Even though wave shape and distance apart may be more critical, wave height and size counts, too. How big are the biggest waves you've sailed? Where were you at the time and what drove the waves to be that big? Was there a big wind blowing or a wind against current? Perhaps a shoaling effect as you came in off the ocean? How did your boat handle the waves? Did you take them on the bow, surf down them or (help!) did you get caught beam to? How did you gauge the size of the waves? For this purpose we'll define wave height as the distance from peak to trough. Boat wakes don't count. Share your wavey stories and be sure to vote in the Quick Quiz at the bottom of the home page. (Quiz contributed by Gary Wyngarden)
- Status
Wave Height
Largest waves encoundered so far were 6' off Cape Romano Shoal on the West coast of Florida. Waves were caused by a series of August thunderstorms comming off the land from the South East. Frequency was short enough that my 25' Watkins would top the wave , surf for 2 or 3 seconds then bottom out and start climbing the next. My course took me into the wind. I struck all sail and motored with my 12 horse outboard in the lowest position the adjustable bracket would go and tacked across the waves as if sailing a close reach. Every 7th or 8th wave there was a greater interval between peaks and I chose those longer breaks to tack back along my rhumb line every 20 - 30 minutes. Did ythis for about 25 miles of rhumb line.
Largest waves encoundered so far were 6' off Cape Romano Shoal on the West coast of Florida. Waves were caused by a series of August thunderstorms comming off the land from the South East. Frequency was short enough that my 25' Watkins would top the wave , surf for 2 or 3 seconds then bottom out and start climbing the next. My course took me into the wind. I struck all sail and motored with my 12 horse outboard in the lowest position the adjustable bracket would go and tacked across the waves as if sailing a close reach. Every 7th or 8th wave there was a greater interval between peaks and I chose those longer breaks to tack back along my rhumb line every 20 - 30 minutes. Did ythis for about 25 miles of rhumb line.
They were thiiis big!
The occasion of our biggest waves was while returning home from Hawaii and we were about 500 miles from the Straight of Juan de Fuca. The winds had been roughly west at around 20 for a couple of days and built to a steady 40 over about 12 hours. We were sailing with a furled main and about a third of our jib out, doing 7 to 8 knots. Our Autohelm 7000 autopilot dealt nicely with the conditions. Our lower spreader is about 25 feet off the water and the biggest seas appeared to be about level with that. We really had a very nice ride, the whole thing being almost a non-event. The seas were breaking at the top and I wondered if we were about to get pooped several times. The 43 is open under the helmsman's seat and I was prepared to get soaked at my station. Each time, as the breaker roared up behind us, the boat would lift on the face of the wave, pick up a little more wind and charge down the wave, not quite surfing - the curling part of the wave stopping about a foot away. We never did take any water aboard. Those winds lasted for about four hours and then dropped to around 25 over about four hours. That was the only "heavy" weather that we encountered in four years in the Pacific.
The occasion of our biggest waves was while returning home from Hawaii and we were about 500 miles from the Straight of Juan de Fuca. The winds had been roughly west at around 20 for a couple of days and built to a steady 40 over about 12 hours. We were sailing with a furled main and about a third of our jib out, doing 7 to 8 knots. Our Autohelm 7000 autopilot dealt nicely with the conditions. Our lower spreader is about 25 feet off the water and the biggest seas appeared to be about level with that. We really had a very nice ride, the whole thing being almost a non-event. The seas were breaking at the top and I wondered if we were about to get pooped several times. The 43 is open under the helmsman's seat and I was prepared to get soaked at my station. Each time, as the breaker roared up behind us, the boat would lift on the face of the wave, pick up a little more wind and charge down the wave, not quite surfing - the curling part of the wave stopping about a foot away. We never did take any water aboard. Those winds lasted for about four hours and then dropped to around 25 over about four hours. That was the only "heavy" weather that we encountered in four years in the Pacific.
Six footers on an Inland Lake
Have had a couple of days this fall where a cold front passage brought big waves pushed up by howling winds. Took most of them crossing on the bow; got wet too. Certainly gave me a challenge, but enjoyed the opportunity. Did some surfing going back downwind; luckily no abeam in the trough.
Have had a couple of days this fall where a cold front passage brought big waves pushed up by howling winds. Took most of them crossing on the bow; got wet too. Certainly gave me a challenge, but enjoyed the opportunity. Did some surfing going back downwind; luckily no abeam in the trough.
Attachments
Didn't have a measure!
I was brought up sailing on the English Channel, where, if there is a strong Easterly, it's not unusual to have a swell action of 30 feet. On the Atlantic, approaching Florida, I spent a night at the helm in a 27 foot boat with waves of about 20 feet - I did some serious surfing that night, clocking over 30 knots on the downhill slope. I also opened up the hull-to -deck joint, so I had a very wet boat, and damaged the chainplates.
