How to Single-Hand Your Boat in a Pinch

     Or, "Do you really think it's sprained? You can't help me tack this thing???"

One person, two sails – how do you do that, exactly? Remember, this blog isn’t for highly seasoned sailors who are looking for tricks to get every last tenth of a knot out of their boat in a race. This is just basic sailing tips for newer sailors.

It may be that you intend to never sail your boat by yourself. I have heard many newer sailors say that – that they aren’t confident enough to sail by themselves. They “never” single-hand.

At least, that’s their plan, but reality sometimes has a way of messing up our plans. Suppose your sailing companion sprains his ankle? What if he sprains his ankle, you’re five hours from port and you’re low on fuel?

You really should know how to manage the boat by yourself, which really means how one person can control two sails.

Here’s the big tip: the headsail does most of the work when you tack. This means that you can leave the mainsail to its own devices while you handle the headsail. However, you don’t want the boom swinging over whenever physics decides it’s time. So, here’s what to do.

First of all, build up some speed, sailing close to your no-go zone. If you can see the shore, spot something that is at the starting edge of the no-go zone and something that is where you expect the end of the no-go zone to be. In the graphic below, the fat black arrow represents the wind direction, and the pink area is the “no go” zone, where the boat is too close to the direction of the wind to sail. If you stay in that area, the boat will slow dramatically, and eventually, fall off back into the wind, or if it continues toward the direction of the wind, stop.

Bring the mainsail in nearly to center and lock it off. Have your winch handle out and near what will be the new working jib winch.

Have both port and starboard sheets ready, one ready to be loosened and the other ready to be tightened.

Turn the boat through the no-go zone. Watch two things in particular: where the clew of the headsail is, and where your estimated end of the no-go-zone is. Loosen the previously working sheet completely, and be ready to pull the new working sheet in.

As the clew swings across the front of the boat and the sail begins to fill on the new tack, pull in the new working sheet as efficiently as possible so you’re not pulling in a heavily-loaded sheet. 

Don't forget to end your turn! That's why you spotted the other side of the "no-go" zone. Lots of people have ended up going in a circle when trying this for the first time. No matter -- just do it again, and tell the guy with the sprained ankle to stop being a back-seat driver already!

When you have the headsail over on the new tack and not luffing, lock it off. Now release the mainsheet and let it move over.

You will probably have to tweak both sails, but by controlling them one at a time, tacking (or jybing) can be managed by one person. If you’re gybing instead of tacking, the steps are the same except that you can move through a jybe more slowly, because there is no “no-go” zone in a gybe.

If for some reason you can’t manage the tack, just do a gybe for 270º. You'll come out in the right direction. It isn’t hard. You can do this.

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Source for graphic: http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/4b/Points_of_sail.svg/300px-Points_of_sail.svg.png&imgrefurl=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Points_of_sail&h=300&w=300&sz=29&tbnid=HRpPHA2QBKhaPM:&tbnh=91&tbnw=91&zoom=1&usg=__0C0bFzDNXCYiMo60T843yNcte04=&docid=B_dastTk9kJ-4M&sa=X&ei=NbeaUZK0NIjo8gT8mYHgCQ&ved=0CEAQ9QEwAg&dur=9913

Oh Dorothy, is That Your House Spinning Above Me?

     Or, What is Boca Ciega Bay doing in Kansas?

_______

May 20, 2013

     People who make no mistakes lack boldness and the spirit of adventure.” 

Norman Vincent Peale

I woke up that Friday morning, anchored out, because something didn’t feel right. I looked out the port to see all 360º of Boca Ciega Bay passing by my view, as if I were a camera panning in a circle. Huh??

I stepped into the cockpit, and sure enough, the boat was slowly spinning. It did two complete circles that I’m aware of. Then the squall hit.

I hadn’t planned on anchoring out the day before. I had picked up my new rudder; the old one lay on the ground at the club. A friend was going to use my dinghy and outboard to “tugboat” me and my boat out to deeper water in Boca Ciega Bay so he could install the new rudder. Meanwhile, I had no mechanism to steer.

Unfortunately we got a late start. Using my dinghy and outboard as a tugboat, he was able to get my boat away from the club’s transient dock easily enough, but the wind had begun to build, and with my boat’s relatively high freeboard, there was too much wind to move my boat where she needed to be, even with a second dinghy with small motor helping.

Since I lived on the boat, my friend said, “No problem! Just put your anchor down, and spend the night out here. In the morning I’ll come back and we’ll get that rudder in.”

That made more sense than trying to steer my boat back to the transient dock when we already knew the wind was a significant problem, so I put the hook down. I put out an 8:1 rode, including 30 feet of chain, and marked the location on the GPS. I checked the GPS several times throughout the afternoon and into the evening, and the anchor seemed well set. The boat hadn’t moved.

But here was the problem: normally I would have checked the weather before anchoring out. I should have done it this time: the wind was building because a front was on the way.

