lessons learned – Have Wind Will Travel

Would You Continue an Ocean Voyage Without an Engine?

June 27, 2020anniedike

It’s funny, seeing it now—in black and white in hindsight—I’ll admit the answer seems so clear and easy, but it sure wasn’t then. I guess when it’s you out there, only two days into what was supposed to be an incredibly exciting adventure, an awesome offshore accomplishment, and you have sails and promising winds, it’s quite tempting to want to continue. Conquistadors and explorers have been crossing the ocean for centuries without engines, right? They also did it without satellite navigation, AIS, sat phones and texting devices, a whole host of equipment Phillip and I use extensively when we sail offshore. Bottom line is, after we lost the ability to use our engine when the fresh water pump blew, it was a tough call for Phillip and I deciding whether to continue our trek east, then south down to the BVIs, or tuck our tails, turn around, and sail back to Spanish Wells, Bahamas. Many factors played into our decision, and it was a great exercise in balancing risk versus reward. Read on to see what you would have considered had you been in our shoes and let us know: WWYD?

November, 2019:

“So, that’s it? No engine?” I asked Phillip, although I already knew the answer.

“That’s it,” he said matter-of-factly.

Then we bobbed for a few quiet minutes. The wind was blowing maybe 4, the sails were flogging gently, somewhere a halyard banged. The quiet was deafening. I didn’t realize before how much sound-space the engine had filled now that he was dead. R.I.P. Westie. Phillip and I were only two days out on an expected 7-9 day passage from the Bahamas down to the BVIs when Westie (our 27A Westerbeke’s) fresh water pump bit the dust.

While we were still floating safely, not taking on water, with sails and rigging still in perfect condition to carry us, Phillip and I had a tough decision to make:

CARRY ON UNDER STRICTLY SAIL 6-7 MORE DAYS TO THE BVIS

TURN AND SAIL 1-2 DAYS BACK TO THE BAHAMAS?

While we do prefer (always) to sail in the right conditions, rather than motor, Phillip and I are not 100% purists. We don’t sail into and out of the marina or our slip just for the heck of it (like we often saw many heartier sailors (kids even!) do in France and the Azores). We don’t sail narrow cuts or channels if we’re afraid the wind may shut down or push us onto a shoal. Simply put, we prefer to sail when sailing is safe. And, I’m not in any way ashamed to say we rely on our engine for many things: propulsion when sailing isn’t productive or safe, a charge to our batteries, maneuvering in marinas and in and out of slips, even as an extra bilge pump if we were taking on immense amounts of water (a trick I have, thankfully, only read about, never experienced myself, but that I will always keep in my back pocket). At the end of the day, the truth is we put a lot of work, time, and money into our engine because we value it.

Phillip and I are also very risk-averse. When your first offshore passage (ever!) is one where you have to lean over the stern rail in rough seas and 30-knots of wind to cut your own flailing dinghy off with a hacksaw, you tend to give the open ocean its well-deserved respect and due.

But, that said, Phillip and I really wanted to make it to the BVIs. We have yet to sail their on our boat. It is the first step of another BIG goal we have: to do a Caribbean Circle. We had a work and weather window in November that had lined up beautifully (when does that ever happen)? And, we were expecting good, solid east winds over the next 4-5 days that could have possibly enabled us to finish the voyage under sail alone quite safely. And, there’s no reason to shy away from it. We simply didn’t want to give up. We didn’t want to quit. We probably debated this decision a laughable hour longer than was necessary just because we were so frustrated by it. But, after extensive discussion about the pros and cons of either choice, Phillip and I eventually decided to turn back and sail back to Spanish Wells in the Bahamas. Here are the top reasons for our decision:

1. Loss of Power

Battery power—or, more accurately, the inevitable loss of it—was easily our number one concern. While we have 200 watts of solar on our boat, they are not able, by themselves, to keep our bank completely charged 5-7 days underway, particularly with the auto-pilot working twenty-four hours a day, as well as the navigation instruments, AIS, and nav lights at night.