I was brought up sailing on the English Channel, where, if there is a strong Easterly, it's not unusual to have a swell action of 30 feet. On the Atlantic, approaching Florida, I spent a night at the helm in a 27 foot boat with waves of about 20 feet - I did some serious surfing that night, clocking over 30 knots on the downhill slope. I also opened up the hull-to -deck joint, so I had a very wet boat, and damaged the chainplates.
pretty scary
The highest waves I have seen were aboard a troopship going from Taiwan to Okinawa during a typhoon. I was six decks down in my bunk and getting seasick. Went up stairs to top deck for some air. There was a marine guard at the outside door,he said, "I can't let you go out there". When I asked why, he said, "look out that porthole in the door". I did and saw nothing but water. I bent down and looked up thru the porthole and realized the waves were over top of the boat. Understand, I'm six decks up from the water. The wave height must have been 80' to 100' from trough to peak. Needlees to say I found my own personal toilet and hugged it for the next three days. Anyway, made the wind against tide 12' waves at port everglades inlet in Ft. Ldl. seem tiny. This was in a 17' Seaward. Waves were only 3'-5' outside. Good luck red
The highest waves I have seen were aboard a troopship going from Taiwan to Okinawa during a typhoon. I was six decks down in my bunk and getting seasick. Went up stairs to top deck for some air. There was a marine guard at the outside door,he said, "I can't let you go out there". When I asked why, he said, "look out that porthole in the door". I did and saw nothing but water. I bent down and looked up thru the porthole and realized the waves were over top of the boat. Understand, I'm six decks up from the water. The wave height must have been 80' to 100' from trough to peak. Needlees to say I found my own personal toilet and hugged it for the next three days. Anyway, made the wind against tide 12' waves at port everglades inlet in Ft. Ldl. seem tiny. This was in a 17' Seaward. Waves were only 3'-5' outside. Good luck red
Surfing Dude !
Ah yes, after a beautiful day at sea I was returning through the Charleston Inlet. The winds came from behind making it an easy sail into port, you might think. But with the winds in that direction the tide flowing in at 6 knots and being between two stone jeddies. The waves turned into 15 to 18 foot rollers. It was all I coukd do to keep the boat on course as she would surf on the following seas. Like riding a roller coaster up the back of the waves and then over the crest. As the seas is trying to push faster than to boat wants to travel. Man was I happy to enter the harbor and get out of that funnel of rolling water!
Ah yes, after a beautiful day at sea I was returning through the Charleston Inlet. The winds came from behind making it an easy sail into port, you might think. But with the winds in that direction the tide flowing in at 6 knots and being between two stone jeddies. The waves turned into 15 to 18 foot rollers. It was all I coukd do to keep the boat on course as she would surf on the following seas. Like riding a roller coaster up the back of the waves and then over the crest. As the seas is trying to push faster than to boat wants to travel. Man was I happy to enter the harbor and get out of that funnel of rolling water!
Twice this summer
I was delivering my boat to Portland, Maine with a crew of two on July 4th weekend. Left on third leg from Gloucester, MA to Kittery, ME and planned to go 'round Cape Ann, MA. When we cleared the point of the Cape, the wind piped up to about 25 and on the nose out of the North. Waves were a consistent 6-8' with the occasional 10'. Did a lot of slamming in my L37 and making no headway. Boat handled great while motor-sailing but 2-3 kts won't get me through 20 more miles of open ocean to Kittery, ME for the night. Turned back to Gloucester for the sleigh ride back. Did 32 nm in a circle that day. Returning from Portland on Labor Day Saturday we ran into the same conditions. Wind from the NE. Had to motor 5nm into the seas (6-8', occasional 10'). Burried the bow on a couple of occasions and took solid water back to the dodger. Turned South for Kittery and sailed the whole distance with quartering seas over the left shoulder. Did a lot of surfing and hit 9 kts at times. Again, the boat handled terrific. It's conditions like these that you learn a lot about how sturdy your boat is and strengthens your confidence in it.
I was delivering my boat to Portland, Maine with a crew of two on July 4th weekend. Left on third leg from Gloucester, MA to Kittery, ME and planned to go 'round Cape Ann, MA. When we cleared the point of the Cape, the wind piped up to about 25 and on the nose out of the North. Waves were a consistent 6-8' with the occasional 10'. Did a lot of slamming in my L37 and making no headway. Boat handled great while motor-sailing but 2-3 kts won't get me through 20 more miles of open ocean to Kittery, ME for the night. Turned back to Gloucester for the sleigh ride back. Did 32 nm in a circle that day. Returning from Portland on Labor Day Saturday we ran into the same conditions. Wind from the NE. Had to motor 5nm into the seas (6-8', occasional 10'). Burried the bow on a couple of occasions and took solid water back to the dodger. Turned South for Kittery and sailed the whole distance with quartering seas over the left shoulder. Did a lot of surfing and hit 9 kts at times. Again, the boat handled terrific. It's conditions like these that you learn a lot about how sturdy your boat is and strengthens your confidence in it.
