Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Featured on Sailboatowners.com

We were out in the storm on Friday night.  Matt posted this story on Sailboatowners.com:


We have a sloop-rigged Grampian 26 keelboat that we've been restoring and sailing for the past 3 years.

Last night, we were sailing south from the North East River down the upper Chesapeake Bay in very light winds with the mainsail and a hank-on 140 genoa. Just before midnight, the wind died out altogether. Heavy fog set in. Because we were approaching the shipping channel for the C&D Canal and wanted to keep steerage, we dropped the sails and started the outboard motor. The headsail went into a bag snapped around the forestay and the mainsail was rolled on top of the boom and tied down with 4 lengths of 3/8" line held with reefing knots.

We checked weather predictions again and saw that the wind wasn't expected to pick up until the next day. Although we had planned an overnight sail, given the heavy fog and lack of wind, we decided to go up the Sassafras River to spend the night near Lloyd's Creek. Shortly after entering the mouth of the Sassafras, we saw what looked like "heat" lightning off in the distance. Within minutes, the lightning was flashing all around us and above us in the upper atmosphere without touching down. The barometer held steady and the water was still, as we motored at approximately 2 knots.

Then the boat was hit by what I can only describe as a wall of wind from the stern that heeled us over and spun us to starboard. Even with no sail up we were heeled to 20 degrees so suddenly that I crashed knee-first into the other side of the cockpit. My gut reaction was to steer into the wind. Water that had been flat moments before sent cresting waves crashing over the bow. My wife went below to close the portlights and get our PFDs. Sudden driving rain limited visibility to about 3 feet past the bow, though I could see an illuminated channel marker some distance ahead as we were faced west into the wind but being driven east up the river while I tried to steer us out of the channel, which ran quite close to the lee shore. Within 5 minutes of the first gust hitting us, another gust hit us, spinning us back to port. Wind caught in the folds of the main sail, blowing open one and then two sail ties, creating a parachute of sail in the middle of the boom.

We were instantly heeled so far to port that I was standing on the side of the cockpit bench while fastening my PFD. My wife took the helm and I pulled myself forward to fasten the sail, using the first handy line (the tail of the main halyard) to lash it to the boom. Within moments of my return to relieve my screaming wife in the cockpit, part of the sail blew open again in another gust, this time heeling us so far that the port side toerail was below the water while waves crashed over the cabin house roof. The outboard prop was out of the water and we shut the motor off.

I went to the mast again, but could not pull the sail to the boom given the wind conditions. At one point, I was hanging on to the boom to keep from going over. We had lost sight of all channel markers and knew nothing of our location except that the depth had gone from 15 ft to 7 ft and I feared we'd soon run aground. In desperation, I slashed the sail along the boom and near the mast to cut it free.

Once the sail was off, the boat partially righted, though were still unable to steer. We went aground on shoals and were knocked off into deeper water. Now that I thought I'd be able to stay on the forward deck, I went to the bow and dropped our main anchor. Our wooden dinghy, tied to the stern, had been swamped and flipped. Though it still floated due to the flotation I'd built into it, it was catching the moving water like a scoop and keeping the bigger boat from turning into the wind. Unable to pull it from the water, I set it free.

We dropped a second anchor off of the bow and then rode out the remainder of the storm down below while listening to another nearby boat calling the Coast Guard for help on the VHF radio. Though it felt like a lifetime, only 30 minutes had passed since the first gust hit.

When the sun came up, we realized we were no more than 100 feet from a shore and had blown more than 2 miles up river during the storm before setting our anchors. We learned this morning that boats at a nearby yacht club dragged their permanent moorings hundreds of yards in the storm and that gusts were measured at up to 80 mph. We did not recover our dinghy.

I certainly know now to lash the sail more tightly to the boom before a storm hits, even when dropping it in light air conditions. Aside from sharing that lesson, I'd like to hear advice from other sailors about what we should or could have done differently during the storm to avoid having to cut the mainsail off. Has this ever happened to anybody else?

The attached photos were taken while we were assessing the damage and then sailing home with a jib this morning.

We ran the remains up the next day while limping home with just a small jib up. Pretty pitiful. 


2 comments:

  1. Hi,
    I just read your piece on the storm and what you might do differently. I am also a Grampian 26 owner. I recently went on a 3 week cruise on the Great Slave Lake in the Canadian North. It was an epic cruise in which we covered 300 Nm. There were two boats, one was (another) Grampian 26 and I was on a Paceship 29 with the skipper.
    One of the things that we did everyday without fail was to wear our PFDs, even when it was 27 degrees C. The other thing we had rigged was our jacklines. We didn't always use them, but if the wind picked up to more than 15 kn, then we certainly did. The water temp ranged from 10 to 13 degrees C. There were only two of us on the boat, both experienced sailors mind, but if one of us went over, even in moderate seas, the water was cold enough to kill us in an hour.

    What you had done to make sure your boat was secure seemed to do the trick, even at the loss of your mainsail. You got in safely with minimal damage to your boat and no danger to you or your partner.

    Often the advice we need is in plentiful supply right after we need it!

    I had an experience when I was single-handing a very light J24, which taught me A LOT!
    I sail in English Bay in Vancouver Canada. There was an easterly (which is common for winter winds) of about 8-10kn. There was a sudden warm breeze which seemed a little odd. I didn't think too much of it, but it struck me as odd. Within 10 mins it was blowing 20 kn, which for a light racing boat can be considerable. Racers tend to rely on 'railmeat' for ballast and not a heavy keel. I got my engine on and dropped my sails. I wrapped up the gyb with a couple of sail ties and lowered my main. I was motoring toward the harbour against the wind. The main was not fastened enough as I had used some of my sail ties to wrap my gyb! First mistake (which I learned from). There is no autohelm and I rigged a clove hitch around the tiller to try and keep it centred as I had to leave the tiller unattended to go and fix the main, because that small 2 foot square area was catching the wind and blowing me back out to sea. As soon as I let go the tiller and reached up to secure the main, the boat was swept violently by the wind from facing east to facing west in about 2 seconds. The boom slammed into my stomach, but it got me going. I wrapped up the sail in record time using the main sheet or the boom vang I don't remember. I got back to the cockpit, headed into the wind, opened up the engine and got into the slip at the marina without any damage to myself or the boat. I don't know that I have ever been so focused in my life.
    When I ensured that the boat was secured, I sat in the cabin and my legs were shaking.

    On reflection (after I called my father who was a Master Mariner in the British Merchant Navy), everything went as well it could have gone. No damage to the boat, no damage to the crew. I got in safely.

    I now have enough sail ties.

    Thank you for sharing your experience, it makes me think of what I need to prepare for.

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  2. I've read all of your blog posts up to this last one, and I just want to say Thank you! This is very informative. I purchased a '72 G26 a year ago and I live aboard now. (I love taking my home out in the weekends!) There are so many things I'd like to do, and your posts have given me information and inspiration for my Patience! I also have no water nor electric. I honestly had just resigned myself to minimalist living until I came across your site. Now I know that with a ton of elbow grease (and $$) she can really be a thing of beauty and even comfort. Thank you again.
    Tina

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