The power which
the sea requires in the sailor makes a man of him very fast,
and the change of shores and population clears his head of much nonsense.
—Emerson
The morning of 1 August 2001 was beautiful, temperature in the mid eighties with winds predicted to 20 mph in the afternoon. Our two adult sons were in town for their mother's tumor surgery and she wanted them to have some fun. My sons and I set out for a three-hour sail on NW Florida's Choctawhatchee Bay with a possible motor sail tour of Destin Harbor. The wind was brisk and building out of the NE. Perfect for getting under the Destin Bridge and into the harbor. Our rapid passage across the bay took about 20 minutes. We met the BlackBeard II, one of the three gaff rigged Destin charter schooners, as we neared the bridge. We looked each other over and waved hello. Because of heavy boat traffic I could not line up properly on the bridge channel so we scooted under two pilings over. The tide was beginning to run out and the Saralee was side slipping heavily. Going under the bridge I spied the Nathaniel Bowditch, the second of the two smaller schooners, just coming in East Pass from the Gulf of Mexico. I asked the boys if they wanted to see her up close and of course we headed deeper into the pass. We were nearly at the narrow shallow channeled mouth of the pass when we had cleared the other schooner.
The Gulf looked calm and we all agreed to skip the crowded harbor and
make one lap around the sea buoy about 1.5 miles off shore and then head
back to the bay. We eased out the pass behind a huge charter catamaran
from Mississippi. What a day! The sun, wind, and sea were all perfect
for a short maiden trip to the Gulf.
Flash back a couple years to the building of the Saralee. Looking at the steering rig design, I didn't like the idea of steering block mounting bolts sticking out of the hull sides. I redesigned the block mounts with ¼" SS eyebolts mounted in ¾" ply doublers and epoxied these assemblies to the inside of the lazarette sides.
We
followhe big cat deeper into the emerald green Gulf waters. The boys remarked
upon how much fun this was and how serene. The waves were picking up a
little but nothing the boat couldn't handle.. Once in a while a 3-4 ft
roller but mostly 2-3 foot swells.
Flash back a couple of months. I really hated that rope steering. The good stay-set rope, recommended by a local marine store, just kept stretching. Every sail outing required resetting the rope tension. It was always really sloppy after a long afternoon's sail. I fixed that with coated steel cable. Two previous outings showed good performance with this modification and I was happy that the steering problems were finally over.
As I turned toward the east to round the sea buoy we saw a small Prindal catamaran being towed in by a powerboat. The cat's crew looked very unhappy as they held on to the mast laying over their bows. One of my boys remarked that that was a very sad way to end a sail. Shortly thereafter I heard a "clack" sound and started looking up into the rigging to find the source. Seeing nothing amiss I next checked the lazarette. The steering cable was wrapped over itself on one loop. I remember wondering how that happened. The steering was still responsive but I had a sudden, urgent feeling that I should get back to the pass as soon as possible. The seas were building slightly and the wind was getting much fresher.
To
hell with that buoy I was tacking for the pass now! As I put the helm
over we all heard the snap but she came about and we started in on the
new tack. My youngest son, who has some blue water sailing experience,
took the wheel while I again checked the steering gear. Or at least the
half we had left. One side of the cable was lying on the bottom of the
lazarette! I saw the block still attached to the cable and knew at once
what had happened. I explained to the boys the nature of problem and remarked
that we could run all the way in on this tack. I felt we were OK to make
the pass.
Flash back 20 or so years ago when in rough seas the Coast Guard broached a lifeboat in East Pass. This may not be a simple as I have made it sound but no sense worrying anyone now. Looking around there were no other boats anywhere near so getting in shouldn’t be too bad. We continued in chatting the whole way. As we approached the pass I again looked behind to find about 6 big charter and head boats closing in on the channel. The waves were now in the 4-5' size with some larger seemingly want to wet the after deck. I decided to go over the sand bar as opposed to using the channel. I didn't want to be in that narrow channel with those big boats and only half a rudder. Too many conflicting large waves and bow wakes make that pass very dangerous sometimes. Our shallow draft should let us over the bar with no problem. I told my sons what we were going to do and briefed everyone to sit still. Notice here the Captain did not order everyone into life jackets? There are only 10 of them aboard and three lying just inside the cabin on the floor. To be honest I was beginning to be a bit worried at this point. I had not expected to have the bigger boats close so fast. All I could see was the bar and how badly I needed to get inside of it.