Recent High Seas
While sailing to Nantucket this past summer down the Main channel the wind had been blowing 20kn out of the north, When we were commited it piked up to 25 to 30 still out of the north resulting in 6 to 8 foot seas as we passed Horseshoe shoal. We were heading east so this was a beam sea. We maintained a much reefed mainand a little bit of jib. Our 450 was fine but not my wife. Len Fagan "Tale Winds"
While sailing to Nantucket this past summer down the Main channel the wind had been blowing 20kn out of the north, When we were commited it piked up to 25 to 30 still out of the north resulting in 6 to 8 foot seas as we passed Horseshoe shoal. We were heading east so this was a beam sea. We maintained a much reefed mainand a little bit of jib. Our 450 was fine but not my wife. Len Fagan "Tale Winds"
Sailing in a canadian ottawa river
30 knots winds on port Wave by the back 3 to 4 ' Cross waves , and suddent higher wind Attach to my boat like a livesaver. Very rocky road. Here beside Ottawa the wind is wild because of the serounding mountains of the river. the wind turn a 360 degré angles in a 15 minutes The surface of the river is like dream wip. (pointy high wave) Rodeo style... Was a special day...
30 knots winds on port Wave by the back 3 to 4 ' Cross waves , and suddent higher wind Attach to my boat like a livesaver. Very rocky road. Here beside Ottawa the wind is wild because of the serounding mountains of the river. the wind turn a 360 degré angles in a 15 minutes The surface of the river is like dream wip. (pointy high wave) Rodeo style... Was a special day...
Wind, Fog & Waves
My last boat was a 1977 Ericson 32 II. My wife (Then a friend) were traveling from Muskegon, MI to Frankfort, MI to meet friends. As we rounded Little Point Sauble, we encountered blowing fog. I went below to put on my foul weather grear and safety equipment while my friend managed the helm. While below I didn't notice much unusual movement but was called to the deck by a very scared woman's vioce who wasn't allowing for any delay. As I came on deck, the boat started up the face of a 10 footer that was straight on our bow. I forced the whell over to soften the angle and then pulled it back to stay with the wave. I told Michelle to go below and get her gear on and to clip on when she came back up. "What?! she questioned. I said, "Go below and get your foul weather suit on, then your safety harnes and then you life jacket." "Look you, I only bought those things to humor you!" "I never intended to wear them!!!" The response was surprizing. I thought I was the skipper! For the first time in my sailing experience, I became the skipper and said: "I love you (Suprizing in itself, since I hadn"t made that decission to myself!)get below and get it done!" Fortunately, she did and teo years later we married. We continued to fight the waves, wind (Up to 46 mph) for five hours. The direct line distance is 10 miles. I have no idea how many miles we actually traveled.
My last boat was a 1977 Ericson 32 II. My wife (Then a friend) were traveling from Muskegon, MI to Frankfort, MI to meet friends. As we rounded Little Point Sauble, we encountered blowing fog. I went below to put on my foul weather grear and safety equipment while my friend managed the helm. While below I didn't notice much unusual movement but was called to the deck by a very scared woman's vioce who wasn't allowing for any delay. As I came on deck, the boat started up the face of a 10 footer that was straight on our bow. I forced the whell over to soften the angle and then pulled it back to stay with the wave. I told Michelle to go below and get her gear on and to clip on when she came back up. "What?! she questioned. I said, "Go below and get your foul weather suit on, then your safety harnes and then you life jacket." "Look you, I only bought those things to humor you!" "I never intended to wear them!!!" The response was surprizing. I thought I was the skipper! For the first time in my sailing experience, I became the skipper and said: "I love you (Suprizing in itself, since I hadn"t made that decission to myself!)get below and get it done!" Fortunately, she did and teo years later we married. We continued to fight the waves, wind (Up to 46 mph) for five hours. The direct line distance is 10 miles. I have no idea how many miles we actually traveled.
huge waves
Fortunately, my experience took place off my boat on a cablelayer in the Atlantic. We were standing on a undersea cable when a hurricane passed about 80 miles south of our position. We took waves over 38 feet(measured by instruments) for a time. At one point we were taking waves over the bow cable gantry even though we were stationary. Accelerometers that I had placed on deck measured local accelerations in excess of 1 g when the waves struck. My own sailboat has only encountered waves of 8 to 10 feet...plenty big.
Fortunately, my experience took place off my boat on a cablelayer in the Atlantic. We were standing on a undersea cable when a hurricane passed about 80 miles south of our position. We took waves over 38 feet(measured by instruments) for a time. At one point we were taking waves over the bow cable gantry even though we were stationary. Accelerometers that I had placed on deck measured local accelerations in excess of 1 g when the waves struck. My own sailboat has only encountered waves of 8 to 10 feet...plenty big.
Lake Erie
Here at the far eastern end of Lake Erie, when the wind blows over the lake from Ohio, the waves have a ton of room to build. We were out on our 26' O'Day with a friend in his 25' motorboat, which we kept losing between the swells. Now you see him, now you don't. He's around six feet tall and must have been standing at least two feet out of the water on his deck, so I estimate that the waves were around eight feet. Rollers, though- nothing dangerous. Made for a wild ride back surfing down the waves- a lot of work with the tiller.
Here at the far eastern end of Lake Erie, when the wind blows over the lake from Ohio, the waves have a ton of room to build. We were out on our 26' O'Day with a friend in his 25' motorboat, which we kept losing between the swells. Now you see him, now you don't. He's around six feet tall and must have been standing at least two feet out of the water on his deck, so I estimate that the waves were around eight feet. Rollers, though- nothing dangerous. Made for a wild ride back surfing down the waves- a lot of work with the tiller.
