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FBYC History....
Jere Dennison
On September 20, 2004, our offshore racing fleet experienced unpredicted gale force winds during the Clubï¿?s annual long-distance race around Wolf Trap Light located south of Gwynnï¿?s Island and north of Mobjack Bay. The last two issues of the Log recounted experiences of three yachts that struggled to finish the race in frightening conditions; the following stories in this issue highlight the experiences of two yachts that had to abandon the race due to equipment breakdowns and seek refuge in lower Bay harbors to secure their safety. The climactic story of the series featuring a crew abandoning ship and a dramatic Coast Guard airlift will appear next month followed by a different perspective of the storm offered by one of our cruisers headed to Onancock on the same day as the race.
Shenanigan's Story
By Miles Booth
(Shananigan is a 33' Tartan Ten)
On that cloudy and damp Saturday morning, Joey Rescott, my long-time foredeck crew, and I arrived at the club at about the usual time, 0900. We set about getting ready for sea - all the other regular crew members had checked in and were unavailable. At the dock we joked with the other crews about racing with just the two of us, but I was not concerned. Joey and I had raced Shenanigan without the help of additional hands several times.
As we got underway the wind was southwest at about 8 knots. The forecast I got at 0800 was for the wind to shift around noon and then increase from the northwest to 15 to 20 knots. As we headed out to the start we rigged the 3/4 oz spinnaker in the pulpit so it would be ready when needed. As we waited for the start and watched the clouds fly by, the wind shifted to north. That figures - the weather man has not been right all year; why would I expect him to be today? With the wind forecast to pickup after the shift, I told Joey to change the spinnaker to 1 1/2 oz. I put on foul weather gear and rigged safety harnesses.
The breeze was picking up. It was a good choice to start with our #3 blade and full main up to the windward mark and reach out to 3 with the #3 spinnaker, pole to port. As we got out into the breeze past Stingray we saw Wavelength having trouble with her jibe: all wrapped up in towards Gwynn's Island. We have a little concern as they usually do a first class job of sail handling. We would have to jibe when we got out to (M), but right now we were going good under control and moving up on La Maga.
When we did get out to (M), we found a large sea running south and were able to surf past most of the fleet, leaving only J105s between us and Wolftrap. But now we are going to jibe with no way to avoid it. Jibe the pole first, and then the main; in that way the pole set is made in the lee of the main. This is a lot easier on the crew, and less likely to wrap up too. Jibe complete, no problem, and back up to speed. Wolftrap is coming up fast now. Pole down, spinnaker down, then jib up. And around we go hardening up into a large sea and 20+ knots of wind. Trimming is all we are doing, Shenanigan is sailing herself, and, as we come up onto the wind, off the top of a wave we go and a crash down into the trough. Main is in and traveler out and boat is up to speed. I had better grab the tiller before we go flying again.
Too late - we are airborne again, and then the bottom hits. Wham! Harder than the first time and that did in the electrical system: instruments, VHF, starter on the engine. The battery strap had broken and allowed the main ground cable-end to pull apart. The good news is we are sailing fast, and, as long as I pay attention to the waves, we sail up and over without going airborne. A little green water on deck from time to time; Shenanigan with her great freeboard stays fairly dry. She sticks her nose into every second or third wave but only occasionally does the green water make it back to the companionway.
As we pass (M) on the way north, we tack inshore looking for less sea. The rest of the fleet stays on port, so we tack back to port after a half mile or so. We sail into the first rain squall where we find wind in with the rain. And there is, I estimate, about a 10 knot increase. The next rain squall brings even more wind and our outhaul parts inside the boom. We get the main down before it is torn apart and stuff it below. We had that done in 3 or 4 minutes; loose-footed mains come down easy. And we are sailing again under #3 jib alone and seem to be going as fast as before.
Still racing, we are ready to tack to starboard for the leg into the Piankatank as soon as this next rain squall passes. Well, the squall brings even more wind, and the organizer block for the jib halyards on the cabin top explodes, allowing the halyard to come tight on the edge of the mast and be cut. A Kevlar halyard goes and that is the end of the race for us. Both jib halyards are out of commission, and the jib is secured on deck.
The boat is now stable and we are OK? We hand start the engine, and that works, but the engine 9 big horse power will not push us against the wind. We are not in danger, the boat is sound, but we can't go up wind. We put the jib on the spinnaker halyard and we head downwind for safe harbor. Too much load for the spin halyard to go up wind so off we go on a broad reach to New Point and the safety of Mobjack Bay. There is no point in damaging Shenanigan for nothing. Shenanigan rounds New Point Light at dusk, and reaches across Mobjack Bay under jib alone over to Four Point Marsh on the west side of the Severn River mouth. It is dark by now. The Severn River has no water on either side of the channel. In the dark and rain, we anchor for the night. Now that the boat is safe and secure, I go below and find the backup battery pack for the hand-held VHF. Put it in, find a great one bar on the battery indicator and make it fast. I call Coast Guard Hampton Roads and tell them that we are safe and anchored for the night in Mobjack Bay. They respond and ask if we have seen any other boats. Negative!
