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!

T-Boned!

Or, This is why you should have a ditch bag!

In the photo below you'll see a sailboat that, until recently, was a racer frequently used by its owner. The owner did not belong to BCYC, but he frequently raced this boat in our races. You can see that the boat was taken care of. Although it might be due soon for a new bottom job, that bottom was squeaky clean.

About three days ago, he was sailing his boat in Boca Ciega Bay when he was suddenly T-boned -- hit right in the middle -- by a pontoon boat!

This is the result. It took less than two minutes for his sailboat to sink.

As sailors, we often talk about "right of way." In fact that isn't the phrase used any more. The Coast Guard now talks about the "stand on" vessel and the "give way" vessel. In the case of a sailboat under sail and a power boat (such as a pontoon boat) under motor power, the law is crystal clear: the sail boat is the "stand on vessel," under normal circumstances expected to maintain its course and speed. The "give way" vessel is the one under motor power, and is required to change course in order to avoid a collision. 

However, things are rarely that cut-and-dried on the water. The over-arching rule from which all other rules branch is, "Do everything possible to avoid a collision." This means that you can't "stand your ground" and say "but I was the stand-on vessel!" Even if you are the only person on your boat, you are required to keep a lookout. That means swiveling your head like an owl -- constantly -- when you're by yourself on your boat. It may be that this sailor's view of the oncoming vessel was blocked by his headsail, a common occurrence. But it is then his responsibility to move about the cockpit or do whatever else is necessary to know what is on the other side of that headsail. "The headsail blocked my view" is an incictment, not a defense.

On the other hand, the driver of the pontoon boat had the same responsibility, and no big sails to block his view. I've heard this story from several people who all repeated the same details, so I suspect it's true: when he hit the sailboat, he had dropped his cell phone and was searching the bottom of his boat to retrieve it. 

"Don't text and drive" applies every bit as much when on the water as it does when behind the wheel of a car.

Both skippers will probably be found to be at fault to some degree; that is nearly always the case under maritime law. However, it is possible that the pontoon boat was coming so fast at the sailboat that the sailor had no chance to change course and avert a collision. If that's the case, the blame will be entirely on the operator of the pontoon boat.

The rules regarding which is the "stand on" vessel and which is the "give way" vessel can be complicated, but always keep the #1 rule in mind: do whatever is necessary to avoid a collision -- if you can.

Wearing Gloves ...

or, Someone Really Could Die!

This happened in the marina I live in recently. A man was climbing up his very tall mast, with his wife on the halyard as a safety line.

I don't know what went wrong at the mast, but he slipped, and he needed that safety line to catch him. I also don't know what went wrong in the cockpit, but she did not have gloves on, and could not hold the line. It burned her hands and she had to let go.

He fell 70 feet.

What happened next was like something out of a movie. Instead of hitting the deck, he hit the Bimini. It gave just enough to cushion his fall. Then it split, and he fell through the Bimini to the cockpit, which hurt him more than the fall from the mast did. However, he was not seriously hurt.

I'm not opposed to wives handling the halyard when someone goes up the mast. I do it myself.

However: I always have gloves on, and I always hold the line firmly, with the assumption that this person is going to fall in the next split-second. I have his life in my hands, and that's how I treat it. 

But gloves aren't just for the tasks that are obviously hazardous from the beginning. Just about anything you do on a boat has the potential to become suddenly hazardous. Suppose you fall off your boat at the dock? It's remarkable just how common that is. If you have gloves on, your hands won't get cut by barnacles, and you'll have a much easier time getting out of the water. If you, say, broke an ankle going in, that could be important, especially if you're by yourself. 

I know someone else whose transmission on her smallish sailboat stuck in forward just as she was coming in to dock. She turned the engine off, and made her best guess about going in circles to slow it down before entering her slip, but she didn't get it *quite* right. Since she had gloves on, she was able to grab a line strung between the pilings and physically stop the boat. 

in a storm or rough seas, the stresses on the sheets multiply You can actually pull harder with gloves on than without them. Try it some time. As I've pointed out in other articles, weather can turn sour very quickly. If you already have gloves on, that's one less thing you have to do in the precious few minutes you may have before the ship hits the fan.

