Update on Replacing Navionics on my Phone

I went to the T-Mobile store online and found at least eight different programs supported by my phone that will give latitude and longitude. That's pretty much all the one I chose does, but it does so at the touch of one icon.

Then I went to Wal-Mart for something else in the electronics section, and found a plug-in power supply for my phone. The package says it will last "up to two hours." That would probably not be more than 30 minutes if running Navionics on it, but if one was smart in an emergency, and only used it for short phone calls and a quick lat and long check (skipping Navionics entirely), and turning the phone off in between, it might last much longer.

It does use a special dedicated battery, so after what I went through in the hospital with a dead phone and (stupidly) no paper list of important phone numbers, I got two spare batteries.

This gadget and its batteries will be dedicated to the boat. If I decide I need one for everyday life, I will get a second one to put in my purse or car (car batteries can cut out on you). It will also go with me any time I sail on someone else's boat.

I'm sure they make such apps for IPhone, and I'm certain they have a supplemental battery pack for IPhones as well.

Charts vs. Chart Plotters -- Yet Again

If you read my entry "Seasickness," you know that my last sail had its ups and downs. That's putting it midly. I became extremely sick. The Coast Guard rescued me from the boat I was on, and raced to me to shore to a waiting ambulance. I spent about 48 hours in the hospital, and my doctor and nurse practitioner are still following me closely for lingering effects.

The whole experience -- when I wasn't hanging my head over the side of the boat, that is -- was an interesting display regarding the debate between chart plotters and older methods of navigation.

The skipper of the boat I was on, Samantha Ring, is an unapologetic geek when it comes to navigation skills. We recently found out that our late friend Al Davis often used her as an example of one of the best students of celestial navigation he had ever had. Now, Samantha is young in years compared to me. She hasn't yet had the opportunity to do more than weekend hops on her boat. She teaches during the year, and anyone who has taught knows that this does not necessarily mean that your weekends are free. During the summer where she lives, while it is technically possible to sail, the winds are so light that it can be hard to travel any distance. In addition, the risk of afternoon storms combined with the dangers of coastal sailing in a storm off west Florida (lots of shallow water) mean that you go out early and come in early. That also limits the distance you can cover.

So the only reason Samantha had to learn celestial navigation was curiosity. This is a trait she holds in abundance, however. She has also learned extensively about coastal navigation.

In spite of this, I have been urging her to embrace the idea of adding a chart plotter to her set of tools and skills. She has actually been one of the people who believes that the cognitive skills of navigation are superior to electronic support, and after my most recent day on the water it would be hard to disagree with her.

Nevertheless, I talked her into having a chart plotter cable installed on her boat so she could do a test trial with my chart plotter and see if she might find it a useful addition. She was skeptical, but also is making a big leap shortly in the distance she's sailing, so she went along with it.

Unfortunately the installer connected it to dead wires and did not have time to correct this mistake before we left. But my goal was to show her that the two skill sets -- coastal navigation and using a chart plotter -- could work together, so I did the best I could with Navionics on my cell phone (it may be great on an IPAD or computer, but I have used it twice now on my phone and don't recommend it when used that way. IMO it's too clumsy for the small gain in information, but YMMV.)

Rather than try to snake her way through the many islands south of St. Petersburg without the rapid information a chart plotter provides, Samantha chose to go out to sea a bit and then angle in to our goal, Longboat Channel into Longboat Key. It was an ambitious plan for three reasons:

1) We had a much later start than anticipated

2) We had unexpected mechanical problems with the mainsail

3) The fuel gauge (which proved to be markedly inaccurate, as I understand it a fairly common occurrence on sailboats) led us to believe that we were much lower on fuel than we actually were. (I hope I remember to suggest to her to see if she could simply use a dipstick approach to her fuel tank. I can't on my boat, but she might be able to. I was too sick to go into the cabin, so I'm not really quite sure if her new fuel tank configuration would allow that.)

In the meantime, I was getting more and more sick. As skipper, it was Samantha's job to figure out the best way to get me to help, and trusting her to do this, I did not override her judgments. That turned out be very smart on my part.

I should state now that I also did not at any time look over her shoulder to check her calculations. Any movement made me more sick, and she was using my chart book, which suits a small cockpit better than larger charts. I was interested in protecting my chart book from my current medical state.

Samantha went below, knew immediately where her navigation aids were, and returned with dividers, hand bearing compass, parallel rulers, protractor, and two rotating wheels which she described as a "sailing slide rule." That last one is not something I'm familiar with but very curious about now. Some time when it is less likely that I would soil it rather badly, I want to get a look at it and what it can do. It wasn't covered in the coastal navigation class I took, which unfortunately emphasized ... chart plotters.
 
Using these tools while the 15 year old Sea Scout who was with us quite competently handled the boat by herself (in spite of never having single-handed before -- more about her later), Samantha was able to locate our position with remarkable precision. We know this because my phone had just enough battery left to confirm our location.

I have two observations about all of this, done when it really mattered (thanks, Samantha! You saved me from being a lot more sick than I already was.)

First, Samantha did a truly excellent job of navigating when it really counted.

Second, neither Boat US nor the Coast Guard were at first confident that she actually knew where we were. Why? Because we didn't have a chart plotter. THEY seemed to be so reliant on electronic aids that they did not believe Samantha when she reported our position using things like dividers and paper charts. They may well have had good reason for this. It is my suspicion that an awful lot of people don't know how to do it. I don't believe I could have done it as well as Samantha did (assuming I hadn't been sick).

I believe that part of what convinced the Coast Guard that they should come and get us was that over a half hour they got three reports from Samantha of our location, and that the three points reported made sense. By the way, Samantha was loathe to draw lines on charts that weren't hers, adding a new layer of complications that did not prevent her from doing the job well.

The Coast Guard found us efficiently, and something that has to be kept in mind in all of this is the nature of the typical coastal Coast Guard vessel. They are not really equipped for medical rescue. There was no stretcher or back board and it would have been a very bad idea anyway. There was no room in their little cabin for such apparatus. In the back of the boat, lying down simply was not an option. I needed all the physical strength I could manage to muster to be able to sit and hang on to that gun turret or whatever it was (it might have just been an incredibly stout stanchion for lines with a big hole drilled in the top for some other reason than a gun mount). If Samantha had delayed calling, I'm not sure I would have had that strength. I did crash somewhat later in the hospital, but that's a far better location than on a sailbot some miles off shore -- or even on the Coast Guard boat. She got me rescued in a timely way.

