Night from Hell

[Russ Colombo]

Structural Failure

The boat: a 1985 Hunter 40, owned since new. The scene: close hauled northbound, 0200 hours, 18 miles left to go of a 94 mile sail from Key West to Marco Island.The wx: stalled cold front, rain, north wind 20-25 knots, seas 6-8 feet.Mast failure occurred about eight feet up from deck. Boat immediately threatened to broach. Started engine only to have the failed rigging and sails drawn into the prop rendering engine useless. Cut away all rigging before it was able to hole the hull. Lowered anchor and by sheer luck, the CQR dug in at the end of 200' chain & rope rode in 60' of water, turning the bow safely into wind & waves.It was now time to get help, as we were engineless as well as dismasted. With my emergency antenna attached to ship's radio, I raised Fort Myers Coast Guard station about 60 miles north of my position. They dispatched a helicopter that, upon arriving overhead, asked via marine VHF if air evacuation was desired. I declined, instead asked the pilot to contact TowBoat US at Marco Island, as I had unlimited towing coverage with them. This the pilot was able to do; however he was told that TowBoat US policy prohibited them from responding to any calls in sea-swells exceeding five (5) feet! The helicopter pilot then suggested the Coast Guard could have a cutter on scene in about four hours' time, to which I agreed. The cutter arrived as expected, took us in tow for about four hours into the calmer waters of Marco Island, where the tow was transferred to TowBoat US.Subsequent investigation into why the mast failure had ocurred resulted in a surprise finding. The port shroud of the B & R rig terminates internally of the mast with a stainless steel stem-ball swaged unto the cable end and then pulled down against a stainless steel bearing cup. In this case, the bearing cup had been installed in a cocked position, resulting in the stem-ball bearing against half the s.s. cup and half against only aluminum. It took about 12 years of this condition for the aluminum to elongate sufficiently to allow the stem-ball and shroud to finally pull through, causing the mast to collapse. Because of the internal location of this design (no longer in use) it was impossible to discover the impending failure, even though the entire rigging had successfully undergone professional inspection only twelve days before it failed. I strongly recommend any owners of earlier model Hunters, circa 1985, to check whether their shrouds terminate INSIDE the mast. If so, you should have the terminal points undergo specialized inspection by whatever means your professional maintance provider offers. If at all possible, replacing the shrouds with EXTERNAL tang fittings would be an extremely prudent action.In my lucky case, no one was injured, the mast has been replaced (with EXTERNAL tangs)and the good vessel is as good...no BETTER, than ever!

 

[henkmeuzelaar]

If sailing is hell; who needs heaven?

This has been a great thread because, for me at least, it is easy to recognize oneself in at least 80 % of the situations described by the group. To my own amazement, however, I feel a strong reluctance to contribute another "night from hell" story because I cherish each and every of our many nightly misadventures that perhaps started out as hellishly scary, exhausting, painful or sickening but invariably reached a point where all that remained was an incredible feeling of exhilaration, satisfaction and pride at having helped bring "Rivendel" and her precious crew through in one piece. The harder the trip; the stronger the "sailor's high".In retrospect, that sensation dominates so completely that I would almost feel dishonest to label any of these memorable adventures a "night from hell".So, I have decided to hold tales such as "a night in the ship-eating channel", "my night as a human fender" or "nightly encounters of the scary kind" for future threads with titles that resonate more deeply with the color of my memories.Heaven can wait!Flying Dutchman

 

[henkmeuzelaar]

If sailing is hell; who needs heaven?

This has been a great thread because, for me at least, it is easy to recognize oneself in at least 80 % of the situations described by the group. To my own amazement, however, I feel a strong reluctance to contribute another "night from hell" story because I cherish each and every of our many nightly misadventures that perhaps started out as hellishly scary, exhausting, painful or sickening but invariably reached a point where all that remained was an incredible feeling of exhilaration, satisfaction and pride at having helped bring "Rivendel" and her precious crew through in one piece. The harder the trip; the stronger the "sailor's high".In retrospect, that sensation dominates so completely that I would almost feel dishonest to label any of these memorable adventures a "night from hell".So, I have decided to hold tales such as "a night in the ship-eating channel", "my night as a human fender" or "nightly encounters of the scary kind" for future threads with titles that resonate more deeply with the color of my memories.Heaven can wait!Flying Dutchman

