Or don't believe what you read. If you get SAIL magazine, this month's issue has a story, and a whopper it is, called Sailing Sense on page 40. Read it and see how many errors in the thought process you can find, and then I will tell you what REALLY happened. Here it is. SUDDENLY IT WAS GONE An Experienced Crew Battles Heavy Seas And A Sheared Rudder By Jack Hall The annual Cleveland Race Week, hosted by the Edgewater Yacht Club, is held at the end of June on Lake Erie. Last year, our Cal 31, Avanti, was among the 80 plus participating boats, and we were scratch boat in our class. My wife, Joanne, and I had been racing with the five other people in our crew for five years, and we felt pretty confident about our chances to finish well. Our class went off the starting line in about 12 knots of breeze and a developing chop. With the #2 up, we nailed the start and began beating to windward and the first mark. We rounded it and continued to the second mark, a large orange-colored water-induction tower called the Cribb about 3 miles offshore. We rounded it and set the spinnaker. Now sailing on a starboard jibe, Avanti was doing better than 8 ½ knots. Since hull speed is just over 6, we were flying. We approached the next mark, rehoisted the #2, dropped the spinnaker, went around the mark, and turned back onto the wind. By now, the waves had built to around 8 feet, but we were still sailing very fast and I knew we were doing well. Then I heard a creak under my feet, followed by a large thud. When the wheel began to spin in my hands, I knew we had lost steerage. My first reaction was to remove the emergency-tiller plate and install the emergency tiller. But when I took the plate off, I looked down and saw that the top of the rudderpost had disappeared. To get a better assessment of the situation—and to see whether we could get our steering back—I opened the port cockpit hatch cover and climbed down for a better look. I saw that the rudderpost had broken away from its upper fitting on the bottom of the cockpit sole and was oscillating wildly. Had we his something, or had something failed on board? Whatever the cause, it was clear the rudder was inoperative, and I could see water pouring in around the rudderpost’s stuffing box. I thought about starting the engine, but without a way to steer, I decided to stop and get thing shipshape on board. As the crew was lowering the jib, I heard the bilgepump kick in and start to pump water over the side. Another inspection showed me the hull suffered major damage around the rudderpost. We tried to sail, but the combination of freshening breeze, choppy seas, and taking on water made it impossible to hold a course. I decided to drop the main and asked everyone who wasn’t already wearing a life vest to put one on. Once the main was secured, I called the race committee to tell them what had happened and that we were withdrawing. Then I called the Coast Guard on channel 16 and gave them our position and a situation report: We were taking on water but were having some success stopping the flow with a sail bag. A chase boat assigned to the racecourse and another boat in our class came over and stood by. When we lost steerage, I’d looked at the depth finder and seen that we were in 36 feet of water. It was about 2030- the beginning of a beautiful sunset. I thought that it would have been a beautiful one to watch, if only I could spare the time. But now we were fighting to keep the boat afloat. We had a call from the Coast Guard rescue craft, asking us to confirm our position and condition. Not long after, the rescue crafty approached, circled us a couple of times, and passed a line to us. When we had the line under control, they attached a 5-horspower gasoline pump to it and told us to haul it aboard—a difficult task, since it was stored in a waterproof metal drum. Worse, we were unable to start it. The Coast Guard then passed us a tow line, but as the tow speeded up, the sail bag that was jammed around the stuffing box worked free and we started to take on a lot of water. I asked the Coast Guard crew to stop the tow so our crew could transfer to our boat. As our crew climbed aboard, a member of the rescue crew came aboard Avanti, and together we tried, unsuccessfully again, to start the pump. Now what? I remembered the advice I’d received long ago: Never get off the boat until you have to step up. With the water now up to our knees in the main cabin, that time had clearly come. It was getting dark as the rescue boat motored toward shore, and, looking astern, I could see Avanti slowly rolling back and forth, her masthead light still shining brightly. Then, several minutes later, she began to slide slowly under the water. She went down gently, and when her keel touched the bottom of the lake, she was still standing straight up, with about 15 feet of mast sticking out of the water. I spent the next morning shuttling back and forth between my insurance agent, the state’s watercraft division, and a salvage company I had contracted to bring Avanti back to the surface. On Lake Erie, the owner is responsible for raising a boat that sinks in less than 100 feet of water. Since the salvage company needed a day to organize the operation, I called the race committee to tell them they needed to alert the fleet to Avanti’s location. We agreed that attaching a large reflecting buoy to the mast would help make it more visible. Te following morning the salvage company arrived on the scene and put two divers into the qwater. It took them about two hours to attach air bags along the hull on either side; when the bags were inflated, Avanti was once again floating on the surface of the water. It took the two salvage crew more hours to get her back to the dock. After they pumped out the rest of the water, the yard crew picked up the boat and gently put her into the cradle. As Avanti came out of the water, I could see a large scuff mark on her keel and rudder, clearly she had hit a submerged object. The cosmetic damage to the rest of the hull seemed minimal, but nearly everything belowdecks was headed for the marina dumpster. The insurance company inspected her and decided that, as far as they were concerned, she was a total loss. When we got that news, Joanne and I looked at each other, thought about it for a while, and then decided that it would be best for us if we let Avanti go to a new owner. We knew she’d be going out of our lives at the top of her game. Jack Hull has sailed for 40 years and has participated in 10 Newport-Bermuda races and many other offshore events. He and his wife, Joanne, a Lake Erie sailor for twenty years, now have a new boat, a J/34C. WHAT WE DID RIGHT We were an experienced crew who were able to react quickly, and we did. I was able to think clearly and analyze the many scenarios that might occur. WHAT WE DID WRONG When the Coast Guard boat arrived, I should have asked them to tow us in as quickly as they could rather than spend the time transferring the pump. I should have made a check of the rudder post and all relevant fittings part of my annual spring launch Checklist. If I had, I would have uncovered a potential fatigue problem. It’s now a prominent item on that list.