While we can (and have) foregone refrigeration while underway to save on power, cold drinks and food were the least of our power worries. Phillip and I knew we would want auto steering the boat as much as possible. We would want AIS, particularly at night, to avoid ships. We wanted our nav lights shining like bright beacons at night to ward off other boats. We wanted our bilge pumps to be strong and vigorous if in the very unfortunate occurrence we started taking on water. All of those things require power. The thought of gradually losing power over the course of 6-7 days, losing the ability to see other ships, and be seen by them at night, as well as a potential inability to access our digital charts for navigating, all while the wind (particularly light ones) pushed us whatever direction it felt like was just, hands down, a scary thought. An unacceptable thought.

2. The Navidad and Mouchoir Banks

My good friend, Pam Wall, had warned us about these reefs on the north side of the Dominican Republic when we first told her of our plans to take the I65 Route from the Bahamas to the BVIs, and she urged (quite strongly, in pure, energetic-Pam fashion) that we sail a hard-and-fast route dead east (“Not south!” she shrieked) for the first 3-5 days of our voyage before turning south to avoid these reefs. “They eat yachts,” Pam said, quite bluntly, which put the fear of Mouchoir in us.

Being out there with no means of propulsion other than sail, and potential winds that could push us up onto those yacht-eating rocks was easily our second reason for turning back, but there were others as well.

3. Navigating a New Inlet and Port Under Sail Alone

While Phillip and I knew we were going to be coming in—whether we decided to sail to the BVIs or back to the Bahamas—under sail alone, having navigated the entrance to and from Spanish Wells several times now (during this trip in 2019 and previously when we sailed the Abacos, Eleuthera, and a sliver of the Exumas in 2018) we felt we had become somewhat familiar with its channels, depths, and shoaling. Navigating a brand-new inlet always stands the hairs on our necks and gets our hearts pumping. The thought of doing that under sail alone with no contacts there in the BVIs was a mark against continuing the voyage without an engine.

4. We Thought the Sail Back Would Be Short and Easy

Aside from not carrying a spare fresh water pump, this was our one whopping mistake in this whole ordeal. Having just poked out into the Atlantic a day and a half, we thought the sail back would be a quick 1-2 days zip back. Super easy. No problem. We figured it would be a bit of a bummer, with beat-down morales, retreating back from whence we came. But, all we thought we would be was a little bummed. We had no idea we would be psychologically battered. As wild as it sounds—even with the two ocean crossings Phillip and I have done and some of our more horrendous bashes in the Gulf—that three and a half day sail back to Spanish Wells in little to zip wind was BY FAR the absolute worst passage Phillip and I have ever been on. The. Worst. Have any of you ever been mind-numblingly, infuriatingly becalmed? Just wait … We have stories to share my friends. And a casualty. There was mutiny out there. Stay tuned!

The Mishap Recap

February 4, 2015March 10, 2015anniedike

May 20, 2014:

So, this sailing stuff? Nothing to it, right? It’s just ropes (which we call “lines”) that control sails which make the boat move. That’s pretty basic. But, then, there’s also the engine, the batteries, the thru-hulls and sea cocks, the water tanks and pressure systems, the propane and solenoid, the steering wheel and rudder, not to mention all of the instruments, gauges and meters.

Okay, maybe it can get a little complicated, but the good news is, when you get down to it, most of those complicated-sounding systems really are basic when you take the time to dissect and understand them. Meaning, most of them can be fixed on the fly, as long as you have the right parts, or parts that “will do” (we call this improvising).

During our trip to the Keys, we found most of the “issues” that occurred on the boat were operator error (sorry boat!) and most were fairly easy to fix once we figured out what had gone wrong. We chalked these up to “lessons learned” and felt it may help other cruisers out there to pass them along.

1. The Lazy Jack Snap! Before the trip, we had a new stack pack put on for the main sail with a new set of lazy jacks attached to the spreaders to hold it up.