We knew the chart plotter wasn't going to work as we left the dock, but they can and do sometimes malfunction some distance into a trip, suddenly and unexpectedly. If I had been on a boat where no one had good coastal navigation skills, I could have ended up much more sick. No solution is perfect. Often it will be the skipper who has these skills, but what if it's the skipper who is sick? We could have just as easily gone on my boat, and I would have had no guarantee that my crew had these skills.

If that's your situation, get a backup chart plotter. I really dislike the handheld chart plotters, but they will give you latitude and longitude, which is all that's needed to get emergency help to your boat. I really do not recommend counting on your phone. You may be too far off the coast to get a signal, but in addition, the lack of sub-menus makes it much more difficult to find something as basic as latitude and longitude.

In fact, the difficulty of finding latitude and longitude in the Navionics program points to something else about the philosophical approach to the design of electronics navigation. Navionics, for instance,  focuses far more on establishing a route and using it as a track (something a modern chart plotter does fairly easily) than in just telling you where you are. I'm going to look for an app that just gives lat and long, because that's really all we needed. With rapid access to latitude and longitude, we could have confidently snaked ourselves through Mullet Key, Egmont Key, etc. At the push of a button we could have told the Coast Guard where we were.

Finally, Navionics depletes the phone battery quite rapidly. We did not have a DC charger with us (it's an easy thing to forget), and when it was dead, it was done. Using Navionics in the open Gulf we could turn it off, but near the shore you would want to leave it on.

I have seen people use Navionics on their phone quite effectively, but it has a steep learning curve, it doesn't do it nearly as well as a chart plotter, it is hard to see to program it in sunlight, and it uses a lot of battery up pretty quickly. Except in an emergency it gets a thumbs down from me.

I'll look and report on what I find regarding lat/long apps, but since I use an Android and most people seem to have Apples for smart phones, people should look on their own as well. T-Mobile, for instance (my provider), recommends that I use only T-Mobile tested apps, and my experience has suggested that this is true. While an I-Phone supposedly gives lat and long, it is also buried in the phone. The Coast Guard tried to lead Samantha through her phone to find it on her phone, apparently not trusting her navigation skills, but in Samantha's view it's the phone that failed. She never did find it and -- smartly -- asserted her status as skipper and insisted that they use the position she had plotted the old-fashioned way.

The weekend's experiences enhanced my opinion that both chart plotters and skilled use of paper charts are crucial, and not just for "serious" sailors. Going out on the water is a little dangerous, and it isn't right to abuse the system by forcing the Coast Guard to do a costly and time-consuming grid search because you didn't know how to figure out where you were.

Seasickness

Or, I Didn't Know it Could Happen to Me!

Somewhere in this blog I said once that seasickness can turn into a true medical emergency. I wish I could figure out where I said that so I could quote it now.

Last week my sailing club, BCYC, went on a three day sailing trip, Saturday through Monday. We planned to sail to Moore's Crab House on Longboat Key on Saturday, and then on Sunday go on to either Sarasota or Twin Dolphin Marina.

Meanwhile, age had started to catch up with me. I had an extremely sore knee, which my doctor's office determined to be caused by arthritis. Because I don't tolerate NSAIDS (as in, they could kill me), they put me on Prednisone. I was prescribed the standard blister pack, with a big dose the first day and then tapering off over the next five days. The Nurse Practitioner was sure my knee would be better in a few days with this.

That was Wednesday. Wednesday night and Thursday I took the big dose, and by Friday I had started tapering off. Unfortunately the blister pack fell out of my purse Friday night at the grocery store, so I missed a dose, but the pamphlet explained how to handle that, and the grocery store returned my pills to me Saturday morning, so I left on the weekend trip as a guest on someone else's boat. I was looking forward to it. She has a Catalina 27' and they can be a lot of fun to sail.

Unfortunately, the boat didn't have a chart plotter, and as three boats including my boat and her Catalina were planning on a 10-day trip in a few weeks, I convinced my friend to try my chart plotter. Another friend put in the cable at the last moment, but unfortunately soldered it to dead wires. He didn't have time to re-wire it before we left. So we had no chart plotter.

Samantha Ring, the skipper, is a good navigator, but we had gotten a late start and we wanted to get in before dark. "No worries," I said. "I have Navionics on my cell phone. I'll use that, and it will take us right to the entrance of Longboat Key Channel." It's a tricky entrance, and Samantha was glad to be able to be very precise about where it was.

So as we went out the Pass-A-Grille Channel, I huddled in the cockpit, with head down and hat shielding the sun so I could see the screen. This version of Navionics has few menus, probably to save on space, so it was a job to figure out how to do it, but after about 20 minutes I finally got a route in and it started tracking our boat.

Unfortunately, the channel had been quite rough, and I started to feel pretty sick. Next thing I knew, I was hanging my head over the leeward side calling -- several times -- for Ralph. It was fortunate, I thought, that I had eaten breakfast so early. My stomach was empty. I figured that was the end of that.

Well, it wasn't. Turns out that Prednisone has a tendency to trigger nausea. I got sicker, and sicker, and sicker. It didn't go away. Eventually I had dry heaves. I couldn't say two words without calling for Ralph in between them. Samantha was beginning to worry. We had had some mechanical problems with the boat that had delayed us. While the boat was now sailing very well, we didn't really know why the mechanical problem had happened, and we were afraid it might happen again. The fuel gauge said she was low on fuel.

I wasn't in a state of medical emergency yet, but it was close to 5PM, I was still retching, and it would be several hours before we got to shore. We both thought I might be in pretty rough shape by then.

Samantha triangulated a precise location for us and called the Coast Guard.  The Coasties initially weren't certain they needed to come, but after some debate (their flight surgeon finally said "Go get her!"), they came out and got me.

While I am extremely grateful to them, it was a terrifying ride. Their boat was moving at at least 50 mph forward (and about 80 mph up and down!) I had declined riding in the cabin because I saw nowhere I could call for Ralph without making a mess in there. I said I would ride in the back, and one of the Coasties rode with me, holding on to my life jacket. I was glad -- we were bouncing all over the place. I nearly landed on the floor a couple of times, and there was an open space in the gunnels I would have fit through! I looked inside the cabin. Those chairs had huge shock absorbers, and the three crew in the cockpit gently bobbed up and down. Meanwhile I was in the back, bouncing hard -- BANG! BANG! BANG!  I clung to what I think was a gun turret, very glad the gun wasn't there as it would have gotten in my way. I was soaked from ocean spray.