And ladies, shake the hand some time of an experienced sailor who doesn't wear gloves. Trust me -- you don't want your hands to feel that rough! If only for vanity's sake, gloves are the answer. They also help tremendously if the diameter of the line you have to pull on is small. My traveler would be an example of that, as is the line on many roller furlers.

While we're at it, I'm going to come down firmly on the side of wearing shoes -- and closed-toe shoes. Once again, if you fall in, you won't cut your feet on barnacles, and you'll have a much easier time getting out of the water. Now, I have a very dear friend whose opinion I highly respect, who can show you the research demonstrating that bare feet grip the deck best. That may well be, but that was only a grip test. It wasn't a "How many body parts can you injure in a storm?" test. I know someone who sailed to Key West in what should have been a good weather window, but he and his crew still got caught in a storm strong enough to knock them around. They came out on the other side of it with a concussion, cracked ribs, and a broken arm. Oh yeah -- the fellow in the open-toed sandals had a broken toe. They didn't have one person fit to sail the boat, although by working together they managed to get to a safe port.

Sailing gloves are like seat belts. When seat belts first came out, lots of people grumbled and said things like "You can't MAKE me wear it!" (Of course, now they can ...) but I was a young teenager, and my parents said, "Actually, yes, we CAN make you wear it." It became a habit, and now I'm not comfortable in a car unless it, and the shoulder harness, are on. I view sailing gloves in the same way. It's not something worth getting flapped over, and like my seat belt, they may never be the difference between life and death, but the restraint system in my car certainly was the difference between minor injuries and major injuries once. That's how I look at sailing gloves, and I urge you to make them part of your routine.

Are You Really Gaining Experience ....

or are you just getting experienced at being lucky?

Most people who live along the Gulf of Mexico will remember an incident from several years ago. Four football players went out fishing on the Gulf of Mexico with tragic results. While the four men were missing but not yet found, one of the wives said, "I'm hopeful, because they're experienced boaters."

As it turned out, they weren't experienced in boating safely. They were experienced at being lucky, and on that day, their luck ran out.

At my sailing club, we were all surprised to hear they were 50 miles or so off shore -- at their favorite fishing spot -- because we had all known for days that a major front was coming through. It was March of 2009, and it's just a fact of life in Florida that fronts can come through and get the Gulf all riled up. Sailors and boaters should never ignore the weather, but especially January through March, when the fronts from the north can really make a mess out of the mostly shallow Gulf of Mexico.

But apparently these fellows were not aware of the fairly severe weather forecast. We noted at the club that not one person there had taken their boat out. In addition, the four fishermen were on a center console fishing boat. These boats are not designed for offshore use. They had been lucky in the past regarding the weather, and that luck had extended to using a boat inappropriate for the fishing they wanted to do.

Their luck ran out in March of 2009. They added to their problem by trying to retrieve an anchor that had set itself so hard that they couldn't get it back up. That can happen in rough water: the bow rises and falls, and with each rise and fall, the anchor sets itself more strongly. This can be a very good thing. You don't want your anchor dragging if you have to use it in a storm.

They compounded their problems by being determined to retrieve that anchor. When they couldn't get it up from the bow, they tied the end of the anchor rode to the stern of the boat, and then drove the boat forward. This can work ... when you're pulling a bush out of the ground with your car. (This is one more example of how driving a boat is completely different than driving a car). It can be a really bad idea in a boat. Boat vs. anchor, and the anchor won. It pulled the stern under (probably the waves helped), and the boat completely capsized.

If a sailboat capsizes, it is likely to right itself. The rigging may be destroyed, and you may have sailors injured and/or in the water, but they typically right themselves. This is not true of power boats.

So now they had four people in the water clinging to an upside down boat. One of the men dived under the boat and retrieved PFD's and water (they should have had their PFD's on already in rough water). Very sadly, three out of the four men drowned.