Lake Erie waves
I've been out on Lake Erie when the wind has been kicking out of the north. With the whole lake for fetch the waves really get to rocking! Been a couple of days they were in the 12-15 range, noaa recordings. I sail a Holder17 and those size of waves just swallow me and my little boat. Great fun, but tend to lose most of my wind in the troughs. Really have to stay sharp cause when I rise up to the top and catch the full wind force it'll round me right up and over if I'm not careful. Fun and thrilling if you are careful! Charlie
I've been out on Lake Erie when the wind has been kicking out of the north. With the whole lake for fetch the waves really get to rocking! Been a couple of days they were in the 12-15 range, noaa recordings. I sail a Holder17 and those size of waves just swallow me and my little boat. Great fun, but tend to lose most of my wind in the troughs. Really have to stay sharp cause when I rise up to the top and catch the full wind force it'll round me right up and over if I'm not careful. Fun and thrilling if you are careful! Charlie
Attachments
Square Waves on Lake Huron
There have been many who have commented about "those shallow water sailors" on the Great Lakes, with reference to the effect of the wave action on a vessel. The number of sunken craft (I beleive that number to be around 6000) attests to the ferocity of the storms and the unique shape and action of the waves on the Great Lakes. Though I am no oceonographic expert, I believe that my 40 year of sailing, most of it on the Great Lakes, has given me some experience in the area of discussion. My family, all 6 kids and my wife, and I used to go away for a month each summer and travel around the great lakes in out sailboats. For the last 20 years I have owned Black Magic, a Catalina 36-T. I have done 5 or 6 Bayview Port Huron to Mackinaw crewed races, and 13 or 14 Port Huron to Mackinaw Singlehanded Races. It was in one of the Bayview crewed races, 1986 I believe, with 9 crew, including myself, that I had my most harrowing experience. The bottom was falling out of the barometer, dropping over 0.1mm per hour. I suggested that the crew pre-medicate. To a man these macho clowns (all very good friends of mine, and normally smart people) declined my invitation. That afternoon the wind started to build, rising to a sustained 49 to 50 knots with higher gusts. The Coast Guard cutter Bramble was standing by the turning mark, as usual. This year she reported 16 foot waves as she hovered in her assigned area. Now, 16 foot waves are not the highest on record for Lake Huron. I believe the record is 35 feet during the storm of Novemver 1913. But, sixteen feet was all I wanted to see. We were down to very short canvas, a 110% up front and a double reefed main, still trying to do our best to be competitive. I was down below, wrapped up in a blown out 150%, watching water pour through the hole where the mast partners used to be. Others were in various states of nausea and/or incapacitation. The four iron men who stayed on deck all night endured quite an ordeal. The waves were, as per typical, square, with steep vertical faces and backs. The boat was only doing about 6 knots or so, but shooting off the top of the wave, dropping into the trough with a horrendous crash and shudder, then smashing into the face of the oncoming wave. Green water, two feet deep would wash down the deck and crash into the cockpit sending the forwardmost crew rolling aft in the cockpit. Next morning the winds began to moderate, dropping to 35 knots and the seas rapidly diminished to about 8 feet, though still square. Though 16 feet may not sound like much by ocean standards, the shape and high frequency of Great Lakes waves makes them particularly dangerous. Of the approximately 300 boat that started the race, 100 dropped out, 11 were dis-masted and one sank. We finished respectably, though Black Magic had to be stripped out and hosed down. According to one of the wives, my beautiful Black Magic smelled like the Detroit Zoo down below.
There have been many who have commented about "those shallow water sailors" on the Great Lakes, with reference to the effect of the wave action on a vessel. The number of sunken craft (I beleive that number to be around 6000) attests to the ferocity of the storms and the unique shape and action of the waves on the Great Lakes. Though I am no oceonographic expert, I believe that my 40 year of sailing, most of it on the Great Lakes, has given me some experience in the area of discussion. My family, all 6 kids and my wife, and I used to go away for a month each summer and travel around the great lakes in out sailboats. For the last 20 years I have owned Black Magic, a Catalina 36-T. I have done 5 or 6 Bayview Port Huron to Mackinaw crewed races, and 13 or 14 Port Huron to Mackinaw Singlehanded Races. It was in one of the Bayview crewed races, 1986 I believe, with 9 crew, including myself, that I had my most harrowing experience. The bottom was falling out of the barometer, dropping over 0.1mm per hour. I suggested that the crew pre-medicate. To a man these macho clowns (all very good friends of mine, and normally smart people) declined my invitation. That afternoon the wind started to build, rising to a sustained 49 to 50 knots with higher gusts. The Coast Guard cutter Bramble was standing by the turning mark, as usual. This year she reported 16 foot waves as she hovered in her assigned area. Now, 16 foot waves are not the highest on record for Lake Huron. I believe the record is 35 feet during the storm of Novemver 1913. But, sixteen feet was all I wanted to see. We were down to very short canvas, a 110% up front and a double reefed main, still trying to do our best to be competitive. I was down below, wrapped up in a blown out 150%, watching water pour through the hole where the mast partners used to be. Others were in various states of nausea and/or incapacitation. The four iron men who stayed on deck all night endured quite an ordeal. The waves were, as per typical, square, with steep vertical faces and backs. The boat was only doing about 6 knots or so, but shooting off the top of the wave, dropping into the trough with a horrendous crash and shudder, then smashing into the face of the oncoming wave. Green water, two feet deep would wash down the deck and crash into the cockpit sending the forwardmost crew rolling aft in the cockpit. Next morning the winds began to moderate, dropping to 35 knots and the seas rapidly diminished to about 8 feet, though still square. Though 16 feet may not sound like much by ocean standards, the shape and high frequency of Great Lakes waves makes them particularly dangerous. Of the approximately 300 boat that started the race, 100 dropped out, 11 were dis-masted and one sank. We finished respectably, though Black Magic had to be stripped out and hosed down. According to one of the wives, my beautiful Black Magic smelled like the Detroit Zoo down below.
