• Successful And Unsuccessful Passages

  • The Three Ps

  • The Self-Reliant Skipper

  • A Couple As A Team

  • Setting Safe Goals For A Safe Cruise


"We had a wonderful trip. Dolphins. Moonlight. Fair winds."

Or.

"You wouldn't believe the weather. Forty knots. On the nose. Waves as tall as your house. Everyone sick. The boat a mess."

It can be the best of times. Or it can be the worst of times. Every sailing voyage seems to be an either-or experience. Almost never do you hear a bland report. The difference between a successful sailing trip and one that is unsuccessful whether a passage of 20 miles or 2,000 miles is the human factor. We, as skipper and crew, have either prepared ourselves, our boat and our crew for the sail ahead, or we haven't. The human factor is what safe sailing is all about.

My own first transoceanic cruise was aboard the Little Harbor 50 Adele, owned and skippered by Richard "Bunny" Burnes. Adele was design by Ted Hood to be a competitive CCA racer in the l960s. She is a wholesome boat, with plenty of displacement, a manageable yawl/ketch rig a powerful engine and the easy lines of a true offshore passage maker. Her skipper was and is an excellent seaman, with many trans-Atlantic passages under his belt, as well as numerous Bermuda Races and sojourns to the Caribbean.

With a crew of seven adults, we departed Lisbon, Portugal for a leisurely delivery trip to the Caribbean. We sailed quickly in the prevailing northerly south to Madeira and after a short stay, set off for the Canary Islands. A few items of gear, including the diesel auxiliary, gave us trouble on the first leg of the trip. But, with the ample spares aboard and a little ingenuity, we were able to repair all that broke and able to carry on without pause.

The trip south to the Canary Islands should have been a sleigh ride. It wasn't. We met a stiff southerly wind and a lumpy sea that had us all green behind the ears. As we slogged on, Bunny kept spirits high with good humor, and by teaching those who had the stomach for it the art of taking a celestial sight. We arrived at Las Palmas, Grand Canary, battered, but hardly bowed. We were becoming a crew, which is so much more than a simple assemblage of bodies brought together to sail a boat. No one was reluctant to make landfall. But we had tasted a small victory in our passage south, so we were all eager to get ready for the longer passage that would take us across the ocean to Barbados.

On a blazing hot November morning we hauled in the anchor in the small harbor at the island of Gomera and set sail south and west, bound for the trade winds and following on the trail Columbus had blazed some 480 years before. It is a passage made by hundreds of boats every year. But, the first time, it can have a magical aspect, for crossing an ocean takes you away from the world and binds you for a time with a small band of sailors who share your common purpose. Our landfall in Barbados 17 days later came up right on schedule, a beautiful sight after so long at sea. A beautiful sight, as well, because we had sailed nearly 3,000 miles without serious incident, without gear breakdowns, without conflict in the crew. It was a thrilling accomplishment for those on board who were making their first ocean crossing. It was an exhilarating, but somewhat routine experience for those who had sailed this way before.

That was how it was aboard Adele. Teamwork among all the crew and clear communication from the skipper. The shipboard routine was orderly, pleasant but firm. Above all, Adele was prepared for the task at hand. She carried the safety equipment we might need in case of a man-overboard crisis; she had aboard the sails we would need for every wind and weather condition; her shipboard systems had been set up for passage making and had been checked and rechecked prior to departure; she caried spare parts for just about evrythinmg on board; and, the crew was well versed in the basics of boat handling, seamanship and maintenance. Adele was a self-sufficient, ocean-sailing boat. Which is a tribute to her owner and skipper who had taken the care to prepare himself, his boat and his crew for the task at hand. Such is the formula for successful cruising.

Or, things can go dreadfully wrong.

Not everyone who sets out for a cruise and it need not be across an ocean takes the trouble to follow the lead of experienced offshore sailors. The failure to do so, either because of inexperience or carelessness, can result in an unhappy ending, even disaster.

