Emergency Planning

Pre-Thinking Emergency or Dangerous Situations

Sailing is so much fun that most days we simply enjoy being on the water with the wind pushing us along.  It’s only when the unexpected happens that we might be confronted with something that we hadn’t planned for, something that was unexpected, that might even have been dangerous.  If, on the other hand, each of us has done some “what-iffing” and pre-planned what to do in these unexpected situations, then usually everything works out fine - - our guests think that we are miracle workers - - and so on. 

And it seems that the longer we sail, the more likely it is that something unexpected with happen.  Sit around the dock or clubhouse with a couple of “old-timers” and just listen to the stories of daring-do……  What an adventure it was the day – in 35 to 45 knots of breeze – that the mainsail shredded itself along one seam without so much as a warning.  Or the night while at anchor in a storm that the anchor started dragging.  Or the day when we were returning to Radenbough Cove on Pennock Is. Alaska that we ran aground on the reef on the eastern approach.  And so on……

Pre-thinking about what should happen in the event of an emergency or a dangerous situation not only is the prudent thing to do…… but it also is a neat way to spend these long winter nights.  So, what would you do with the examples above???  Or, how about the following ones……

Kathy and I were sailing on a really blustery Easter sunday afternoon several years ago.  We had sailed up to Whiskey Rock in 15 to 20 knots of breeze.  On the way back to Bayview, the wind piped up to 25 to 35 and the wind was right on our nose.  It was tough going and quite wet with a lot of spray in the air.  Time had gotten away from us that afternoon and while on a starboard beat toward Lakeview, it became apparent that if we kept on sailing, we would not arrive back at the Bitter End Marina until after dark.  What were our options?  What should we do?

How about the day that I went out single-handed in 5 to 10 knots of breeze?  I’d had a great sail for several hours and was somewhat tired from all the sheeting in and steering.  I’d taken in the sails, furling the mainsail on the boom and folding and bagging the jib.  The engine started right up and I motored toward the marina.  Just as I was about to enter the narrow entrance into the marina, the outboard engine quit abruptly.  What should I do now?

Another day – with a somewhat stronger breeze blowing – I’d furled the mainsail on the boom; but left the jib lying on the foredeck to fold and bag after I’d gotten back to the slip.  Just as I was about to enter the marina – at the narrowest point – a puff of breeze lifted the jibsail up the forestay – completely obscuring my visibility forward.  What can I do now?

One day while sailing up the lake to Sandpoint in a strong breeze, I noticed that the boat didn’t seem to have as much boat-speed as I would have expected.  I was broad reaching on port tack with full main and a 150% genny.  I thought that I should have been going around 5.5 to 6 knots.  But, I was only doing between 4.5 and 5 knots.  Looking aft toward the dinghy that we were towing, I could see that the dinghy had to be taking on water… a lot of water.  Now, what should I do?

These are just a few examples of interesting situations that I’ve faced while sailing over the years.  What did I do???  Well - - -

When the mainsail shredded itself, there wasn’t much I could do except douse the jib and haul down the mainsail – then start the engine and motor back to the marina.

Having the anchor drag in the middle of the night in a pitch black storm was pretty exciting.  So exciting that I had an excess of adrenalin that produced extreme dry mouth and I couldn’t talk for about four hours after we got things settled down.  Of course, having an anchor watch warned us that the anchor was dragging.  We began weighing anchor with the engine running and reset the anchor.  That was the answer - - but in the pitch black darkness that was only punctuated by flashes of lightning - - it was quite a chore.

When we ran aground on the reef at Radenbough Cove, it was on my brother’s boat.  The first thing we did was check the tide tables to see if the tide was coming in or going out.  Fortunately, the tide was coming in and we floated off the reef about ten minutes after hitting it…… with no damage to either the boat or the reef.

When the outboard quit, I was lucky enough to have not quite reached the marina entrance and was able to quickly turn the boat back to open water.  I did the same thing when the jib climbed the forestay.

When the dinghy began slowing our speed because she was filling with water, I hove to.  Then pulled the dinghy up to Snickerdoodle with the painter and used a bucket with a rope attached to the handle to bail out the dinghy to the point where I could safely get into the dinghy and finish bailing.  I found that the water was coming up the daggerboard trunk and into the dinghy; so I “plugged” the top of the daggerboard trunk with some foam rubber to stop the water from coming in and continued to sail home.