You may be doing something over and over that is a really bad idea, even though it has not made problems for you -- yet. One example might be running your engine harder than it should be run. My engine manufacturer tells me to never, ever run the engine above 3600 rpm. So I watch the RPM gauge, right?

Not exactly. I allow for a margin of error, because I'm not guaranteed that that RPM gauge is completely accurate. A friend just had his engine worked on, and one of the things the mechanic did was use a separate, digital tool to test how accurate his RPM gauge was. They discovered that his gauge was off by 400 RPM: when it read 3200, the engine was really running at 3600 -- redline for his engine also.

You might not be in the habit of routinely securing loose things below. Then a storm pops up unexpectedly, and you have damaged belongings in your cabin. Or, very commonly, you don't visit your boat often enough. I know of one person whose boat almost sank over a split hose, and another person who did have her boat sink over a split hose. These people aren't checking and working their seacocks, either, because they're not at their boats to do it. They're also not periodically starting their engines. Diesels love to run -- under load, not just idling -- and not doing this is not a good thing. I looked at a boat that was sailed often but not maintained well enough. The oil, when the engine was cold, was literally as thick as peanut butter. No way was I going to buy such a boat. The owners had gotten lucky and not had any serious engine issues because of their neglect of the oil. However, I wonder how the person who bought that boat fared. I know someone else who had a lot of water in her cabin. She didn't have time to sail, so she wasn't checking her boat. Her stuffing box was leaking, and the float valve on her bilge pump was sticking. Her boat also could have sunk. Her problem was spotted because she did the responsible thing and hired someone to do some basic maintenance.

You may be doing things as you sail that are not only inefficient but dangerous as well. Your best protection if you're a newer sailor is to actively network with other sailors. Don't be embarrassed to tell about the things that have gone wrong. Walk away from someone who sees this as a chance to look down their nose at you (they're out there), but cultivate the people who can show you what to learn from your experience. There is no more valuable friend a newer sailor can have.


https://www.facebook.com/boldlygosailing?skip_nax_wizard=true 

You COULD Go Over the Side -- Really! -- Lifelines

No smart cracks this time -- this is serious stuff

I have heard about lifelines from a couple of people ever since I got my first little sailboat. People are passionate in their beliefs about them.

For instance, there's a big debate about whether they should be clad in vinyl or not. Many owners feel the vinyl looks nicer, even though vinyl-clad cable is more expensive than bare cable. Others insist that it's extremely important to have bare cable, because vinyl can hide the first signs of rust, a sign that your lifelines could fail.

Oh my gracious -- then you could fall overboard, right?

Well, yeah, you CAN fall overboard, but it can happen if you have the newest, brighest, tightest lifelines possible.

How is that possible?

Just go stand on the side of your boat, and note where the lifeline touches your body. Unless you're a child, it's going to be WELL below your waist. This means that your center of gravity is WELL above that top lifeline (assuming you have two -- smaller boats will only have one). 

The lifelines can't save you, I don't care what the "experts" say. I know a true expert who calls loose or weakened lifelines "deathlines." He's been sailing for many, many years and figured out long ago that the lifelines won't save him, but it's hard to ignore that word -- LIFEline.

Well, you have to. Words don't trump the laws of physics.

So what are they good for? They're an OUTSTANDING visual guide. They make it very, very clear where the edge of the cliff is. But once you have realized that those lifelines won't save you (and could actually encourage you to topple over), you'll realize why you want to move toward the bow from the HIGH side of the boat. On the high side of the boat, if you do fall, you'll fall toward the center of the boat -- not into the water.

What else can you do? My boat is 100% netted. I even made a frame with netting on it that lashes to my gates when they're closed. I have a coordination problem (talked about in a much earlier post), so I'm more likely than you to go over the side. Not everyone wants netting but I think it's wise for me.

The other thing you *must* do is make sure you have good handholds along the edge of your cabin top. You often see these made of teak. My boat also has a stainless steel grab bar that runs across the beam. We hear the saying, "One hand for yourself and one for your boat," and that's exactly what it means. As you move forward, you should always be holding on with one hand, and you shouldn't be holding the lifeline. You should be holding something closer to the center of the boat.