The lines also cleated off at the boom, and our riggers had left some surplus in the lazy jack lines in case we needed to loosen them for any reason. Good idea, we thought … at the time. But, when the time came where loosening the lazy jacks would have actually been a good idea, thinking about the tension in the lazy jacks was one of the last things we were doing. Unfortunately, during our first night offshore, when we were heading from Pensacola to Port St. Joe, we ran into some rough seas–winds in the high teens and rolling five-foot seas all night long. Water was crashing over the bow, spraying us in the cockpit and the boat was beating into a steady southeast wind. The sails were taut, full to the brim all night long, likely pressing hard on the new lazy jack lines, but we didn’t know it. We heard plenty of cracks and bangs during the overnight passage, but it’s hard to tell–in the dark of night– if the sound you heard was just a normal ‘boat groan’ or something actually breaking. You handle the boat the best you can and try not to worry about her too much (key word being ‘try‘). But, sometimes you wake to find, in the rough winds of the night, that something did actually break. For us, it was the lazy jack on the starboard side.

Kind of a bummer. But, we figured they must call it a “lazy” jack for a reason, right? It must be the lazy way. Surely people have been raising and lowering their sails for centuries without these “lazy lines” to help. I mean, you have to ask yourself–What Would Columbus Do? (Back in 1492). He’d flank that sail the old-fashioned way, and keep on a-keepin’ on. So, that’s what we did. Until we got a little lazy …

Next leg of the trip, Phillip had the great idea to re-raise our busted lazy jack line with the topping lift for the spinnaker pole.

You see? Improvising. Once you know how the systems work, you can then use them in all the wrong ways to achieve whatever result you’d like. It’s a product liability defense lawyer’s dream! So, what did we learn? Be sure to check the tension in your lazy jack lines when your sails are full. If they’re too tight, the wind in the main can bust the line. And, if something breaks, don’t mourn. Look around! You may find something else on the boat that can serve its purpose.

2. A Spun-Out Jenny Much like the suicidal strung-out version in Forrest Gump,

just outside of Tamp Bay, we found our Jenny, too, was busted. During a fairly mundane furling of the Jenny, you might recall the pop we heard, followed by a clattering rainfall of ball bearings on the deck. Sadly, the spinning halyard for our Jenny broke in two while we were cranking her in. One half remained at the top of the mast, and the other came barreling down the forestay, flogging our Jenny and letting her pile down in a useless heap on the foredeck.

DOH!

Why did this happen? After some serious research, troubleshooting and second opinions, we decided it was caused by pulling the halyard up too tight at the mast, causing the shackle to pull into the throat at the mast and putting tension on the bottom top part of the halyard, which should be allowed to spin freely. A thorough review of the manual for the furling system was quite helpful in this regard (as most manuals are). I’ve said it plenty of times but have no qualms repeating it. Keep all manuals in a single, organized location and refer to them often. It’s amazing what you can learn from … I don’t know … the folks who built and designed whatever Godforsaken contraption you are cursing at the moment. We had dropped our Jenny prior to the trip to have the UV cover re-(re-)stitched and figured we must have pulled the halyard just a tad too high when we raised the Jenny back up.

Back then, we were also furling our Jenny in using the large winches in the cockpit. It was easier that way, but it was also deceiving because the winch is so powerful. If there is an inordinate amount of tension in the line, pulling by hand you’re going to feel it. Pulling by winch, you may not, and you’ll power right through it, likely breaking something in the process. I think there’s some appropriate saying I could insert here about a cannon and a mosquito. However, I believe a more vivid example (sorry Confucius) would be a surgeon who operates not with his hands but with a remote-operated backhoe. Are you going to let him in your abdomen? There is simply no substitute for the human touch. How does it feel? How hard is it to pull? Conway Twitty would agree. Don’t be shy. Sing it with me! “I want a man with the slooow hands … “

Luckily, we were able to get the Jenny repaired in St. Pete by a talented and resourceful rigger, who ended up having the exact halyard we needed (which had been discontinued) in his self-proclaimed “Sanford & Son boat part yard” (a.k.a. his shop). And, what did we learn? Don’t tighten the Jenny halyard too much. Refer to your manuals. And, when feasible, opt for the “slow hand” over the powerful pull.