For most of these situations, I try to think ahead and figure out what I’d do if something happens…  I cannot think of every possibility – but just by thinking about situations like these, I can fill my mind with alternative solutions that can be used when “disaster” strikes.  Try doing this.  It will make you a safer sailor.  And, while you are “what- iffing”… consider - -

Who else should know about the “plan”.  The skipper, certainly.  Anyone else???  First mate, significant other, the rest of the crew, kids??????

What is the plan?  Is the plan written down?

Does everyone aboard know how to use the VHF radio and call for help.

Does everyone know the difference between a Mayday Mayday broadcast, a Pan Pan broadcast, and a Security Security broadcast?

How about asking the crew – while you are all having breakfast – “Say, where are the fire extinguishers?”

Or, “What VHF channel is used for emergency broadcasts?”

Or, “Where are the lifejackets (does anyone really say PFD’s?)?”

Or, “How do we rig the jacklines in case of nasty weather?”

Oh yes, that Easter Sunday when we were concerned about getting back to the marina after dark with a strong wind blowing?????  We took in the sails, started the motor, and motored the three and a half miles back to the marina – getting there just before dark.  Incidentally, I knew that the outboard engine knew that it was the “second class” mode of propulsion for the sailboat and that it would be vindictive if it got the chance.  That it would stop running when we most needed it to run.  So, what was the plan if the outboard quit?

The wind was out of the southwest.  We were motoring nearly due west.  My plan was that if the outboard quit, to do a “U-turn” and let the wind in the rigging push us east.  Hopefully, be able to see what was wrong with the engine and correct the problem.  If I couldn’t fix the outboard, my plan was to sail under bare poles up the lake to find a protected anchorage and wait out the storm.

AND, when the outboard died while entering the marina, I did a quick turn and “sailed”/drifted toward open water.  When reasonably clear, I started looking at the motor.  Somehow, the fuel line had unclipped itself from the engine – the only time since 1985 that it unclipped itself.  I re-connected the fuel line, pumped the bulb a few times and restarted the engine.  Life was good……

Hmmmmm……..  What if “x” happened??????

Happy New Year 2013!!!!

Back in 2011 I blogged about having a jib tack pendant and also about a jib dousing line (a poor man's roller furler) on Snickerdoodle.  I showed a photo of the tack pendant, but only described the dousing line.  Here's a little bit more info.

Here's a photo of the tack pendant.  The pendant has a loop at the bottom end that secures easily to the tack snap shackle which is on the stem fitting.  There is a loop at the other end which has both a sail hank and a halyard shackle secured to it.  The sail hank clips the pendant on to the forestay; and the halyard shackle secures the jib's tack corner.  The whole arrangement gets the jib's foot up about fifteen inches above the deck for easier visibility forward and to leeward.

This line drawing gives a general arrangement for the pendant and the jib downhaul (dousing) line.  I tie the downhaul line to the jib halyard shackle at the head of the jib sail.  The downhaul line is rove through a block secured to the stem fitting aft of the jib pendant; and then is led aft to a cleat.  You can put the cleat on the cabin top or the coaming - just make sure that it is easy to reach when you want to douse the jib.  The downhaul line needs to be long enough to reach from cleat to block and all the way up the forestay.

If the wind has breezed up, there is a real tendency for the wind to push the jib sail up the forestay.  So, simply releasing the jib halyard might not be enough to get the sail down.  Usually this means that someone has to go forward to the foredeck to pull the sail down.  With the downhaul line, simply release the jib halyard and pull the sail down with the downhaul line.  When the sail is down to the deck, secure the downhaul line to its cleat so that the wind won't push the sail back up the forestay.

I always rig a downhaul line for my jib if the wind is strong enough that I need to shift down to my 135% jib or smaller.  AND, I use the jib tack pendant for all of my smaller (135% and smaller) jibs except the blade jib (which has a luff that is the same length as my 150% genny).