If the boat is sailing and you need to do something at the mast, move to the mast from the high side of the boat, where gravity will tend to push you toward the boat, not away from it.

Wear nonskid shoes. I don't care how many macho men tell you bare feet are best: if you break a toe, you're going to be significantly hobbled. Test their grip on your deck periodically, as the grip-holding tendencies of your shoes can wear out.

Don't count on the "life" lines to save you. Do keep them in good shape, but they are last-ditch, and in my opinion, best used by attaching netting to them.



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Your Autopilot Could Throw you in the Drink -- Really!

I'm a big fan of autopilots. Some people call them their "invisible crew member" or some other crew nickname that shows just how valuable they can be. If you're single-handing, for instance, the autopilot can keep your bow pointed into the wind while you raise the sails. No one ever told me what I'm going to tell you now, though. I heard "You should have an autopilot" over and over, but not one person said, "However, it can throw you in the water" -- until I said it. Then others agreed with me. I think it's just a good rule of thumb that anything you put on your boat will bring risks as well as benefits.

There's a saying about sailing that the number of errors equals the number of crew members -- squared. This includes your autopilot, because they can malfunction, and they can do so unpredictably and at just the wrong time -- just like humans.

An untended autopilot caused another boat to hit mine once. My helmsman had turned the helm over and was on my cabintop photographing the boat that ended up hitting me at the time, so we know exactly what happened. The "skipper" of the other boat 1) had his boat on autopilot, and 2) wasn't at the helm. The photos very clearly show him sitting on a side bench next to his cabin top, nowhere near the helm.

Sorry, but autopilots aren't really crew members, and a human has to be at the helm at all times. If common sense didn't tell you that, maritime law does.

Why is this important? His boat was sailing very fast, at least seven knots. He was only about ten feet away from us, silly really since we weren't racing and there was plenty of room.

So when his autopilot suddenly hiccuped and turned his boat 90º to port, at his speed even if he had known what was going on, he wouldn't have had time to steer away. His boat went right across the stern of my boat, leaving his bottom paint behind. His anchor hit my split back stay. It probably would have pulled the whole rig down except that the stay had a plastic PVC cover on it. The anchor, thankfully, rolled off the stay, damaging only the cover.

Autopilots can do that. They can be steering the boat dependably for quite some time. Then a wave hits the rudder wrong, or the power hiccups, or -- you won't always know why, but the boat suddenly makes a hard, lurching, and completely unpredictable turn.

If this happens to your boat and you're on deck somewhere instead of in the cockpit, and you're moving at 6 - 7 knots, that sudden turn can throw you into the water.

So what do you do? Because we all know we're not going to give up our autopilots.

First of all, any time you're relying on autopilot while you move around the boat, slow the boat down to the minimum speed you need to maintain steerage. That's whether you're going on deck or below decks, because you don't want to be thrown around in the cabin either. I suggest that you slow down  even if you have someone at the helm, because humans can control for things like errant waves in ways that electronic gadgets cannot. It's all about keeping the person who is out of the cockpit safe.

Second of all, always remember the old rule, "One hand for the boat, and one for yourself." Don't be up on deck doing something with both hands, and nothing to hold on to. If you have to use both hands, then you should be tethered. For instance, if you're reefing the boat, clip the tether to your PFD, wrap it twice around the mast if it's long, and then clip it to your PFD again. I know someone who did that as a storm approached. The wind hit before he was done reefing, and his boat heeled over nearly 90º. He was knocked off the cabintop but stayed on the boat, which saved his life.

Autopilots are terrific. They let you go down to the head, or grab a sandwich, or get that CD you want. Used intelligently in open waters (not near other boats, for instance -- please, I don't want to be hit again, and you really don't want to hit another boat), they are a tremendous asset. Just remember that they introduce a new element of risk along with all that tremendous convenience.

Beyond this, ALWAYS ask yourself when you get a new piece of equipment: "OK, I know the good it can do -- what can it do that's bad?" A preventer can keep you from a dangerous jybe when you're sailing downwind. I don't know how many times I've heard that. However, only one person ever pointed out that if you attach it to the boom in the wrong place, it can bend (destroy) your boom.

