Docked
St. Georges Dinghy and Sports Club
Bermuda

November 11, 2002

Why do intelligent beings make bad decisions?

Hold that thought.  Let's look at what happened.

The first 48 hours of our trip from Newport to Bermuda were tranquil.  On Monday morning, a prediction for a significant low along our route was reaffirmed by several sources, including Herb Hilgenberg and David Jones.  Herb said the low would be about 976 millibars, with winds of 45 to 55 knots (60 to 70 miles per hour), and higher gusts.  Our professional weather router in Newport said that we could avoid some of the effects of the storm by first sailing southwest to Cape May, N.J., then turning east to Bermuda.  This route added a full day to the trip, but the gale would have long since passed Bermuda by our arrival time.

What to do?  What to do?  Do we postpone our trip more by turning into Cape May, probably staying there 48 hours, or do we ride the storm.  A consensus developed that we could handle gale force winds. Some of our crew had done it before without problems.  Chichi and I began to feel we "should do it," as a learning experience and challenge.  So, we turned to Bermuda, knowing that we could beat the storm across Gulf Stream, but that it would hit us on the other side.

Dear and patient reader, you know what is going to happen, what did happen, but I still need to tell you at least a few details.

Winds up to 59 knots.
Seas up to 40 feet
Every crew member disabled by motion sickness, one completely dysfunctional
36 hours of sleepless anxiety, inability to eat and to ingest liquids

And these effects on Pachamama

Tears in the main sail and the clew of the stay sail
A support bar for the bimini, dismounted, and thrown over the side
Tears and strains on the bimini
Bow running light fixture thrown from its mounting
Hand hold lines in the dinghy torn from the body
Broken shackles in the vang system and the preventer
Salt everywhere, as waves crashed over the bow, and from the side into the cockpit, with some water going below
False reading on the propane sensor, indicating a leak
Primary bilge pump failure as a belt came off, causing a loud alarm and continuous use of the secondary, high volume bilge pump

And the big one, that could have been disastrous

Early Thursday, after the worst, with relatively moderate winds of 25-30 k, the traveler broke free of its mounting to the deck, slammed to starboard about two feet, and somehow locked, with the main sheet loose,  but (God Bless!) wedged between the traveler, the deck and a shackle.  This left the boom swinging wildly, but not completely free.  Had the boom been completely fee, it could have swung in a 120 degree arc, from one side to the other, crashing into the primary supports for the entire rig, which are the shrouds.  In turn, this could have caused a dismasting.  But, it didn't.  John, on watch, shouted.  Dave ran to the helm, turned on the motor, quickly getting us on a more favorable tack.  John and Tim donned foul weather gear and safety harnesses, proceeded as carefully as possible to the mid deck in front of the dodger, and swung dock lines around the boom, rigged to cleats on each side.  We worked almost two hours securing the boom, and rechecking our work, while looking for collateral damage, and removing superfluous lines and equipment from the deck.

Dear and patient reader, take heart.  We are fine.  We did great.  We handled it.  We are proud.  Don't be discouraged about sailing.  Sailing is wonderful.  We have had more than 400 days of joy, mixed with three of hell.  That's a fair ratio, in all of life.  We had risk, but you do to.  You get in your car, and drive.  Almost every day, within a nile or two or your route, a serious accident takes place, caused by circumstances that could have affected you, but you were in a slightly different location.  It was not your turn.  In other words, you take risks similar to sailing risks every day, but you are in a protected environment.  You do not think about the risks.  In sailing, the risks are the same, but sailors think about risk all the time.  We are so intimate with our vehicle and the forces on it, that we are forced to think about risk all the time, and about the waves of life, the highs and the lows.  We declare to you, go sailing.  It will make you stronger and wiser.  You will learn how to avoid or reduce risk.  Why didn't we.  Here is our assessment:

The initial professional weather report was delivered in an auditorium to the crews of 18 boats, many professionally run with experienced crews.  The attitude projected was, "we have a significant weather event ahead, you can mitigate its effects by taking an additional day, and you do not want to sit here in Newport another week to be cold and bored."  We  bought the argument, because we wanted to be part of the group.  We wanted to arrive in Bermuda on the group's time schedule.  We did not evaluate the point of view of the forecaster, who felt she was talking to experienced professionals.  Then, on the second morning, we did not look carefully enough at the worsening forecast.  We did not evaluate the effects of 50 knots of wind, compared to 35 knots that had been experienced by two of our crew.  (The wind force effect is the square of its velocity.  A 1 knot wind gives 1 unit of force.  A 2 knot wind gives 4 units of force.  And so on.  Therefore, a 50 knot wind is hundreds of times more powerful than a 35 knot wind.)