By the next morning, that front had arrived, and was forming squalls so fast that a weather report 15 minutes old was too old. I used my cell phone and could see that the squall over me was going to move away quickly, but I could also see that other squalls were popping up all over the place, and that this one would probably not be the only one. With an engine but no steering, I really had no choice but to stay where I was.

According to the chart plotter, I had already dragged about 100 feet. Fortunately the boat had stopped spinning and pointed back into the wind again. However, all I had to do was look at the shore around me to see that I was still dragging. Then I would feel the boat lurch as the anchor re-set itself. “Oh, good,” I thought … but then she would drag again. Meanwhile there was the mystery: why had the boat been spinning when I woke up?

I dragged about 500 feet during the fifteen-minute squall, stopping temporarily and moving again. Although the bay has a number of anchored boats, fortunately I wasn’t in their paths. Also fortunately, my boat had so far avoided the nearby shallows. When that storm had passed, I called my friend and told him what was going on. He said he would come right out.

There was only one thing we could realistically do, and that was to let out more rode. With no boats nearby, we let out about 50’ more feet of rode, right before the next squall hit. At least I wasn’t alone this time, and letting out more rode helped: we only dragged about 100 feet this time, but any more drag and I would be in shallow water for the next squall. I called EC-SAR (Eckard College Search and Rescue) and told them my predicament, and they came right away.

The solution was easy: they would hip-tow me to the club’s transient dock, not far away at all. They tied two of their giant, round fenders to my boat, and were 90% done tying us up together when they got another radio call.

“No time to explain!” they said as they rapidly untied my boat. “But we will be back for you!” They raced off to the southwest toward the bridges leading to Tampa Bay, leaving their fenders on my boat.

The next squall wasn’t as fierce, and the boat didn’t drag. About 90 minutes after EC-SAR had left, they came back, tied our boats together, helped me raise the anchor, and brought me back to the transient dock. What had called them away? Someone had seen a man floating in the water, obviously alive but passing toward the Gulf under the Skyway Bridge. The fisherman had waded just a little too far out into the water while fishing on the east side of the Skyway Bridge, got caught in a current, and ended up being swept out of Tampa Bay into the Gulf. EC-SAR went out to the mouth of Tampa Bay, rapidly found the man, and evaluated his medical condition. The man declined further medical help, so they brought him back to his fishing companion (who had not noticed that he was missing), and returned to rescue my boat.

Afterwards, several knowledgeable people and I put our heads together. The only conclusion we could come up with was that a waterspout must have been forming over my boat, causing it to spin. Spinning several times fouled the claw anchor by wrapping chain around the shank. It would loosen, drag, and catch, but eventually release again because it was still fouled.

LESSON LEARNED: Always have a second anchor ready to deploy. I had just lost my spare anchor and had not replaced it yet. Although I hadn’t determined the reason why, I knew my primary anchor wasn’t holding. If I had had a second anchor ready to put out, as my boat dragged the second one would have set. It might have been enough to stop the boat, or at least significantly slow it. I was just lucky that I was so close to good help when all this happened.

Have at least two anchors, and have them both ready to go to work.

I’m going to divide my anchor locker to make deployment of both anchors easier.

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OUT OF THE BATHTUB! (Part 3)

     Or, The buck stops here!

______

May 18, 2013

     “The chance of mistakes are about equal to the number of crew squared."

Ted Turner

Tom and I were in a bit of a pickle, in waters way too rough for either our experience or the boat’s size and equipment, and with multiple things going wrong. I had friends who had attempted something extremely dangerous trying to help us. It was time to take definitive action, and I called for Boat US on channel 16 to come and get us (they had us switch to channel 68), which at least ended attempts by crew from other boats to somehow climb onto ours. While a pair of experienced hands might have been helpful, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that we were overpowered for those winds and waves. Our most fundamental problem would still be there. I was also very concerned that if we lost steering, the waves would push us into the shallows, where the boat could get quite damaged.

Boat US recognized that we were potentially in serious trouble, and said they would make us their top priority, and get there as soon as possible. I told them what our new sail plan was. They called us every five minutes for updates of our latitude and longitude, which a handheld GPS provided (two boats from BCYC stayed near us, and if our GPS had malfunctioned, they could have provided that information also –- sailing with another boat can be quite helpful in a variety of ways.) Boat US warned me that because of the conditions, I might have only one chance to catch the tow rope. I looked at the skinny, bouncing bow, not relishing the idea of going back up there for a one-handed catch.

However, Boat US wasn’t the first “Help Boat” to arrive. I looked up to see a boat pounding toward us. It was from EC-SAR –- Eckard College Search and Rescue. Eckard College, a small school in South Pasadena, FL, runs a co-curricular search and rescue program staffed by highly trained, dedicated and brave students. I looked at them in surprise and said, “Boat US is coming for us.”

“We know,” was the reply. “We’re here because we heard them tell you that you would have to go to the bow to catch the tow rope. We’re here to fish you out if you fall in.” Boy, was I glad to hear that!