We started over the bar and immediately the waves went up to God only knows what! The depth over the bar is about 4-5 feet on a good day at low tide. The sea swells break when passing over and what were nice, easy ocean swells can turn deadly under the right conditions. Today was a fine example of the right conditions! A large wave lifted the stern but she quickly came back to her course. I quickly glanced over at the relative calm channel full of big powerboats. The second large wave that I noticed tried very hard to broach us but the rudder was working the right way to again bring us back on course. Crack!!! The third wave finished the wheel; it just spun loosely in my hand. Did we bottom out, break the rudder, what? I franticly opened the hatch to see if that sound really was the tiller snapping off. Thankfully it was intact and I grabbed it to stop the broach and let go the sheet to let the main fly. The second eyebolt had straightened out under the extreme pressure of the pretty green waves. Ever so slowly we started to come around to our course. What pressure there was on that short tiller! The locking pin on the steering windlass was ripping into the back of my bloody hand every time I moved the tiller. A small turn of the wheel would move the pin away but I had no time to think of that.
Now was the time for the motor. Actually, 30 minutes ago was motor time but I didn't start it because I didn't think it would be effective in the high waves. Now it was too late. I would need someone to steer while I dropped and started the engine. Having two of us back there would put the boat down at the stern and allow the waves to wash over the rail and most likely into the cockpit. We could only hang on and hope now. The boys were calm but glancing at Scott, the sailor, he had a wary look to him. I had a flash of my wife's surgery the next day and now I have drowned her kids. This is going to be bad.
As I held the tiller bar thinking these things The Saralee slowed and
seemed to stop. The wind was a little lower now and the tide was running
out at full force. We hung over the bar fighting the tiller for hours.
OK, it was really only about a minute or so before I tried to power up
the main a little. Gradually we moved into the deeper water of the channel
and the lee of the east jetties. The wind and waves here were such that
I dared to hand over the tiller and light the iron breeze, but as soon
as I let off the main the boat started to drift back out of the pass.
All this time the radio was squawking on Channel 16 but I never comprehended
a word. I guess we really amused the charter boat folks. It must have
been quite a show! It took nearly full power from that big 9.9 my wife
had insisted I buy to push us into a wider portion of the pass and up
onto the beach. By now my pulse rate was down to 200 or so, and I was
reasonably sure we would get home alive.
Later, as I stood waist deep in the warm azure water removing the now
useless rudder, I reflected on everything that had gone wrong and the
errors I had made in the process of dealing with the situation. We had
lived to tell the tale but it could have worked out much differently.
The lessons this adventure had for me are listed here for your amusement
and consideration. Some of you will also sail big waters and these lessons
may be of some use, then again, small water sailors may benefit also:
The time for life jackets is when you first notice anything seriously amiss, or think you do! If you are a new sailor or in unknown waters it may be better to have them on all the time. I thought when we went under the bridge on the way out and the current pushed me off my desired course that I should have had the motor running, but, I did nothing about it.. Congested areas or difficult navigations call for the motor to be down and at the least ready. Why did I buy that electric start if not for these situations? Again, when you think about it, it is most likely the right time. I knew these boats were not intended for the waves I found myself in. I had never considered ever going over that sand bar in any boat let alone this one and I was very surprised at the ferocity of the waves on such a nice day. I have been through that pass a hundred times and never had a real problem. Then again I had never went through it on a sick sailboat. What idiot would go right over the bar? A 3-4 foot following sea is about all my vacationer will tolerate and still behave well. Beware. Never underestimate blind luck. Then again never depend on it either.
I would love to tell you that my sailing skill saved the
day, but it was a series of lucky breaks coupled with my
poor skills and a damn good boat. |
What I did do sort of right was give my wife a verbal float plan before we left. The wrong thing was to deviate into the Gulf on a whim. My cell phone and radio were in the cabin and I never thought to call in the change.
To be perfectly honest this episode scared me. Scared me bad. I had forgotten some simple things that I should have never overlooked. I learned to sail on Lake Michigan and have great respect for the power of those waters. I have also sailed some in small boats on the Mediterranean Sea and the Gulf of Siam. I have however, grown complacent with the Gulf of Mexico and had began to think of it, during normal weather, as just a big, predictable lake. The fact is that the winds, waves, tide, and my inattention conspired to compound what should have been a simple mechanical failure to put us seriously in harms way, and on a beautiful day no less.
All is well that ends well they say. We got home alive with a not too
badly broken boat. The Mates surgery came out much better than we had
hoped and she is on the mend with no lasting complications. The boys may
even sail with me again someday!.
Happy, and careful, sailing my friends….
Craig
Back Yard Yacht Builders
A non-commercial association of amateur boat-builder enthusiasts.
All our wooden boats are Stevenson designs.