BRIDGES

     They’re more complicated than scary

Going through bridges -- I remember the first time I did it. I fumbled with the radio, sweated bullets over the timing, and was relieved when it was all over.

Those are the two big issues: using the radio and timing your passages. I’m going to talk about them one at a time, with a few comments at the end.

USING THE RADIO

The reason for following these steps when using the radio is out of courtesy to the bridge tender, who is juggling multiple balls at once sometimes. Predictable conversations make life easier for him or her. What you say will also make sense to the other boats around you, who will then know what to expect.

When you see the bridge in the distance, switch to Channel 9.

Call the radio when you are clearly visible and identifiable to the bridge tender. Here’s the language to use (the bridge tender will call you “Captain” out of courtesy. He or she doesn’t care whether or not you handed the radio over to a crew member).

1.   Call the bridge three times – “Corey Bridge, Corey Bridge, Corey Bridge…”

2.   Identify your boat: “This is the sailing vessel ‘Pink Floyd.’”

3.   Identify where you are: “I’m approaching from your north side.”

4.   Identify what you want: “I’m waiting for your next opening.”

5.   Make it clear that it’s the bridge tender’s turn to talk: “Over.”

The bridge tender may have a question or two for you. Always say “over” when you’re done answering.

The bridge tender will tell you when the next opening is. Thank him/her, and say, “Standing by.”

        

TIMING YOUR PASSAGE

There will be a main path through the bridge. For sailboats, that path is through the span opened up when the bridge is raised. If the bridge does not open, there is usually a small light at the center, on the edge of the bottom of the bridge surface. That will be lit at night but you’ll be able to spot it during the day.

For bridges that open, wait to one side of the path through the bridge and back some distance, as powerboats without a lot of height can go through at any time. If you want, you can sail or motor around, but keep a 360º lookout as bridges are heavy traffic areas but with no easy rules about where any one boat should be. If you wait in place, leave the engine in neutral.

The best advice I can give you is “Don’t hit the bridge.” You may have seen sailboats squeaking through the bridge as soon as there’s a crack at the top wide enough for their masts. Actually, according to the bridge tender I spoke with, you’re not supposed to do that. Both current and wind are shifty under a bridge. Leave yourself a good margin of safety. The two boats in this video did not leave a good margin of safety, as you’ll see (turn your sound on for this):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2AZ21k4mfSQ

 If no one was hurt in that accident, they're very, very lucky. Several things were probably in play in that accident. First, the bridge tender may not have been able to see the boats trying to get through. They often can't see boats that are very close. Second, once a bridge has started to close, the bridge tender cannot always interrupt that process. In that video, incredibly, it appears that not one but two sailboats were going to try to go through a closing bridge.

Don't do that.   :)

However, the bridge tender is obligated to keep both boaters and drivers in mind. So you don’t want to waste his or her time, either. So what do you do? Tell the bridge tender that you’re familiar with your boat’s capabilities and speed but that this is your first time going through a bascule bridge.

Then, as the time to opening gets closer, zig zag a little closer to the opening so you’re ready to turn toward the bridge when the time is right. But when is that?

        

Well, it depends. The bridge tender uses a specific sequence of signals that can help. First, he or she sounds a horn five times. Five blasts of a horn is a warning sign. Then you’ll hear bells and see traffic gates drop down. The next step is that the bridge will start to open, but scan the bridge. If there are bike riders or pedestrians on the bridge, that will delay the opening.

As you start to approach the bridge, go slowly, and gradually increase your speed as the spans open.

As soon as you’re sure your mast is through, Say “Thank you, Bridgetender.”

WHAT CAN GO WRONG?

        

Wind: when the wind gets to a certain level, bascule bridges cannot be opened safely. Lower than that speed, the wind may push your boat about, another reason to make sure the bridge is wide open before you go through.

                 

Current: any current can be exacerbated by things like dredging. It may be more of a “water funnel” than it looks like. Watch the water swirling around the bridge supports as well as pilings (ex: “low wake” signs) near the bridge. In addition, if you poke around on your chart plotter, you may find a feature for currents. It can’t tell you what the current actually is where you are, but it may be able to tell you what the current is likely to be at that time (based on tide and history).