Somehow I made it in to the Cortez Bridge Coast Guard Station without soiling their boat. An ambulance was waiting to take me to a nearby hospital. I was glad to be on land!

We did not call for help too soon. While I seemed to finally be done bellowing for Ralph, I hadn't had any food since 6:30 AM, and had only had about 6 oz. of diet soda to drink since the boat had left the dook about noon. My blood chemistry was a little off, and the ER doctor invited me for an overnight stay. I really had no choice. I was in south Bradenton; I had no wearable clothes (never mind why); my car was up in Gulfport; and all my friends were 15 miles south of me. They had no cars either, but it didn't matter, because the battery on my phone was dead (Navionics uses up a lot of battery power) and I couldn't call anyone to bring me clothes and give me a ride home.

It was a good thing I stayed in the hospital. In the middle of the night they drew blood again, and I got the news Saturday morning: my blood chemistry had continued to go sour overnight, and I was now very sick. They were very glad I had opted for admission.

It was 3PM on Monday afternoon before I was released.

It turns out that Prednisone's tendency to trigger nausea is multiplied if you don't finish the blister pack. Oops.

Here's my point: even if your doctor tells you lots of information about what you're taking, even if the pharmacist buries you with details, you still don't know everything about that medication under all possible conditions. Or you might not be on any medications at all, but also not realize that you are about to come down with strep throat or a bladder infection, both of which can make you nauseous. At any time, there could be events sneaking up on you that could turn a minor bout of seasickness into a serious medical problem.

My seasickness did not become life threatening only because I got to the hospital when I did, but ... even though I was very sick on the sailboat, I did not have the classic symptoms of someone about to crash from dehydration. Only a blood chemistry analysis let the doctor know that I was actually headed for a medical cliff, and because I was already in the hospital, that was prevented. If we had waited for the classic symptoms of serious dehydration, I would have been in a whole lot of trouble by the time I got to the hospital. The flight surgeon knew something we did not: moving from "Oh spit I really don't feel good" to "How do you call 911 from a sailboat?" can happen very, very rapidly.

Talk to your doctor about how to manage seasickness. Experiment and find out how you react to Bonine, to Dramamine, to the little wrist bands (they don't work for me but some people swear by them), etc. Know yourself. If you're going on any kind of extended trip, have your crew try these things ahead of time as well.

Then talk to your doctor about the realities of sailing (in particular, being some hours from medical help) and ask what you can stock on your boat. I know they make rectal suppositories that can turn off nausea when someone can't keep anything in their stomach long enough to help. If we had had those suppositories on the boat, it might have saved me 2 days in the hospital, with, I think, a $125 deductible for each day for me to pay, plus $250 for my share of the ambulance. If I could have gotten the nausea under control, I could have drunk Gator-Ade, which includes the potassium I needed so desperately. It all might have been a non-event.

This, by the way, answers, forever for me, the question of whether I should *ever* use Navionics on my phone. Never. Again. Ever. Never. Using the chart plotter, you can still see the horizon. If you can see the horizon, you're less likely to get seasick.

I might have gotten sick anyway. I am now on a new blister pack of Prednisone ("You are NOT going sailing while you're on this, right?" the NP asked.) No ma'am. I've learned my lesson! Maybe because I have just been through so much, this round of Prednisone has made me a little nauseous. I've taken Prednisone before without any nausea, but not this time.

Seasickness really can turn into a medical emergency. I never thought it would happen to me, but it did. It is something to be prepared for.

...

Oh yeah -- one more piece of advice, probably something everyone on the planet with a cell phone except me knew: keep a list of emergency numbers with you. If I had done that, I still could have called a friend from the hospital phone. It wouldn't have changed my medical condition, but would have relieved me of the vision of me walking out of the hospital bare-assed!

More on Garmin ...

the company I love to hate!

I'm racing in early May in the Women's Regatta, formerly known as the Bikini Cup, a race for women sailors. I'm the navigator for this trip.

At the helm is a woman who would like her navigator to have a chart plotter available, but we're not racing on my boat but on someone else's. Although his boat is very well equipped in many ways, his chart plotter is an old Garmin 76CX.

It's difficult to use as you might a modern chart plotter, tracking your course from waypoint to waypoint. I had one of these until it stopped working, so I was fairly familiar with it, but because of its tiny screen I never used it for anything except getting a precise latitude and longitude, which served me very well once.

I thought, "No problem. I'll just get a manual online." I found a Garmin website that had this old manual, but it wasn't a PDF, and when I downloaded it to my Macintosh, it was just unreadable gabble.

Garmin has done it again in not supporting Macintosh (in fairness, I can't expect them to support an old 76CX, but ...) They could have just put the manual into a PDF file and then anyone would be able to read it. The solution is so easy it's laughable, but clearly they just didn't bother.

We don't really need a chart plotter for this small race course, so I'm not worried about it. We can sight all the markers. But really, Garmin -- PDF? It's ... not hard.

My Chart Plotter Problems -- A Happy Ending!

As I have posted here before, I have had ongoing problems with my chart plotter.

I had had intermittent problems with the chartplotter most of the time I owned it. Fortunately I had gotten the extended warranty on it, because I have a good friend for whom that worked out very well.

My chart plotter started randomly turning itself off. Most of the time it was immediately after I had pushed a button, but sometimes I would just glance at it only to see a blank screen. I took it back to West Marine several times, but since the problem was intermittent, it of course never happened in their presence. It wasn't that they didn't believe me at West Marine, but they did need solid evidence, and I understood that. They suggested I try a different cable, but I didn't have the skills to change the cable, and I didn't want the expense of cable and installation when I didn't know whether or not that was the problem.

One day it started insisting that every spot on the planet was at latitude 32º. I'm fairly certain that isn't true, and since that latitude runs through Atlanta, Georgia, I'm pretty sure it's not where I've been sailing, either. Every single waypoint came up listed that way, although its position on the actual chart was accurate.

So I could use waypoints I had already entered, but could not enter any new ones.

This led to a cascade of problems. I really hate cascades of problems.