Well, Boat US did find us; I did catch the tow rope, I didn’t fall into the water, and the team from EC-SAR waved goodbye and scooted away to help someone else in trouble in those messy seas.

When we were under tow and safe, Tom went below to check out what the other two “thumps” were. I think he already had an idea.

The first thump had been his backpack rolling off the V-berth on to the floor. The second thump was the porta-potty, which flipped itself over the bungee cord and spilled its contents –- on to Tom’s back pack!

LESSONS LEARNED:

FIRST: So far I’ve only talked about what I did right that day, but I made several mistakes, one of them a “no excuse” goof: I did not decide for myself whether, when and where I should be sailing my boat. I should have checked the weather reports myself. Twin Dolphin Marina had a computer for guests, and the information was available to me. Instead, I entrusted that decision to “more experienced” sailors in the group. The problem with that is that they made the decision to sail based on their experience and their boats –- not mine.

If I had seen the wind and wave prediction, I would have done two things. First, I would have put Tom on someone else’s boat to go home, as he had to get to work on Monday, and second, I would have stayed at Twin Dolphin until the wind died down and the waves decreased (waves will continue to be riled up for some time after weather has settled down). I didn’t even have to know all that. If I’d asked questions of the other sailors about the next day’s forecast, the answer would have been enough to raise alarm bells in me. The staff at Twin Dolphin could have advised me.

I would have had to bring the boat back by myself (although someone from the club might have been willing to make the half-hour drive to accompany me back), and I could have gone back up the “ditch” along the Skyway Bridge, a much more sheltered sail than along the west coast of Florida.

Another option, had we had a little more experience, would have been to reef at the dock before leaving. However, if we had done that, I might not have realized how inadequate my reefing plan was for a while.

SECOND: As we left to sail south on Saturday, I told Tom we could “co-skipper” the boat, since we had similar levels of experience. But when things get bad, one person has to be the skipper, and typically that would be the owner of the boat (I would have had no problem turning the helm over to an experienced sailor in this situation, but we didn’t have someone like that on board). Our agreement on Saturday made it harder for me to assert myself as skipper on Sunday when most of the trouble occurred. My personal opinion is that if it’s your boat, you have to do the scary stuff. Tom wanted to go up to the bow both times it was necessary, but I felt that I had gotten us into the predicament we were in, and that I was obligated to do the dangerous stuff if I was able to.

THIRD: I let someone with inadequate skills work on my boat. If I had asked around the club, I would have found out that the fellow who “installed” the gas tank and the porta-potty didn’t exactly have the best reputation for quality work.

FOURTH: I did not check the work done on my boat the day before. Even the best, most reliable people can make serious mistakes (see my story, “Your Boat Could Sink! Really!” for an example of that).

FIFTH: I did not double-check information I was given about my boat. If I had asked virtually anyone at the club about my so-called “reefing system,”  each sailor would have pointed out the obvious risk and encouraged me to install a better one, something I did more or less immediately after getting back from this trip.

I DID DO SOME THINGS RIGHT: I studied the chart before sailing. I moved the boat away from the lee shore (over the protests of my crew). I took steps to keep the boat from rounding up so easily. I had a knife tied to my pants, which meant I couldn’t drop it overboard while freeing the headsail. I went forward to the bow prepared to do everything necessary to deal with the sail (bungee cord). I refused to allow a dangerous attempt at boarding my boat. And, importantly, I had towing insurance. While EC-SAR will sometimes tow disabled boats in, they are a search and rescue organization, not a towing service. If someone else had called them with lives on the line, they would have released me, as protecting people is their priority (see tomorrow’s story, “Oh, Dorothy!” for an example of how they do that.)

The major lesson learned was that you are the skipper of your boat –- and that with that comes responsibilities. Study the weather reports yourself. Be prepared to make hard decisions, such as not to sail –- or to not follow the advice of well-meaning crew. Tom, not realizing the danger, was having fun as the boat repeatedly attempted to broach, which is why he did not want to spill the sails. In addition he had not studied a chart of the area, so even if he had realized what the boat was trying to do, he might not have recognized that the “lee shore” shallows at that spot (off Bunce’s Pass) extend far out into the water.

Even more experienced sailors may overlook something you believe to be a significant problem. Or, they may engage in wishful thinking (“Oh, that won’t be a problem!”) These things are not for the crew to decide, although you should listen to what others think when there’s time to do so. But ultimately, it’s your boat and your insurance on the line, and you are responsible for the lives of those on your boat.

By the way, it turned out that the nuts on the bolt holding the tiller to the rudder mechanism were loose. They were easily accessible and easily tightened, but it took two monkey wrenches, and I only had one on board. Sometimes having extra tools is not a bad thing.

In addition, I put netting on the front of the boat after our return. If we had managed to drop the sail from the cockpit, the sail could easily have been blown off that tiny bow into the water – where it would have filled with water and created a true crisis. Make sure you can control your sails when they come down.

EC-SAR is a phenomenal organization. If you live or sail along the central Florida coast or Boca Ciega Bay, you should have their phone number on your boat: (727) 864-8288.  Also see their website at http://www.eckerd.edu/waterfront/ecsar/.  