We're all newer sailors here, but I know for a fact that people who have been sailing for more than 60 years are still learning things. Complicating this process is the fact that we don't know what we don't know. So we don't know that the autopilot can send us for a swim, or that the preventer can bend the boom. Take all the things you have on the boat and make sure you know the downsides as well as the upsides. The internet can be a great help, but use it with caution, as the internet is packed with misinformation, some of it dangerous. As you keep poking around, you'll start to get a sense for what is and isn't likely to be true.

This one is true: your autopilot can pitch you in the drink. Turn it off if you have crew and put someone on the helm before you leave the cockpit. If you're by yourself, slow it down to steerage speed.

And have fun out there!

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Too Much Sail Up!

I heard about a sailor the other day who, as they say, ended "up to his neck in alligators." I'll call him "Dick."

Dick had taken a several-day sailing trip with a couple of friends who had sailed some with him before but who didn't have a lot of experience yet.

Dick was the person at the helm. they were sailing with an asymmetrical spinnaker out. An asymmetrical spinnaker flies to either the port or starboard side of the boat, not out in front while running downwind, as a symmetrical spinnaker is used.

Asymmetrical spinnaker deployed on port side
Source for photo: http://www.yagersails.com/spinnaker.html

As you can see, that's a lot of sail. Now, there are some basic rules about sails.

• The heavier the weather for which the sail is designed, the heavier and stiffer the fabric will be. My ATN Gale Sail is only tricky to attach to the roller furler because the fabric is so stiff. But because it is stiff, I can make that sail completely flat, something you want in higher winds. 
• The higher the wind, the smaller you want your sails to be. This is why mainsails can be reefed. 
• The higher the wind, the stronger you want that sail fabric to be, so it can take the extra wind pressure without ripping.
• The higher the wind, the flatter you want the sail to be. A big belly in a sail catches a lot more wind than a hard, flat sail. Look at the belly in that picture above -- wowsa!

A spinnaker sail fails on all four points. Spinnaker cloth is just about the lightest-weight sail cloth made. When the winds pick up significantly, at some point it's time to take the spinnaker down, or "douse" it.

Well, Dick didn't pay full attention to what we call "rising conditions." Both the winds and the waves were picking up. All of a sudden his boat took off, racing on the overpowered spinnaker. The boat was out of control.

So now he had some decisions to make -- who does what? (Remember my article "Ten Minutes to Prepare?") Part of deciding who will do what is making sure that the person will know how to execute his or her designated task. Unfortunately, Dick is an optimist and did not anticipate this change in conditions. He also didn't assign tasks ahead of time, and he didn't train those people for their assignments.

But I know what the BIG thing is that went wrong for Dick -- he's a helm hog. He doesn't want to share the helm. Because of that, he did not have a skilled backup helmsman.

When he found himself overpowered, he had to go up to the bow in rough seas and douse that great big sail, keeping it under control and out of the water (having that sail go into the water would have been extremely dangerous. It could have pulled the boat over and then under like a submarine.) He had two relatively inexperienced people back in the cockpit, one of them on the helm. The person on the helm couldn't hold a steady course with the increased wind and waves, and who could blame him? You need to have someone else who can take the helm, but you have to teach that person and give him or her time to practice. Otherwise your backup helmsman is going to have a hard time. You have to share the helm if you're going to have an adequate backup helmsman in a pinch.

Dick called out instructions, but the new helmsman either didn't understand the instructions or couldn't execute them. It could have been a combination of both. In any case, they ended up with a line in the water AND wrapped around the rudder. When the people in the cockpit realized they couldn't steer, they started the engine. That is only a good choice if the helmsman and crew are certain that there are ... no lines in the water. The line then very efficiently wrapped itself around the propeller as well.

Again, this is a problem resulting from poor crew training and lack of time doing important things on the boat, what a friend of mine calls "time over water" (and not just as a passenger). There are extremely directive skippers out there, who give so many detailed instructions that the crewmember is just an extension of the skipper, doing no thinking for himself (picking a sex). The more prompts you give as a skipper, the less your crew member will actually learn.