I took it to the West Marine where I had bought it. They could see that problem, and said it needed a software update, which they said I could get at the Garmin website. I went there only to find that Garmin doesn't support Macintosh.

So I bought a Sandisk and gave it, and the chart plotter, to someone with a PC. He downloaded the software update for me.

I put the Sandisk in the chartplotter, which told me the Sandisk was blank.

So I took it back to the PC guy and he had no trouble finding the software on the disk.

Back I went to West Marine, and then they told me that my Sandisk was too big -- 32 GB. The chart plotters have trouble reading any that are bigger than 16 GB. Oy vey. Eye roll.

For some reason, the chart plotter then began producing accurate latitudes again. What??? But it continued to randomly turn itself off.

So, on December 20 of last year, I again took the chart plotter back to the West Marine I bought it at (instead of the one that was now closer to where now I keep my boat). I had tried another chart plotter on the cable, and that one never turned off. Clearly the problem was with the chart plotter and not the cable.

They told me (are you ready?) that my extended warranty had expired December 15.

D'oh!

Then they did something that assures that I will never trash-talk West Marine again. They said, "Yes, it's technically out of warranty, but you have been bringing this chart plotter back over and over with the same problem, and we know that. Here's your new chart plotter." They handed me a brand new 441S right out of the box.

There's two very specific things I did that helped bring about this outcome. First, I always took the chart plotter back to the store where I originally purchased it. Because of that, they were aware of all the times I had brought it in. I didn't have to convince them that this had been an ongoing problem.

Second, I was never angry or rude to them. I knew they were right, that it might be the cable, and although it was very frustrating that Garmin does not support Macintoshes, this was not West Marine's fault.

Yes, I know. You can buy stainless steel screws cheaper elsewhere. I know you can get a lot of things on line cheaper, and sometimes I do that. However, the people at West Marine were perfectly willing to help me with the most basic things I didn't know when I first started out. That staff doesn't come for free, and neither does the building it's all housed in. A real-time, physical store front has a variety of expenses that an online site won't have -- mortgage or rent for multiple sites across the country, insurance (including flood insurance in Florida, and that's a HUGE bill here), utilities, staff costs, maintenance of equipment such as computers and cash registers -- all of these expenses are less for on-line businesses. Those online businesses didn't go in business for our convenience -- they did it because it's cheaper.

I'm not saying we should never shop online. I'm just saying that West Marine had to pay the staff who worked with me through this problem, and they had to pay them multiple times to do that without bringing in any money in return, but they still did it cheerfully and to the best of their ability. And they did know their product. They had to pay all their other overhead without making a penny on me every single time. If I pay more for a screw at WM, that's OK with me, because they have someone there to make sure I get the right one, and I need that help.

Kudos to West Marine for stepping up.

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Your Chart is Probably Out of Date--Updated

PS: I just spent the weekend with club friends in a little cove off the Manatee River. There's a very high spot shown on both paper and electronic charts that's supposed to only be 3.3' deep at mean low tide.

I had difficulty getting the anchor up, and in the process, according to my chart plotter my boat drifted all over that spot, but the chart plotter, which I checked frequently because I knew about that supposed bump, showed I never had less than 9..4' water to work in. There's another example of how wrong charts can be. Someone had told me with great confidence that this "bump" wouldn't change because there was no current in there, but of course, since it's on the south side of the river, a lot of storms will stir that water up. In any event, the bump seems to be gone. This is actually the most dramatic case of change I've come across so far.


I've shown pictures of floating buoys in a major channel in the Tampa Bay area before:

 

This photo faces east. This is Channel Marker #10 in the Sunshine Skyway Channel. You can see exposed sand beyond. Channel Markers #8 and #12 are significantly farther east than this one is. The Channel is shoaling, or filling in with loose sand, at this spot. I took this picture some months ago. Since then I've seen a sailboat aground, in the channel, north of this spot. In addition, to the south, another piling has been taken down and another floating buoy moved significantly west. The eastern edge of this channel is starting to get a bit zig-zaggy!

I ran lightly aground between markers 2 and 4 a couple of weeks ago. We had a lower than average low tide, partly influenced by the 25 mph north wind that apparently blew a fair amount of Tampa Bay's water to Venezuela. I got off fairly easily; sand that has just moved hasn't had a chance to compact yet and gives way fairly easily. I've also "skipped bottom" at other spots in the channel.

I don't know when the powers that be will get around to redredging this channel, but probably it takes a while. Meanwhile, what do I have to go by? One thing is for sure: my chart still shows both channel markers in their old places. So does my chart plotter.

Meanwhile, we've had a run of unusually low tides here. The lowest point doesn't typically go below mean low tide (except for that one very windy day), but we're not having full high tides. Since the typical distance from low to high tide around here is only two feet, when the tide only rises one foot "high tide" isn't a lot of help in very shallow places.

But the problem with charts and chart plotters lagging behind real life is more complicated than just where the channel markers are. At the southern end of the Skyway Bridge Channel, it appears that there is deeper water -- 8' - 10' -- just to the west of Channel Marker 2. So it would *appear* that one could just bypass the southern entrance by going west of it, and then enter the channel past that shoaling spot.

However, if the channel is filling in to that degree, perhaps the area to the west of it is filling in as well.

When faced with such situations, local knowledge can be a great help. Local fishermen may know, or local dockmasters, charter captains, etc. You can get on the radio and see if you can raise someone. or put someone, preferably someone with experience in shallow water, on the bow. Proceed very slowly, so if you do run aground, your boat's speed doesn't make it worse. 

For now, I'm just avoiding that patch of water at low tide. I'm not going to go through there at night by myself unless I have a full-out high tide, and even then it wouldn't be my first choice, because being aground in a narrow channel at night is not exactly an ideal situation. 

So don't trust your chart plotter 100%. Don't completely trust the routes you've plotted on it unless it's all through known deep water. Keep your eyes open, and reduce your speed at night. Keep a log of such instances so you're not left scratching your head next time, thinking, "Now where was that high spot?" You don't want it under your keel!

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A Tale of Two Sailors

“Abilities wither under faultfinding, and blossom under encouragement.”
— Donald A. Laird

The other day, I spoke with two different sailors about two different issues. Neither of them are close friends of mine.