A dramatic example of a cruise gone bad was highly publicized during the summer of l989 a disaster that became a cover story on the August 21 edition of People magazine, which is hardly the place you expect to find a sailing story. It is a paradigm of poor planning, poor preparation and poor seamanship. The tale was told to reporters by the survivor, Janet Culver. We will never know the other side of the story because her friend and the skipper on the cruise, Nick Abbott, Jr., did not survive. His failure to bring the 37-foot sloop home safely ended in his own demise.

Janet Culver joined her boyfriend Nick Abbott in St. George's, Bermuda in June, planning to sail with him on the 650-mile passage to Greenport, New York. It was the right time of the year for the trip, too early for a threat from hurricanes, too late for a serious northerly gale to hit them during the Gulf Stream crossing. The 37-foot sloop, Anaulis, had done some ocean sailing and was equipped with electronics and an autopilot, although the autopilot was not working. In fact, one of the reasons Nick had invited Janet to accompany him was the simple need aboard for another helmsperson. Janet didn't realize until several days later that the broken autopilot was symptom of the general condition of Anaulis.

The couple set off on a perfect day and at once started making miles for New York. But, not having a short wave radio aboard and having failed to contact local meteorologists for a forecast, Nick was surprised the first night out to find they had sailed directly into a passing tropical depression. Three days of rough weather, rain, wind and lumpy seas followed, during which Janet suffered from seasickness that kept her in her berth while off watch. Nick began to suffer as well, although not from sea sickness. He gradually became morose and dissatisfied with the condition of his crew. According to Janet, Nick became increasingly demeaning and critical of his partner on the cruise.

On the night of their fourth day out of Bermuda, they sailed into the back side of the passing depression and once again had strong winds and rain. Choosing to heave to for the night, Nick tried to shorten sail. Yet his efforts were interrupted when he discovered a loose sheet tangled in the propeller. At this point, fearing the loss of the auxiliary, Nick panicked. In Janet's account, she says he knew he could only run the engine in neutral, yet somehow managed to start the auxiliary in gear. Quickly shutting the engine down, Nick tried to shift the transmission into neutral and once again started the engine. Somehow, he had left the engine in gear. The propeller bound on the sheet, the torque of the engine bent the shaft and as it did, the shaft tore a huge whole out of the boat where the stuffing box had been fiberglass in place.

What had started as a routine problem, one that could have been sorted out when the weather calmed down, had turned into a survival situation.

Anaulis began to sink quickly. Nick and Janet had no choice but to abandon ship. Yet they had no life raft. Their only hope was their inflatable dinghy. Having failed to prepare an abandon ship kit, Nick and Janet hurriedly gathered food and other items from around the boat and desperately tried to load it into the dinghy. They managed to bring along fishing gear, some food in the refrigerator and Nick's sextant. Yet, in their panicked exit from Anaulis, they only managed to bring with them half a gallon of fresh water and no canned food.

Within minutes they were in the raft, they pushed off and watched the sinking hull drift away into the darkness. They were alone on the open sea, without the cover of a life raft, without much fresh water, without an EPIRB, without having sent a Mayday signal on the radio and without much hope of rescue. It was a desperate situation.

Without water and shelter, Janet and Nick's health deteriorated rapidly. As they became weaker, they also began to lose their will to save themselves. On the ninth day, having become despondent, Nick Abbott stripped off his clothing, said goodbye to Janet and swam away. He did not get far before he sank exhausted beneath the waves. As Janet said later, Nick blamed himself for their predicament and could not reconcile himself with such a failure.

For four more days, Janet lay in the raft, gradually starving to death and withering under the heat of the summer sun. On the fourteen day, just after a small fish had flopped into the dinghy giving her an ounce of hope, Janet saw a sail passing a few hundred yards away. She desperately waved an orange life jacket, which miraculously the crew of the sailboat saw. An hour later, Janet was aboard the school vessel Geronimo in the capable hands of her skipper Stephen Connett. Luck and endurance had brought her through.