It is so good to lie down, even if the cabin is full of sails and the bunk is wet. We sleep in our oil skins. In the morning, we make sail toward the Severn River and see a boat motor out and set sail to the east. We are a mile or more away so we don't recognize Chillcoot as she makes her way out of the Severn. About 10:30, Joey and I pull Shenanigan into the dock at Clinton Midgets house on Stump Point. Clinton was the project manager on the schooner I helped build in Gloucester. It is sunny warm and breezy day. Clinton offers us a ride to FBYC to get the car. We drop Joey at home on the way so he can explain to his mother why he was out all night.
The following Sunday, Doug Stinchcum, our regular pit man offered his power boat to tow Shenanigan home, Faster and easier than putting her back together for a sail. There was almost no wind for the entire trip, and we only missed one race of the fall series.
The Bay was nasty that day but with a good solid boat and the common sense to know when to stop racing. I would do it again tomorrow, preferably with a full crew. But days like that are part of the game, a part that we all too often avoid.
Desperado's Story
By Sharon Bauer with a postscript by Ric Bauer
(Desperado is a classic 41' Hinckley Owens Cutter)
Wolftrap was the last race of the Long Distance Series. We had raced Desperado in Rosegill and Smith Point and received credit for running race committee for the Moonlight race. Our place in the standings was set, neither a DNC nor a first place finish could change anything. We were just out for some fun.
I had been watching the weather all week because of the Wolftrap race and the One Design Fall Series races schedule for the Sunday. For Saturday we expected winds SSE shifting to ESE as the day went on with 10-15 knot breezes, 65% chance of T-storms (higher probability in the AM). We were expecting a shift to NNW and 20 knots for Sunday.
On the drive down (from Aylett) we were watching the winds and chatting about the inconsistencies of what we were seeing. When we arrived at the docks it was drizzly and generally northerly (NNW maybe). That confused me a bit so I turned on the weather radio on the boat. The signal was breaking up as it sometimes does when Destiny is at the dock next to us and I didnï¿?t get a clear update. I made the assumption that the weather I had been expecting for Sunday had arrived early.
As we were walking down the dock in the drizzle almost every boat we passed: Nereid, Elancer, Corryvrecken, Oracle asked us to join them. I quipped back"if I'm going to be wet and miserable, I'd rather be on my own boat"?
Since it was just Ric and I we made the decision to put up only the main and staysail. We talked about putting up our 135 jib, but decided to hold with only the staysail. We don't have any of the fancy instruments on Desperado, so I don't know the actual wind conditions, but I would guess we were in 15-20 kts. when we started the race. Just before the starting sequence, Brooks announced the course and suggested that the racers keep a weather eye.
We were over early at the start and had to come back to restart. Some one else was over too and when Tatiana saw the two of us heading back, they thought it was a general recall and came back too. The windward mark was generally in the direction of the entrance to Jackson Creek and Ric confessed to me later that at the restart his gut told him we should just go on in. By the time we passed the Milford Haven mark (FBYC M) the winds had built to 20-25 with some higher gusts. We watched the other boats that had rounded Wolftrap and discussed putting a reef in the main prior to rounding. We were surfing (in a 22,000 pound boat) at about 10 knots according to the GPS. We were concerned, though, that with a reef we wouldn't have enough power to get through the waves on the way back. When we got to Wolftrap we decided to tack around instead of jibing the main. As we passed the light we realized that we were simply overpowered and needed to reef. I was not confident with my ability to handle the helm under these conditions so we started the engine, I headed into the wind and Ric went forward to handle the sail. We're out of the race and just trying to get home.
We "motor-sailed" under reefed main and staysail from there to the area of FBYC L. All hell broke loose at mark L. Suddenly two blasts went off and our 50 year old Spruce boom was in two pieces with a spear dangling off the leeward side of the boat from the topping lift. We determined later that the main halyard shackled had burst and the odd pressure resulting on the sail, topping lift and boom had led to the crack. This was the only time throughout the ordeal that I truly felt we were at life or death risk. When I say spear, I mean spear. With 6-8 foot seas and this thing thrusting forward and back toward the hull, I was fearful that we were going to puncture a hole in the side of the boat. I'll let you imagine the"conversation" that took place between Ric and I, but I took the helm and he went forward to pull the main down (as it was still attached to both ends of the boom) and tackled the spear end of the boom back into the boat. Once it was generally safe and secure, he took over the helm and I completed securing process. (If you can't tie a good knot, tie lots of them.)
We headed the boat towards home. Home was generally NW, the wind was basically due N and we kept slipping south. Our engine was simply ineffective. We tried dropping the staysail, but that was worse. We re-hoisted the staysail and called the Mr. Roberts to see if they could help. We were so close, and yet so far. Randy said he'd be back to me on the radio. They left their spot in the Piankatank and tried to head our way. After being knocked by the waves and winds they decided that it was't safe. We understood and concurred with their decision and called the Milford Haven Coast Guard station.