 

[Steve Schwartz]

Aground in Swan Creek

It was late October--mid 1990s. My wife, eleven year old daughter, and I had a fine three day cruise in the Chester River and Corsica River (Hunter 30T). Heading back to Rock Hall we anchored in Swan Creek for the night. That night about 10 pm after a birthday party for our daughter a front came through with a vengence. The temperature dropped 30 degrees and the wind howled and screamed.At about 4 am I realized that we had dragged anchor into shallower water and were aground. There was a terrific northwest wind blowing. By 8 am we were well over on our side. It was low tide and I figured: "No problem. The tide will come back in and we will float off." High tide was at noon. But by noon the water did not go up at all. When the wind blows from the north, it blows the water out of the Bay. I hadn't realized that.We spent several hours living at an acute angle. Kind of surreal in a way. Then we had to be towed off. The only time I've ever been towed. The next day the tide came back in and flooded all the docks at Haven Habour Marina in Rock Hall.

 

[Steve Schwartz]

Aground in Swan Creek

It was late October--mid 1990s. My wife, eleven year old daughter, and I had a fine three day cruise in the Chester River and Corsica River (Hunter 30T). Heading back to Rock Hall we anchored in Swan Creek for the night. That night about 10 pm after a birthday party for our daughter a front came through with a vengence. The temperature dropped 30 degrees and the wind howled and screamed.At about 4 am I realized that we had dragged anchor into shallower water and were aground. There was a terrific northwest wind blowing. By 8 am we were well over on our side. It was low tide and I figured: "No problem. The tide will come back in and we will float off." High tide was at noon. But by noon the water did not go up at all. When the wind blows from the north, it blows the water out of the Bay. I hadn't realized that.We spent several hours living at an acute angle. Kind of surreal in a way. Then we had to be towed off. The only time I've ever been towed. The next day the tide came back in and flooded all the docks at Haven Habour Marina in Rock Hall.

 

[John Luke]

The ohmigodda passage

Two years ago, I bought a "fixer=upper" in St Maartin, a 43' Beneteau, flew down there, did about 2 weeks of work to the boat and prepared to bring her home. I had no offshore experience and got a friend (no experience) to make the Anagada passage with me. The day before leaving,I spent a good bit of my cash on a RIB and outboard. The locals I talked to advised towing the dinghy between islands rather than trying to haul it onto the deck. I left Simpson's bay about 5 in the evening to hit Virgin Gordon the next morning (first night passage). About 0200 the seas starting getting a bit rough, and pretty soon it was like a washing out there with 12-14 foot seas coming from every direction. The compass light wasn't working and we were trying to steer using a flashight and the stars. There was a loud "POW" and the dinghy line was in the cockpit beside me. Despite a moonless night, we were able to locate the dinghy in the pitch black and get the boat alongside. i lost the flashlight overboard, then the boathook. The dinghy line was gone, so I had nothing to grab on too. Finally in desperation, I put on a safety harness harness and went over the side into the dinghy. Now the heaving seas were trying to put the boat on top of me and then jerking my half out of the dinghy. I finally got a line secured and back into the sailboat, trembling from exhaustion and fear. Being in that little inflatable in the dark in rough seas out in the Atlantic knowing that if my line to the sailboat broke, I wast lost was the scariest thing I had ever done. About 4 am, then whole thing happened again and again I went over the side once more. This time after getting back in the boat, my partner and I agreed that the next time the line broke, the dinghy was gone. Fortunately, there was no next time and we got into the Virgin Gorda the next day in good shape. I, was black and blue from having the safety line wrapped around me while the boat went from wave peak to trough and back again, jerking me around like a puppet. On all passages after that, the dinghy was hauled on deck.