Person A greeted me cordially and then went about his business. Later on I ran into him, and we chatted about several things. This ended with a discussion about the very clever way he has rigged his mainsail halyard to make it easier to pull, using blocks. He calls it his "geezer halyard." He showed me exactly how he made it. He made sure I got safely on and off his boat, showed me how it was all set up, and let me try the halyard myself (easy with one hand -- I hope to have an article about it shortly, because it's not only "geezers" who have bad shoulders or backs). 

Then there was Person B. I had sought out this person's advice because I respected his expertise. I did not know him well.

To my surprise, every single sentence I started got cut off in mid-stream without being finished. The conversation was immediately derailed to some thought that what I had said had triggered in his mind. The observations were always negative, and the comments always condescending.  I was there to gather information, while he was there to prove that he knew more (uh -- no contest -- could we please move on?). This person still has no idea of what I know and do not know, what I have and have not done, and, I am quite certain, thinks he knows a great deal more about me as a sailor than he actually does. In fact the interchange ended with some really bad advice, that "with the kind of sailing I do" (something we didn't discuss) I "don't even need a chart plotter. Just use your cell phone."

Really? I should cross Florida Bay using a cell phone to navigate? I don't think so! There really isn't any cell phone reception out there. But we didn't discuss my intention to sail to the Tortugas one day.

So what was going on?

Well, both people wanted validation for their knowledge and expertise. Don't we all? One person has my renewed respect. He talked to me in a friendly and encouraging way. He has in fact done this since I first started sailing. We have never socialized outside the club, but he has been unfailingly supportive. He's never blown smoke up my skirt, and I came out of this exchange feeling validated as well. This very experienced man thought I was worth his finite time. He was patient and waited to see whether I understood. We both participated in that discussion and demonstration. Hopefully all of you will soon benefit from his generosity of spirit and have great pictures of his "geezer halyard," too. He got his validation from helping out someone with less experience than him.

In my opinion, the second person was so interested in getting validation that he lost track of the conversation. I would say something and he would actually say virtually the same thing not five minutes later, presenting it as something he was sure I didn't know. For instance, I pointed out that celestial navigation will not be a lot of use if caught in a hurricane. Not two minutes later he explained to me that one can't use celestial navigation in a hurricane. He simply was not hearing anything I had to say. He has walked away from our "conversation" remembering only what he thought up, because the only reason he listened to me was to find a new tangent to redirect the conversation to. Those new conversations always included assumptions (big assumptions) that I didn't know very basic things, followed by condescension. He got his validation by looking down his nose at someone else.

I'm not passing that cell phone "advice" on to you. Do NOT rely on a cell phone for navigation. It can be a backup, but you can't count on getting a signal. For instance, I know as a fact that I will get no cell phone signal off the coast of Venice, but the entrance into Venice Inlet is tricky and you need accurate information, and you may need it rapidly.

And there's the "smoke up your skirt" test: I don't know another sailor who would recommend a cell phone over a chart plotter. But it was a great put-down. The more important the advice you're being given is, the more necessary it is to double-check it. 

Standard disclaimer applies: I'm not disparaging charts here, and I encourage people to use both charts and chart plotters. I encourage people to do things like put Navionics on their cell phones. Just don't *count* on it to be there when you have to make a five-second decision about where the sand bar is, because that might be exactly when you "drop carrier."

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My Current Storm Strategy

"Climbing (sailing) is like fun, only different."
     Tom Pattey, Scottish ice climber

When I first started sailing, I had a storm strategy. That’s good; everyone who sails should have a storm strategy.

My first plan (just avoid storms) was completely unrealistic (in two ways). That’s bad. See my three-part entry, “Out of the Bathtub!” That wasn’t even a storm – just more wind and waves than typical. We were in 5’ waves, and I was completely unprepared. I noticed on the news tonight that 8’ waves are predicted on the Gulf tonight. There’s nothing in the visible observation of local weather to suggest this. Locally, it’s cloudy with occasional light drizzle. However, to the north of us a cold front is moving south. I’m guessing now, but wondering if maybe north of here, weather is just pushing waves southward. The weather report didn’t give wave direction, and I haven’t checked yet.

It doesn’t really matter, because both weather and weather-related events, such as waves, can’t always be predicted (see my entry “Storm!”, where a significant storm seemingly came out of nowhere.)

In my first wind-and-wave event, I was woefully unprepared, particularly because of my reefing system that was so inadequate and dangerous that it couldn’t be safely used. That led to a cascade of ever-worsening events.

My second storm strategy was “just drop all the sails and motor.” That is also a significantly flawed strategy in my opinion.

First, my first sailboat had an outboard engine. In the waves we had it would have been impossible to run the engine because the engine would have kept coming out of the water, denying it cooling. On my next boat, the engine proved to be completely undependable. Now, with a dependable engine, I need to protect it. I don’t want to operate it if the boat heels more than 10º, because after 10º the oil pump cannot adequately pump oil through the engine.

The reality is that a sail plan in a really significant storm can’t and won’t be that simple, and it partly depends on your individual boat as well as your experience, and your experience with that boat.

For instance, my boat is particularly sensitive to being in balance -- that is, having the size of the headsail and the size of the mainsail matched so they work well together without allowing the boat to become overpowered (too much sail up for the conditions). I discussed this today with someone who has the same boat I do but vastly more experience, and he agrees.

For my boat, the hull shape is important. Its fat stern tapering to skinny bow makes the boat “bow tender.” In other words, the bow is particularly sensitive to wind and waves compared to some other boats.

Now, my friend already knows what I’m going to mention next. I’m still sorting it out because I haven’t been in a storm in this boat in some time and have learned a lot about how she handles since then. The first step for me would be to see where the coast is. If it’s close (I’m largely a coastal cruiser), getting away from or staying away from the coast has to be a top priority. You have to look at the chart closely and account for all possible obstacles, not just the shore itself.

The next concern will be how the hull goes through the biggest and most common waves. Unfortunately, waves don’t march like well-disciplined little sailors. While most may come from one direction, there will be contrary ones, and size will also vary. They are the concern of the helmsman. Right now, the current trend should be studied. In shallower water, the waves will be more confused and harder or impossible to predict. But you’re going to get out of shallow water as fast as you can.  :)

Once a tentative point of sail has been chosen (based on conditions, not destination – destination sailing is over for now) – it’s time to set the sails to help the boat through those waves as smoothly as possible. Wind direction has to be considered. You should have a good idea of where to put your sails, but try tweaking them for best result. “Harden them up” – that is, do things to take as much belly out as possible, such as tightening your outhaul (pulls the sail back toward the end of the boom) and the leech line (tightens the leech of the sail and helps take curve out of it). Why do that? Because a curved sail catches more wind than a flat one.

