[Rhodes22-list] Outer Banks Adventure -- Day 5 of 5 -- Thefinal installment

[Mark Skapinker]

Rik,

Thanks for that titbit. I have often debated (with myself) on the worth
of dropping all sail or not.
It is these bits of info that I pick up from this list that makes it so
worthwhile.

Mark


-----Original Message-----
From: rhodes22-list-bounces at rhodes22.org
[mailto:rhodes22-list-bounces at rhodes22.org] On Behalf Of Rik Sandberg
Sent: Sunday, May 15, 2005 9:17 AM
To: The Rhodes 22 mail list
Subject: Re: [Rhodes22-list] Outer Banks Adventure -- Day 5 of 5 --
Thefinal installment

Bill,

What an excellent story. Good to hear you and sailing buddy came through
essentially unscathed.

Now I'm going to say something I have learned on days I have been out in
winds up to 40 knots, but I don't want you to think I'm pickin at you,
because I understand you were having trouble with your rudder and all.
But, for the next time it gets rough and the rudder is in one piece,
keep this in mind. I have found that our R-22 before as well as our
Flicka now, make lousy motor boats. Under motor alone, they roll around
in a chop something awful. When you leave enough sail up to keep your
boat loaded like it would be normally under sail, even though you are
essentially motoring, your boat will cut through those waves like she
was built for the job and all that rolling, just won't happen. She'll be
much easier to handle and a ton more comfortable.

I see so many folks out there that drop all sail and go to the motor
when the going gets a little rough. It's kind of a shame really, because
they come in all beat up with the idea that sailing in any wind is just
too hard. When in reality, had they reefed their sails a bit and then
fired up their motor, the day probably wouldn't have seemed all that
tough.

Just this last March we anchored out on KY Lake and woke up the next
morning to find cold, rain and the wind blowing the tops of the 3 foot
chop (25, gusting to 35). I put the first reef in the mains'l left the
jib rolled up and had a not necessarily pleasant, but relatively smooth
ride back to the marina under motor power simply by staying off the wind
enough to keep the mains'l full.

The only time I use the motor by itself anymore is if it's too calm for
the sails to do any good.

I hope Bill, that you will continue to write about your adventures as
they happen. You have a good way with words. :-)

Rik

-----Original Message-----
From: "William E. Wickman" <wewickman at duke-energy.com>
Sent: May 13, 2005 10:38 AM
To: rhodes22-list at rhodes22.org
Subject: [Rhodes22-list] Outer Banks Adventure -- Day 5 of 5 -- The
final	installment


Day 5:  The Long Trip Home,

After breakfast, I spent some time examining the rudder and trying to
figure out a way to reconnect the lower section.  I ultimately found
that the configuration we used the day before was still the best way to
go for the final leg back to Oriental.  Winds had shifted around to the
north so it looked like we would have the wind on the nose for most of
the morning as we made our way up West Bay, across the southern tip of
Pamlico Sound and back up the Neuse River.

Soon after setting out I realized that the north wind was not a good
thing.
There were a lot of miles of fetch for the waves to build.  The weather
forecast was better than the day before, but still called for small
craft advisories in Pamlico Sound until the early afternoon.  We would
soon get a taste of what small craft advisory means.

As we made our up West Bay, the winds built up again to 15-20 kts (maybe
more) but this time they were in our face or slightly off our starboard
bow.  The wind and 3-5 foot waves coming off of Pamlico Sound resulted
in the wettest wildest ride of the whole trip.  I thought the previous
day was bad, but these conditions were even more intense.  Again, the
close interval of waves was rough on the boat and crew (more so the
crew).  The boat would ride up over the crest of one wave and slam into
the trough before burying its bow completely into the next wave.  Water
would literally wash over the fore deck and up and over the cabin top.
The pop-top deflected most of the water, but some did make its way under
the pop-top and a little water splashed under the pop-top and up & over
the lip and into the cabin below.  It wasn?t a lot of water, just enough
to dampen the cushions a bit.  These were extreme conditions, but some
type of rubber gasket around the pop-top lip would have prevented any
water from entering the cabin at all.

The flared hulls once again did a good job of deflecting waves away from
the boat, but the high winds would catch the spray and arc it back over
the boat in a rooster tail of spray that would douse us and my beloved
chartbook.  It became difficult to see through my sailing glasses due to
the constant onslaught of spray.  I was really glad to have foul weather
gear.  It was the only thing that made the conditions the least bit
tolerable.  Sailing Buddy huddled in the cockpit over the GPS trying to
keep us moving towards the buoys, as water would wash over him.  He even
noted that this was all making him feel quite like a "salty sailor."

Note to file:  Always buy waterproof charts, and always carry foul
weather gear.

I now understand what Gordon Lightfoot meant in his ballad of the
sinking of the Edmond Fitzgerald where he sings, ?and the waves turned
the minutes to hours?.  It seemed like an eternity that we battled these
waves.  And to make matters worse, it began to rain, although the rain
was almost inconsequential with all the spray.