Your crew has to practice these things under calm conditions, and "checking for lines in the water" needs to be drilled into everyone's head before they go *anywhere* near that engine -- in fact, all the time. That line wrapped itself around the rudder without any help from the engine. If you're going to take beginners out on your boat, you have a responsibility to teach them those basic things. If something happens, starting the engine is a very reasonable thing to do. They need to know how to do it safely.

He had to cut the spinnaker lines and let it drift away, but all's well that ends well. The skipper also had to go over the side to untangle that line from the rudder and propeller. That's not so good; he had to leave his boat for the water with crew on board who were already struggling. Again, all's well that ends well.

BUT:

You can avoid a lot of this by discouraging a casual attitude toward sailing on your boat. Make sure that your crew knows that it can be a little dangerous. Make sure they truly know how to perform the tasks you're going to assign them. Teach them patiently and give them a chance to practice.

I was on the sail school's safety boat one day when the students were learning to dock (those of us on the safety boat call that "target practice.") Each student boat made pass after pass, and we could hear the instructors giving tips and encouragement to their students. If the students were doing the docking, they should have been giving the directions to the teacher and other student, but each time, it was the teacher speaking.

Then one of the boats approached. I looked at the instructor, and she had her hands over her mouth! One student was in charge of the docking with the other student crewing. The student did a great job. Then they made another pass, and the other student executed the "mock dock." He did a great job too, and the teacher still had her hands over her mouth.

Hats off to her. She knows that unless those students can dock the boat without any prompting from her, they can't dock the boat. That's what you should do, too. If you want your crew to be able to tack the boat without your help, put one of them on the helm and one of them on the sheets -- and then zip your lips.

And for heaven's sake, don't be a helm hog. One day it could be your life on the line.

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Freighters are the Big Boys and They Can Smash You Up

Correction: I said below that the sailboat was not found to be at fault. That has not been decided yet. The decision reported here was made by the Washington State Department of Transportation. They looked only at what their ferry captain and crew did. The Coast Guard will look at both boats' actions, and probably assign fault to both, since the sailor acknowledged paying too much attention to his radar at the time.

Some time ago I put up a short-term entry about how I was booted off of Cruisers and Sailing Forum because I said things others didn’t agree with. Those other posters got rude and snarky,

Over and over since then it’s turned out that the things I said that were sneered at – turned out to be true.

When the incident linked a little below (second link), that of a Washington State Ferry sinking a sailboat, was first reported, I suggested that the ferry captain might be at fault. Well, there are several professional ship’s captains on that forum, all of whom took my comment personally. I was told what excellent watches all commercial ships always keep.

Well, maybe not, because then there’s the example below. I could be wrong, but I don’t believe this particular freighter kept an adequate watch:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-RIM...e_gdata_player

(I hope there were no live-aboards in that marina, and no pets aboard ...)

Then I had the temerity to say that no matter what the COLREGS say, sailboats would be smart to steer clear of big freighters and cruise ships. Then EVERYONE got in an uproar. It was yet another deliberately provoking poke at commercial captains (in their view), and it gave horrible advice to sailors (in their view). Nothing but chaos would follow (in their view).

Well, now the Washington ferry/sailboat collision has been investigated, and the ferry captain and crew have been found to be at fault. They must all go through retraining on keeping a good watch. I didn't see any mention of attributing any blame to the sailboat, which almost always happens -- almost always, both boats are found to be at fault to one degree or another.

http://www.wsdot.wa.gov/News/2013/11/Hyak_111313.htm

The powers that be on The Forum seemed to think I said the things I said in order to be confrontational, but the truth is that we are all responsible for our responses to what we perceive as provocations. We’re also responsible for our perceptions.

Your common sense, and that still small voice in the pit of your stomach hollering “Don’t do that!!!” are your FRIENDS. Meanwhile, strangers can give you really bad advice for all sorts of reasons. The more invested they are in being "the one who is right," the further they may go and the harder they may work to convince you that their misinformation is the best sailing advice you'll ever be given.