If you have a traveler, check its position. You probably won’t want to be on a close reach (often called “beating” with good reason), but you probably don’t want to be broadside to the winds either. Someplace in between will probably be best for the winds, but it may have to be a compromise between the wind and the hull, as the waves may not be from the same direction as the wind. You may want your traveler halfway between center and the end of the lee side. That gives you the option of using the traveler to quickly spill wind out of the mainsail in a gust. Simply release the upwind traveler line and let the traveler move all the way to the end. The sail will instantly become less efficient, and that’s exactly what you want.

Tweak your headsail as well. If this sail has height to it (my ATN Gale Sail is fairly short), you might want to use the position of the sheet leads to “twist” the top of the headsail. While sometimes undesirable, it is one strategy for depowering the headsail, because wind will spill ineffectively out of that twisted top.

The headsail can also be hardened up, by pulling the working sheet as tightly as possible. Many headsails have leech lines. Try to get forward to tighten that before any significant wind hits your boat.

All of this is a matter of judgment and balance. You will have your hardest time with it in your first storm, because you will have to test everything as you go, and make a number of adjustments. In subsequent storms you’ll know much more about what works on your boat. 

Is this my final storm strategy? Of course not.

Should you copy it? Don't be silly -- I haven't tried it yet. I'm absolutely certain it won't all work equally well. I have done all these things, but not all at the same time in a storm.

I'll post when I've done that. It's Florida. Inevitably, it will be tested. 

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Celestial Navigation

     Or, the stars may not actually hold your future

I just read online about a Great Schism in sailing. The publication Ocean Navigator reports that the Coast Guard Academy will continue to teach celestial navigation -- navigation using the stars, the moon and the sun. Amazingly, the  the U. S. Naval Academy will be moving in a completely opposite direction, They will rely totally on GPS technology. Presumably they will have redundancies built in -- more than one chart plotter, and probably more than one brand of chart plotter.

Those sticking to celestial navigation will have a little more difficult time with redundancy strategy. The obvious strategy there is to have two teams performing their calculations completely separately. However, that won't solve the problem of extended, heavy cloud cover -- for instance, in a hurricane, where it might be extremely important to know exactly where the ship is, which would identify which quadrant of the storm the ship is in. The four quadrants of a significant hurricane vary significantly in strength, so obviously, being in a weaker quadrant can be a valuable strategy.

But practically speaking, for the newer sailor, they need to know accurately where they are. We can talk about dead reckoning -- and it can work -- but only an idiot would rely solely on dead reckoning when it's a new skill. Likewise, using sextants involves using multiple charts along with taking accurate positional readings for celestial bodies, on a pitching boat. It isn't going to be terribly reliable for a newer sailor.

Celestial navigation is difficult and expensive to learn. There's no doubt it works, when you can be sure of the time and actually see celestial bodies -- but it's not fast, and there are meteorological limits.

We've talked about this chart plotter debate before, and I'm going to come back to my earlier suggestion that you use a chart plotter -- actually two. If you have a hand-held backup chart plotter and your electrical system goes out, you will still have very accurate access to your latitude and longitude.

Mark those readings on your chart at an accurate time table -- say, every half hour. Then you'll have a visual representation. You can easily compare this to your efforts at both dead reckoning and celestial navigation. 

I'm not saying that celestial navigation should go the way of the dinosaurs. Clearly, many find real value in it. I'm also not saying that chart plotters are for lazy people. But in fact, a chart plotter can you assist you as you learn both celestial navigation and dead reckoning by double-checking the conclusions you drew from the older methods. And in an emergency, let's face it -- for most people a chart plotter is going to give you information more rapidly and more simply.

Chart plotters are not the tools of the devil, and those who use celestial navigation aren't inherently superior to others. It's just a matter of interest for the great majority. So be tolerant -- "The farmer and the cowman should be friends!"

Bottom line: don't let those who know celestial navigation try to lord it over you because you don't know it yet. You're a newer sailor, and that's NOT a moral flaw. Maybe excessively harsh judgment of those coming behind one IS a serious character flaw. NO ONE PERSON represents the minimum standard to which all must line up -- especially when that status of "I'm the best and the rest of you are unworthy" is self-appointed.

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Ten Minutes to Prepare

     Or, This makes a good case for practicing!

See the last article titled "Storm!" It describes a fast-growing and fast-moving storm that lasted for hours. Such a situation requires quick action to get through the weather safely and as comfortably as possible.

Suppose you only have ten minutes to prepare for a storm? Here are some things you can do, in no particular order. Some of them won't be appropriate for you and your boat. There may be things you would add to the list. The point is that you must have a plan for how to handle storms. When it's bearing down on you, that's too late to be thinking about it for the first time.

So pick and choose from what I've listed. Think creatively, put them in the right order of importance for you (you may not get through it all) and add ideas as necessary.


* Make sure you have a knife, on a tether, tied to your clothes. Everyone who has a knife should do this.

* Set your marine radio to the weather channel.

* Put EVERYONE in PFD's.

* Encourage all crew to put on gloves. Wet lines will be harder to get a good grip on.

* Offer seasickness medication to everyone and encourage them to take it.

* Secure any pets. Put them in their carriers and tie the carrier down.

* Consider whether sailing or anchoring might be your best plan. 

* Assign specific adults to see to the safety of any children aboard.

* Put one or more reefs in your mainsail.

* Furl or partially furl your roller furler, or,

* Put a smaller hank-on headsail up (check that you led your sheets correctly. You don't want them to malfunction in a storm!) Or,

* Put up your Gale Sail if you have one. Or,

* Douse your headsail and put up your staysail.

* Check your chart and chart plotter. Is there any chance of being caught on a lee shore? (Remember, wind direction can change dramatically during a significant storm.) Move the boat to deeper water before it's a battle (or impossible) to do so.

* Use the head.

* Put something to eat and drink in the cockpit.

* Make sure all hatches and portholes are securely closed.

* Close the companionway securely.

* Set up the most comfortable arrangement you can for yourself at the helm.

* Put on foul weather gear.

* Get a swim mask handy in case the rain is intense, so you can see better.