The Coast Guard sent a 40-footer out to check on us and after about 45 minutes of us slipping further and further south past Milford Haven they advised that they only way they could help us would be if we were willing to abandon ship. Ric and I both knew the answer to thatï¿?. I radioed back and said that we were going to head south and ride it out. As we parted they told us they had a more serious situation to deal with, which we later learned was Morningtide. The Coast Guard did commit to check in on us about every 15 minutes to check our position.
By now dusk was beginning to fall. We headed south under staysail and a weak engine. Even though we had our foul weather gear on, we were soaked through and through from sweat, rain and waves. We decided that it was going to be a long night and we may as well get ready for it. I went below and changed into dry clothes under my foulies. I took the helm and Ric did the same. We each ate some granola bars and had some water. Ric took back the helm and I started working on a destination plan.
We hoped that once we got around New Point Comfort weï¿?d be able to get into the lee of the Point enough to be able to head generally north into the East River. We had heard Tatiana on the radio talking to the Coast Guard and knew that they and Chilcoot had both arrived in the East River safely.
Each time we checked in with the Coast Guard I wrote down the time and location on a legal pad and I periodically put an X on the chart. Just before rounding New Point Comfort, the staysail blew out. Ric headed forward to secure the sail. The staysail boom had come off of its horn and was lying on the foredeck. Now we are under bare poles. After we passed New Point Comfort we tried turning as far NW as possible. Our float pattern simply would not go above 260 degrees. By now the Milford Haven station had turned us over to the Norfolk station and we were checking in only about once an hour or so. We kept going generally WSW rolling in the waves and trying to avoid marks until we got as close to the York River Spit as we were comfortable. We then turned and headed back out into the Bay, never able to go above a 90 degree heading. I occasionally spelled Ric at the helm, but he was on it most of the night. I cat napped in the quarter birth and continue to mark our course on the charts. About the time we turned east, we decided to turn off the engine to conserve fuel.
At the worst of it, we felt that we were in 45-50 knot wind with 60 knot gusts and 10-12 foot seas. Ric was occasionally awakened by waves crashing over the side. At some point during the night a wave threw him face first into the lifeline, giving him one heck of a black eye.
Just before sunrise on Sunday morning we turned back to the west. I continued tracking our float pattern and determined that we could make it into the Back Creek south of the York. At 7:00am I called a marina listed in the back of the chart book. The owner of the marina fortunately lived upstairs and answered the phone. I apologized for waking him up and explained our situation. I was hoping he would be able to put me in touch with someone who could meet us at the mouth of the creek and give us a tow in since our engine was still not helping us make northerly way and there was a turn in the creek that would require it. The marina owner put us in touch with SeaTow, but by now we were drifting south of the entrance of Back Creek and the seas were too rough for him to tow us from there. He suggested we turn and meet him at the mouth of the Poquoson River.
Making a commitment to head towards the Poquoson was difficult for us. Once we got in behind the shoals to the east of the entrance, we would have nowhere else to go ï¿? out of options. I explained my concern to the SeaTow operator and he convinced me that heï¿?d be able to get us. We were able to secure a towline very shortly after passing the entrance to the river. He towed us into Chisman Creek out of the waves. He called ahead to a marina to be sure they could accommodate us. He and we felt that we "could make it from here" and let the tow line go. He stayed with us, though, and we very shortly found that in fact we needed his assistance to get to the dock.
At 9:00am on Sunday morning we were secured to the fuel dock at the marina ï¿? 23 _ hours after we had left our slip at FBYC. After the lines were secure I prepared to pull the fuel line knob to kill the engine and realized that we were still in gear. I looked at lines and realized that the engine was not putting any strain on the lines. This was the first that we realized that our engine was not just "ineffective" but dead.
Safely at the dock, with no regard for time of day, it was time for a cold beer.
Iï¿?m not sure who called whom, but I know we talked with Mike Fehn and Eric Powers soon after arriving at the docks. Everyone was relieved to hear that we had arrived safely and offered assistance to get us back to the Club where our vehicle was. We made arrangements for Eric to come get us around 2:00pm and laid down for a nap.
It turned out that our transmission had gone out sometime during the night. We have no way of knowing exactly when. The marina specialized in powerboats and didnï¿?t have a mechanic to help us. We called fellow Club member Brad Ward to see if he knew of anyone in the area. Fortunately he did ï¿? himself. On Friday October 1st we headed back to FBYC with a working transmission and jib. Mark Cycotte had already started building a new boom for us and we were back in business in time for the Turkey Shoot Hospice regatta on October 9th and 10th.
Ric's Postscript:
As Sharon and I were taking off the awning and deciding on our sail plan we were talking about the weather and whether or not we should even go out. We knew it was wet and rainy. We knew it was going to be blowing on the way back. We knew we were short handed and we knew the results of our finish wouldn't change a thing. But, we had been looking forward to racing Wolftrap, we wanted to be racing with the fleet, and I remember saying, "Let's go for it. We can handle it. And we'll be better sailors after it." Little did we know what we were about to experience. But during that long night at the tiller regret entered by thought several time along with "this wind has got to stop sometime soon" As the occasional large wave slapped Desperado hard, covering me with salt water and filling the cockpit I said to myself, "this sure is a solid, seaworthy boat and she's doing well by us." And my crew is a strong as my boat.