Riding Half of the Perfect Storm, New York-Horta
9 days out of New York on an Allied Seawind II ketch, and riding the Gulf Stream around the 40Nth, the weather freshened from the WSW, so we hove to and topped the fuel tank with deck jerricans, dropped the mizzen, reefed the Stoboom main and the furling Genoa, and set the flying forestay with a stormjib, even though the barometric pressure stayed high at 1015mb. Soon we were riding 12m (40')waves in 65kts wind(wind gage broke at that level), barrelling down the steep slopes at 8-10kts on a 25.6' WL and 31.5 overall length. Every half hour, a rogue wave would hit hard on the side and fill the cockpit, but the boat kept lifting her tail with alacrity. The pitiable Windhunter vane and autopilot had already given up the ghost, so one hour shifts for the two of us lost ttheir charm after 24h, so I started praying for relief. After a gybe that tore off the mains'l track (we could not reef more as the sail had jammed in the boom)) and the cockpit coaming, we summoned the strength to bring down the mani'sl and tie it around the boom, and hoist the stormjib... one hour later the wind almost died on us. Next time, I'll hoist the stormjib much earlier! My crew, a skipper/French Marine paratrooper in the Algerian war, left in Horta and told my wife home that "He thought his last hour had come, but felt strangely serene". That to my wife who knew I would be away for another 10 months! Having gone through the Bass Straits on a 12000 ton cruiser as a cadet with 60 ft waves, and delighted with the sturdy Seawind II reactions, I only felt tired and mad at Windhunter. I now have a Cape Horn windvane, a Raytheon Autopilot on the wheel, and a smaller Tiller pilot on the windvane mechanism for triple assurance. I also dumped the Stoboom in favor of the original boom and mainsail from previous owner once home, but sailed jib and jigger the rest of the year around the Atlantic
9 days out of New York on an Allied Seawind II ketch, and riding the Gulf Stream around the 40Nth, the weather freshened from the WSW, so we hove to and topped the fuel tank with deck jerricans, dropped the mizzen, reefed the Stoboom main and the furling Genoa, and set the flying forestay with a stormjib, even though the barometric pressure stayed high at 1015mb. Soon we were riding 12m (40')waves in 65kts wind(wind gage broke at that level), barrelling down the steep slopes at 8-10kts on a 25.6' WL and 31.5 overall length. Every half hour, a rogue wave would hit hard on the side and fill the cockpit, but the boat kept lifting her tail with alacrity. The pitiable Windhunter vane and autopilot had already given up the ghost, so one hour shifts for the two of us lost ttheir charm after 24h, so I started praying for relief. After a gybe that tore off the mains'l track (we could not reef more as the sail had jammed in the boom)) and the cockpit coaming, we summoned the strength to bring down the mani'sl and tie it around the boom, and hoist the stormjib... one hour later the wind almost died on us. Next time, I'll hoist the stormjib much earlier! My crew, a skipper/French Marine paratrooper in the Algerian war, left in Horta and told my wife home that "He thought his last hour had come, but felt strangely serene". That to my wife who knew I would be away for another 10 months! Having gone through the Bass Straits on a 12000 ton cruiser as a cadet with 60 ft waves, and delighted with the sturdy Seawind II reactions, I only felt tired and mad at Windhunter. I now have a Cape Horn windvane, a Raytheon Autopilot on the wheel, and a smaller Tiller pilot on the windvane mechanism for triple assurance. I also dumped the Stoboom in favor of the original boom and mainsail from previous owner once home, but sailed jib and jigger the rest of the year around the Atlantic
Surfing to Key West
We were on an Endeavor 32, sailing from Naples, FL to Key West. Our estimated crossing time was 26 hours. An identical Endeavor 32 was sailing along with us. The winds started to build, to the point when we were down in the trough, you couldn't see the mast on the other boat. The waves were following, and we surfed at speeds up to 13 knots. The actual crossing time was 13 hours, which put us there in the middle of the night. Our estimate of wave height is directly proportional to the time elapsed since this crossing. This year they're about 8 feet. Next year, they'll be about 10 feet.
We were on an Endeavor 32, sailing from Naples, FL to Key West. Our estimated crossing time was 26 hours. An identical Endeavor 32 was sailing along with us. The winds started to build, to the point when we were down in the trough, you couldn't see the mast on the other boat. The waves were following, and we surfed at speeds up to 13 knots. The actual crossing time was 13 hours, which put us there in the middle of the night. Our estimate of wave height is directly proportional to the time elapsed since this crossing. This year they're about 8 feet. Next year, they'll be about 10 feet.