Looking at the tale of the loss of Anaulis, at the death of Nick Abbott and miraculous rescue of Janet Culver, one has to conclude that the voyage was an accident waiting to happen. The list of what Abbott and Culver did wrong could be long. To highlight a few main points, however, it is fair to say that Anaulis left Bermuda ill prepared for the 700-mile passage to New York. The trip was a delivery, so skipper Abbott was not prepared to buy expensive gear, such as a life raft, an EPIRB and a short wave receiver which most offshore sailors consider vital elements of safety equipment. While the skipper was experienced, he set out with a sole crew member who was green and had little sailing experience. Seasickness, so often the bane of offshore sailing, took its toll by keeping Janet in her berth, thereby taxing Nick's strength and patience. No doubt the basic boat handling mistake that led to the holing of Anaulis's hull stemmed in large part from Nick's exhaustion.

By setting off without a forecast, Nick and Janet opened themselves up to needless hardship. The tropical depression they had to endure for three days would have been readily predicted and plotted by Bermuda meteorologists, by the high seas broadcasts from Miami, New York or Portsmouth, Virginia. Failing to carry a short wave receiver led directly to the ultimate distaster. Lastly, the attitudes of both the skipper and the crew played important roles in the unhappy end to the story. We have only Janet's account upon which to base our hindsight, yet the facts of the story lead one to believe that she was unprepared for the rigors of a storm at sea and once she found herself in a storm withdrew to the point of being unable to contribute to the success of the passage. Nick, who had a lot of sailing experience, started the voyage casually and in good spirits. As the weather declined he became increasingly edgy, critical of his crew's behavior and erratic. Once in the dinghy, having lost Anaulis, he gradually lost hope and the will to survive. His deluded decision to swim away from the dinghy, away from Janet and his own failure as a skipper, must have seemed his only option.

In the two vastly difference experiences Adele's transatlantic crossing and the loss of Anaulis we have examples of the best and the worst of cruising under sail. The difference in the passages is not in the boats. Both were capable ocean sailing vessels. The difference lies in the different attitude of the skippers and they methods they used to prepare for the tests of the sea. The human factor is the most important ingredient in safe sailing. Taking the time to make considered and informed choices on how to get ready for a time on the sea will most often lead to a pleasant and satisfying result. Keeping a cool head when bad weather and gear problems hit, as they occasionally will, leads to thoughtful decisions, workable contingency plans and, most often, a safe conclusion. Failing to prepare both boat and crew with care, taking lightly the awesome power of the sea can lead to disaster. Succumbing to exhaustion and panic, failing to have workable contingency plans and failing to carry the gear an emergency might require, can led to human errors that compound until a situation becomes dangerous.

The human factor: Our attitudes toward sailing and the sea make all the difference between safe sailing and unsafe sailing.

The Three Ps

When you are beginning the process of getting yourself, your boat and your family and crew ready for coastal and offshore cruising, the Three Ps should be the cornerstones of that process. The Three Ps are: Planning, Preparation and Practice.

Seamanship, the art every sailor strives for and spends a lifetime perfecting, is largely made up of these three fundamentals. The pages and chapters of this book will strive to illuminate the nature of seamanship as it applies to safety on the water. Most of the material will deal with techniques and technical information. Yet, the human factor, the most critical factor, must deal with attitudes, questions and points of view. The Three Ps are the keys to building the point of view of an experienced seaman.

Planning:

To lay useful and workable plans for coastal or offshore cruising, a sailor must know something about himself and about the type of sailing he will be doing. Will you sail at night and in the fog? Will you be forced by shoreside schedules to rush home on Sunday night no matter the weather? Will you cruise in cool seasons? Or in the tropics? By answering these and many more questions like them, you can paint a portrait of the type of planning you need to do. Most important in the planning process is defining the areas you'll be sailing in and the crew that will be on board.