After EC-SAR has come out to help me, which they have in  a highly skilled way more than once, I always give them a generous donation (whatever cash I have with me). Both times, they helped protect me and my boat from serious harm in a remarkably well-coordinated and efficient way. 



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OUT OF THE BATHTUB! (Part 2)

     Or, you can really learn a lot in one eventful day.

_______

may 17, 2013

     "Any fool can carry on, but a wise man knows how to shorten sail in time."-

Joseph Conrad

Fairly rapidly, a number of things went wrong. Silver Girl would sail up the waves fairly well, ride the crest, plunge down to the bottom, and in the troughs, get seriously overpowered. With too much wind in the sails, she would try to turn sideways and round up. She was trying to broach, something not covered in our 4-week sailing class. We were managing to keep her somewhat under control, and Tom was having fun, but Tom wasn’t responsible for the boat’s safety, and he didn’t pay the insurance. He also hadn’t read Sailing for Dummies, but I had, and I recognized that we were in more trouble than he realized. For instance, I knew that an 8’ wide boat should not be taking 5’ waves abeam. As I found out, Tom also had not studied a chart of the area. Fortunately I had, so I knew we were slowly moving closer to shore at a very shallow area that had a crashing surf.

In an attempt to get Silver Girl more under control, I tried to reduce our sails. Unfortunately I had been previously convinced that the “reefing system” on this boat was adequate. It turns out that by  “adequate” my advisor was endorsing a system that consisted of two loose pieces of line stored in the cockpit. The idea was that you lowered the sail, passed the line through the reefing cringle, and tied it under the boom. This would have to be done manually, at both ends, while standing where the boom could hit you. The person who assured me that this system was adequate also recommended reefing at the dock, but we hadn’t done that. Because of the tack we were on, a slight wind shift could have caused the boom to swing into the person doing the reefing, and the wind was very unpredictable between the big waves. Tom and I both concluded that it wasn’t safe to use this so-called “reefing system.”

Meanwhile, Tom and I disagreed about the seriousness of the situation, and so the first (and second) time I asked him to spill the sails at the bottom of the waves to depower the sail … he declined. That’s right. He said “No.”

In fairness to Tom, I brought this on myself, as you’ll see at the end. We had a couple of discussions about this as we rolled and tossed about. Meanwhile, as the boat swung wildly around, first the gas can broke loose and bounced across the cavity under the cockpit, and then we heard other noises of something else flying free. The same person had installed both items the day before, and in my excitement over getting the boat ready for a two-day sail, I hadn’t checked his work. Apparently he thought that setting the gas tank on a shelf with rubber-gripping shelf paper, without straps, was enough to hold it in place, while putting one bungee across the head opening was, to him, enough to restrain something else just as heavy.

Neither worked. Tom and I saw the fuel hose pull out of the outboard and heard the thump, and looked into the space under the cockpit. The gas tank wasn’t leaking, but we both felt that whoever tried to retrieve it might easily suffer either a concussion or a broken arm because of the way the boat was bouncing around. So we had no engine. We heard yet another thump toward the bow, but we had our hands full in the cockpit and neither of us could go below to check.

Having finally convinced Tom that the boat was overpowered, and realizing that reefing wasn’t a good plan, we decided to reduce the windage by bringing the headsail down. Silver girl had a downhaul, and we tried dropping the headsail from the cockpit. Unfortunately the leech line was loose, and it got tangled on a stanchion. The headsail was now stuck half up and down, misshapen and uncontrollable. So I stuck a bungee cord in my pocket, crawled to the bow, cut the leech line with a knife, pulled the sail down, and secured it to stanchions with the bungee. That actually helped a little. That was good; we needed the help! It was very scary on that skinny little bow bouncing around while I tried to wrestle the headsail into compliance, and I was relieved to get back to the cockpit. But not for long.

“Feel the tiller,” Tom said to me. “It doesn’t feel right to me.” I felt it, and it didn’t feel right to me either. It felt … loose. We didn’t know if it was the tiller or the rudder, but neither could be good, and we were still being pushed toward the shore. Again, Sailing for Dummies had taught me well, and I knew to stay away from the shore. Again, there was another disagreement and discussion, but it was my boat, and I turned her toward Yucatan.

Meanwhile, another club boat was sailing closer and closer to us. They wanted to try to put one of their crew on my boat in this five-foot rolling sea. The man was already climbing over the stern rail of the boat he was on. At that point I drew a line in the sand, and said “No. It’s not safe. I’m steering her to deeper water, and we’re calling Boat US.” I think the man who had volunteered for this was a little offended, but it just wasn’t a good idea. Tom did not like the idea of our sailing away from shore, but I knew we had to get away from the shallows. I also knew we could handle the waves better. I steered the boat until she was angling into the waves as well as away from shore. She rode much better this way than taking those big waves on the stern, and cut through the waves reasonably well.

