Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
FBYC History....
Jere Dennison
Part IV: Air Rescue
On September 20, 2004, our offshore racing fleet experienced unpredicted gale-force winds during the Club's annual long-distance race around Wolf Trap Light located south of Gwynn's Island and north of Mobjack Bay. The last three issues of the Log recounted experiences of five yachts that either struggled to finish the race in frightening conditions or abandoned the race due to equipment failures by fleeing to safe harbors on the lower Bay. The climactic story of this racing event featuring a dramatic Coast Guard airlift and the abandonment of a sailing vessel to the mercy of the wind and waves appears below. Following this account is another view of the conditions as experienced by one of our cruisers who ventured to sail to Onancock on the same fateful day.
I hope that this series has been instructional to the membership. Its purpose has not been to cast blame for failures on the judgment of our Race Committee or on the seamanship of our sailors. There are valuable lessons here to learn for survival when the worst-case scenario unexpectedly confronts us on the normally placid waters of the Chesapeake Bay. And there were no serious injuries or loss of life which is a testament to the skills of our members encountering what is likely the most calamitous event in the history of our club.
Morningtide's Story
Russ Collins
(Morningtide is a 26' S2 7.9)
Our Night to Remember
I was very reluctant to write about this event because it was such a disaster. I agreed only because this description may be of value to others when and if they find themselves in a similar situation.
First of all, my daughter Caroline and I were sailing the Wolf Trap Race, a 26 mile race from just outside Jackson Creek to the Wolf Trap Lighthouse and back. We chose to race without additional help and to actually just sail for fun in Morningtide, our 26 foot S2. The day started out beautifully. There was a 15-20 mph breeze from the North, which made for a nice downwind run to the light. However, we were very conservative even at the start of the race. We chose to put up our small jib and did not even consider the spinnaker.
As we were heading down to Wolf Trap, Caroline and I were holding off larger boats very well. We were not at all overpowered. However, we did notice that the boats flying chutes were having difficulty. By the time we rounded Wolf Trap and started beating to weather, the wind had really picked up and the seas were beginning to build. We had not eaten lunch since the trip down was so short. As we tacked back up to weather, we could have eaten, but never got around to it. We made decent progress to Milford Haven Number 1, the first mark on the way back. However, we started to become overpowered and chose to reef the main. We also decided to put on life jackets to be safe.
On the way to Milford Haven Number 3, we were noticeably overpowered, and somewhat uncomfortable. However, we were still making progress toward home and continued to sail. By the time we passed Milford Haven Number 3 we were not making much headway in our approach. If we sailed directly into the waves, we made some progress but moved more into the open bay. When we tacked and sailed sideways to the waves, we lost ground and were pushed farther away from home. Thus, we decided to give up the race and motor home.
I started the engine, and we were able to motor at an approximate angle of 20 degrees off of the wind. We tacked back and forth to keep away from the shallow water off Gwynn's Island. At this point, we were making approximately 1/2 of a knot or less toward home. This effort continued approximately 3 to 4 hours. Now the wind was so great that there was no way we could use the mainsail. The diesel engine started to fail after being run approximately 4 hours wide open. Actually, the fuel was low and the engine would no longer sustain the full power throttle setting. By this time we were just north of the Hole in the Wall, so we decided to turn around and head back to it downwind. By this time the engine had quit, and we knew that we would need to use the jib to navigate the narrow channel. As we were coasting downwind we tried to raise the jib. However, it was twisted, and we passed the opening to the channel before we got it up completely. When it was finally raised, we tried to beat back upwind to the channel. We tried many, many times to sail enough to weather to enter the channel. However, we just could not make any progress against the wind and waves.
By this time it was close to dark, and we were exhausted. We debated calling the coast guard and finally Caroline called with the goal of seeking a short tow to the channel entrance. The Milford Haven Coast Guard was currently attending to other boats. They gave us good advice to anchor, and we had hope that they would get to us soon. In trying to anchor, I made the mistake of trying to let out more scope for the anchor, and in the process managed to lose the anchor. I cannot express to you how fast the line was pulled from the deck. Now we were really in a mess. We were drifting broadside to the waves and going down the bay at 6 knots. The waves were so big that the boat was rolling from rail to rail. For the first time in my life, I was afraid the boat would roll. We were approaching the entrance of Mobjack Bay, and I thought about sailing there. However, the jib had blown out of the headfoil, and there was no way we could use it to sail into Mobjack Bay.
By the time the Milford Haven Coast Guard had finished with other boats, they decided that they would no longer send their boat out into the rough conditions. During this time we had been communicating with the Portsmouth Coast Guard, and they were aware of our situation. They made it very plain that the only assistance they would offer was to remove us from the boat. If we were not willing to leave the boat, they would not offer any assistance. I was now willing to leave the boat, and they agreed to send a helicopter from Elizabeth City, NC.