What follows is a list of categories and questions that should be considered when planning to spend time on the open water:

Skipper's Experience: What does he know and what does he need to learn more about?
Boat Type:

Does the boat require a large crew, or can it be sailed shorthanded? Does it require complex equipment, hence many spare parts? Can it beat to windward in strong breezes? Can it heave to? Sailing Grounds: Will you be sailing close to home and close to safe harbors? Will you sailing offshore? Will you be living aboard? Will it be cold or warm? Will the waters be deep or shallow, and how will that be affected by the depth of your keel?

Crew:

Can the crew sail the boat without the skipper? Are crew members specialized in any aspect of sailing such as navigation, engine maintenance, radio communications? Will there be crew aboard with special needs, such as children or older people?

Boat Handling: Can sails be shortened quickly and easily? Does the crew know standard procedures, particularly the man-overboard drill? Does the boat carry appropriate anchor tackle that can be deployed quickly and easily?

Safety Equipment: Does the boat carry required Coast Guard safety gear? Has safety gear been purchased and installed with thought given to its use in an emergency? Can each crew member deploy each item of safety gear? Has gear been upgraded to the highest standards?

The planning that goes into setting up a boat and it's crew for sailing on open waters involves all of the above and much more. It would be impossible to list all categories and questions a skipper should address when planning for safe sailing. Yet, the above list highlights the essentials.

Preparation:

The preparation of a boat for open water sailing, for longer coastal cruises and offshore passages, is the most import aspect of the envisioned sailing experience. Planning, as outlined above, will open a skipper's mind to the many tasks that lie ahead. But, it is in the actual preparation of the boat that the seeds of a successful time on the water are sewn. As we saw in the case of Nick Abbott and Anaulis, the failure to complete even the most fundamental preparations can, on rare occasions, lead to disaster.

The preparation of a boat can take as long as you have time to spend on it and it can cost as much as you have to spend. Ultimate preparations are never done. It is important then to know, at the outset, that there will be limits, both from a time and a financial point of view. These limits have stirred many sailors to choose small cruising boats that can be made seaworthy with a minimum of time and a reasonably small amount of money. The idea is to go sailing, not spend all summer, and all next summer, getting ready to go. Too often, the choice of a large boat with complex systems, heavy and complicated rigs, vast accommodations, leads to a lengthy and frustrating period of preparations.

The trick is to draw a balance. A boat should be large enough to handle the types of seas you may face and should have accommodations for the crew. But, a boat should not exceed an owner's ability to maintain it and pay for it. If it does, plans to go cruising will fade as enthusiasm is swallowed by projects.

With that in mind, what follows is a list of categories and questions on the basics of preparing a vessel for time on the water.

The skipper:

Has he sailed enough to be competent in a variety of situations? Or, should he prepare himself by attending a sailing schools or by sailing with others who have more experience? Is he well organized? Does he savor the responsibility of being skipper?

The Hull:

Is the hull sound? Is the hull/deck joint watertight? Are ports and hatches watertight? Do through-hulls have appropriate sea cocks that work? Are the rudder and steering systems sound and in good working order? Have adequate pumps been installed? The Deck: Is the deck laid out for safe sailing? Are sufficient hand-holds provided? Can safety harnesses be clipped on quickly and easily? Is the crew protected from spray, rain and wind? Are sheets and halyards led so sails can be handled efficiently and safely? Is deck hardware strong enough and well enough installed to function well in poor weather? Can gear carried on deck be lashed down? Are the anchors and rodes handy, yet well secured? Does the cockpit have scuppers large enough to drain the away a boarding wave?

The Rig:

Is the mast set up straight? Is the standing rigging strong enough to with stand the expected strains? Are the halyards led properly and of sufficient strength? Are the spreaders set up properly? Can the boom be controlled by a traveler, vang or preventer? Is the boom's gooseneck robust and in good repair?. Is the mast stepped on deck? Is it stepped on the keel? Are the partners where the mast passes through the deck snug and water tight?