However, I made several mistakes, one of them a very big one that led to all the others. Can you guess what it was? Check in tomorrow for the finale!

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OUT OF THE BATHTUB! (Part 1)

     Or, The Adventures of Silver Girl!

_______

may 17, 2013

     "Whenever your preparations for the sea are poor, the sea worms its way in and finds the problems."

Francis Stokes

This is going to be a three-part story. Tomorrow I will post all the things that went wrong on the way back, and then finally, the mistakes I made that you should avoid, including one really big one.

We were on the way to Twin Dolphin Marina in Bradenton from Boca Ciega Yacht Club (BCYC). In fairness, it was really a shake-down cruise for my first little boat, a 25’ Irwin “skinny mini” (only 8’ wide) named Silver Girl. It was May, and I had bought her the previous November -- one month after finishing 4 weeks of sailing lessons at Boca Ciega Yacht Club. I had, as crew, a man from my sailing class. So we had two pretty inexperienced people on a tiny tippy-cup of a boat.

“Don’t worry,” other people in the club said. “We’re only going to Twin Dolphin, and besides – you’ll be with us!” It was very comforting to know other club boats would be with us, because I had never left Boca Ciega Bay before. Sailing on Boca Ciega Bay was lots of fun but much like sailing on a small lake. Neither the boat nor I had really been tested, so this would be the boat’s first “shake down cruise.”

My friend, who I will call Tom, and I were quite excited. He hadn’t sailed out of Boca Ciega Bay yet either. As we moved down the ditch along Sunshine Skyway Bridge, we hooted and hollered: “We’re out of the bathtub, baby!” Never mind that we had to motor most of the way. We were out where the big kids sail!

The trip to Bradenton, which involved crossing the mouth of Tampa Bay, was uneventful except for docking. Somewhere on the trip down, the outboard engine dropped a rod, and it would no longer go into reverse. After a lot of struggle, we got the boat into a slip, but it was the wrong slip. The dock personnel at Twin Dolphins helped us turn the boat around, get it into our slip, and turn her around again so I would only need forward to leave. “Oh, well,” I thought. “Worse things could go wrong.” 

Worse things were going to go wrong the next day on the trip home.

The next morning we were the fifth club boat out of the marina. Tom and I were sailing in the Manatee River, a lovely run along the south bank. The wind was probably about 15 mph from the southwest. Us both being beginners, we didn’t realize that the land on the south side of the river was shielding us from some of the wind … until the very experienced boat out front radioed back to the rest of us: “We’re at the mouth of the river, and it’s actually pretty rough out here!”

I called back to the other boats. “This is a small boat,” I said. “Are you sure we should even be out here?”

“Don’t worry,” the call came back. “You’re with us!”

That was a comfort. The wind picked up to over 20 mph as we left the shelter of the river’s shore, and Tom and I could both see why it was rougher on the Gulf. As it turns out, though, “Don’t worry, you’re with us” is not quite the same as “Don’t worry, you’re both experienced sailors and your boat is plenty big enough for these seas…”. We had five foot waves on the port stern corner of the boat.

Tom and I rapidly discovered that neither of us get seasick easily, which was a good thing, because we needed our wits about us. The other boats had decided to return via Pass-A-Grille Channel rather than “the ditch.” This meant that we would be sailing along the west coast of the Pinellas Peninsula, with the open Gulf to our port side, instead of in the relatively sheltered water along the Skyway Bridge. Our route put the beach on our lee side. But in order to go up the ditch ourselves, the only other choice, we would have had to leave the rest of the group and sail across Tampa Bay to the northeast alone, in more wind and waves than we had ever experienced. We decided it was better to stay with the group.

As with every decision, that one had its pros and cons …

Stay tuned for the next thrilling chapter of “The Adventures of Silver Girl!”

Update on chart plotter

AND YET MORE ...

 Oct. 20, 2013

Someone downloaded the program to the right sized SD card. I put it in the chart plotter.

Nothing happened.

Back to West Marine when I get back from this little cruise.




     Or, I don't really like it when people unnecessarily waste my time

In yesterday's blog entry, I mentioned that I have a Garmin chart plotter, and that it recently malfunctioned, assuming that everything on the planet is at latitude 32ºN. Personally, I suspect that isn't true.  :)

So I followed the instructions the retailer gave me, and went online to get the software update, only to find that their software updates are only Windows compatible. Since I have a Macintosh, I'm going to have to inconvenience a friend (a friend willing to download an unknown program for me), put it on a memory stick, bring it back to the boat, plug it into the chart plotter and hope it all works.

This is not just a "bit" of bother. It's a colossal bother.

So, although I own a Garmin Chart Plotter, I urge all who use Macintosh to shop around before settling on Garmin. You may find that another manufacturer is more Macintosh-friendly, and that could be a tremendous help to you one day.

'Nuff said about that.

Chart Plotter or No Chart Plotter?

       Or, There’s more than one way to get from here to there.

