This past Saturday was our fourth time out, ever, and first time out in 10+ wind. A respectable source from our club mentioned 15 gusting to 20. I only know there were scary whitecaps. Many of you have seen the video of @Dennis Kitchen master the H23.5 in 20kts. Let me assure you, you will not confuse that with this. So without further adieu, I bring you, "Last Saturday".
Failing to bring the boat up into the wind before unfurling the jib allowed the wind to pop the the sail open and snatch the port jib sheet right out of my hand. The sail and sheets were flapping wildly to port, and in a panic, I raced forward to retrieve them – again without bringing the boat to lee. Gripping the sheet tightly, and leaning over the open companionway, I attempted to cleat the port side, which made the boat heel , and I fell into the companionway. Lying on my back, in the quiet of the below deck, I had a moment to reflect. Why is this so hard? I bounced up, furled the jib, cleated the furling line, and then went forward to retrieve the sheets once again. I didn’t dare attempt to unfurl the jib until I could debrief myself (later that night, over a rum) on what just happened, and so we continued on the main. That was just the beginning of the excitement.
We had such a great sail the week before in 6kts, but this was entirely different. There seemed to be no room for error. Just as we were taking in the almost biblical image of a pass on our starboard side by a very splendid, white-bearded gentleman, dressed all in white, heading up wind in his blinding white boat, alone, under full, white sails - our bright orange life ring slipped its knot and drifted off behind us. "Oh God, no! Man over-board!" Then I cursed remembering the half-assed, half-hitch I tied before leaving the slip. We hadn’t even tried a MOB drill in 5kts, let alone in whitecaps. The wind seemed to be howling and I told Marsha, my steadfast helm’s woman, we would heave-to and drift back down on it. That would have been great, except, with no foresail to back, I suddenly realized - I didn’t know how to do it! So I told her to just head up and we would let the wind push us back down. That was working, but very slowly. Now, if this were a child, or an unconscious or panicked person - I’m afraid it would not have turned out well, unless I swam out 30 yards. But this wasn’t that. This was an object designed to float, and perhaps we could learn something. A "teachable moment?" So we fell off to port, centered the main, jibed, turned again, heeled over, spilled the sail – and missed it by 5 yards down wind. Damn! But now down wind, perhaps we could catch it heading upwind. So we continued on and tacked back to intercept the ring. I steadied myself on the starboard side, ready to plunge my selfie-stick-slash-broom handle and lift it out, only to watch it pass down the port side! Now it was game-on. Upwind further, we turned again to port, and then it happened – Chinese gybe! Yup, it felt like the mainsheet could have ripped out the padeye. Ok. Enough was enough. Wind 3, Great Escape 0. We decided to drop the main and motor up. But the main did not come down easy out there, it took time, and the wind blew us even further away. That’s when I noticed a huge power boat angling for my $80 ring!
In a panic, I raced below and grabbed the air horn. I aimed two blasts at the pirates but they wouldn’t bugger off! Clearly they had to know it was mine! I waived. A couple more blasts but they were determined to have it! Not knowing their intentions, the hot sun baked my brain into believing something evil was taking place. Then, another powered-pirate appeared, and OMG, nearly crashed into the bow of the first! Now there were two scoundrels after my property! I cursed and gave them two more blasts. They ignored me. I finally got the sail down and the motor started, when the second pirate motored off. Good, but with white caps looking more like rabid dogs, I didn’t dare go near the remaining boat and stayed downwind. Eventually, the captain of the power boat begrudgingly yelled, “I’ll toss it to you!” I was relieved, and felt guilty for thinking evil of him. We waited patiently for them to retrieve the ring, and finish up their business, which seemed to take forever. When the captain finally passed by, he shouted out that the second boat had cut his anchor line! He cursed the “drunk bastards” and tossed the ring. I shook my head, thanked him, and we headed in.
This is the account to the best of my recollection, no embellishments to appear any less foolish. We sat for some time over some rum, discussing what should and shouldn’t have happened. I couldn’t sleep at all that night. For certain, Marsha was outstanding. She did everything I asked. This was all on me. I was running things. It was plain foolishness to pick that time to play tag with the life ring. No one was hurt, but certainly could have been by that damn jibe! Improper life ring tying aside, the first error (inability to get the jib out) certainly led to the second error (inability to heave to on main alone), which eventually led to the accidental jibe. In retrospect, maybe I could have gotten a little piece of the jib out to heave to properly, or just drifted down slowly, or just motored around. I’m sure after reading this many other gaps will be pointed out, but the ones I recognize are…