Down Below:

Are sufficient hand holds provided? Can the galley be used when the boat is hard on the wind and heeled over? Are berths set up so the crew can rest or sleep in warmth and dryness? Can the navigator work with charts and navigation equipment uninterrupted? Are essential stores, such as food, spare parts and dry clothing well organized and easily accessible?

Engineering: Is an operating auxiliary engine essential to the running of the vessel? Has it and the battery charging system been thoroughly serviced? Is battery capacity adequate to the current drains of lights, electronics and other systems, such as refrigeration? Are there back-up systems for bilge pumps, fresh water pumps and cabin lighting? Are engine systems and the hatches covering them secured against a knock-down and possible inversion of the hull?

Electronics and Navigation: Are basic electronics serviceable? Can the onboard systems provide basic information, such as depth, speed, miles logged to navigate by dead reckoning in poor weather? Are mechanical back-up systems available should electronics fail? Have the compasses been swung? Is the crew capable of both electronic navigation and traditional piloting? Is celestial navigation part of the navigation plan?

As in the discussion of planning for safe sailing, the above lists do not cover every aspect of the preparations that must be considered prior to sailing any significant distance. However, the questions asked and the answers provided by those engaged in preparing a boat will add up to a well founded vessel, a prepared and vigilant crew and an attitude aboard that is prepared to meet the challenges of the sea.

Practice:

No aspect of seamanship and safe sailing is more often preached by the pundits and so seldom employed as the third of the Three Ps. With the best laid plans in hand, with a well found and fitted out boat, most sailors set out to gain their experience on the job. The essential time spent practicing shipboard routines, while close to home and in calm waters, is all too often omitted from the sailing schedule.

This is understandable. Sailing and long distance cruising usually must be undertaken in the few precious hours and days wedged between the more serious business of work and home life. To have just a few days or weeks to enjoy a boat and a vacation, most of us choose not to sacrifice a portion of that time practicing the routines and drills for which the boat and its systems have been prepared. The skipper, who often has the most experience and the least need for practice, should realize that a few hours spent with the crew practicing will accomplish several desirable things at once.

Practicing on board routines will serve to inform crew members of the whereabouts of essential gear, so that gear can be found under stress and possibly in darkness. Practicing will bring to the fore ommisions in planning and preparation that may have been overlooked or deemed nonessential. Practicing will help all the crew to understand the skipper's standards of safety and seamanship. And, importantly, practicing will bind a crew together at the outset of a time spent on the water instead of during the trip or after.

The aspects of sailing that should be practiced with all the crew onboard will obviously be those pertaining to emergencies. Yet, there are other routines, such as sail handling, meal preparation, radio communications and navigation that should also be included on the list of items to practice prior to setting out for parts unknown.

Below is a list of categories and questions that may be useful when thinking about what should be practiced with the crew and how to go about spending time practicing.

Sail Handling:

Do all crew members know how sheets and halyards are led? Who can tie in reefs and shorten sail? How will the foredeck be covered? Are storm sails aboard and easily accessible? Does the crew know how to set storm canvass? What is the sail shortening sequence? How will the boat be rigged when hove to?

Man Overboard:

Is the man overboard gear accessible and easily deployed? Does each crew member know his or her job during a man overboard emergency? Who will be in charge should the skipper be in the water? Is the pick-up maneuver clear to everyone? Can an injured crew be hoisted aboard quickly?

Fire:

Are flammable fuels stored below decks? Does the crew know where fire extinguishers and other fire fighting gear is stored? Does everyone aboard know how to use the equipment? How will crew below exit the cabin in an emergency?

Collisions:

Does the crew know the rules of the road? Can each crew member anticipate a collision situation in time to make a course correction? Is the crew familiar with the running lights of commercial vessels?