 

[John Luke]

The ohmigodda passage

Two years ago, I bought a "fixer=upper" in St Maartin, a 43' Beneteau, flew down there, did about 2 weeks of work to the boat and prepared to bring her home. I had no offshore experience and got a friend (no experience) to make the Anagada passage with me. The day before leaving,I spent a good bit of my cash on a RIB and outboard. The locals I talked to advised towing the dinghy between islands rather than trying to haul it onto the deck. I left Simpson's bay about 5 in the evening to hit Virgin Gordon the next morning (first night passage). About 0200 the seas starting getting a bit rough, and pretty soon it was like a washing out there with 12-14 foot seas coming from every direction. The compass light wasn't working and we were trying to steer using a flashight and the stars. There was a loud "POW" and the dinghy line was in the cockpit beside me. Despite a moonless night, we were able to locate the dinghy in the pitch black and get the boat alongside. i lost the flashlight overboard, then the boathook. The dinghy line was gone, so I had nothing to grab on too. Finally in desperation, I put on a safety harness harness and went over the side into the dinghy. Now the heaving seas were trying to put the boat on top of me and then jerking my half out of the dinghy. I finally got a line secured and back into the sailboat, trembling from exhaustion and fear. Being in that little inflatable in the dark in rough seas out in the Atlantic knowing that if my line to the sailboat broke, I wast lost was the scariest thing I had ever done. About 4 am, then whole thing happened again and again I went over the side once more. This time after getting back in the boat, my partner and I agreed that the next time the line broke, the dinghy was gone. Fortunately, there was no next time and we got into the Virgin Gorda the next day in good shape. I, was black and blue from having the safety line wrapped around me while the boat went from wave peak to trough and back again, jerking me around like a puppet. On all passages after that, the dinghy was hauled on deck.

 

[Geof Tillotson]

John, you have used your quotient of good luck...

And someone elses too. Willfully going overboard, at night, in heavy seas, out of sight of land is never a good idea. Unless the boat you are on is going to leave you there anyway. And you should still think twice!! You're good fortune alone is what let's you tell this story. Having been dragged by a harness through the water, for even a short time, is an experience that still wakes me up at night in a cold sweat. Going over the side intentionally in those conditions, never!BTW - I will be re-arranging the jack-lines on my boat before I do any passages to not allow me to go fully overboard should I need to use them. The PO installed them running down the walk-ways, but I will move them to the centerline. And my harness will be similarly shortened.Also, no dinghy, no matter how new or expen$ive is worth a life.Sorry to get on my soapbox, but please be careful that when you describe your crossing to Anegada in the future you might want to start with a disclaimer that starts out with "Don't try this at home!"Geof s/v Day-O

 

[Geof Tillotson]

John, you have used your quotient of good luck...

And someone elses too. Willfully going overboard, at night, in heavy seas, out of sight of land is never a good idea. Unless the boat you are on is going to leave you there anyway. And you should still think twice!! You're good fortune alone is what let's you tell this story. Having been dragged by a harness through the water, for even a short time, is an experience that still wakes me up at night in a cold sweat. Going over the side intentionally in those conditions, never!BTW - I will be re-arranging the jack-lines on my boat before I do any passages to not allow me to go fully overboard should I need to use them. The PO installed them running down the walk-ways, but I will move them to the centerline. And my harness will be similarly shortened.Also, no dinghy, no matter how new or expen$ive is worth a life.Sorry to get on my soapbox, but please be careful that when you describe your crossing to Anegada in the future you might want to start with a disclaimer that starts out with "Don't try this at home!"Geof s/v Day-O

 

[BILL ROBB]

WIND & RAIN

While cruising in my O'DAY 25, STARGAZER, I was tied up in Huron, OH in anticipation of a weather warning. Little did I know that it was to be the worst night of our cruising life! A tornado touched down not 10 miles from our boat and the wind, rain, and hail was like nothing we have ever experianced! Whew!

 

[BILL ROBB]

WIND & RAIN

While cruising in my O'DAY 25, STARGAZER, I was tied up in Huron, OH in anticipation of a weather warning. Little did I know that it was to be the worst night of our cruising life! A tornado touched down not 10 miles from our boat and the wind, rain, and hail was like nothing we have ever experianced! Whew!

 

[Jim Willis]

Three nights- but the worst was mental!