As for the sailor in the Washington collision, thankfully, he survived. He also apparently had the right of way, but his boat is at the bottom of the channel, and he didn’t have to survive that collision. He was very lucky.

Here’s a video of a collision I’ve put up before, one where the sailboat was at fault. I’m going to point out something I didn’t mention the last time I put this video up: pay close attention to the sails on the sailboat (it has a shocking pink spinnaker). You’ll see that they lose their shape. In all likelihood, that sailboat slowed down as it crossed the freighter’s path. Maybe the freighter blocked the wind, but an experienced racer would have spotted that coming. More likely, the freighter distorted wind flow in some way the helmsman on the sailboat didn’t anticipate. (This can happen under bridges, also.) Either way, the result was devastating for the sailboat. You can hear three of the five warning horn blasts the freighter gave:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tUoUxzt9sI

Give way to freighters. Just stay out of their way. Do it early, and make it as obvious as possible (in other words, make a big turn, not a small course correction). They move fast, and you’ll soon be on your intended course again.

Whether the stone hits the pitcher or the pitcher hits the stone, it’s going to be bad for the pitcher. Don’t play “chicken” with freighters.

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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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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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Storm!

      Or, You can't see over the horizon ...

Seven weeks ago last Sunday (mid-September), we had a heck of a storm here. I was up at Boca Ciega Yacht Club (BCYC) sitting on the patio, watching sailing students out on the little 16.5’ Catalinas, their first time on the water. Their instructors were teaching them to do the most basic things – notice where the wind was coming from, steering with a tiller, and tacking.

Now, BCYC is careful about the weather when we have sail school. The Catalinas are far more stable than most instructional boats because they have full-sized fin keels. However, they can’t be reefed, and are easily overpowered by what would be moderate wind on a larger boat (we send students in when we see sustained wind of 15 mph or more, and actively encourage members to not take the boats out on windy days as well).

But this was a beautiful mid-September afternoon, and “storm season” (not hurricane season) was just about over. Except … September was exceptionally warm this year, more like August.

The prediction for that Sunday was a 30% chance of rain. There was no prediction for particularly bad weather. But it’s Florida, and when it’s 90º on the coast, it is often 95º inland. Very often we get a sea breeze that forms in the afternoon from the west, which hits the stronger prevailing east wind coming off the Atlantic and across that hot interior. Thunderstorms can be the result. Two walls of wind colliding with lots of heat and humidity often means thunderstorms. However, they typically form at least a little inland from the coast, especially by September.

This day was going to be different.

There were probably 15 people on the patio. The “Waterfront Director” is the person who makes the final decision about whether or not students should be called in due to weather, but none of us saw any signs of trouble … except for one man. Unfortunately I didn’t have my camera with me that day, but we had a similar weather pattern the next day, so I took my camera up to BCYC the next day like a storm chaser, hoping to get lucky – and I did.

This first picture is very like what we saw that Sunday, a little before 4PM: clouds, but relatively formless, and not threatening-looking at all. They kind of looked like cotton candy.

Innocent-looking "cotton candy" clouds. Only one person realized they
were actually "blow off" from a huge storm just out of sight over the horizon.

Only one person on the patio looked at the clouds suspiciously. He went to the club’s computer and checked the weather radar. The radar (which you can get on your cell phone if you’re close to the coast) showed a massive gathering of angry-looking red and orange. I couldn't take a picture of the radar on Sunday, but I saw it, and it was huge, moving west and bearing down on both Pinellas and Manatee County – and just over the horizon -- out of view on land. The clouds we could see from the patio were pretty. The radar, however, was scary.

He and the Waterfront Director talked, and they quickly called the student boats in. We got all the students in ten minutes before a wall of wind of at least 40 mph hit us. We would have had five student boats out in a terrible storm if one person hadn’t realized that those sweet fluffy clouds we were looking at weren’t sweet at all – they were an alarm warning.