Water In The Boat:

Do all crew members know the location of sea cocks and pumps? Does each crew member know his or her job when flooding becomes an emergency? Are pumps onboard adequate to handle rapid flooding? Can the engine be use to discharge water? Have provisions been made to repair a broken through-hull or patch a hole in the hull?
Abandon Ship:

Is a life raft and abandon ship kit accessible and easily deployed? Has survival in a raft or in a dinghy been planned for and adequately prepared for? Does everyone know how to deploy survival gear? Have radio procedures been established?

Practicing the routines for dealing with emergencies can be a sobering experience for all on board, if only because it forces the crew to contemplate the worst that can happen while sailing. Practicing should be serious business. But to make those hours of practice truly worthwhile, it is important that the skipper and crew work to make the routines both fun and engaging. Should an emergency arise, teamwork, an attitude of competence and cool headedness will serve all the crew well, while confusion and panic will only compound a deteriorating situation.

The Three Ps provide a foundation for seamanship. Out on the open water, the pleasures of sailing unfettered by shore side constraints depends in large part on the thoroughness of the planning, the attention to details during preparations and the practiced competence of those sailing together.

The Self-Reliant Skipper

In June, 1985, a young woman aged 18 sailed her 26-foot sloop Varuna into St. George's Bermuda. She was alone and had just completed a harrowing but successful trip from New York. It was to be the first leg of a cruise that would take her around the world over the next two and a half years.

Tania Aebi, whose story has been widely read in the pages of Cruising World magazine and in her book Maiden Voyage, set out as wet behind the ears as any novice skipper. She had sailed some 6,000 miles offshore with her father on a voyage from England to the Caribbean and the home to New York. But, the trip to Bermuda was her first in command and her first sailing solo.

Something happened to Tania during that first leg of her circumnavigation. She evolved from a knee-knocking girl into a competent offshore skipper. She likes to tell the story of her first day in Bermuda. After rushing ashore to call home to let family and friends know that she had arrived safely, she found herself in a quay side restaurant and bar frequented by the transient sailors in St. George's. She was still just the 18-year old who had left New York. She still looked even younger than her age. But, the men at the bar, who all had all sailed in from distant ports, didn't see her that way. They spoke to her as an adult. They listened to her as an adult. She wasn't, in their eyes, a dewy eyed kid, she was one of them.

Tania's first offshore passage was no model of seamanship. But, she had mastered her boat, had puzzled through her navigation and had made a safe landfall after 700 miles. She had new good reasons to trust her own judgment and competence. She had become self-reliant and the others in the bar that day in Bermuda knew it. And, she knew it.

Most sailors don't head off to sea alone, nor do they tackle such ambitious adventures. Yet, every sailor who skippers his or her own vessel, should strive to become self reliant. It should be an attitude as well as a fact. Sailing with a skipper who doesn't have confidence in himself or in his ship is a tortuous experience and a fundementaly unsafe one. If doubt and indecision rule, then neither the skipper nor the crew will be able to enjoy the time on the water. Without clear standards of seamanship and an orderly sailing routine, small incidents can quickly become emergencies and emergencies can develop into unmanageable disasters.

Experience is the best teacher of self reliance. No book can hope to instill confidence and competence by providing instruction and passing along experience second hand. But, for those who will be skippering their own vessels, there are some attitudes that may prove useful and some models of seamanship it may be wise to emulate.

Miles and Beryl Smeeton, who sailed their 42-foot ketch Tzu Hang all over the world in the l950s and 60s, were often asked why they chose not to carry a short wave transceiver aboard. They sailed to the far corners of the globe, south to Cape Horn and north to the Aluetian Islands. Yet, as Miles said, he and his wife and their daughter chose to seek out a life at sea and chose to sail far from the beaten track. They carried no radio because they did not wish to rely on the goodness of others to bail them out of a situation of their own making. Also, they did not wish others to risk and possibly lose their lives attempting to rescue amateur sailors who went to sea for pleasure.