How many jibs do I have aboard Snickerdoodle?  Six - - 155% Drifter (Stars 'n Stripes), 150% Genny, 135% Genny (which has reef points to about 115% - which you can see in the top photo), 105% Working Jib (which was re-cut  down from the original 110% to correct stretching problems), 95% Blade Jib, and a 50 sq. ft. Storm Jib.

Come by Snickerdoodle and check out both the jib pendant and the downhaul line anytime.

 

 

Stormy Sail From Hope

Sail From Hope – Labor Day Weekend 2002

This adventure all began as part of the annual Hope rendezvous hosted by the Lake Pend Oreille Yacht Club.  Every Labor Day, the LPOYC hosts a “sail in” to Kramer’s resort at the Northeast part of Lake Pend Oreille in the little town of Hope Idaho.  Hope is about 12 miles East from Sandpoint: it’s around 24 miles North from Bayview.  So, a fair sail from either town.  Kathy had to work Labor Day weekend, so I invited my Dad to ride along as crew.  My brother Bob and his wife were sailing their 1930’s vintage 30-foot Dunnagan Sloop; plus I had “invited” several novice skippers to join in the fun.

By 10:30, each boat had slipped its moorings and all were heading to Hope.  The day was beautiful with blue sky and big puffy white clouds.  During the first hour and a half or so, it was slow going for anyone trying to sail.  No Wind!  Dad and I motored around 200 feet aft of Bob; maintaining a steady 5 knots.  By the time we were passing Whiskey Rock, there were some ripples on the water.  A half hour later both Bob and I had our sails raised and were sailing in light breezes at about 4 knots boat-speed.  We played “tag” for the next four hours, crossing tacks while broad reaching and running wing ‘n wing.  It was one of those really terrific sails that we’ll remember for a long time.

          By 4:30 PM, we were all tied to the docks at Kramer’s and were preparing to fix dinner.  With 20 or so boat crews in transient slips and end-ties there were lots of people on the docks.  By 7 PM, both Bob and I were ready to untie and head off to

one of my favorite anchorage sites along the South shore of Ellisport Bay.  We anchored about 200 feet apart in 25 feet of water.  Dad said he was tired at about 9 PM and headed for the v-berth.  I was still wide-awake, so after writing in the log, I stayed up watching the stars and meteor showers till around 11 PM.  The last thing that I did before crawling into the quarter berth was to listen to the VHF weather.  To my surprise, the weather forecast for Sunday had been changed to include strong winds and cloudy skies with a threat of rain.  Winds predicted to be 15 to 25 knots with gusts to around 35 knots.

Sunday morning dawned according to the predictions of the night before.  The skies were overcast and even in our protected anchorage, there were small wavelets lapping against the hull.  The occasional gust would heel us over to around 4 or 5 degrees before Snickerdoodle would swing back head to wind.  We decided to have breakfast and not weigh anchor until mid-morning.  I used the time after breakfast to rig my jack-lines along both side decks from stem to stern.  Dad and I discussed the life jackets, safety harnesses & tethers, man-overboard procedures, how to use the bilge pump, and reefing procedures.  I also rigged a dousing line for the jib so that neither one of us would need to go forward to lower the jib – if needed.

Anchor up and stowed in the anchor locker at 9:30 and we were motoring at around 3.5 knots out of Ellisport Bay toward what looked like pretty rough conditions.  I wanted to wait to hoist sails until we were past Hope Point to make sure that my sail selection was really what I wanted.  Bob had radioed that he was planning to hoist a reefed main and his storm jib.  My plan was for a first reef in my main and the 97% Blade Jib.  As we passed Hope Point, I was pleased with my choice and we started hoisting the sails.

Many people are surprised to learn that Lake Pend Oreille is a very deep lake.  Nearly 2/3 of its 45 mile long by 10 mile wide body is water with a depth of more than 700 feet.  The deepest places in the lake are more than 1,100 feet deep.  However, the northern 1/3 of the lake shoals quickly to less than 50 feet.  This means that any storm and wind from the South will kick up some really nasty waves in the approaches to Hope Point.  I’ve heard different people describe 6 foot and 8 foot waves that they’ve experienced in this part of the lake during heavy weather.  And, while I didn’t expect to see anything like that, I had decided to sail a Southwesterly course for my first leg to avoid the bigger waves.