Getting there is have the battle
Getting there is only half the battle Bill Cordeiro The Newport to Ensenada Race draws thousands of people to participate. It’s billed as the World’s Largest International Yacht Race. The 1999 race was no different than any other Ensenada race with one exception. The wind was on the nose, making the race a beat as opposed to the downwind sleigh ride it was in 1998. The race for began leaving the marina in Alamitos Bay on my Catalina 27, Brooke 3. The winds were very strong and the seas very big and coming from the south. Before getting past the Seal Beach pier we were taking green water over the bow. The trip to Newport Beach was a long, arduous task. In past years I used this time to put things on the boat in final race condition – getting the gennaker ready for launching, securing things below, walking the new crew through the procedures, probably doing a couple of gennaker sets and some gybes, and the usual banter. Pounding into the southerly, however, we could only head directly for the starting line and arrived with only a few minutes to spare. The race started and I opted to sail offshore, taking an outside course. Sailing ten miles to make two miles then repeating the ten-for-two wasn’t what I had planned for the race. At about 2100 I decided to exercise my option to use my engine. We motored through the night passing boat after boat. In the early morning off Point Loma with the wind still on the nose, I called the crew together and explained our options. Option one was to go into San Diego, try to get a slip, rent a car and drive to Ensenada. Option two was to go back to Long Beach, and drive to Ensenada arriving about the same time we would if we continued. The third option was to continue on to Ensenada motoring. That was my choice as I had blocked vacation time to do the race and wanted to enjoy the boat in Mexico. The third option proved the choice of all aboard. Somewhere off the coast near Rosarito Beach I decided to call friends in Mazatlan on my high frequency radio. Forgetting that the Tiller Master was steering the boat, I keyed the microphone, and immediately frying the compass in the Tiller Master. Now, not only would we have to hand steer to Ensenada, I would have to hand steer all the way back to Long Beach. I had planned to singlehand the boat back, it wasn’t like I could go to West Marine and get another Tiller Master of the shelf. After arriving in Ensenada and checking in at race headquarters, I started looking for a crew to make the return trip. I found a friend, also an experienced sailor, from the Seal Beach Yacht Club who was willing to make the trip with me, even after being told that we would have to had steer. I wasn’t in a hurry to either leave Ensenada or get back to Long Beach. I had blocked vacation and really didn’t have to be anywhere until the following Sunday. Joe De Laby, my new crew, is retired and had no time constraints either. We decided we would leave early Monday morning, staying the first night in San Diego, then continue to Dana Point for a night before heading on to Long Beach. Before leaving, I had filed a float plan with friends. The Trip to San Diego was, as expected, a quiet trip. The wind had come around and was on the nose again but was fairly light. The trip from San Diego to Dana Point was equally quiet. We traded off steering every hour and it was pretty easy going. The next morning was a very typical day in Southern California – the usual marine layer with winds out of the Northwest at five to seven knots, seas two to three feet at two second intervals. We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at a local restaurant and departed on the last leg of the voyage. What we expected was another day of motorsailing. As we neared Newport Beach the seas were building and the wind was freshening, not unusual for that area at that time of day. The boat was making good speed and riding comfortably. About a mile from the Huntington Beach Pier, I jokingly asked Joe to call the restaurant on the end of the pier to have throw down a couple of burgers and shakes – I’d pay them the next time I went in there. As we passed the pier, the seas and winds really began to build. In an instant the seas were at six feet and larger with a very short interval. We had been motorsailing with the main only. We were too near shore and n a good at all. We were actually sailing backward. We decided to drop the main and go out to sea away from the shallow water in the Huntington Flats area. Joe released the cam cleat but the main wouldn’t come down. (Later we discovered the cars were twisted.) As we made for deeper water, the seas and winds continued to build. The winds were blowing 35 to 45 and gusting, the seas had built to 15 to 20 feet, some larger, and still very short. It all happened so quickly. It was getting late in the afternoon and the weather wasn’t getting any better. The boat was taking a beating with the main still up. I called the Coast Guard, explained our situation and gave them our location. The Coast Guard kept in communication with us. A helicopter was dispatched and was soon above us. After a quick assessment, the Coast Guard advised us to abandon the boat. Joe and I weren’t comfortable with that at all. The boat was sound and we weren’t taking on any water. Shortly after the first communication with the helicopter, we suffered our first knock down. I lost control and couldn’t keep the boat headed. The boat shuddered and came back up. It was beginning to get dark. The Coast Guard advised me that the Orange Country Harbor Patrol’s fireboat was enroute to us. Because of the winds, seas and our drift, it took them a lot longer than anticipated. We suffered a second knock down and the boat laid on its side for what seemed to an eternity but did right itself, surprisingly taking on very little water. The Orange County Harbor Patrol boat with three men aboard came alongside and the Coast Guard advised us to prepare to abandon the boat. I really didn’t want to give my boat to the sea. We were still in very high gusty winds and huge seas. At times it took both of us to steer, especially when trying to operate the throttle at the same time. With the rescue boat alongside, we decided that one of us would go forward to the mast and try