* Police the deck and make sure it's clear of obstacles. Anything left on deck will be harder to see in a storm and be a much greater tripping hazard.

* Police the cockpit. Get lines coming into the cockpit neat and ready for easy use. Clear it of anything unnecessary, but think twice before putting useful things below.

* Enter your lat and long in your log, and keep it updated. If possible, have someone mark it on the chart so you have a visual representation of how the boat is moving.

* Check the perimeter of the boat for loose lines, and start the engine. You can keep it in neutral. Turn it off if the boat is consistently heeling more than 10º because after that point the engine can't move protective oil reliably.

* Suspend "destination" sailing. Your plan now should be to get your boat and your crew through the storm as safely and comfortably as possible.


Gee, that's a lot to do in ten, or even twenty, minutes. Plan with your crew ahead of time who will do what. Issuing expected reminders are much easier for people to follow when things get tense than brand new instructions they didn't expect.

Practice ahead of time, especially things like changing sails, reefing sails, and doing things like raising Gale sails.

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Chart Plotter or No Chart Plotter? Update ...

     Or, Ooops -- I Just Ran Aground in the Center of the Channel!

Last Thursday I was bringing my boat through the Skyway Channel. At the south end, the piling for Channel Marker #2 had been removed, and there was a floating red nun with a 2 on it in its place -- or more accurately, halfway into the channel. I showed a picture of a similar change in that channel some time ago at Marker #10.

However, the combination of low tide and a lot of north wind had made things even worse, and I ran aground, fortunately in soft sand as it was still drifting, right by that floating nun.

The wind was to my back and there was plenty of wave action, and combining that with careful use of the engine, I was able to get off. It was dicey, though, because apparently even my rudder caught a couple of times, judging by how the wheel acted.

Now, on the chart -- and on my chart plotter -- there appears to be much deeper water -- 10 - 12 feet at low tide -- just west of that part of the channel. It would appear to be a better way in and out.

But here's the problem. Obviously paper charts aren't updated unless new surveys are done *and* you buy the updated chart ... and your chart plotter is just as dated. It uses the same data.

So what do you use?

Your eyes. Shallow water looks different than deep water. I don't think there's anything I could have done that day, but if the tide had been a little higher I could have probably visually picked my way through that spot. In such a situation, if you have another person with you, put him or her on the bow, if possible with a depth line. I'll show mine soon. By the time your depth sounder reads water too shallow, your keel has either found it or will in the next second or so.

Inch your way through.

This was a potentially bad situation -- I lost my rudder once before to shallow, rough water, and I was in a real bottleneck in the channel. If a power boat had come through there with a big wake, first of all the skipper might have assumed I was moving, and second of all a big wake could have banged my rudder around. I really don't want to go there again! But because the day was so blustery, few boats were out. In the five minutes it took me to pick my way through that 100 feet or so, I didn't encounter any other boats.

Always be watching for shallow water, no mater what the chart says, and no matter what the electronics say. By the way, my depth sounder said I was in 20.6' of water while the depth line said 4'. I draw 4 1/2', and I know which measure I believe. Either this is another sign of my chartplotter malfunctioning or somehow the container that holds my transducer needs more fluid. That's easy to check, and I'll be doing that, but meanwhile, this is more proof that while useful, electronics are not the whole answer for a sensible sailor.

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Various Updates

     Or, New Information on Old Topics

Remember when I said that going down your companionway steps is one of the most dangerous things you do on your boat? I just met a woman who knows this all too well. She fell going down her companionway steps a couple of months ago, breaking several ribs. Remember the corollary advice, that a cabin is a terrible place to fall into because there are so many things you can hit on the way down. I’m not happy that I was right about that one.

My chartplotter still doesn’t work right. West Marine told me the software needed to be updated. Someone with a PC loaded it onto a SanDisk for me. I put it in the chartplotter and nothing happened, so I took it all to West Marine. When they inserted it, a hidden window popped up that should have updated the software, but it didn’t happen. West Marine told me the SanDisk was empty, so I took it back to the fellow who had loaded it for me. He put it in his computer and found the software on the SanDisk. Meanwhile, the chartplotter’s depth sounder told me that I was in over 20’ of water – while I was aground, centered in a channel (that’s another story). So the chartplotter, which has an extended warranty, is going back to West Marine, and I am going to insist that they send it to Garmin. Stay posted and keep your paper charts handy! I know someone else who benefited from purchasing the extended warranty, and I am now officially recommending that.

The Cruisers and Sailing Forum continues to talk about how small boats should just get out of the way of big ships. They have been debating the meaning of “impede” in the COLREGS, but more and more people are saying, “Oh for heaven’s sake. Just get out of the way!” So far, none of those people have been kicked off the forum that I know of. I am glad that those people have not been kicked off, and I’m glad they’re not being harassed for displaying obvious common sense as well as expressing the true intent of the law.

The little boat aground by the Skyway Bridge is still there. We’ve had extreme low tides here lately (part but not all of the grounding incident mentioned above) because of strong north winds just blowing the water south, and with the water nearly gone it’s clear that the entire keel of the little boat is buried in sand. That boat isn’t going anywhere until Pinellas County decides to cut it up and haul it away. Whoever is the registered owner will get a big bill when that happens, so if you sell a boat, make certain that the new owner transfers the title, or you might get a salvage bill some day for a boat you thought you no longer owned. At least in Florida, boat titles are not controlled as tightly as car titles are.

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Who IS Lee Shore, Anyway?

      Or, There is more than one way to sink a boat …

 

For the last few months, every time I crossed the Skyway Bridge traveling north, between the Skyway Bridge and the Meisner Bridge I would see this boat aground on the east side. 

The first time I saw her, she still had both sails. Then about three weeks ago, the sails were gone.

Then two weekends ago, we had a big blow-up of a storm. It formed in the center of the state, and for some reason no sea breeze formed from the west to stop its movement, and it moved right over the greater Tampa Bay area. It was a  big storm with steady winds of over 40 mph and gusts higher.

Because this boat was on the east side of the highway, when the storm came in from the east, the boat was on the lee shore. 

 

 It gets confusing. If I were talking about an uninhabited desert island, the WEST side would have been the lee side of the island, because the weather was coming from the East. But in boating, “lee shore” has a different meaning. It means that your boat is between the wind and land. The lee shore is on the lee side of your boat. The geography of the land no longer matters in this terminology.

