If you want to know if something on your boat is getting ready to fail, take the boat out in bad weather and find out. Stuff is always more likely to happen in severe conditions. I was recently "graced' with the ability to experience this truism firsthand. On December 12, 2002, I thought I would tempt fate by sailing my Catalina 22, Slow Flight, singlehanded 28 miles north to attend a sailing club's Christmas party at Oak Harbor on Whidbey Island, WA. The party was scheduled to begin at 5 p.m, so I left my homeport of Everett at 9:23 a.m. That, I figured, would be plenty of time to sail downwind the said 28 miles in winds expected to grow to near gale force. No problem! Just hank on the storm jib, reef,the main, and enjoy the ride, I thought. In fact, the way I saw it, I'd even get there in plenty of time to shower and change clothes.
Well, things did not go quite as expected. I still got there in time, but it became an unforgetable experience as well as a valuable lesson on proper planning. With speeds repeatedly exceeding 6.5 knots sustained, I saw 10.8 knots on my GPS against an outgoing tide. Still, it was relatively smooth sailing until, all of the sudden, less than three hours into the trip, there was a cracking feeling in the tiller. "Uh-oh," I muttered under my breath (actually, that is a subdued version of what I actually said) as it became apparent that the tiller was getting ready to break. At once I started working a plan to jury rig the tiller (not really a big problem, I thought). But when things start heading south they really go south (and I was trying to go north to begin with), and so less than an hour later the rudder finished its life with Slow Flight. Did you know that a C22 without a rudder is impossible to sail? Trust me, it is! Actually, I knew ahead of time that the boat could not be sailed without a rudder because I had tried it before. I always like to try things out for myself; not that I'm a born skeptic, on the contrary. In fact, I have pulled up the rudder and tried steering with sail trim just because someone had told me that you could do so. Yeah, right! Without the rudder to help stabilize it, the boat easily pivots on the keel at the whims of the wind and each passing wave. I found that no amount of sail trim or different sail plans could counter the complete loss of a rudder.
So here I was 16 miles into the trip when my rudder snapped off at the lower pintle (and I do mean it snapped off completely) and disappeared in the rough sea. I rapidly dropped the jib and main and started the outboard. I briefly toyed with the idea of heading back for home and just drive up for the party (almost a two-hour car drive). But I decided that I wouldn't be able to get there in time, and by now I was deadset that I would not miss the party! At this time Oak Harbor was dead downwind from me. As I kept going, it became apparent that motoring against gale-force winds with only the outboard for steerage was all but an impossible task. At the crest of each wave the outboard would lose steerage and the boat would swing abeam to the wind and waves. I thought about going a mile to the south where I could anchor in a slightly sheltered area, but it looked like it would take me a couple of hours to travel that distance what with the boat pitching around so much. Each wave forced the bow hard over faster than my five-hp outboard could keep it on track. So, I turned the boat back to my original destination now 12 miles away. That also wasn't working too well. Each wave that caught the stern slightly askew would tend to turn the boat around until it was abeam to the wind. I was constantly turning 100 degrees or more to starboard then get it straightened out again followed by a turn 100 degrees to port. A small sea anchor might have been nice to drag from the stern—too but mine was sitting in my garage. I had to face it: the boat just doesn't steer well in rough sea and high wind without a rudder. I kept up this zigzag course until I reached the relatively sheltered waters inside Oak Harbor. Avoiding drifting logs and other junk was a real challenge too. I had to be real careful to not allow the boat to round up into floating debris. A holed hull would have ruined what could still be described at this point as "an otherwise great experience." Hey, after all I made it to the party. After the traditional eggnog, it was time to take a closer look at Slow Flight and evaluate what kind of damage I was up against. Upon inspection, the remaining top of the broken rudder revealed some rotten wood at the lower pintle. Apparently, what had caused this breakage was the fact that water had entered through the bolt holes and rotted the wood. This came as a surprise to me since I always keep my rudder in the cabin when I leave the boat after a weekend of sailing and the original owner always trailer sailed. This lead me to believe that my rudder had a dry core.
Our club's outgoing Commodore invited me over to his garage after the Christmas party and we fashioned a temporary rudder out of a 2" by 12" piece of fir. Still I decided not to motor home until the winds subsided below gale force. This was just Friday and we expected high winds through the weekend, so I gave in and had my wife pick me up at Oak Harbor. By then the barometer was reading 29.09 and was still falling. The harbor master said he had rarely seen it that low before. Of course, the winds really start increasing when the barometer starts climbing. That, I rationalized, was why I had decided not to motor home yet. When I finally did take the boat home, I took a look at the recorded statistics on my GPS. It indicated a maximum speed for the sailing part of the previous trip as 16.8 knots! I knew I was going fast, but I had no idea of just how fast. I was so busy maintaining course and trying to avoid an accidental gybe that I didn't take too many glances at the GPS readings. When the gusts hit, I just hung on and tried to keep the boat on course. Did I learn anything from my ordeal? You bet and if I have any advise to impart it would be to remember that when the going gets rough, the weak parts will break. So be ready to take action. As part of my lessons learned, I will now carry a spare rudder on board if I expect rough conditions or if I am leaving on a long trip. I might even add extra offset gudgeons for mounting the spare rudder in case the current gudgeons fail. My boat is well set up for singlehanding and in high winds I keep my lazy jacks hoisted to make reefing and striking sails easier. I also have a continuous loop combination jib halyard and downhaul so striking sails is quick and easy. I sure am glad that before I left the dock on that Friday I had all hatches and hatch boards in place and well secured. Plus, as always, I was wearing my life jacket and I was almost constantly tethered to the boat. I also had a handheld VHF in my foul-weather jacket pocket. I felt I was well prepared to stay out of serious trouble and at no time did I feel I needed to call for help. I noticed that the boat under bare poles and no rudder would ride abeam to the waves rather well, pretty much like being hove to. And I was still basically going the way I needed to go. If the motor had not been reliable, I would have rigged an oar for steering, but that was not necessary. One person asked (as I expected): "Gale-force winds and you decide to "sail" 28 miles to a Christmas party?! I don't know what you were thinking." Well, I was thinking: "Down wind all the way for a change!" My normal trip to Oak Harbor seems to always be either against the wind both ways or not enough wind to sail there in a reasonable time.
I do not regret this Christmas trip. I've been singlehanding in gale force a number of times including a 32-mile race against much larger and well crewed boats in which I won. Other times I have been caught many miles from home with storm systems moving through. Ducking home between storms has become routine and I occasionally get hit with more winds than previously. I feel it is the best way to learn how to handle the boat in those conditions. After all, if I only go out when the wind is below 20, I will never learn how to handle the higher conditions. I do flatten the sails and reef early when the wind is building. Sailing downwind in high winds is a lot easier than sailing upwind in the same conditions. Indeed, it really was relatively easy until the rudder broke. Then it was just a matter of letting the wind have its way with me. What could be more fun? A month later, at another club banquet and awards ceremony, I was awarded the not-so-coveted "Wrong Way Corrigan" trophy for this little ordeal. |
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