Engine problems: I was on a friend’s boat once when his engine died just as we were about to go under the bridge. We glided under; he steered the boat to the side; and we immediately put the anchor down. He had previously been sailing in rough water, and dirt from the side of his fuel tank got sloshed around. He had a clogged filter, easily solved because he had a spare filter. Make sure you have typically needed spare parts on your boat.

        

But wait – it’s a sailboat, right? Why not just sail through the bridge?

Well, let’s think this through. Do you have many years’ sailing experience? If so, why are you bothering to read someone telling you how to go through a bridge? Going through a bridge is not a dangerous thing to do with engine power. Under sail is a different matter.

The wind shifts unpredictably under a bascule bridge. In fact, a bridge tender can refuse to let a boat go through under sail. Some sailors leave a sail up as they go under, but the smart ones are still under engine power.

But it’s not just bascule bridges. Where I live, recently a bascule bridge was replaced with a 65’ high span. Most sailboats go right under with no problem – some very big sailboats will just have to go outside. I have a friend who has been sailing for many, many years. He could truly be called a master sailor, and would be the “go to” person for many, many people if they needed sailing advice.

And yet, when he tried to sail under that new bridge, he ended up in a real pickle. The wind shifts weirdly under the bridge. I’ve experienced it although I wasn’t able to identify the cause. Worse, he had a current against him – he estimated that it was moving at about 3 knots. Before he knew it, he was through the bridge but the current had sucked him over and jammed his boat against a large construction barge still finishing the bridge up. He and his companion were trying to fend the boat off with little success. Fortunately a power boater came by and gave them a tow (another choice for people in my area would be to call Eckerd College, who would be likely to get there before Boat US). He had three stanchions badly bent, but it could have been much worse.

In retrospect, he believes that he should have realized that the current would make it hard to sail safely under the bridge, especially given the obstacles on the other side. In retrospect, he believes he should have put the anchor down and just waited for the tide to slacken.

This proves there is always something more to learn about sailing!

There’s one more thing you can do before going through a bridge, and that is to gather local knowledge. You can make a general call on your radio to find out if there’s anything unusual about the bridge. You might try calling Boat US, as they will be familiar with bridges in the area since they often have to tow boats through that bridge.

Finally, Bridge Malfunctions: It happens. One time I went through a bascule bridge that could open only one span. There were three or four sailboats on each side waiting to go through. The bridge tender told us all frankly that it was up to us to decide what to do, so we did. We decided that southbound boats would go through first, and then northbound, since there wasn’t room for two boats to pass at the same time safely.

Unfortunately, every once in a while a bridge tender will make a request that just isn’t reasonable. I know of one case where the bridge tender kept insisting that the waiting boat get closer. The skipper did that – and ended up with his boat wedged sideways against a bridge piling. I have to wonder about this incident. I find it hard to believe that the bridge tender didn’t know that this could happen, given the current at the time. Politely tell the bridge tender that you need to keep a safe distance for your boat but that your boat will have the power to get through in a timely way when the bridge opens.

Another time, I was “buddy boating” with another boat. I had been leading the way toward the bridge, but all of a sudden the other boat put more power down, passed me, and headed for the bridge first. The water was very rough, and I think they just wanted more speed going through. Then the bridge tender said to me, “Can you catch up with the other boat?” If I had had one day’s more experience, I would have said, “I’m sorry, sir, but my boat is going as fast as she can.” Instead, I gave the boat more throttle … and she overheated. I ended up being towed under the bridge, and towed home the next day.

FINALLY – and this one is really scary – I know someone for whom the bridge came down on their mast while they were going through. This unfortunate couple owned the last boat in a group sailing together. As in the video, their boat was demasted. It might be that the boat before them said something that led the bridge tender to believe the entire group had passed. I don’t know whether they radioed the bridge tender or not, but every single boat going through should radio the bridge. However, don’t count on the bridge tender to remember how many are going through or to count them accurately. They are only human and may be dealing with other issues at the same time. Given what happened to the people I know who got squashed by a bridge, if I’m the last boat in line, I contact the bridge tender again and tell them that I am the last boat and will be entering the bridge shortly: “Bridge tender, this is the sailing vessel ‘Pink Floyd,’ about to go under your bridge. I am the last boat in the group.” I don’t risk having the bridge close one boat early.

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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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