Report from Skip, Part 1
Dear Friends and Loved Ones,
The following is an abbreviated excerpt from WILDFLOWER's Ship's Log. I will be glad to attempt to fill in details or answer any questions posted to this Forum thread. But this is the best I can do on short notice as I travel home by car from S.CAL.
On Saturday, 8/23, 10 days after leaving Hanalei, we were halfway home to Santa Cruz with 1190 miles to go. We had passed the Pacific High, and were running in the Westerlies at latitude 38-38 x longitude 147 -17. So far, the passage had been going well, my sixth return passage from Hawaii aboard WILDFLOWER. But an ominous note on the thrice daily weather fax charts was the notation “GALE” between our position and the Pacific Coast.
I began to plan for this possible gale by increasing latitude, slowing down, and closely monitoring projected GRIB files out to 144 hours. It appeared from all forecasts that we needed to slow down for at least 48 hours to let the gale ahead abate. However, it is against my instincts to slow a boat down, and so with difficulty I reefed the main and dropped the jib in 8 knots of wind, reducing speed to a sedate 3.5 knots in smooth seas.
On Wednesday, 8/27, the morning GRIB file showed the area of most wind ahead was between 124 and 128 degrees, with no weather abatement until at least Monday, 9/1 earliest. Dwight on NA NA, 450 miles ahead, had reported gusts of 42.5 knots from the north between latitude 127-128 and having to run off under storm jib 80 miles. NA NA reported 20 foot seas the previous night near 37 x 124-30. I hoped that WILDFLOWER, by being at the latitude 40 degrees, would allow us to run off 180 miles to the latitude of Santa Cruz, should conditions worsen.
On Friday, 8/29, at sunset near 40 x 130, conditions began to rapidly deteriorate. I changed to the #4 (75% short hoist) and storm staysail, dropping the main completely.
The following day, Saturday, 8/30, with Santa Cruz 365 miles on a bearing of 095 T, we were having to run off due south (180 T) in winds 30-35 knots. By 1530, the sail combination proved too much, and I dropped the #4, flying the storm staysail (39 sq.feet) and towing a 30” diameter metal hooped drogue. It was uncomfortable, windy, and rolly that night, with the cockpit filling about every five minutes, and the boat being knocked down to 70 degrees at least half a dozen times. WILDFLOWER's shallow cockpit and oversize drains allowed full drainage in about 90 seconds, and this was not a problem.
The electric Auto Helm 1000+ tiller pilot was doing an amazing job steering, as it was being continuously drenched, even submerged. The Sail-O-Mat windvane was useless preventing or correcting breaking wave induced broaches and I retracted its oar to avoid fouling the drogue rode.
On Sunday, 8/31, the wind was steady 30-35, w/ higher gusts and a confused wave train from the NW, N, and NE. At 0915 I winched in the drogue to change from a hi-tech spinny sheet to stretchy nylon anchor line. Unfortunately, I found the drogue had split, and was no longer effective. I deployed my spare drogue, but without a metal hoop, it would periodically collapse astern in a breaking crest.
At noon, it looked like the gale was lessening. I left the safety of the cabin, and with two safety harnesses affixed to the windward rail, began to hand steer eastward on a reach with the #4. It was mogul sailing at its best, having to radically bear away to avoid hissing 8-12' breaking crests on the top of 15-30 foot seas.
At sunset I again went below with the Auto Helm tiller pilot continuing to steer nicely under #4 jib. Not long after, the wind came on to blow from the NNW, and the seas began to build further. That night I stayed suited up below with full foulies, headlamp, and harness, ready to dash out the hatch and take the tiller if the autopilot failed, and we subsequently rounded up. In addition, I dropped the storm staysail, as we were running too fast at 6-9 knots. Under bare poles DDW, the speed was better at 5-7 knots.
What followed ultimately played into the following day's events. During the long night, my third in this particular gale, breaking crests would poop the boat about every five minutes, filling the cockpit and surging against the companionway hatch boards. Even though I had gone to lengths for many years to insure fire hose watertight integrity of the companionway hatch, I found the power of the breaking wave crests slamming the boat would cause water to forcefully spray around the edges of the hatchboards and into the cabin.