So this little boat (about 25’ is my guess) was aground on a lee shore for the storm we had that Sunday. If this boat had been aground on the West side of the highway she would have been somewhat safer.

Earlier in this blog I told about the man who fell asleep on the beach, and when the wind shifted, his boat was anchored on a lee shore. The wind blew his boat to the shallows and then the waves banged it up and down on the sand until the keel finally came through the bottom of the boat.

I was tempted, but I did not wade out to this boat to see if the keel was now inside the boat.  But I did drive by her again after the storm, and found her more severely aground (no surprise). I also found boat parts on the beach (not a surprise either – I’m surprised she held up as well as she did.)

 

The galley sink, now on the beach

What does this have to do with you? It’s bad enough to run aground, but if you run aground on a falling tide, you may want to consider calling a towboat as one of your first strategies. Keep working things and trying to get off the grounding, but the lower the tide gets, the harder it will be to get your boat freed safely. If you have to wait to get her off, you might want to consider staying with her. It can be uncomfortable, but your grounded boat might make a tempting target, an easy wade away for someone with sticky fingers.

Which leads me to my next comment: I drove over the bridge again a couple of days ago, and looked at this boat.  Both the mast and the boom were gone along with all the shrouds and stays. It’s possible that the owner has been coming back to get sails, and the mast, etc. (I hope he finds his sink on the beach), but gone is gone.

This is terrible for the boat, and terrible for the boat owner, who probably did not have towing insurance. He or she is also likely to get a fat bill from whichever county that stretch of land is in – the Skyway Bridge sits in three counties. So how do you keep this from happening to your boat?

First, study a paper chart of the area you will be sailing. Don’t rely only on a chart plotter. Except for very expensive ones, they have small screens, and dangerous shallows could be just off the edge of your screen. Have some idea of where the shallow spots are so you know what to look for. 

 

Second, pay attention to the waters around you. In the photo above, see the light green spot of water apparently near the horizon? The water there is probably less than one foot deep at low tide. You can also see another very shallow spot off to starboard.  A change in color will often tip you off to shallow water. In addition, over shallow water there will sometimes be breaking waves, just as you see on a beach. Neither of these are foolproof, but it should remind you to take another look at where you are.

Third, get towing insurance. There’s a very good chance that a towboat could have gotten this boat off the grounding, and nothing bad would have happened to her. Even if they couldn’t get her off in a low tide, it most likely would have been pretty easy at the next high tide. She’s not a big boat.

Fourth, know several ways to get your boat off a grounding yourself. That’s a huge topic and too much for this blog entry, but you’ll see several approaches very well explained in SAILING FOR DUMMIES.

Fifth, have some creature comforts on your boat. If she doesn’t have a head, get a porta-potty. They work extremely well. Have a flashlight and a good book to read so you have something to do while you stay with your boat. Always carry extra food and water, even if it’s only a can of Dinty Moore Stew. Creative arranging of cushions can make spending the night on a grounded boat fairly comfy. 

I’ll have to tell you how I know on another day.

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DON’T FALL IN LOVE WITH YOUR CHART PLOTTER

      Or, Where DO these channel markers come from, anyway?

"Not all who wander are lost." 

JRR Tolkien

 Last spring at the end of sail school, all the sail school students were invited for a sunset/evening sail on Boca Ciega Bay. I was one of the host boats, and took some delightful people out.

One man in the group in particular was interested in learning everything he possibly could on this sail. So he got a fair amount of time at the helm, with me by his side since this was his first time sailing a boat of this size. He did a great job, too. He was a fast learner and I’m sure he’s still learning all he can.

As we were going in, I showed him how the chart plotter displayed the red and green channel markers so accurately that you could use the chart plotter to guide you through in pea soup fog. He stared at the chart plotter, watching the little icon that indicated my boat.

As we approached the entrance of the channel, he spotted the red marker on the chart plotter and stared at it intently. He had already heard about “Red right returning,” meaning to keep the red markers to the starboard of side of the boat when returning through an access channel.

And he was, indeed, approaching the channel with the red marker on the starboard side of the image of my boat on the chart plotter.

The problem was that he was not paying any attention to where the green marker was, and it’s a narrow channel.

So as we approached, I said to him, “Where’s the green marker?” He pointed it out on the chart plotter, not realizing that unless we changed course, and soon, we would hit that green channel marker. I took the wheel and pulled it to starboard, and then he saw what I was talking about. He saw it on the water first, and it made him gasp.

I told him – “Don’t fall in love with your chart plotter. Make sure you visually spot what you’re seeing on the screen."

The electronic gear can be fascinating. It’s kind of cool to watch how the depth changes as your depth sounder reads it. You soon learn that the ocean bottom is nothing like a road on land. Water depth can vary a lot in a very short distance. As long as your keel doesn’t touch any of it, it doesn’t matter, but it is interesting to observe.

Unfortunately we may (may, the inquiry hasn’t been done yet) have recently seen a case of what I call “electronics hypnosis” with tragic results out in the Seattle area. A 25’ sailboat and a very large, very fast ferry were on a collision course. They did collide, and although the man single-handing the sailboat survived, his sailboat is now at the bottom of a channel. We don’t know yet what happened except for one thing the sailboat skipper admitted to: he had recently been in some fog, and was focused on his radar screen.

He made a poor choice, choosing a channel that commercial ferries use at high rates of speed to double-check his electronics.

C’mon. We all know that the electronics tools are more than “gadgets” and can give us crucial information, but when you put a new one on your boat, get yourself out into open water before exploring it. Even then, set a kitchen timer to ring every two minutes so you can look around and make sure some boat isn’t gaining on you, on a collision course.

In fact, while you’re out there exploring your new chart plotter or whatever you got, take the time to explore it thoroughly, so when you are in heavy traffic you’ll only have to give it a quick glance. You wouldn’t drive down the road with your eyes intently focused on your rear view mirror, and you should use your electronics in the same way. If you need to dig through menus, make sure there’s no one around you, and if you have someone on the boat with you, put them on 360º constant watch so you don’t have to worry about playing bumper cars with your boat because you’re not familiar with your chart plotter yet. Even if the area is clear of boats, you still have to watch out for things like crab traps and lobster pots, which can make a royal mess of your propeller.

Tell your chart plotter: “We’re friends. I respect and admire you, but that’s all we can be.”

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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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