By this time, the wind was approximately 60 knots and the waves 12 feet according to the Coast Guard. I stayed on deck, wet, cold and very tired, and Caroline was below communicating with the Coast Guard via cellular telephone. She used the GPS to give the Coast Guard our position and conditions. We had to wait about an hour for the helicopter to arrive. Once on the scene, Caroline began to communicate with the helicopter via VHF radio and many people from Fishing Bay were able to hear the communication between Caroline and the Coast Guard.
Approximately three hours after we initially made contact with the Coast Guard we were rescued. The rescue from the boat was very much the same as the rescue portrayed in the movie, The Perfect Storm. I threw a life ring overboard tied to the transom. The helicopter dropped the diver down at the life ring, and, one at a time, we jumped off the boat and followed the line towards the diver. The diver guided us to the basket and we were hauled up.
I can truthfully say it was difficult to leave my beloved boat, but I was glad to be heading home. I owe my life to the wonderful Coast Guard men and my daughter who convinced me that my life was more important than the boat.
Throughout the ordeal, I was afraid of the boat hitting bottom near the entrance to the Hole in the Wall, which was ironic since that would have been a much better fate for Morningtide. I now wish we would have beached her there and walked to shore. I think the damage would have been much less, and the boat would have been closer to home. As it turned out, my wonderful boat traveled all the way down the bay by itself. I left all of the lights on including the deck lights to make the boat more visible to the helicopter and other traffic. The first thing she encountered was the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel Bridge. She became trapped there for some time, and by some miracle, made it past. She went aground at Chicks Beach (Lynnhaven) just past the Bridge. I had been afraid there would not be anything left but that image in my mind as I flew away from the boat in the helicopter.
The weather continued to be quite rough until the following Wednesday when the Sea Tow people were able to retrieve her. I am happy to report that there is little damage, the S2 Company really made a great boat. Here is a recap of the damage: the rudder was lost and the shaft was bent, the hull had one scratch below the water line but not through the bottom paint, the centerboard wore the trunk some as it went up and down from wave action, some of the stays and running rigging were damaged, the mast head light was damaged but not the wind indicator, and the bow pulpit was bent. (The picture here of the intact but wounded Morningtide shows her after recovery in the yard awaiting repair.)
I am busy at work trying to bring Morningtide back to her original splendor. I may not make it for opening day, but will have her back in her slip soon and soon be on the starting line. (Ultimately she did not return to her slip until late this summer.) There were a lot of people that helped me and offered assistance. To all I want to say thanks. I may write a follow-up on how I plan to equip Morningtide so this will never happen again.
As I promised, the only reason for writing this tale is to shed some light for others on what not to do in a situation like this. Thus, I will recap Caroline and my lessons from this disaster. First of all, let me remind those reading that this race took place the day after Hurricane Ivan rolled through Virginia. As we all know, hurricanes are not predictable, and this one proved to follow suit. The storm that created this event was the result of the hurricane taking a southern dip back down the bay when it should have been continuing to move north through Delaware. In hindsight, we should never have held the race in the first place. With that in mind, every boat that had only two people aboard ran into trouble. I feel that, if we had had one other person aboard, we would not have gotten into the trouble that we had.
Caroline and I have been racing on the bay for over 20 years, and I have had experience in very rough weather and was trying to be very, very conservative. However, we still ended up needing the assistance of the Coast Guard helicopter rescue team. This concept was beyond my comprehension, but, looking back, we really did not have a contingency plan in place, nor were we prepared for the events that happened. First of all we did not eat at all during the race, thus, when around 5:00 when things really got rough, we were no longer physically able to perform the tasks needed. Second, the anchor has seldom been used in this boat, and was hopelessly tangled. In haste, to stop our drifting, we threw it overboard without working to free up a decent amount of scope. However, in retrospect, I do not think Morningtide would have stayed at anchor for three days in those conditions, therefore the loss of the anchor may not have been a big factor. We also did not realize that our determination to make it back to Jackson Creek kept us from choosing other viable alternatives such as motoring into the Hole in the Wall much earlier, or ending up in Mobjack Bay. The engine was still working when we passed the entrance the first time, and I am sure we could have gotten into a safe haven before it quit. Also, at the speed and direction at which we were drifting downwind when trying to go back to the Hole in the Wall, we could have entered Mobjack Bay as several other Fishing Bay boats did. However, it is always more fun to speculate what we should have done, but incredibly difficult to think clearly when you are cold, wet, weak and experiencing 60 knots winds and 12 foot waves.