During the long wait for daylight, I had more than enough time to ponder what might happen if the autopilot was damaged or was washed off its mount. I had two spare tiller pilots. But it would take several minutes, exposed in the cockpit, on my knees, to hook up a replacement in the cockpit, on a dark night, when the boat was being periodically knocked down and the cockpit swept.
In addition, I pondered the fate of the DAISY that had been lost in this spring's Lightship Race, presumably crushed and sunk by a large breaking wave. I also reminded myself I was responsible for not only my own life, but was also a family care giver at home.
There was no doubt that if WILDFLOWER's tiller pilot was lost that we would round up and be at the mercy of these breaking waves, some of which I estimated to be in the vicinity of 25-35 feet, and as big as I hadn't seen since the '79 Fastnet Race storm on IMP.
The anxiety and stress of this night, with the whine of the wind in the rigging, the wave crests slamming into the hatch boards, and the 70 degree knockdowns that would launch me across the cabin, created serious doubts that we could continue this for another night, much less the 3-4 days the conditions were expected to continue.
The boat was fine, and had suffered no serious damage. My physical health was OK, but I could see with minimum sleep that my decision making could be beginning to be compromised
At 0715 the following morning, Monday, 9/1, I Sat phoned my long time sailing friend, ham radio contact, router, navigator and weatherman, Joe Buck in Redondo Beach. Joe and I had maintained 2x/day ham radio schedule since leaving Hanalei, and he had instant internet access to all forecast weather and wave charts. I explained the current situation to Joe: that I'd had a difficult night, and wasn't sure I could safely continue. Joe's weather info had the highest wind and wave overhead on my current drift southward continuing for at least another three days, with continuing gale force winds and 18-22' significant wave height.
I asked Joe for help in some difficult decision making I had to do. First, would he phone San Francisco Coast Guard Search and Rescue (SAR), and query what the protocol was for asking for assistance, all the while making sure the CG understood I was not in trouble and was not asking for help at this time. (Coast Guard NMC Pt. Reyes, Kodiak, and Hono were not answering my radio calls on their published 4, 6, 8, and 12 mg freks, both simplex and duplex.)
Joe called back an hour later (0830) on ham radio 40 meters and said that Lt. Saxon at SAR reported no military assets within 200 miles or 20 hours, that WILDFLOWER was 200 miles beyond helo range, but that there was an inbound container ship TORONTO coming in my direction at an undetermined distance.
Joe helped me to understand if the boat were lost, I would likely be lost also. But if that I left WILDFLOWER in advance, that only the boat would be lost. I told Joe of my hesitation of putting my life in the hands of a possibly foreign crew on a big commercial ship during a transfer off WILDFLOWER in these conditions, especially at night. We agreed that a decision had to be arrived at soon, before 1130, and before TORONTO passed by.
I spent the next hour, sitting on the cabin sole on my life raft, debating whether to ask for assistance in leaving my beloved WILDFLOWER. “FLEUR” was my home, consort, and magic carpet that I had built 34 years ago. I cried, pounded my fist, looked out through the hatch numerous times at the passing wave mountains, remembered all the good times I had shared with WILDFLOWER. And came to a decision.
At 1115 I called Joe back and told him to again call Lt. Saxon at SAR and inform her that I was asking for assistance. Joe called back and informed me that TORONTO was 5-6 hours away, and that SAR needed to hear from me directly as to my request.
At 1200, like a gopher popping out of its hole, I slid the hatch open to get a clear Satphone signal, and called SAR. Lt. Saxon already knew my details and position, and only asked “What are you requesting?” I replied, “I am asking for assistance to be removed from my boat.”
We kept the conversation short and to the point, due to my exposure topsides with the Satphone. She said the MSC TORONTO would be requested to divert, that I was NOT to trigger the EPIRB, but that I was to take the EPIRB with me when I left WILDFLOWER. Contrary to published reports, at no time did I call “PAN PAN,” and no com schedule was kept with the Coast Guard, although I did check in with Joe every 30 minutes on ham radio.
Lt. Saxon also said that if I left my boat, she would be considered “derelict” and a hazard to navigation. I assured her I would not leave my boat floating or derelict.
Continued...........