In our day and age, sailing without radio equipment is more of an extreme position to take than it was twenty years ago. The world is buzzing with communications that can prove extremely useful to sailors. Singleside band trasnceivers and emergency position indicating beacons (EPIRBs) have their place on any ocean going vessel. The question is not whether to carry radios, but when and how to use them.

The choice depends upon a skipper's sense of self reliance.

The fundamental attitude, shared by most veteran seaman, is that if you call for help a Mayday then you must abandon your fate to your rescuers, if and when they arrive. This attitude is a starting point for developing the whole range of attitudes that mark the experienced skipper, the man or woman with sea time and the right resolute sense of responsibility. In l980, Lloyd Bergeson found himself on the threshold of a decision that would mark the difference between an amateur and a seaman. He had sailed his classic New York 30 across the Atlantic from Massachusetts to his family homeland in Norway the summer before. The trip, long dreamed of and planned for, had been successful. His boat, Cockatoo II, had acquitted herself well, the transatlantic passage went off without a hitch and the summer season of cruising Norway had been wonderful.

What remained, in that next summer, was the return trip home to the United States. Bergeson was an experienced skipper. A member of the Cruising Club of America, he had sailed in numerous offshore races and had cruised extensively along the East Coast from New York to Nova Scotia. He had learned seamanship in the old school and was meticulous about boat care, boat handling and on-the-water vigilance. He epitomized the qualities of The Tree Ps.

It was with a great deal of distress, then, that several days out from England on his way home taking the Northern route across the Atlantic Bergeson discovered Cockatoo II leaking badly. The old wood one-design that had been his companion over many summer seasons of cruising and racing was breaking down under the strain of high latitude sailing. The vessel that had carried Bergeson to the homeland of his father and grandfather was going to sink.

Bergeson did what every experienced skipper would do. He bore away from the wind to ease the strain on the old hull. He studied the problem and sought a way to stop the leaks. He pumped and his son, his only crew, pumped. Convinced that he would be putting his son's life and his own in jeopardy by sailing unassisted back to England, Bergeson took what was for him a drastic step. He switched on his EPIRB.

Close to the North Atlantic shipping lanes and under the flight paths of the New York to Heathrow air traffic, the EPIRB's bleat was picked up quickly and within a matter of hours a ship had found Cockatoo II and hove to to windward of her. Bergeson knew what he had to do. But he had doubts, as any man would. Running downwind toward England, the old boat had settled down and the leak was not completely unmanageable, which meant Bergeson and his son were still pumping thirty minutes of every hour. They possibly could make it on their own to a safe harbor. Or possibly not.

Bergeson's decision to abandon Cockatoo II and accept the assistance of the ship was one of the hardest of his life. Despite a glimmer of hope that he might be able to save his much loved boat, he knew that setting off his EPIRB was an irrevocable act. He had called Mayday. It is the ultimate call. Once answered, he knew he could not refuse the help tendered to him. To do so would not only be an insult to the ship's captain, it would violate the traditional trust of sailors assisting one another on the high seas.

Broken and sinking, Cockatoo II was left to end her days under the waves of the North Atlantic. In her demise, and in the story of the last hours aboard her, Lloyd Bergeson provided those who read his stories and those who know him a stern lesson of what self reliance on the high seas can and should mean.

At sea, your life is in your own hands. Should you ever have to use the worldwide network SarSat, Cospas or Amver you sign off as the master of your own ship and place your fate into the hands of your rescuers. Losing a wonderful boat is a terrible sacrifice. For a proud and capable seaman, losing one's own self reliance can be an even worse blow.

The self-reliant skipper rarely faces the ultimate decision of calling for help with a Mayday or EPIRB call. More often, as skipper of your own boat, you will be faced with breakages that can dampen a passage, and if ignored, possibly end it. Attrition on gear and on shipboard systems may be the single greatest hazard confronting those who set off to fend for themselves on the sea.

The problem of breakages is not the sole province of offshore sailors. Modern cruising boats are complex machines, requiring a master who can not only wield parallel rules and a sail maker's palm, but must also have an idea of how electrical systems work, what makes a diesel stop and go, and how a diaphragm pump looks when disassembled and, importantly, what it should look like when reassembled.