pull on the sail while the other steered and pulled on the leach. If we were washed over, at least the rescue boat was standing by. Joe opted to go forward. He pulled on the luff and I pulled on the leach. The sail came down to the spreaders then blew apart like a piece of tissue paper. The release of pressure jetted the boat forward and I was able to steer more comfortably under power alone. We suffered a third knockdown but the Coast Guard advised us that the boat looked fine with no apparent damage. I asked the Coast Guard helicopter for a course to steer to a safe harbor. By this time we were near the 14-Mile Bank, so for a downhill ride they gave a course to San Diego and one to Oceanside. The course for San Diego was good but not where we wanted to go. Oceanside was rough and entering Oceanside at night in those conditions would be difficult. The Orange County Harbor Patrol asked if we could steer a course to Newport Beach. I asked for the course, then looked at the compass and the seas and thought, “It’s going to be a rough ride.” It was a rough ride with green water over the boat and the wind howling. The Orange County Harbor Patrol escorted us all the way to their dock and got us tied up. Joe and I were both totally exhausted, cold and wet, and slightly hypothermic. The sheriffs offered us use of the showers. Paramedics arrived to make sure we were okay. The next day we evaluated the boat. It was in good shape structurally but a mess. Everything breakable below was broken. We made some repairs and checked all the gear, taking a much-needed day of rest. On Friday, with the weather settled, we motored the final leg back to Alamitos Bay. There were many lessons learned from this experience. The most obvious is to know your boat and equipment. Know your limitations and those of your crew. Be aware of any health problems that your crew may have and tell them about any you have. Prepare your boat for the worst and stow everything away in its proper place. Listen to the weather forecast and consider that at times it’s accurate. Postscript: The three Orange County Sheriffs were given the Orange County Sheriff Department’s medal of honor for their participation. This article was published in the Santana magazine and in the Official NOSA, Ensenada program.
Getting there is only half the battle Bill Cordeiro The Newport to Ensenada Race draws thousands of people to participate. It’s billed as the World’s Largest International Yacht Race. The 1999 race was no different than any other Ensenada race with one exception. The wind was on the nose, making the race a beat as opposed to the downwind sleigh ride it was in 1998. The race for began leaving the marina in Alamitos Bay on my Catalina 27, Brooke 3. The winds were very strong and the seas very big and coming from the south. Before getting past the Seal Beach pier we were taking green water over the bow. The trip to Newport Beach was a long, arduous task. In past years I used this time to put things on the boat in final race condition – getting the gennaker ready for launching, securing things below, walking the new crew through the procedures, probably doing a couple of gennaker sets and some gybes, and the usual banter. Pounding into the southerly, however, we could only head directly for the starting line and arrived with only a few minutes to spare. The race started and I opted to sail offshore, taking an outside course. Sailing ten miles to make two miles then repeating the ten-for-two wasn’t what I had planned for the race. At about 2100 I decided to exercise my option to use my engine. We motored through the night passing boat after boat. In the early morning off Point Loma with the wind still on the nose, I called the crew together and explained our options. Option one was to go into San Diego, try to get a slip, rent a car and drive to Ensenada. Option two was to go back to Long Beach, and drive to Ensenada arriving about the same time we would if we continued. The third option was to continue on to Ensenada motoring. That was my choice as I had blocked vacation time to do the race and wanted to enjoy the boat in Mexico. The third option proved the choice of all aboard. Somewhere off the coast near Rosarito Beach I decided to call friends in Mazatlan on my high frequency radio. Forgetting that the Tiller Master was steering the boat, I keyed the microphone, and immediately frying the compass in the Tiller Master. Now, not only would we have to hand steer to Ensenada, I would have to hand steer all the way back to Long Beach. I had planned to singlehand the boat back, it wasn’t like I could go to West Marine and get another Tiller Master of the shelf. After arriving in Ensenada and checking in at race headquarters, I started looking for a crew to make the return trip. I found a friend, also an experienced sailor, from the Seal Beach Yacht Club who was willing to make the trip with me, even after being told that we would have to had steer. I wasn’t in a hurry to either leave Ensenada or get back to Long Beach. I had blocked vacation and really didn’t have to be anywhere until the following Sunday. Joe De Laby, my new crew, is retired and had no time constraints either. We decided we would leave early Monday morning, staying the first night in San Diego, then continue to Dana Point for a night before heading on to Long Beach. Before leaving, I had filed a float plan with friends. The Trip to San Diego was, as expected, a quiet trip. The wind had come around and was on the nose again but was fairly light. The trip from San Diego to Dana Point was equally quiet. We traded off steering every hour and it was pretty easy going. The next morning was a very typical day in Southern California – the usual marine layer with winds out of the Northwest at five to seven knots, seas two to three feet at two second intervals. We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at a local restaurant and departed on the last leg of the voyage. What we expected was another day of motorsailing. As we neared Newport Beach the seas were building and the wind was freshening, not unusual for that area at that time of day. The boat was making good speed and riding comfortably. About a mile from the Huntington Beach Pier, I jokingly asked Joe to call the restaurant on the end of the