American Pie's Story
Vic DeNunzio
(American Pie is a 57' Beneteau)
Friday, September17, 2004, 8:00 pm
Skippers meeting at DeNunzi's Home on the Piankatank.
After cocktails and dinner the 7 boat skippers doing the Fall Cruise discussed the weather conditions. NOAA forecast was for Ivan to be through our area after midnight and for SW winds Sat. 15 to 20 going to the North at 20 to 25 knots. These seemed to be ideal conditions for the 35 nm trip to Onancock at 69o magnetic. However, only American Pie decided to leave for Onancock on Saturday. Saturday morning the weather forecasts and radar showed that Ivan was far off the eastern shore and the winds were still predicted at 15-20 SW going to 20 to 25 N later in the day. After a very democratic discussion, all crew members decided it was a go. Crew members were Vic and Jane DeNunzio, Sam and Nancy Stoakley, and Rick and Gail Woods.
Saturday, September18, 2004
American Pie left her berth at 1100 and at around 1140 passed the race committee boat. We saw the last racers rounding Gwynns Island heading for Wolf Trap. At this time the true wind was 18-20 knots from the NNW. I was not comfortable using and furling the new Leisure Furl Main, so we kept it neatly furled on the boom. We were sailing on a beam reach with a full 140% Genoa and the staysail at 9-9.5 knots in 20 knots of true wind. Thankfully, the main was not up as we had not quite mastered rolling it in. We congratulated ourselves on the wisdom of our decision to leave and settled in for a great sail to Onancock Creek. Over the next 90 minutes the weather gradually changed to gale force winds from the North. Of course, Sam and Vic were convinced that this wind was associated with a passing cloud and expected the wind to settle back soon. Soon never came.
In the middle of the shipping channel, waves were 6 to 9 feet, steep and close together, created by 1.5 knots of flood tide current running against the wind from the north at 35-40 knots true - gusting to 45+. By 1310 we were down to a very small reefed Genoa doing 9+ knots. In the 23 years I have been sailing the Chesapeake Bay, I never saw it as violent as today. We were taking the waves on the port quarter fairly well, but occasionally the 2nd and 3rd waves in a series would break over the bow and the wind would blow green water over our hardtop biminiï - 10' above the water line. Our cockpit was well protected with plastic curtains so the crew was reasonably dry - "a dry, warm crew is a happy crew". It was a sight to see an occasional waterfall on the leeward side of the cockpit. One of our crew members became sick and the waterfall proved to be very useful. We were being thrown off course 30 to 40 degrees by the steep, close waves. We put on the engine at 1500 rpm to help hold course steady and maintained 9-9.5 knots SOG. Jane and Sam handed out the life preservers and instructed everyone to put them on. It was comforting that this order did not come from the captain.
We checked the NOAA weather channel and the forecast was still the same. We all made some harsh, unprintable comments about the reliability of these forecasts, and who in the heck cares what the farming forecast for western VA is. NOAA obviously has not realized that mariners rely on this means of forecasting while 99.99999% of landlocked persons use their TVï¿?s or radios, etc. for weather.
As we passed the halfway point, we were having a very uncomfortable, but safe, ride towards Onancock Creek. The new Beneteau 57 was handling the sea conditions extremely well and the hydraulic auto pilot held the course brilliantly. The one thought going through my mind was whether we could safely enter Onancock Creek. I did not think this concern would be appreciated by the crew, but a very astute Sam Stoakley quietly said to me "do you think we will be able to get in Onancock Creek". Without alarming the other 4 crew members, Sam and I decided that if the shoals did not reduce the waves below 5ï¿? we would abandon Onancock Creek and head northeast in the shelter of Tangier Island to Pocomoke Sound for a protected anchorage. All we could do now was wait as we ticked off the remaining miles to our destination. There was not much conversation during the next hour.
By 1400 we were 1 mile from G-"1" and the seas finally dropped to 4ï¿?-5ï¿?. We made a successful, if not pretty, entrance to the creek and by 1500 we were securely anchored in Onancock with winds at anchorage holding 25- 30 knots. The tide was very high and we had 13+ feet in the anchorage. All the docks in the creek were under water. With 100ï¿? of ï¿?" chain and an 80# plow anchor we were very well anchored and had no company. Time for cocktails.
We had reservations at the Charlotte Restaurant that evening which they knew we would break. Charlotte, the proprietor of the Hotel and Restaurant, and the other dinners were amazed to see us and gave us a warm greeting. I am not sure whether they thought we were accomplished mariners or damn fools, but the dinner was spectacular. After a couple of bottles of good wine and great meals, the trip over seemed a wonderful voyage which we were all anxious to repeat that's what alcohol can do to you.