When I single-handed to HI from CA, I had never been out of sight of land before! The first few days were idyllic beam reach, fast sailing etc. After seeing my first "big" waves and getting frightened, I sort of got used to thingsand mentally told myself to stop whining!.Once in an extended squall, my imagination told me that this was hell etc but I managed the sails and got so tired that I heaved to (the first time I'd every tried it slept like a baby! Next day was beautiful.Another couple of nights I had problems with the autopilot (Autohelm 3000) the alarm would go off, I would waken and the boat would start to get sideways to the waves! Luckily I had auxillary inside steering (Gulf 32 pilothouse) so I was able to correct and try to fix. When totally exhausted (after 48 hours of this) , I heaved to and slept again. The next day I was fresh and I diagnosed the problem,- Salt scum was making the belt slip- I just cleaned off and wheel with some acetone. Also the servo unit was "flopping over" and slackening the belt- fixed with a vise grip.All these "real" emergencies were, however overshadowed by an imaginary panic.I was now out of range of the weatherfax signals from CA, but still had the sideband giving out GMT (refuse this zulu stuff!) and hourly weather projections. They mentioned a severe tropical storm and gave latitude and longitude. My god! that was where I was going to be tomorrow!. I became VERY religious that night as I thought that I was finally going to "get it" even after getting over halfway to HI!. Then I slept!The next day, I went through a list of frequencies that a friend had dialed into my sideband and managed to get a weatherfax signal (millitary) from Pearl Harbor. I had misheard on the radio and the tropical storm was the OTHER side of the dateline. Jubilation!That's the thing with sailing, the highs are great after the lows. I read somewhere that a good fright is far better than being oppressed by constant stress and helplessness (as in some big pharma companies I worked for) - so right!Jim W

 

[Jim Willis]

Three nights- but the worst was mental!

When I single-handed to HI from CA, I had never been out of sight of land before! The first few days were idyllic beam reach, fast sailing etc. After seeing my first "big" waves and getting frightened, I sort of got used to thingsand mentally told myself to stop whining!.Once in an extended squall, my imagination told me that this was hell etc but I managed the sails and got so tired that I heaved to (the first time I'd every tried it slept like a baby! Next day was beautiful.Another couple of nights I had problems with the autopilot (Autohelm 3000) the alarm would go off, I would waken and the boat would start to get sideways to the waves! Luckily I had auxillary inside steering (Gulf 32 pilothouse) so I was able to correct and try to fix. When totally exhausted (after 48 hours of this) , I heaved to and slept again. The next day I was fresh and I diagnosed the problem,- Salt scum was making the belt slip- I just cleaned off and wheel with some acetone. Also the servo unit was "flopping over" and slackening the belt- fixed with a vise grip.All these "real" emergencies were, however overshadowed by an imaginary panic.I was now out of range of the weatherfax signals from CA, but still had the sideband giving out GMT (refuse this zulu stuff!) and hourly weather projections. They mentioned a severe tropical storm and gave latitude and longitude. My god! that was where I was going to be tomorrow!. I became VERY religious that night as I thought that I was finally going to "get it" even after getting over halfway to HI!. Then I slept!The next day, I went through a list of frequencies that a friend had dialed into my sideband and managed to get a weatherfax signal (millitary) from Pearl Harbor. I had misheard on the radio and the tropical storm was the OTHER side of the dateline. Jubilation!That's the thing with sailing, the highs are great after the lows. I read somewhere that a good fright is far better than being oppressed by constant stress and helplessness (as in some big pharma companies I worked for) - so right!Jim W

 

[Phil A.]

