing in the NARC III 2003
Hi Hank
We are anchored in St. Bart's soaking up the sunshine, and devouring the
wonderful fresh baguettes as well as the joie de vivre of this place.
We had a great trip to St. Martin taking 6 days from Bermuda with the
weather mostly on the nose varying anywhere from 15 - 40 knots. We managed
to avoid the nastiest of the weather systems which I understand a lot of
the boat got caught in. I hope everyone made it okay. The last day and a
half when the wind FINALLY came from the east was some of the most wonderful
sailing I have ever experienced--warm winds, fairly flat water, and a
gorgeous full moon. We all kept saying, "It doesn't get much better than
this!"
We are happy to be here, and as a first extended voyage south, it was most
enjoyable. How soon you forget the difficult stuff, like the freezing cold
in Newport!
Glad you got our message when you got to Bermuda. We were quite concerned
that you might have thought something nasty happened to us, but the oil pump
fitting just cracked and we had to go back. It was terribly disappointing,
but in the end, it worked in our favour.
Hope all is well!
John and Judie Thompson
Skipper Bob Fritz from the Swan 53 named "SKY"
Heavy Weather Tactics on the Swan 53 "Sky" During the Fall 2002 Swan Trip
Prior to arriving in Newport for the Fall Swan trip, I downloaded a recent
image of the Gulf Stream. The long southern loop of the stream which was
there in the Spring was still there. As we had used this to great advantage
during the Newport to Bermuda Race, my plan was to again run south with the
current. This would also allow us to take advantage of the east side of a
warm eddy that lay north of the stream nearly on the rhumb line.
I lost the courage of my convictions after our weather router forecast poor
weather in the Bermuda area about the time that we would arrive there. I'm
not certain why I didn't follow my original plans; it may have been the
group dynamic. After all, Sky is a solid 53 foot boat, and I had been in
40-50 knot winds in her previously, and knew that she handled these
conditions well. At any rate I chose the more westerly recommended course.
In retrospect, I should have run down the western side of the loop where I
could have easily bailed out of the current if things became too intense.
We had a Globalstar satellite phone on board with which we could download
weatherfax from the Internet. A couple of days out it became apparent that
a low was going to come off the SE coast and stir things up a bit. We were
west of the Stream at that point. Herb Hilgenberg came on that afternoon
sounding as if another Perfect Storm was about to occur shortly scaring
everyone half to death. He strongly advised that all should run for shelter
without delay with Cape May being the closest. I respect Herb and find him
very helpful, but I always take his prognostications with a grain of salt as
he tends to be extremely conservative.
I thought briefly about Cape May and consulted with my crew. Ultimately, I
rejected the idea as 1) Cape May was about 100 miles directly upwind, and 2)
Sky draws over 10 feet and much of Cape May is shallow. So the plan was to
get to the east of the Stream before the weather arrived. This
accomplished, we rigged the boat for heavy weather setting the inner
forestay for the storm jib and bending on the storm trysail. Sky is a
tall-rigged 53 with only two reefs in the main. She is overpowered in winds
much above 40 knots so the trysail becomes an important option.
As the wind increased, we furled the headsail, raised the storm jib and
replaced the double-reefed main with the trysail working before darkness
fell. Shortly thereafter, I was below when the boat fell off a wave, and I
did two and a half gainer with a double twist into a bulkhead. After I
peeled myself off the bulkhead, I went topside to find that we had been
swept by a wave which damaged the dodger and threw the helmsman against the
wheel bending it slightly. Concerned that someone might be injured, I
thought about heaving to. I had never tried this in a fin keeler, so I was
curious to see whether it worked. We backed the jib, and tied the wheel
down. After a few adjustments the boat lay quietly about 45 degrees to the
waves. There were no breaking seas, so I wasn't concerned about being
knocked down or rolled. We all went below and set a one person watch.
Everyone else went to bed. Occasionally we were swept by a wave, but other
than that the boat behaved well.
At the height of the storm we had winds 50-60 knots and saw one 73 knot gust
on our wind instruments. Barometric pressure dropped to 988 mb at the
lowest. Shortly before dawn, the wind began to abate, and we reset the main
and genoa. As the wind was now NW, we had some great sleigh rides down the
waves hitting 16-16.5 knots occasionally. The remainder of the way to
Bermuda was an easy sail.
In retrospect, I should have followed my original route plan. We wouldn't
have avoided the heavy weather, but we would have been in Bermuda a day
earlier. All those on the boat who hoped for heavy weather on the passage
got their money's worth, and it made the Dark and Stormies taste even
better. It was a tribute to all those skippers and crews in the fleet that
all arrived safely and mostly in one piece in St. Georges.