That is what Dad and I did.  After hoisting sails, we struck off on the southwesterly course, close hauled – averaging 5.5 knots.  Because we were protected by Picard Point, the water was fairly flat and the winds were somewhat moderated.  We sailed this SW

course for about a half hour.  Then we tacked over to a southeasterly course – starboard tack - a prepared for a 5 nautical mile beat into the teeth of the storm.  The first big gust that hit us after we cleared Picard Pt. laid Snickerdoodle over and washed the portside windows for 15 seconds or so.  That gave us an idea of what to expect.

My Dad is a great crew.  He is fit for his age (79) and in good health.  But, Dad has suffered with macular degeneration and failing vision for several years.  That hasn’t kept him from staying active golfing, snow skiing and sailing.  Nevertheless, it does mean that he cannot see straight ahead.  Most of the waves we were encountering were about 1.5 to two-footers.  There were exceptions though.  Sets of two or three waves in the four-foot range would roll toward us every few minutes.  Dad couldn’t see these “big ‘uns”.  So as a big wave approached I’d call out, “Here comes a big one.”  And Dad would brace himself for the roller coaster ride.

In the gusts – which were in the 30 to 35 nm range – Snickerdoodle would heel over with water on the portside deck.  Frequently a large dollop of spray from the bow would rise up and douse both Dad and me.  The boat-speed would drop to around 1.5 knots, and our leeway progress would be substantial.  It really felt like the boat was being dragged sideways through the water.  Then the gust would subside and we’d be back to a 20 degree heel and 4.5 to 5 knots of speed.  This condition continued until about 11 AM when the wind seemed to be in the thirties continuously.  A very long sustained gust!!  At that point, I tucked in the second reef and pressed on.  The boat motion was much improved, but we were still washing the deck in the gusts, and getting wet from lots of spray.  Something needed to be done to make things more comfortable, so at around 11:30 I doused the jib.  This worked wonders and we were now sailing comfortably with around 15 degrees of heel and 4 knots of boat-speed.  And, I tacked back to port tack to begin another long tack of 6+ nm to Grouse Point just North of Talache Landing.  We accomplished ¾ of this leg under double reefed mainsail alone.

About this time, Bob called on the VHF.  He had decided that he’d had enough “fun” slogging to windward and was ducking into Camp Bay to rest for a few hours – to see if the storm would blow itself out.  Minutes later, Matt Christensen on his C22 radioed to say he was joining Bob.  A third boat ducked in with them shortly thereafter.

By one o’clock in the afternoon, the wind was subsiding and I hoisted the 

jib

again.  By two o’clock, we had shook out the second reef and at 2:30 hoisted a full main.  The wind continued to decrease.  The clouds parted.  And, by three PM it was a beautiful sunny afternoon with no hint of

the morning’s storm.  The wind died away to the point that we

ended up motor sailing the last five or six miles back to the marina…..Dad having relieved me on the helm.  We tied up in the slip at a little after 4 PM.  Both Dad and I were tired from the day on the water, but both were excited about the trip and pleased with the performance of boat and crew.

What had we done that made us feel pleased and excited instead of exhausted and wishing we had never started in the morning?  Several things ………

1)   Our sail selection had been good.  I did wish that we’d used a storm jib when the winds were at the strongest.  But, overall, the sail selection was good.

2)   We had started out in a “sail safe” mind set.  The jack-lines were rigged and ready.  We had our harnesses and PFDs on.  I actually went forward three times during the strong winds……each time tethered to the jack-line.

3)   Both Dad and I knew what the procedures for man overboard and emergency situations.  And, we had confidence that the other would be able to do his part if something went wrong.

4)   Even though the wind and waves were strong, we shortened sail at appropriate times and were able to keep sailing to windward with good speed and control.

We had a wonderful weekend plus a challenging and interesting sail.  On the drive back to Spokane in the car, Dad said, “I think I’d like to do more of these rendezvous things with you.”  That says it all, doesn’t it?

First Photo – Bill’s Dad (Bill Sr.) while at anchor in Ellisport Bay. 

    Brother Bob’s Dunnagan 30 in the background

Second Photo – Storm blowing up Lake Pend Oreille

Third Photo – Sunny afternoon at the Bitter End in Bayview, ID