Storm on lake Michigan

On Oct 12th, 2002, my longtime girlfriend and myself, along with a good friend of ours took delivery of my 1979 Hunter 25. The plan was to sail it from where I bought it in Holland Michigan down to South Haven Michigan. The trip was about thirty miles and the weather looked good for about an eight to nine hour trip. The winds were supposed to be from the Southwest at ten to twenty Knots. We got an early start because the weather was going to get heavy late in the evening. Tess and I have been sailing for about ten years, not diehard, every chance we got but often enough to know what we were doing. Our friend Neil, had never set foot on a sailboat before. The trip started out great, the winds were fast and the sailing to windward was working just fine. We were making short Westerly tacks, followed by long running Southeasterly tacks. My first calculations put us right on track to be home by mid afternoon. After a while of good sailing the winds started to die, we were no longer making any headway. I started the motor and proceeded to make way hoping the wind would pick back up. The winds were shifting and now coming from due South, so we started tacking evenly across the wind. The sky still looked great, the fog had lifted and there was good visibility. For the next few hours we had patches of good wind and we could stop the motor for a while, but we discovered that we were using a considerable amount of fuel. I added the extra can of gas that I was glad I had brought with me. By this time we were past any safe harbors within running distance and South Haven was only a few miles ahead. We were starting to get a little anxious about the heavy weather that was expected to come in but thought we still had several hours. I am here to say that a storm on lake Michigan can build and move like nothing I have ever seen. This huge black mass came off our starboard quarter very low to the water. It was flat as a table on the bottom and reached for miles with upward moving streaks from around its edges. The pressure front hit us way before the cloud reached us. We were using the jib very loosely anticipating the heavier winds. I asked Neil to let out the jib because we were about to be overpowered, but he could not control it under the pressure, so I told him to just cut it loose and we would try to recover it, once released, it stood straight out from the forestay like a streamer in a wind tunnel. The sky turned dark as night and the rain started pouring, as the cloud stretched over us and covered the shoreline blocking our visual fix with relation to land. About this time the first waves hit us, the winds had changed and were now coming from the West - Northwest. There was no way I was sending anyone forward to bring down the jib, so we watched as it slowly shredded over the next couple of hours. I let out the mainsheet hoping to get the Luff into the wind while Neil laid across the cabin top and tried to bring down some of the Mainsail but the winds were too strong. There was no reefing gear on the boat anyway, so I just let the sheets out and pulled into the wind so as to reduce power on the main as much as possible. I started the motor to help because we were being tossed around like a cork. I was really happy that my Hunter had a fixed keel with some weight to it, my last boat had a crank up keel and would not have fared as well. We watched the bow dip under the waves and come back up again, each time throwing a solid spray into the air but the winds were so strong that it was carried away to leeward before it could reach us. The waves were starting to come from two directions and they would come upon us from the side and from behind us, they would build to heights above us and then break off at the crest and come crashing down on us. The whitecaps on top of every wave were being peeled off at the peak height and turned into flying sheets of water. Each time we got hit it would spin us off the wind and tip us, sometimes to near fifty degrees. About an hour or so into this, Neil and I saw a funnel cloud form right in front of us about a mile or so off, we could not tell if it was on land or in the lake. Our comments to each other were enough to draw Tess’ attention from the cabin, when she asked what was wrong we both said in harmony; “you don’t want to know”. At this point I was seriously considering heading straight for land and sticking it in the beach. Then after about one minute or so we watched as it separated horizontally in the middle and each section spun off in opposite directions and slowly disappeared. Tess is now on the radio with the Coast Guard letting them know that we are out there and what our situation was. We wanted someone to at least be aware just in case something happened to us. Finally we can see the Light at South haven, still about two miles or more away. We could see by our position now that we were being set toward land, so we started beating windward getting kicked around with every wave, nothing we did made the ride any smoother. We would get out past the breakwater and light, then relax a little by coming back South for a little ways, then beat into the wind again, then relax. This went on for the rest of the trip to the Breakwater, then about a half mile out, the motor ran out of gas. We were on the main only, and it was ripping badly against the rigging, but still under power. When we finally approached the breakwater, we could see the two concrete Piers that create it, several hundred feet in length and standing several feet out of the water, were completely awash most of the time. As we rounded the opening and entered this protected Chanel, I gave Neil the tiller and told him to just keep us off the walls. I went to the stern and opened the lazarette to the gas tank, cut off the fuel line and stood the tank on end then stuck the line down into the tank so as to get the last few ounces of gas to get some maneuverability in the Chanel. We rode the surge waves straight east right up the Chanel into the protected waters of the Black river at south haven. This was an experience that we will always appreciate, but do not wish to repeat in the future. Checking the Beaufort scale for storm forces, we were in force seven and eight for a lot of this storm. Both of my sails were destroyed and the rigging slackened up in a few places but this little Hunter 25 came through it like a champ. I will be re-rigging her with a roller furling jib and ball bearing main track. Looking back, there are some things that I would do differently. Instead of trying to use the jib, I should have just taken it down altogether. After checking the weather reports, I felt I had time to make it home before the heavy weather late that evening, this did not turn out to be the case. The next time I will probably put off such a voyage for a better time with a larger weather window. The three of us came through this unharmed, except for a minor lump on my head from the boom. Both Tess and Neil say they are still willing to go sailing next spring, my friends turned out to be as stout as my boat.

 

[Phil A.]