May 12, 2013

 

On sailing forums online, you’ll sometimes see heated debates over whether people should use chart plotters or not. The people arguing in favor of them point out their compactness and ease of use. It can be hard to find a place to spread out a chart in the cockpit, and on smaller boats, even the so-called “chart table” in the cabin won’t be big enough. I use mine as an addition to the galley.

The arguments of those opposed to their use pretty much boil down to “reliance on electronics makes you stupid.” There are all sorts of varieties of those arguments, some descending into the absurd (“What if all the satellites went out at once? What would you do then? Huh? HUH???”)

Here’s a picture of mine. The model is Garmin 441S (the S stands for “sounder,” because you can connect a depth sounder to it, and I strongly recommend that.)

If you look at the picture, you’ll see a representation of my boat as she approaches the entrance to a channel. It shows a line for me to follow, where the channel markers are, and the depths of the waters surrounding my boat. It shows the path I’ve chosen because I’ve saved the entrance to that channel as a “waypoint,” and told the chart potter to guide me there. What’s not to love?

Well, a couple of things. First of all, as you get all that detail, you lose the bigger picture. Without that bigger picture, you might be entering the wrong channel, just as an example of one thing that can go wrong. For another, the chart plotter is only as good as the information you put into it, and it is fairly complicated to learn how to put the waypoints in. It’s easy to make a mistake entering the numbers. So unless you’re just a little bit anal and double check what you’ve put in, you could end up going somewhere you didn’t intend.

Second, although they will shortly be coming out with a chart plotter that remedies this problem, the chart plotter I have will cheerfully steer me onto a sandbar if I don't put in a path around it, a fairly complicated thing to do, or a reef (they can really do a lot of damage to your boat), or through a restricted area (where I live you will get to meet either the Coast Guard or the Air Force, depending on where you’ve wandered). In other words, until the new generation comes out, they can’t pick a safe route for you. You can use your chart plotter badly and end up in a pickle.

Third, they can malfunction. My chart plotter started telling me that I was always at latitude 32º, which runs roughly through the middle of Georgia, while I live near the midline of Florida. Every waypoint I had saved came up as being at latitude 32º. I took it back to the store, and they told me it needed a software update. So if you get a chart plotter, check the manufacturer’s website from time to time. Your chart plotter has to be able to talk the same language as the signals it’s receiving, and sometimes that will mean an update.

That takes us back to paper charts. You really should have paper charts of any waters you’re going to sail. You can get the big picture, study it in detail, note where the high spots and reefs are, and get a global feeling for where you’re going. You can pick your waypoints by latitude and longitude on the big chart, and then enter them that way on the chart plotter (as I said, double check afterwards and make sure they’re right.)

However, you can zoom in and zoom out with your chart plotter. The more you zoom in, the less you have of the bigger picture, but the more detail you have about the immediate area you’re in. You can’t zoom in on a paper chart. You can even hook the chart plotter up to your computer and get a larger view if you want (personally, I don’t risk having my computer in the cockpit – too many things can happen to it, from a drink being spilled on it to having someone step on it.)

The paper chart, for instance, will show you where two channels intersect. The chart plotter will not only show you that, but show you where your boat is as well, so you know exactly where to turn. You wouldn’t think channel intersections would be confusing, but on the water, they can be difficult to sort out, especially when you first start sailing.

On this chart plotter, the more shallow water is darker, and the deeper water is lighter, showing very clearly where the intersection is. I’m just about to make a 90º turn to port at this point in order to turn into the east-west channel. You can also see the depth of the water under my boat, which at 18.6’ is a clear indication that I’m in the channel.

If you look to the northwest of the boat, you’ll see some green. It looks like an island, but it’s not. That’s the chart plotter letting me know that the water in that area goes from very deep to very shallow, very rapidly (I mentioned that in another article; here’s a visual representation of it). In rare extreme tides, that area will be above the water, which is why it’s green. While you’ll see that area as shallow on the paper chart, seeing where my boat is puts that danger right in my face. Suppose I were very close to that spot? I might not have time to look at the paper chart and estimate (which is all I would be able to do) how close I was to it.

The chart plotter can tell you a lot of things. It will give you your speed over ground, or the current time, or what time it estimates you will get to the waypoint you’ve selected. These are all choices you make in the menus, and learning to wade through the menus will take some time and dedication. By zooming in and out, you will get all the information on the paper chart. In addition it will have easy access to information about tides and currents.

So where do I sit on this debate? Obviously I’m not opposed to the use of chart plotters, but I think most people who argue about them miss one of their best features: they can really help you learn how to read a paper chart. (Of course, the people saying that chart plotters are crutches for lazy sailors have been sailing a long time, and, I think, don’t remember how complicated it is to learn all this stuff.) I recommend having a crew member take the latitude and longitude off the chart plotter and on to the paper chart every half hour, so you can mark your course. You can use a grease pencil and remove the marks when you’re done if the chart is waterproof.