3. Never Let Go of the Halyard! Have I said that one before, too? Then why the hell do we keep letting go of it? I’m not sure exactly. All I can say is when you’re up on the deck, riding your boat-of-a-bull as it’s bucking over waves and focusing all of your mental energy on the simple task of staying on the boat, you just kind of forget about that little thing that’s in your hand–the all-important halyard. I guess think of it like this–have you ever accidentally poured a glass of something on yourself when you turned your hand to look at your watch? Why did you do that? (Because you’re brilliant like me, of course!) And, also, because your brain just kind of forgot you had a glass in your hand. Well, same thing can happen with the halyard. When it comes to you grabbing something to keep your scrawny arse on the boat in the middle of pounding seas, your brain just kind of checks out of the whole halyard-holding process and forgets about it. And, then … You let go! Of the halyard! And, the minute you do and see that halyard start swinging around, you curse yourself! Stupid brain! Why did you let go of that?! It just happens. All told, we’ve done it four times, three of which required Little Miss First Mate to ascend the mast to retrieve it:

Once in Carrabelle (when we first dropped the Jenny to re-stitch the UV cover and pulled the halyard back up afterward, thinking it would magically drop back down when we needed it to–turns out we were wrong). Up you go, Annie.

Once in St. Pete (when the Jenny halyard busted, it left half of a mangled halyard at the top of the mast, which again would not magically come down with a little (or lot of) shaking). Up you go, Annie.

Once mid-sea, on our way into Clearwater when we accidentally let go of the main halyard while trying to raise the sail at night and it snaked its way all the way up the backstay to the top of the mast. Up you go, Annie.

And, the fourth time? Well, that retrieval was more of a fall than a climb, but I did get it back! Unfortunately, I busted the lazy jack line on the port-side (and a bit of my arm and knee) in the process.

Moral of that story? Never let go of the halyard. But, if you do, don’t be a hero trying to retrieve it. I guess the best advice would be to not do dumb things. But, we are human, and I am a blonde, so … it’s just going to happen. To lessen the frequency, we did come up with a better main halyard-rigging system in which we never un-clip the halyard from the main sail. We just re-route it down and back up to maintain the tension when the sail is down.

And, thanks to the Captain’s spiffy fix of the lazy jack line on the starboard side, we knew just how to fix the one I’d busted on port. This time with the halyard for the spinnaker.

Although I will say we were running out of spare lines to use to hold up our lazy jacks. It’s a good thing we were headed home by then.

4. Book Swap Mojo. One final lesson–not so much related to rigging as reading–but just as valuable. The Book Swap Mojo phenomenon. If you uncover a great book at one of the free marina book swaps,

be sure to give it back to another free marina book swap down the line when you finish reading it. If not, the Book Swap Gods will learn of your insidious hoarding and leave you with wretched book crumbs like this at every marina book swap to come.

Read it. Enjoy it. Then give it back.

While we learned plenty of lessons on the trip, these were just a few that stood out for us, particularly because of the valuable insight they provided in terms of rigging and equipment failure, and how to (try to) avoid them, overcome them, or improvise around them if we, or other sailors, found ourselves in the same predicament in the future. But, the biggest lesson learned? Mishaps are just going to happen. No matter how cautious you are. No matter how much care you take to try to prevent against them. Things are going to break. Things will have to be repaired. Things are going to slow you down and hold you back. So, what do you do? Keep sailing, of course. Keep getting out there and bumping into things.

And, in my case, keep writing about them. You never know when you might just have enough colorful tales and Conway Twitty bits to cobble them all into, I don’t know, say–a BOOK. One that might be coming out real soon. Big things are happening over here, followers. Be excited …

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