Storm on lake Michigan

On Oct 12th, 2002, my longtime girlfriend and myself, along with a good friend of ours took delivery of my 1979 Hunter 25. The plan was to sail it from where I bought it in Holland Michigan down to South Haven Michigan. The trip was about thirty miles and the weather looked good for about an eight to nine hour trip. The winds were supposed to be from the Southwest at ten to twenty Knots. We got an early start because the weather was going to get heavy late in the evening. Tess and I have been sailing for about ten years, not diehard, every chance we got but often enough to know what we were doing. Our friend Neil, had never set foot on a sailboat before. The trip started out great, the winds were fast and the sailing to windward was working just fine. We were making short Westerly tacks, followed by long running Southeasterly tacks. My first calculations put us right on track to be home by mid afternoon. After a while of good sailing the winds started to die, we were no longer making any headway. I started the motor and proceeded to make way hoping the wind would pick back up. The winds were shifting and now coming from due South, so we started tacking evenly across the wind. The sky still looked great, the fog had lifted and there was good visibility. For the next few hours we had patches of good wind and we could stop the motor for a while, but we discovered that we were using a considerable amount of fuel. I added the extra can of gas that I was glad I had brought with me. By this time we were past any safe harbors within running distance and South Haven was only a few miles ahead. We were starting to get a little anxious about the heavy weather that was expected to come in but thought we still had several hours. I am here to say that a storm on lake Michigan can build and move like nothing I have ever seen. This huge black mass came off our starboard quarter very low to the water. It was flat as a table on the bottom and reached for miles with upward moving streaks from around its edges. The pressure front hit us way before the cloud reached us. We were using the jib very loosely anticipating the heavier winds. I asked Neil to let out the jib because we were about to be overpowered, but he could not control it under the pressure, so I told him to just cut it loose and we would try to recover it, once released, it stood straight out from the forestay like a streamer in a wind tunnel. The sky turned dark as night and the rain started pouring, as the cloud stretched over us and covered the shoreline blocking our visual fix with relation to land. About this time the first waves hit us, the winds had changed and were now coming from the West - Northwest. There was no way I was sending anyone forward to bring down the jib, so we watched as it slowly shredded over the next couple of hours. I let out the mainsheet hoping to get the Luff into the wind while Neil laid across the cabin top and tried to bring down some of the Mainsail but the winds were too strong. There was no reefing gear on the boat anyway, so I just let the sheets out and pulled into the wind so as to reduce power on the main as much as possible. I started the motor to help because we were being tossed around like a cork. I was really happy that my Hunter had a fixed keel with some weight to it, my last boat had a crank up keel and would not have fared as well. We watched the bow dip under the waves and come back up again, each time throwing a solid spray into the air but the winds were so strong that it was carried away to leeward before it could reach us. The waves were starting to come from two directions and they would come upon us from the side and from behind us, they would build to heights above us and then break off at the crest and come crashing down on us. The whitecaps on top of every wave were being peeled off at the peak height and turned into flying sheets of water. Each time we got hit it would spin us off the wind and tip us, sometimes to near fifty degrees. About an hour or so into this, Neil and I saw a funnel cloud form right in front of us about a mile or so off, we could not tell if it was on land or in the lake. Our comments to each other were enough to draw Tess’ attention from the cabin, when she asked what was wrong we both said in harmony; “you don’t want to know”. At this point I was seriously considering heading straight for land and sticking it in the beach. Then after about one minute or so we watched as it separated horizontally in the middle and each section spun off in opposite directions and slowly disappeared. Tess is now on the radio with the Coast Guard letting them know that we are out there and what our situation was. We wanted someone to at least be aware just in case something happened to us. Finally we can see the Light at South haven, still about two miles or more away. We could see by our position now that we were being set toward land, so we started beating windward getting kicked around with every wave, nothing we did made the ride any smoother. We would get out past the breakwater and light, then relax a little by coming back South for a little ways, then beat into the wind again, then relax. This went on for the rest of the trip to the Breakwater, then about a half mile out, the motor ran out of gas. We were on the main only, and it was ripping badly against the rigging, but still under power. When we finally approached the breakwater, we could see the two concrete Piers that create it, several hundred feet in length and standing several feet out of the water, were completely awash most of the time. As we rounded the opening and entered this protected Chanel, I gave Neil the tiller and told him to just keep us off the walls. I went to the stern and opened the lazarette to the gas tank, cut off the fuel line and stood the tank on end then stuck the line down into the tank so as to get the last few ounces of gas to get some maneuverability in the Chanel. We rode the surge waves straight east right up the Chanel into the protected waters of the Black river at south haven. This was an experience that we will always appreciate, but do not wish to repeat in the future. Checking the Beaufort scale for storm forces, we were in force seven and eight for a lot of this storm. Both of my sails were destroyed and the rigging slackened up in a few places but this little Hunter 25 came through it like a champ. I will be re-rigging her with a roller furling jib and ball bearing main track. Looking back, there are some things that I would do differently. Instead of trying to use the jib, I should have just taken it down altogether. After checking the weather reports, I felt I had time to make it home before the heavy weather late that evening, this did not turn out to be the case. The next time I will probably put off such a voyage for a better time with a larger weather window. The three of us came through this unharmed, except for a minor lump on my head from the boom. Both Tess and Neil say they are still willing to go sailing next spring, my friends turned out to be as stout as my boat.