You’ll learn a lot about using your paper chart from this practice. In addition, in your cruising log, note the time as well as the latitude and longitude. Then, if your chart plotter should go out (and that does happen), you’ll have a good idea of where you are, and a good idea of how fast you’re moving across the water. With that information, if the chart plotter should go out, you’ll be able to use the paper chart much more effectively. (Update: someone on Cruisers Forum suggested including the compass heading in the log also, and I think that's a good idea.) You’ll be able to estimate the distance you’ve traveled and make better guesses about where you are.

So, my opinion is to use paper chart and chart plotter together, but intelligently. You do that, and your electronics won’t make you stupid. They will make you a more highly skilled sailor.

Keeping Your Roller Furler Safe

       Or, Is that sail really supposed to deploy itself

UPDATE: Sept. 22, 2013

I have talked to the people at Hood, and they no longer sell the replacement 

lower unit that converts a Hood 810 from continuous line to single line. 

They didn't give me any reason for the change. If you have a Hood 810 

this article has important information for you.

May 10, 2013

Most roller furlers are easily secured. You pull it in tightly, wrap it several times with the sheets, lock the lines off, and you can be reasonably certain that the sail will stay securely furled even in a strong thunderstorm. However, please notice the word “reasonably.” I didn’t say you can be absolutely certain. I know someone who has lost not one but two headsails because they unfurled in a summer storm and then flailed themselves to death. I have also seen headsails that partially deployed in summer-type storms (which actually can occur at any time of the year where I am in Florida). While only part of the sail was out, they whipped around in the wind, nearly always doing damage to the sail. The damage can be repaired, but do you really want to have to go there?

It’s IMPORTANT to take all sails and canvas off your boat if a tropical storm or hurricane threatens, but taking your headsail off a roller furler off at the end of each sail defeats the convenience of having a roller furler. In fact it’s worse, because although you can get it off by yourself, most people will need a second person to put it back on again. Fortunately, there’s a much easier solution!

See the picture of the furled headsail below.  You can see the two sheets wrapped around the sail clockwise. But in addition, there is a third line, tied to one of the sheets, wrapped counterclockwise around the sail, and then tied off to the pulpit. This sail is now secured from both directions and far less likely to come undone in an unexpected storm. I tied this on to the boat that had previously lost two headsails as a storm approached. 

 

I know to do this because other, more experienced sailors told me to do it. And, I knew the man who had lost two headsails to storms, and didn’t particularly want to experience it myself.

For some boats, including mine, it’s extremely important to counter-wrap the furler. My furler, a Hood 810 SeaFurler, uses a continuous line rather than a single line to deploy the sail. By “continuous,” I mean that the two ends of the line have been braided together to make one continuous loop of line. It was often standard equipment on older Catalinas and Hunters, including my boat. Here’s a picture of what the bottom of the unit looks like:

 

That double line is used to furl and unfurl the headsail. It has no mechanism in it to hold the sail in place when partially deployed. This means that once the wind fills the partially deployed sail, the rest of the sail will rapidly pop out – whether or not you wanted to use the whole sail.

It’s “all or nothing” with this roller furler. You do not have the option of rolling your headsail partly up if the weather should deteriorate. Because there is nothing to keep the drum from turning, even with both sheets locked off the sail will pop out and deploy fully.

By the way, countless experienced sailors have confidently told me that if I lock that continuous line off securely, wrap the sheets around the furler well, and tie both sheets off well at the cockpit, the sail cannot deploy. However, they are all wrong. That bottom drum can still rotate, because there’s nothing to stop it. It can loosen enough to damage the sail in a storm.

FIRST LESSON LEARNED: You have to listen cautiously to other people, as they sometimes speak whether they know what they’re talking about or not. The fellow who lost two headsails in storms ignored advice he had gotten from experienced sailors to counter-wrap his headsail with a third line. TWICE. If you’re uncertain about advice you’ve been given, double-check it with other knowledgeable people.

This won’t protect you from all bad advice. I was confidently given bad advice about how to operate my new diesel engine from five different people. It was different than what the certified engine mechanic who installed it had told me, so I went to the place that sold me the engine, and they agreed with the mechanic and told me with great certainty that all five people who had advised me otherwise were just wrong.

However, putting a counter-wrap on your sail harms nothing. It only takes about 30 seconds to put on, and about as long to take off. I keep the line I use for this purpose secured at the bow of the boat so it’s handy and there’s no excuse for not using it, because my headsail is particularly vulnerable. If someone tells you it’s not necessary, smile and thank them. They mean well. Then counter-wrap your headsail.

SECOND LESSON LEARNED: If you look closely at the edge of the furled sail, you will see bits of it sticking out. While the sail had been furled, it had not been tightly furled, providing a way for wind to get under the edge. Be sure you furl your headsail tightly.

Why You Should Keep Your Deck Clear

     Or, Boy was my face red!

I was sailing by myself although I don’t think it would have made any difference. It was such a lovely sail, I think if I’d had someone with me we would have ended up admiring the beautiful day and the fabulous job we were doing of sailing, and still have made this mistake -- unless my sailing companion had been very alert, but sometimes I think airhead moments are contagious.