The final punctuation to this voyage was the loss of my GBI anchor.  The
extreme wave pounding at the bow had shaken my anchor loose from the
hanger mount on the bow pulpit.  First, the anchor was hanging from only
one hanger and pin at the bow.  A couple of minutes later, the entire
anchor disappeared.  I feared that it was dangling from the mounting pin
on the bow, banging mercilessly into the hull.  Sailing Buddy, feeling
like quite the seasoned seaman, volunteered to go to the bow and check
it out.  I didn?t have a jack-line, but Sailing Buddy tied off a safety
line before venturing forward.

Sailing Buddy had quite a time getting up there.  I would have laughed
out loud at the comical scene had I not been struggling with the tiller
and worrying about loosing the rest of my rudder.  He had quite a ride
as the bow plowed and buried into a wave, then lifted him completely off
the bow, his death grip on the bow pulpit the only thing connecting him
to the boat.
Sailing Buddy complained later that his bow ride did more damage to his
body than anything else the entire trip.  He was very happy to get back
into the cockpit.  For better or worse, the anchor had dropped off the
boat and was lost.  Better the anchor than Sailing Buddy.

Note to file:  Take your anchor off the bow pulpit if you expect rough
weather, or at the very least lash it down.

At last, at long last, we made the turn into the Neuse River and put the
waves on our stern.  The farther up the river we went, the calmer the
wind and waves became.  We were even escorted by a pod of dolphins for
awhile.
Life was good again, and we both settled into a feeling of relief and
satisfaction that we would indeed make it back to port intact and
without the need for assistance.

Finally, and three hours behind our target arrival time, we pulled (or
should I say limped) back into the port of Oriental.  It was 1 pm as I
jumped on the dock and brought the trailer down to the ramp.  At the
same time we were retrieving the Rhodes, a family was launching a West
Wight Potter.  I certainly hoped they were going to stay near port.
Turns out they ended up returning before we had finished de-rigging.

I will note here that an unsung hero of this trip was my outboard motor,
the 9.9hp Yamaha high thrust.  It never failed to start and run smoothly
and reliably despite a severely bent prop, and provided enough thrust to
power through severe head winds and chop with the throttle only 1/3 ?
1/2 open.  It was also very fuel efficient, sipping only a few gallons a
day.

By 3pm we were packed up and on the road back home.  It all seemed
surreal to be back on land with everyone going on about their ordinary
day to day activities.  We felt like we had just returned from an epic
voyage, having battled the elements just a few hours ago, and yet
everything on land was so calm and quiet.  The adventure was over.






Some Final Thoughts

I don?t know if it was bad luck that beset me because I removed the old
name from the hull of my Rhodes and have not renamed the boat yet, or if
it was good fortune that we were ultimately safe, uninjured, and the
boat relatively intact.  The trip could have gone better, but it most
certainly could have gone a lot worse.  You have probably heard this
before, but it is worth repeating.  One may complain about the cost of
equipment, but when you need it in a pinch, that anchor is worth tenfold
what you paid; that small nut or bolt is more valuable than its weight
in gold; that rain jacket is worth more than a mink coat; and the list
goes on.

You can read about it time and time again, but I personally think it is
good (at least for me) to experience first hand what 25kt winds are
like; what 2-3 ft seas are like relative to 4-6 ft. seas; what 2-5 ft
waves on the Pamlico Sound are like; what it is like to ride out a storm
at anchor.
Having done it, I know that when I am faced with these conditions  again
that I can handle them with confidence.  Knowing that the boat can
handle the conditions; that I have the proper equipment; and that I have
the experience and skills will make it more of an exiting adventure than
a fearful event.  And if I have my wife or kids or novice crew with me
when conditions turn bad, this experience will be all that more
important.

I have heard that some novice sailors (or guests on sailboats) swear off
sailing after one of the experiences like we had.  That is a sad thing
indeed.  It is my view that such experiences can in fact be exhilarating
if the skipper is prepared and knowledgeable about where the limits of
tolerance are for himself and his sailing guests.  Don?t be afraid to
push the envelope as you build upon your own sailing experiences, but be
ready and willing to pull back if you or your novice crew gets too far
outside their comfort level.  As Stan said, the boat will survive long
past the passengers? breaking point.

This experience also deepened my respect for the forces of Mother Nature
and gave me a greater appreciation for the frontier regions that sailing
can take us, even in coastal areas.  Venturing into parts unknown evokes
a real sense of excitement, but the sea is very unforgiving to those
that go unprepared.  Sailing Buddy is a high adventure guy that has been
near the top of Mt. Everest, but he was awed by the exposure one places
oneself when they venture into the ocean wilderness in a sailboat.  But
that is where the adventure in cruising lies.  There are very few things
we can do any more, or places we can go, where we can put our physical
and mental mettle to the test.  If well planned and prepared, such trips
make memories for a lifetime.

So I will close with one of my favorite quotes by Oliver Wendell Holmes.
I think it is self explanatory.

?I find the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, as
in what direction we are moving.  To reach the port of heaven, we must
sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it; but sail we must,
and not drift nor lie at anchor?


Fair Winds!!


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