 

[Tom Monroe]

1st night race

Labor Day Tri-State race, Chicago Light to St. Joe to Michigan City, maybe 25 years ago. My first year racing big boats, and my first "out of sight of land" race, and my first night race. Big wind, big waves, big rain, close reach to close hauled, waves routinely covering the bow, cheap foul weather gear not up to the task, cold, wet, miserable, and finally at dawn sick in a bucket down below, when the loudest bang/crash/explosive sound I've ever heard (including Viet Nam) happens. Dash on deck and here's the mast busted clean at the spreader, swinging around ready to cause more major problems (spreader buckeled). Run up to the mast, through the tail of the halyard around the swinging thing, and as it comes back in, take a turn on a cleat, wrap my arms around everything, and yell "HELP."Motion is now horrendous, and I'm really getting sick again, but no time to stop and give into it. Get everything down, tied in tight, and check all around the boat for anything that could be trailing BEFORE we start the motor. Power the last six miles on in.After it was over, I was shaking so badley and so weak that I fell down the companion way, and couldn't climb back up for the whole six miles.Analysis ... 1. Never buy cheap foul weather gear, and never count on anyone who has it.2. Reacted well, analyzed the loads/weight/momentum issies instantly, so did the right things without getting hurt.3. I was the one who wanted to check for stuff in the water, so we didn't make the mistake others have mentioned, re: wrapping stuff around the prop.4. Extension corollary ... when you make one mistake or one thing happens, don't make it worse by making another on top of it. I read a sailing corollary to Web's Law once that went something like ... if anything can go wrong, it will, and will happen at night, and be followed by the worst weather of the trip.5. Keep your fears and anxieties under control. As others have noted, these boats can take alot. Uncontrolled fear and anxiety take you down below the level of your boat. Be sure to help your crew with this. My skipper didn't.6. We didn't have a good rigging cutter. Had to open up turnbuckles to free standing rigging. Took too long.Tom MonroeCarlyle Lake

 

[Tom Monroe]

1st night race

Labor Day Tri-State race, Chicago Light to St. Joe to Michigan City, maybe 25 years ago. My first year racing big boats, and my first "out of sight of land" race, and my first night race. Big wind, big waves, big rain, close reach to close hauled, waves routinely covering the bow, cheap foul weather gear not up to the task, cold, wet, miserable, and finally at dawn sick in a bucket down below, when the loudest bang/crash/explosive sound I've ever heard (including Viet Nam) happens. Dash on deck and here's the mast busted clean at the spreader, swinging around ready to cause more major problems (spreader buckeled). Run up to the mast, through the tail of the halyard around the swinging thing, and as it comes back in, take a turn on a cleat, wrap my arms around everything, and yell "HELP."Motion is now horrendous, and I'm really getting sick again, but no time to stop and give into it. Get everything down, tied in tight, and check all around the boat for anything that could be trailing BEFORE we start the motor. Power the last six miles on in.After it was over, I was shaking so badley and so weak that I fell down the companion way, and couldn't climb back up for the whole six miles.Analysis ... 1. Never buy cheap foul weather gear, and never count on anyone who has it.2. Reacted well, analyzed the loads/weight/momentum issies instantly, so did the right things without getting hurt.3. I was the one who wanted to check for stuff in the water, so we didn't make the mistake others have mentioned, re: wrapping stuff around the prop.4. Extension corollary ... when you make one mistake or one thing happens, don't make it worse by making another on top of it. I read a sailing corollary to Web's Law once that went something like ... if anything can go wrong, it will, and will happen at night, and be followed by the worst weather of the trip.5. Keep your fears and anxieties under control. As others have noted, these boats can take alot. Uncontrolled fear and anxiety take you down below the level of your boat. Be sure to help your crew with this. My skipper didn't.6. We didn't have a good rigging cutter. Had to open up turnbuckles to free standing rigging. Took too long.Tom MonroeCarlyle Lake

 

[Rich SantaColoma]

Mosquitoes like rabid dogs.