Here are photographs I took of the next day's storm. First I’ll show you what was happening on the radar. Each picture was taken less than five minutes apart, so on Monday, as on the previous Sunday, we had a rapidly building storm. It didn’t cover as much geography as the one the day before had – but it could have.

Rapidly after seeing the first innocent-looking “cotton candy” clouds, we saw something like this:

Still not terribly threatening looking, but it rapidly (and I mean, within minutes) developed into something like this (actually, all of these pictures would have been more ominous on Sunday):

And then this:

See how the “cotton candy” clouds are still there in the background? But they’re higher now. You don’t have to be a meteorologist to see that you’re looking at turbulent air. Turbulent air and sailboats? Not the best combination!

The storm was rapidly building. Within two minutes, the sky looked like this:

Those are clouds to pay attention, to, aren’t they? They’re well organized, and growing both vertically and horizontally. At this point, you would be checking weather radar if you had it available to you. Here’s what you need to know about weather radar: the images you see may be 15 minutes old, and when faced with a rapidly growing and intensifying storm, data that is 15 minutes old may be misleading. It may not yet be showing you that rapid intensification. Your eyes and your senses may be much more valuable at this time. By now, you should be preparing for a possible storm, because that storm may move toward you, and even if it doesn't do that directly, it may expand to the point that it envelops you.

Actually, we should have been on high alert from the first glimpse of the “cotton candy” clouds. Why? Because they represented a CHANGE in the weather. Along with an unexpected change in wind direction, temperature or force, an unexpected change in the clouds should get – and keep – your attention.

Within a few minutes the storm was nearly on top of us, and the sky looked more like this. Monday, however, BCYC was on the edge of the storm. Sunday we were in the thick of it, and there were no patches of blue sky showing. The wind was starting to pick up significantly.

From the radar on Monday, it was clear that the bulk of the storm today was going to hit south, in Manatee County, so I went south and crossed the Skyway Bridge. Approaching the Skyway Bridge, this is what I saw:

The wind was gusty, although not as bad as it had been the day before. This storm was smaller and not as bad as the one on Sunday, but you wouldn’t want to be out unprepared in this one, either.

Something should jump out at you at this point: there are no waves. You must be thinking, “What is she talking about? That’s just rain. You’ll get wet, but it’s not a crisis.” You’ve probably seen descriptions of how to judge the strength of the wind by looking at the surface of the water. For instance, at around 12 mph, white caps start to form. By the time the wind is up to 15ph, you’ll see a lot of whitecaps.

Except.

It takes a while for the waves to form. When a storm is rapidly forming, the wave development will lag behind the wind. This storm, as well as the one the day before, grew rapidly, and the wind on Monday, which I estimated to have 30 – 35 mph winds, was plenty strong enough to concern any newer sailor, even though it wasn't as bad as the day before. Monday's storm also didn't last nearly as long as Sunday's did.

Another thing you may have been told is that these storms pop up in Florida but don’t stick around very long. That can be true (see my story, “Oh Dorothy!” for an example of strong but short-lived storms).

However, the Sunday storm was different. It kept growing, and reforming, and re-strengthening, and here’s an example. Two members of BCYC, well-experienced sailors, and another couple who were just along for the ride, were about four miles out on the Gulf of Mexico when the Sunday storm hit the coast. They were trying to return to Gulfport, but their boat’s engine could make no headway against the storm, and they had their hands full managing the boat. Their friends could not be much help.

At 11PM they were still caught in the storm. They were exhausted, and wet, and hungry, and they threw in the towel and called for a tow. The towboat was able to fight the waves and the wind and get them safely home. It is not typical for afternoon storms to last that long – or, for that matter, to develop with so little warning. But it does happen.

So what are you to do?

What you should NOT do is print out this article and look for these kinds of clouds. You won’t always see “cotton candy” clouds before a storm. What you should watch for is changes in the weather that might be an early warning system. In addition, you should tune your radio to the weather channel. A weather advisory was put out very early for the Sunday storm, and there’s a lot you can do to prepare for a storm, even when you only have a few minutes. See the accompanying article, “Ten Minutes to Act,” for things you might get done if you have ten minutes warning before a storm hits. 

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