Mendocino Round Up Experience

[waterdog]

This comes from my blog.  There was some interest and trouble navigating the links, so I'll post it here.   Don't worry, I'm not going to put all my stories here...

Sheet Happens

Cape Mendocino is the bumpy bit that sticks out on the California coast. From here the coastline falls away to the south and east and the harsh weather and seas of the north Pacific moderate a bit. Mendocino is the classic turning point for southbound sailors.

The turning point isn't without it's drawbacks. Lots of sailors give it a wide passing. Tales of 30 foot seas being thrown up a hundred miles off are common.

We decided given the nice weather window we would shave it close, a few miles out, and duck into Shelter Cove on the other side before sunset.

We headed out in fog in the company of a few other boats. Most of the day we motor sailed to keep our speed up so we could make Shelter by dark. The seas were mixed: a ten foot swell from the north and a 3 foot swell from the west. It was sloppy and hard to keep the sails filled.

In the late afternoon the fog cleared and the wind picked up. As the swell from the North built we were soon doing our first California surfing. The boat was happily doing 7.5 knots and surfing 10 knots on the large following sea. No question we were going to make Shelter Cove by dark.

In skiing, they call it a "garage sale". That's what happens when you wipe out and leave a trail of gloves, hats and poles spread down the mountain. The sailing equivalent is called a round up. It can happen in big winds with too much sail up.

When you are surfing at ten knots and you feel a 15 knot breeze behind you, it's easy to forget that you are really sailing in 25 knots of wind. As you surf, you push the wheel down hard to keep the boat pointing in the right direction or it wants to round up into the wind.

If you are careless, you have too much sail up, and the rudder gets overpowered. You can't stop the boat from rounding up. If you are really careless, you still have your motor running.

As the boat rounds up, it gets knocked pretty flat. That makes your decks more or less vertical. Anything that isn't tied down goes into the sea. We are good about having things tied down. Including ourselves.

One big puff is all it takes as Tracey said, "Hang on! I can't hold it!"

So what swept over the side on our boat was sheet for the foresail. It's stopper knot conveniently came untied and as we were knocked flat and swung around into the big seas it conveniently wound around the propellor shaft and stopped the engine.

As you pound into the big seas going forward, it becomes very clear how large they are and that the wind really is blowing 25 knots.

After a little work on the foredeck with a knife, we managed to get the genoa furled. We put two reefs in the main. Soon we were underway again doing 6.5 knots with a double reefed main. No foresail and no engine.

Still it looked like we would make Shelter Cove. Maybe in darkness.

And then the wind died. It didn't drop. It died.

A dark fog settled in. The good people of sailing vessel Grace stood by us. We had enjoyed Foster's homemade cookies with them the night before. The boat speed indicator would sometimes show 1 to 2 knots. The GPS showed zero as the big seas pushed us south relative to the water and the north tidal flow kept us stationary relative to land.

The temperature dropped to the 40s. Occasionally a great growly wave would slop its top off into the cockpit. The mist was so thick it was indistinguishable from rain. It was cold. Really cold. We each took two hour shifts contemplating our options.

The plan was to sail into Shelter Cove and dive the prop shaft with a knife. I kept waiting for Tracey to volunteer.

By daybreak, the seas had laid down and there was a gentle 3 foot swell. Still not much wind. It looked like we still wouldn't make Shelter Cove by darkness.

I decided to dive the prop in the open ocean. After all, 54 degree water is 54 degree water. It doesn't matter if you are eight miles off or 80 yards off the coast. Sharks like warmer water don't they?

I chatted with Grace on the radio. I explained the three scenarios, two of which we might require their help with. In the first scenario, I jump in the water with a knife, cut all the lines off the prop and shaft, and emerge triumphant 48 seconds later. In the second scenario, I'm hypothermic without the strength to climb aboard and they pull me on their swim grid. In the third scenario, I've suffered cardiac arrest and they pull the body out.

"For the record, I'm a 44 year old male with no known medical conditions, if the Coast Guard asks." I radio to Grace.

"Be careful of the white thingies, Blackdragon" they remind me.

"Thanks for that, Grace". On the radio, you are not Paul and Judy, you are your boat.

It took three dives. Probably, a lot longer than 48 seconds. It was nearly impossible to breath. I thought I could get away with two dives having cleared the shaft and leaving only a big knot on the prop itself.

Tracey started the engine. The vibration in gear was terrible. I had to dive again. It's a bit unnerving having the hull pound down on you as it comes off a wave. One steep one at it could have smashed me unconscious. That's why I wore a tether.

But we had success. We said goodbye to Grace. It was warm showers and hot coffee in brilliant sunshine as we motored to Shelter Cove.

I sat in the cockpit enjoying a beer as Tracey and Foster went ashore with Scupper. I noticed the water temperature in the cove was 62 degrees. As Tracey and Foster chatted with the host lady at the abandoned light house, she had to tell them about the 27 foot great white shark that was spotted by a fisherman.

But not to worry. "Oh not here in the bay. It was out there..."

[Ron Hill]

Steve : Thanks for the more detailed explanation of your "sheet happens".  I remember the part of your early post about getting the sheet line around the prop/drive shaft.

What you encountered is called a "BROACH".  In a following sea+wind the rudder comes partly out of the water and you loose steerage (especially if you have the standard wing keel rudder and not the new elliptical rudder).  It is a violent uncontrolled maneuver where the boat tries to turn 180 degrees. 
Many a time boats have lost booms or even the mast when this happens.