Back in '93 I sailed from Cold Spring to Staatsburg on the Hudson River in my 20' Canoe Yawl. It was hot, and thunderstorms chased me all day. I pulled into the marina at Indian Creek to get a slip for the night, and sat in the cockpit, with a beer, reading a book to my oil lamp. It was really hot, and really humid, but it was bliss.Then a guy rushed by, and said over his shoulder, "You're BRAVE!", and didn't answer me when I asked "why"?. He was already slamming shut the screen door on his cabin cruiser. As though they heard his half-warning, a cloud of mosquitoes descended on me, en masse, and immediately begin to drain every limb of blood. I had a good 5 to ten drilling away on each arm, no matter how many I killed. I went in the cabin to escape, but I had no screens and the heat was unbearable. Besides, about a thousand of the b*&%%*&s followed me in!I was so desperate I poured kerosene from the lamp on a rag, and smeared my arms, neck, and forehead. I even rubbed it into my hair! But the biters kept at it, actually landing on my oil-glistening arms as though oblivious to the kerosene!And then the thunderstorm hit! I went into the cabin, but in there I was stifling AND still being bit. I slid into the sleeping bag, although probably would have had a stroke if naked. So my oil slathered, sweaty and rain soaked body stuck to the bag... But even in the sleeping bag, the skeeters were industriously biting my forehead and scalp. I escaped through the poring rain to the restrooms, which seemed to have a stink even the parasites could not stomach, and fell asleep in the corner of the cement floor.I woke in the wee hours of the morning, and the storm had passed. The mosquitoes had adhered to that mysterious schedule they seem to keep... they just give up their business at some pre-determined hour of the night. I opened the boat up, and got a good two hours sleep. If I don't get my two hours sleep, I'm a wreck. Rich.

 

[Rich SantaColoma]

Mosquitoes like rabid dogs.

Back in '93 I sailed from Cold Spring to Staatsburg on the Hudson River in my 20' Canoe Yawl. It was hot, and thunderstorms chased me all day. I pulled into the marina at Indian Creek to get a slip for the night, and sat in the cockpit, with a beer, reading a book to my oil lamp. It was really hot, and really humid, but it was bliss.Then a guy rushed by, and said over his shoulder, "You're BRAVE!", and didn't answer me when I asked "why"?. He was already slamming shut the screen door on his cabin cruiser. As though they heard his half-warning, a cloud of mosquitoes descended on me, en masse, and immediately begin to drain every limb of blood. I had a good 5 to ten drilling away on each arm, no matter how many I killed. I went in the cabin to escape, but I had no screens and the heat was unbearable. Besides, about a thousand of the b*&%%*&s followed me in!I was so desperate I poured kerosene from the lamp on a rag, and smeared my arms, neck, and forehead. I even rubbed it into my hair! But the biters kept at it, actually landing on my oil-glistening arms as though oblivious to the kerosene!And then the thunderstorm hit! I went into the cabin, but in there I was stifling AND still being bit. I slid into the sleeping bag, although probably would have had a stroke if naked. So my oil slathered, sweaty and rain soaked body stuck to the bag... But even in the sleeping bag, the skeeters were industriously biting my forehead and scalp. I escaped through the poring rain to the restrooms, which seemed to have a stink even the parasites could not stomach, and fell asleep in the corner of the cement floor.I woke in the wee hours of the morning, and the storm had passed. The mosquitoes had adhered to that mysterious schedule they seem to keep... they just give up their business at some pre-determined hour of the night. I opened the boat up, and got a good two hours sleep. If I don't get my two hours sleep, I'm a wreck. Rich.

 

[Steve Schwartz]

Insect repellent

We always keep insect repellent on board for just such occasions. Anything with 10% deet or more works wonders.