pier to have throw down a couple of burgers and shakes – I’d pay them the next time I went in there. As we passed the pier, the seas and winds really began to build. In an instant the seas were at six feet and larger with a very short interval. We had been motorsailing with the main only. We were too near shore and n a good at all. We were actually sailing backward. We decided to drop the main and go out to sea away from the shallow water in the Huntington Flats area. Joe released the cam cleat but the main wouldn’t come down. (Later we discovered the cars were twisted.) As we made for deeper water, the seas and winds continued to build. The winds were blowing 35 to 45 and gusting, the seas had built to 15 to 20 feet, some larger, and still very short. It all happened so quickly. It was getting late in the afternoon and the weather wasn’t getting any better. The boat was taking a beating with the main still up. I called the Coast Guard, explained our situation and gave them our location. The Coast Guard kept in communication with us. A helicopter was dispatched and was soon above us. After a quick assessment, the Coast Guard advised us to abandon the boat. Joe and I weren’t comfortable with that at all. The boat was sound and we weren’t taking on any water. Shortly after the first communication with the helicopter, we suffered our first knock down. I lost control and couldn’t keep the boat headed. The boat shuddered and came back up. It was beginning to get dark. The Coast Guard advised me that the Orange Country Harbor Patrol’s fireboat was enroute to us. Because of the winds, seas and our drift, it took them a lot longer than anticipated. We suffered a second knock down and the boat laid on its side for what seemed to an eternity but did right itself, surprisingly taking on very little water. The Orange County Harbor Patrol boat with three men aboard came alongside and the Coast Guard advised us to prepare to abandon the boat. I really didn’t want to give my boat to the sea. We were still in very high gusty winds and huge seas. At times it took both of us to steer, especially when trying to operate the throttle at the same time. With the rescue boat alongside, we decided that one of us would go forward to the mast and try pull on the sail while the other steered and pulled on the leach. If we were washed over, at least the rescue boat was standing by. Joe opted to go forward. He pulled on the luff and I pulled on the leach. The sail came down to the spreaders then blew apart like a piece of tissue paper. The release of pressure jetted the boat forward and I was able to steer more comfortably under power alone. We suffered a third knockdown but the Coast Guard advised us that the boat looked fine with no apparent damage. I asked the Coast Guard helicopter for a course to steer to a safe harbor. By this time we were near the 14-Mile Bank, so for a downhill ride they gave a course to San Diego and one to Oceanside. The course for San Diego was good but not where we wanted to go. Oceanside was rough and entering Oceanside at night in those conditions would be difficult. The Orange County Harbor Patrol asked if we could steer a course to Newport Beach. I asked for the course, then looked at the compass and the seas and thought, “It’s going to be a rough ride.” It was a rough ride with green water over the boat and the wind howling. The Orange County Harbor Patrol escorted us all the way to their dock and got us tied up. Joe and I were both totally exhausted, cold and wet, and slightly hypothermic. The sheriffs offered us use of the showers. Paramedics arrived to make sure we were okay. The next day we evaluated the boat. It was in good shape structurally but a mess. Everything breakable below was broken. We made some repairs and checked all the gear, taking a much-needed day of rest. On Friday, with the weather settled, we motored the final leg back to Alamitos Bay. There were many lessons learned from this experience. The most obvious is to know your boat and equipment. Know your limitations and those of your crew. Be aware of any health problems that your crew may have and tell them about any you have. Prepare your boat for the worst and stow everything away in its proper place. Listen to the weather forecast and consider that at times it’s accurate. Postscript: The three Orange County Sheriffs were given the Orange County Sheriff Department’s medal of honor for their participation. This article was published in the Santana magazine and in the Official NOSA, Ensenada program.
Another Lake Erie story
I've had my Hunter 31 out in six-footers on Lake Erie with no problems, but my best wave story is from a few years ago when I crossed Lake Erie on a friend's Dufour 35 in October. There were only three of us on board, and I spent most of the time just sitting in the cockpit and hanging on. We were sailing close-hauled with a reefed main and a small jib. The boat's apparent wind indicator was pegged at sixty knots for a while and probably averaged around 50 for the day. We had waves occasionally washing the length of the boat. We found out later that the Coast Guard reported that the waves were in the 12-14 foot range. They looked like mountains. It was about an eight hour crossing that seemed much longer. There were two other boats crossing with us, a C&C 39 and an O'Day 41, and we all survived, but to this day we all refer to it as "the boat ride from hell".
I've had my Hunter 31 out in six-footers on Lake Erie with no problems, but my best wave story is from a few years ago when I crossed Lake Erie on a friend's Dufour 35 in October. There were only three of us on board, and I spent most of the time just sitting in the cockpit and hanging on. We were sailing close-hauled with a reefed main and a small jib. The boat's apparent wind indicator was pegged at sixty knots for a while and probably averaged around 50 for the day. We had waves occasionally washing the length of the boat. We found out later that the Coast Guard reported that the waves were in the 12-14 foot range. They looked like mountains. It was about an eight hour crossing that seemed much longer. There were two other boats crossing with us, a C&C 39 and an O'Day 41, and we all survived, but to this day we all refer to it as "the boat ride from hell".
- Status