Most Sailors recommend that you put out a drogue or sea anchor off the stern to help stabilize the boat during these type conditions to maintain steerage.   A thought

[waterdog]

Less sail would have prevented the problem.   We were completely stable under a reefed main.   Conditions did not warrant a drogue.   25 knots and long period ten foot seas were pretty common and very manageable.   I've never met anyone who would deploy a drogue in those conditions.   This wasn't a harrowing sea condition day, this was a "weren't we stupid having fun with too much sail not paying attention to the conditions" experience.   By the way, I would not describe our broach as violent maneuver.   Yes the rudder didn't hold, and the boat leaned way over but it was a slow motion affair.   Not violent like an accidental jibe.  I wouldn't say the rig was terribly stressed either.

Sea anchors, at least the big parachutes if that is what you mean,  are for storm survival - bow in, close the hatches.   They are not generally used to improve steerage.   We had another point down the coast with 25 gusting 30 and 18 to 20 foot seas.   Again, the boat was stable with double reefed main, though it was lively hand steering.   We opted to duck out and pull into a Punta Baja bay.   Had we no option but to carry on, I would have deployed the drogue to allow crew rest.   A drogue is good for slowing a boat down.  

I wouldn't say there are hard and fast rules for wind speed and wave height that say you should deploy warps or drogue.  30 knots is not a problem on it's own.   15 foot seas are not a problem if the period is long.   20 knots in a short period ten foot sea could be very challenging.   There are broaches from too much sail.   And then there are broaches from stuffing your bow into the steep trough, "be glad you broached and didn't pitchpole" kind of broach.  Sea conditions are the difference.   A little surfing in the right conditions is good fun.   In the wrong conditions it's suicide.  You can broach in good conditions with too much sail.

The same day we pulled into Punta Baja with the big wind and seas,  Tom on Saint Mary II (our c34 division winner on the '09 Baja Haha) carried on and had the time of his life surfing to Santa Maria.  He had four burly crew aboard to hand steer through the night.    I was with my wife and son.   We both made appropriate choices and exercised good seamanship.

In the Sheet Happens story, we exercised poor seamanship.   That's what makes it a worthwhile story to share here.

But I guess I really don't understand the "most sailors recommend" comment.   Under what conditions do most sailors recommend deploying a drogue for a C34 with an elliptical rudder and fin keel?  

BTW what is the difference between "rounding up" and "broaching" in the context of this story? 

[Indian Falls]

Steve, thanks for posting that.  I eventually located your blog and have been reading with reckless abandon,, maybe that's a bit strong...  really are enjoying your trip.  I have a long term goal of sailing the US Altantic coast to at least the Bahamas.  Reading your trials and tribulations with a C34 could not be more appealing.  BTW the blog is at: http://sailblogs.com/member/blackdragon/?show=fulltoc

[Ron Hill]

Steve : I made my comments as some suggestions, but it sounds as thought you had the situation well in hand.
I mentioned a drogue or (small) sea anchor off the stern as it sounded that in your situation, reducing the amount of sails (everyones first choice) was not an option. 
BTW, a sea anchor (small) did work for me when I was de-masted and something dragging off the stern definitely helps control the boat in strong following seas. 
In time of potential peril, I always start the engine.  However, it is not put in gear.

As Stu says, your boat - your choice. 

 

[waterdog]

Thanks Ron.  I think stories like this are good if they help people think about their boats and level of preparedness in different conditions.  Preparing a boat should always be the product of a lot of thought (a huge focus of this website).   Choices in different conditions are always a function of our experiences and thinking, the equipment we are sailing, the crew we are sailing with, and our perceptions about how conditions are changing.   

Maybe it's worth saying some of the things that we learned on our boat as a result of these experiences, which might not be obvious:

1) We are glad we did upgrade to the elliptical rudder.   
2) Rounding up on a C34 is not something to fear (unless it's the consequence of an accidental jibe or you're flying a spinnaker)
3) Everyone on our boat knows where the serrated knife is and what it's used for (the broach with knockdown and no recovery - cut the sheet fast) - this didn't happen to us, but the experience made us include the possibility in our day to day safety discussions
4) Everyone on the boat knows when and how to safely blow the traveller and depower the main
5) Strangely, the experience didn't make us more conservative about the conditions we sail in, rather it made us more confident to push the boat in tougher conditions with an enhanced discussion on conditions, safety, reactions, and "what if" planning.
6) We check the figure eights in the sheets, and the tape on Pelican hooks, the chafe on the jack lines, etc.etc. etc.  even more regularly
7) We throw a reef in the main the moment anyone wonders if we should throw a reef in the main.

The other thing that I don't think I've mentioned on this board or anywhere else is the debate that we had in the middle of the night.   We were adrift with no power off Cape Mendecino.   Should we call the Coast Guard to advise our situation?   After a very negative experience with the Coast Guard being radio-interrogated for hours and being boarded while attempting to cross an Oregon bar with darkness falling, I had no interest in advising the Coast Guard of our situation.   It's not conducive to sleep.   I would only call them if we were in imminent danger.   (Or if Tracey overruled me.)   Much later, after hanging out at the Coast Guard base in Noyo River, touring the surf boats and talking at length with the commander about our Mendocino experience, I would be less reluctant to call the Coast Guard with an advisory in the future.   (The Coast Guard by the way, is delighted to know about sailors who are self-reliant and don't consider themselves in imminent danger just because their engine dies and the wind drops - but they also happy to hear from you and aren't going to send helicopters or surf boats unless you ask them to.)   

[Ron Hill]

Guys : Steve brings up some good points, which reminds me of an old saying that we had in aviation :

"Your are better off on the ground, wishing you were in the air; than being in the air, and wishing you were on the ground!!"
   
All you have to do is change a few words and that saying could easily apply to Sailing.
A thought