BCYC had sailed to Twin Dolphin Marina in Bradenton for the weekend. I took my boat by myself, arrived with no difficulty but ended up in a slip near the river’s current. In the morning, when it was time to leave, a strong current was running, and the man on the boat next to me helped me get my boat out. As he took the last line off the dock, he said, “What should I do with it?”

“Just throw it up on the deck,” I said. “I’ll stow it after I’m underway.”

When the wind is right, you can sail the Manatee River. It’s such a beautiful river, and this day the wind was out of the southwest. I put the sails up and delighted in turning the engine off (my favorite part of any sail) and moved out toward Tampa Bay. The Genny was a bit of a pain to deploy because of its design, which includes a continuous line that leaves two lines running up to the back of the boat, but it deployed well. As I turned toward the Skyway Bridge and the “ditch” that runs more or less north and south along it, I was watching two boats ahead. They were easily recognizable as two other members of BCYC, both of them excellent sailors – and I was keeping up with them! Boy, I’m getting good at this! I thought. I was going to be on some point of a port tack for the entire trip. How sweet is that?

I tweaked my miansail sheet; I tweaked the traveler; I tweaked the Genny, and I was still keeping up with them. The boat was sailing beautifully, and I thought, “That’s why I sail her by myself sometimes. I’ve done this on my own. I own this successful sail.”

A little later I noticed the two boats, who were about two miles in front of me, sailing, not motoring, up the Ditch. “Oh, good! I won’t have to turn the engine on!” Sure enough, the wind was still from the southwest, and I sailed up the ditch in blissful silence except for the swish of water on the hull. 

I watched as my friends turned west, and noted that they kept on sailing across Pinellas Point in the east-west channel at the tip of the Pinellas peninsula, and thought, “Dang – I’m going to be able to sail right up to the bridges! This is great. I’ll bring my sails in at Structure E (the bridge to Tierra Verde), put the headsail back out afterwards and I’ll be able to sail all the way back to BCYC!”

I was really full of myself by this point. I’m surprised I didn’t sprain something patting myself on the back, because I was still keeping up with two men I considered to be really excellent sailors. 

I was so full of myself that I completely forgot about the loose line on the foredeck.

Unfortunately, by the time I got to the Pinellas Point channel, there had been a slight wind shift – just enough that I could not sail west. No matter how determined I might have been, the channel is just too narrow in some places for a boat my size to tack, especially single-handed. The only choice I had was to bring the sails in and turn the engine on. Darn it!

I got to a wide place in the channel, locked the wheel, turned the engine on and sprinted up to the mast and tightened the lazy jacks. Mainsail down.

Then I tried to pull in the Genny. It wouldn’t come in! By now I was headed to a narrow area, so I turned around, went back to the beginning of the wide part and tried again. No deal. Something was jamming it. I was starting to think things stronger than “Darn it!”

So I turned the boat around again, and followed the double line up to the bow, where I found that loose bow line tangled in the roller furler lines. I really couldn’t get it untangled in that narrow channel. I needed to be at the wheel. I now couldn't get the Genny out properly, or do anything else except listen to it mocking me as it flapped and rattled with the boat pointed directly into the wind.

Structure E was just about to open as I approached, and as I turned, of course the Genny started to fill with wind. Fortunately it had a terrible shape, spilled wind, and didn’t influence the boat much as I went under the bridge. There was only 10 minutes to the next bridge, so I just gave her all the engine could safely give, and made it to that bridge.

Now I was in Boca Ciega Bay. I moved the boat away from the shallow areas around the bridge, went to the mast, loosened the lazy jacks, pulled the mainsail up again, and heaved the boat to. She was drifting sideways, but I was able to get the lines untangled and bring the Genny in properly. 

Clutter on your decks can cause all sorts of problems, and I was actually lucky that there wasn’t a front coming through, or a rising wind, or a pop-up storm, or some other bigger problem to solve. When you can’t control a sail for some reason, it can cause serious problems. I was foolish to not make stowing that line a priority. I should have done it before touching a sail.

Keep your decks clear. Stow all your lines. This is one reason why boats have things like wheel brakes and autopilots, so you can leave the cockpit and deal with things. If your boat has a tiller, you can get a gadget called a “Tiller Tamer,” and in reasonable weather and seas it will hold your boat steady enough to deal with things like lines that need to be stowed. “Tiller Tamers” and “Tiller Tenders” hold the tiller where you’ve set it while you go forward, visit the head, or grab a snack. It can be tiring to have to hold the tiller for hours on end, and even a short break can be helpful. Here’s a link to a Tiller Tamer at a company called Defender. They often have good prices, and are known for good service. http://www.defender.com/product.jsp?path=-1|118|297677|1863917&id=92415

My bias is to pay attention to the sheets in the cockpit. You don’t want to coil them tightly while you’re sailing, but you can still tuck them out of the way of people’s feet. Take care of these things, and then if a problem arises you can focus on the problem and not first have to perform the tasks you should have done earlier.