A Million Dollar Yacht and a Gold Plated Bucket by Lee Thurston
After a colder than snot start from Newport, Rhode Island on a beautiful
Sunday, good for icicle formation, the Gulf Stream crossing was a welcome
sunny, warm, and completely uneventful experience. We had followed the
forecasters suggestion and moved southwest from Newport, paralleling the
Gulf Stream until Tuesday, which found us about 60 miles off the Jersey
shore. A weak front had passes over us and we timed the crossing in very
light winds, the sunlight dancing brightly off the fabled deep blue water
you read about. I own a boat and have sailed the West Coast a bit, but this
offshore passage to Bermuda was my first foray into the Atlantic and so far
it had substantiated its nickname as "The Pond." There was no discernable
swell that even on the calmest days you would experience on the left coast.
The water temp was 73 degrees, unheard of on the other coast, and the only
excitement was we thought we might have lost John, a crewmember because he
slept so long. A couple of dolphins looking for sheilas, a few birds
looking lost, and I for one started to think about what a pushover this
whole Atlantic Gulf Stream was. I'm a little thick and should have known
better, NEVER tempt Neptune and the weather Gods! Big Mistake! There is
one constant to the weather, if its nice now, it will go to hell later and
if its as close to hell that you can see it, it will probably get worse. A
lot can be said for leaving the harbor in a full Gale, it can only get
better.
I had always heard how rough the Gulf Stream gets in storms, the warm water
intensifies the wind and the current builds into huge steep seas. What they
don't tell you is that once you cross it, it's like a bad marriage; it makes
you pay for the rest of the trip. The stream is a door, once you cross it,
even in the clear light conditions we experienced, a little thunderstorm can
be crossing the stream a hundred miles south of you with your name on it.
This little southern belle of a storm from the quiet shores of the Carolinas
will turn into the tempest from hell in the warm waters of the Gulf Stream
and trap your sorry butt. You don't want to recross the stream and get
caught in it by the advancing storm, so you cannot go west. If you sail
north or east, you may be in the same storm for the rest of your life, which
may not be as long as you think. Oh Boy! The only direction you can move
is straight through it. Head for the equator, button down the hatches and
start thinking what excuses you're going to tell your maker. The sooner you
get to the southern quadrant, the better. Shutting the door behind you is
what makes the Gulf Stream so dangerous, not the crossing of the stream in
itself, but how it traps you in the worst quadrant for any storms coming off
the southern coast of America and developing to the south of you. A mistake
was made in not paying enough attention to the weather front coming off the
Caroling coast. Knowing that any storm front coming off the coast is going
to intensify in the warm Gulf Stream water, there is no reason to cross the
Gulf Stream and get pasted on the chin in this trap.
I seriously considered my sanity at one time. I looked up at this wave
rest avalanching down the 20-foot face punching me with the force of a
55-gallon drum of water in my chest. It hit with a force, which allowed me
to bend the steering wheel and step off the boat so I could dry off my
glasses and have a smoke. There was way too much water in the boat, and of
course the wimpy dodger took a swim. I felt good because my glasses were
clear so I could finally see something, my hat had followed the dodger into
the water allowing the fresh breeze to whiffle through my hair and with my
death grip on the safety rail I got a real good idea how many screws I
actually had loose. I knew how lucky I was when my automatic life vest
decided to blow up an hour later and thought of how relaxing coastal
cruising is. In fact, I think everyone wonders what they were thinking when
they signed up for this crap.
The boat's cockpit was under water so often that we lost the capability of
recharging out batteries. The charger was in the lazarette, which as we
know is one of the driest parts of the boat. Another fine example of marine
engineering at its best. The yacht also exhibited the latest in marine
sanitation technology such as electric toilet. For three days, no
electrical power, no toilets, we were having fun now! Running under clear
starry nights in the middle of the Atlantic on a beautiful 53' yacht with a
million dollar bucket.
We all made it, or the ones that were not smart enough to hang out in the
bars in Jersey and let the storm blow over. I felt I had accomplished much
more on this trip than if it had been just a relaxing slog to Bermuda.
Teddy Roosevelt said that a life without challenges is no life at all; he
obviously wasn't a sailor. One of the attractions for me, besides the
powerful beauty of the ocean is the daring confrontation of a force of
nature that will never be controlled.
I learned an awful lot on this trip and the sense of comradery between the
40 plus OPO members that Friday night when we reeled into St. George was
overwhelming when we knew that everyone had mad it. It was an even that
nobody could forget. I know the Bar won't forget it. Anyway, I have turned
to priesthood since than and I owe it all to OPO.
Anytime,
Lee Thurston
Proud owner of Door #3
1-800-4-PASSAGe
Home | Membership | Message Board | About OPO | Upcoming Rallies | Contact Us
|