In future circumstances, Chichi and I will not evaluate weather and other factors within a group.  We will not attend group weather forecast meetings.  We will judge in private, based on our experience and circumstances.  This is the best approach to sailing.  It is the best approach to life.

We hope to have completed repairs and cleaning by Wednesday, in time for a Thursday departure to St. Martin.  We will write a significant check for damage repair.  Most important, Pachamama will take care of us.  She road the storm, her integrity never in doubt.  Thank you "Mother Earth."  We will return to you.
 

41.17.490N
071.24.264W

Motor Sailing
Southwest of Newport

November 4, 2002

The official start of the 17 boat flotilla to Bermuda and to St. Martin commenced precisely at 12:10 p.m. at a line extending from Newport's Fort Adams to the "house on the rock" on Jamestown Island.  Our friends, Bill and Jane Sprague, were on the island, waving, and wishing us well on the VHF radio.  Bill and Jane introduced us to Newport three years ago, when we sailed with our family to Block Island and Martha's Vinyard. Also present was a photographer from "Cruising World" magazine that plans a story on our trip in its February issue.

The week past has been intense.  Preparing for an offshore passage, purchasing countless items, fixing this and that, filling up with fuel and water, and a thousand details, including repairing the port bow from two big gashes inflicted at the marina by an incompetent power boater.

We are not sailing a direct line to Bermuda.  A cold front is likely to pass over us, from west to east, on its way out to The Atlantic, and to The Gulf Stream.  When the front reaches The Stream, it will generate a north wind that clashes directly with the northbound Stream, producing chaotic waves and wind conditions.  By sailing south to Cape May, N.J., then east, we allow the front to pass, and we will enter The Stream in more favorable conditions, and for a shorter distance.  On the other side  of The Stream, the front will produce gale force winds near Bermuda, which should lay down by the time we get there, late Thursday or Friday.  Fortunately, we have no hurry, and we prefer the more comfortable conditions, though we expect some challenges no matter what.

Our professional crew, Dave Macy and Tim Parmentier, joined us Wednesday.  Dave is a production director with Cabo Rico Custom Yachts.  If you read our commentary several months ago about Noank, CT., you will remember that Dave is a wonderful resource. If he don't know it, it is not to know.  Dave both helped us make decisions during the building phase of Pachamama, and he has given advice, sometimes daily, ever since.

Dave and Tim are long-time friends who have sailed together and made deliveries together.  Tim is a graphic designer with J.P. Morgan Chase in Tampa.  He designs the graphics for all of the bank's internal web communications.

We have no wind of consequence at the moment.  So, we let the sails hang, and run the motor about 2000 rpm., to make almost 5 knots.  As the front nears, our winds will pick up, we will turn off the motor, and let her role.  Meanwhile, it is cold, 22 degrees last night.  We will handle the cold both with our Espar heater below, and perhaps as many as five layers of clothing when we are on watch.  The night watches will be the most difficult,  because of the cold, darkness, potentially changing conditions, and navigation outside New York harbor as we move toward Cape May.

We are part of a group of 17 boats organized by Hank Schmidt who runs Sail Opportunities (www.sailopo.com).  He does deliveries, organizes trips, and matches boats and crews.  If a person wants to crew, he/she fills out an information form.  If a boat needs crew, its master fills out a form.  In the wonderful world of matching forms, crews arrive at the boats, and all is well, unless it isn't, which happens once in a while when people do not get along.  (William F. Buckley writes about "the delicate social fabric of a boat.")  While we were able to arrange our crew, we would have used his program had we needed it.

Dave and Tim will teach us sail management, and other subjects.  Sail management is an art, hard to learn from texts.  The goal is to constantly get the most efficient power from the three sails we carry.  Sail shape and sail position both affect the result.

Moments ago, at 1530, our friends on Germania called to say hello. We met Joachim and Anna several months ago, near Cape May, and suggested that they join this rally.  Last week, they appeared, with big smiles and good hearts.  He was the Washington, D.C., television reporter for a German television network.  Twice each day, the 18 boats will check in with one another on a radio net.  We are comforted by the association with these boats, and with special friends within the group.