1. Never change the sail plan without pointing the boat up wind
2. Learn a technique for controlling the jib sheets on deployment.
3. Learn how to heave-to on main alone and on jib alone.
4. Don’t rely on a half hitch to hold your LIFE RING when the wind pipes up.
5. Assume some of our power boating friends are actually good guys, but run out the guns just in case!
Failing to bring the boat up into the wind before unfurling the jib allowed the wind to pop the the sail open and snatch the port jib sheet right out of my hand. The sail and sheets were flapping wildly to port, and in a panic, I raced forward to retrieve them – again without bringing the boat to lee. Gripping the sheet tightly, and leaning over the open companionway, I attempted to cleat the port side, which made the boat heel , and I fell into the companionway. Lying on my back, in the quiet of the below deck, I had a moment to reflect. Why is this so hard? I bounced up, furled the jib, cleated the furling line, and then went forward to retrieve the sheets once again. I didn’t dare attempt to unfurl the jib until I could debrief myself (later that night, over a rum) on what just happened, and so we continued on the main. That was just the beginning of the excitement.
We had such a great sail the week before in 6kts, but this was entirely different. There seemed to be no room for error. Just as we were taking in the almost biblical image of a pass on our starboard side by a very splendid, white-bearded gentleman, dressed all in white, heading up wind in his blinding white boat, alone, under full, white sails - our bright orange life ring slipped its knot and drifted off behind us. "Oh God, no! Man over-board!" Then I cursed remembering the half-assed, half-hitch I tied before leaving the slip. We hadn’t even tried a MOB drill in 5kts, let alone in whitecaps. The wind seemed to be howling and I told Marsha, my steadfast helm’s woman, we would heave-to and drift back down on it. That would have been great, except, with no foresail to back, I suddenly realized - I didn’t know how to do it! So I told her to just head up and we would let the wind push us back down. That was working, but very slowly. Now, if this were a child, or an unconscious or panicked person - I’m afraid it would not have turned out well, unless I swam out 30 yards. But this wasn’t that. This was an object designed to float, and perhaps we could learn something. A "teachable moment?" So we fell off to port, centered the main, jibed, turned again, heeled over, spilled the sail – and missed it by 5 yards down wind. Damn! But now down wind, perhaps we could catch it heading upwind. So we continued on and tacked back to intercept the ring. I steadied myself on the starboard side, ready to plunge my selfie-stick-slash-broom handle and lift it out, only to watch it pass down the port side! Now it was game-on. Upwind further, we turned again to port, and then it happened – Chinese gybe! Yup, it felt like the mainsheet could have ripped out the padeye. Ok. Enough was enough. Wind 3, Great Escape 0. We decided to drop the main and motor up. But the main did not come down easy out there, it took time, and the wind blew us even further away. That’s when I noticed a huge power boat angling for my $80 ring!
In a panic, I raced below and grabbed the air horn. I aimed two blasts at the pirates but they wouldn’t bugger off! Clearly they had to know it was mine! I waived. A couple more blasts but they were determined to have it! Not knowing their intentions, the hot sun baked my brain into believing something evil was taking place. Then, another powered-pirate appeared, and OMG, nearly crashed into the bow of the first! Now there were two scoundrels after my property! I cursed and gave them two more blasts. They ignored me. I finally got the sail down and the motor started, when the second pirate motored off. Good, but with white caps looking more like rabid dogs, I didn’t dare go near the remaining boat and stayed downwind. Eventually, the captain of the power boat begrudgingly yelled, “I’ll toss it to you!” I was relieved, and felt guilty for thinking evil of him. We waited patiently for them to retrieve the ring, and finish up their business, which seemed to take forever. When the captain finally passed by, he shouted out that the second boat had cut his anchor line! He cursed the “drunk bastards” and tossed the ring. I shook my head, thanked him, and we headed in.
This is the account to the best of my recollection, no embellishments to appear any less foolish. We sat for some time over some rum, discussing what should and shouldn’t have happened. I couldn’t sleep at all that night. For certain, Marsha was outstanding. She did everything I asked. This was all on me. I was running things. It was plain foolishness to pick that time to play tag with the life ring. No one was hurt, but certainly could have been by that damn jibe! Improper life ring tying aside, the first error (inability to get the jib out) certainly led to the second error (inability to heave to on main alone), which eventually led to the accidental jibe. In retrospect, maybe I could have gotten a little piece of the jib out to heave to properly, or just drifted down slowly, or just motored around. I’m sure after reading this many other gaps will be pointed out, but the ones I recognize are…
1. Never change the sail plan without pointing the boat up wind
2. Learn a technique for controlling the jib sheets on deployment.
3. Learn how to heave-to on main alone and on jib alone.
4. Don’t rely on a half hitch to hold your LIFE RING when the wind pipes up.
5. Assume some of our power boating friends are actually good guys, but run out the guns just in case!