Coastal sailor or blue water man, the modern self-reliant skipper must be a handy fellow. Unless you are prepared to stop at every available boatyard with your credit card pinned to your breast pocket, then it is important to adopt the attitude that if you can't fix it, you must be able to carry on without it. A simple statement that carries a vast amount of responsibility with it.

In the winter of l986-87, Richard McBride faced a breakdown that could, if things were not set right, lead to a very serious survival situation. McBride, a New Zealander, had sailed in the first BOC Challenge Singlehanded Around The World Race. He had finished, which was a victory in itself, and had overcome being stranded on the Falkland Islands after rounding Cape Horn. But, in the winter of l986, he was on another mission, a delivery trip from Newport, Rhode Island, to New Zealand, via Panama, as skipper of the 50-foot Whitbread boat Outward Bound.

The boat was a high-powered offshore racing machine that had won its class in the l985-86 Whitbread Around The World Race. She had been built and driven by New Zealander Digby Taylor. But, McBride was to be her skipper for the 12,000-mile journey home. All went well for the first leg of the trip, from Newport to Panama, but on the second leg, across the South Pacific, something went wrong. In a black squall, riding down on them in the trade winds, Outward Bound's tired rigging gave way and the mast came down.

Two thousand miles from home, McBride had two choices. He could press a button and summon help from the world-wide search and rescue network, or he could patch up things and sail on. Knowing that search and rescue coverage in the South Pacific is spotty at best, and being handy with his hands and tools, McBride did not have to consider long which course he would take. He and his crew would build a jury-rigged spar and sail home under their own power.

When Outward Bound had been fitted out for the Whitbread Race, Digby Taylor had brought aboard spares to meet virtually any contingency the race would offer. McBride now put those spares to good use. Simple items such a bulldog clamps, a pop riveting gun, spare halyards, turnbuckles and shrouds, a sail maker's kit, and a full tool kit, enabled the crew to scavenge the broken spar and rig a stable replacement. It took McBride and his crew three days days spent drifting and rolling miserably in the trade winds to rerig Outward Bound. But when the job was done, it had been done well.

When they set their cut down sails and started Outward Bound sailing again, they had 2,000 miles of sailing ahead of them. The progress they made, under jury rig, would be the envy of any cruising boat. Some 15 days later, having averaged better than 6 knots for the passage, Outward Bound sailed into Auckland. As the local fleet of boats came out to meet her the Whitbread class winner and the disabled passagmaker all were astounded to find her screaming up Hairaki Gulf at eight knots. Her crew was rested and well. Despite her truncated rig, she looked shipshape. What could have been an ignominious return was instead a triumph.

The right spare parts aboard, a full tool kit, able hands, a willingness to tackle a problem and solve it in a seamanlike way planning, preparation and practice that is what the return of Outward Bound was all about. Her skipper knew what he had to do to make a success of a broken passage and he did it. He was self reliant.

Self reliance is a goal of many skippers. It is the mark of those with sea time and those with a gift for the sea. To sail safely, no matter where the course is set, the master of the vessel has to be the master of the situation. To summarize the experiences related in this section the following list may be helpful.

  • To arrive safely and to lead those who sail with you, you need to trust your instincts, trust your navigation and trust those who sail with you.

  • You don't have to know everything before you set sail. You do have to be willing to learn everything.

  • Small problems aboard must be dealt with quickly, otherwise they soon become large problems and large problems rapidly become disasters.

  • We sail for pleasure and adventure, so we have no automatic right to be saved from out own mistakes.

  • A call for help a Mayday or EPIRB alert must be real for it is irrevocable.

  • A Mayday or EPIRB alert informs all who hear it that you are eagerly prepared to abandon your own boat in favor of the rescuers.

  • You have to be handy enough and well prepared enough to repair broken gear. Or, you must be prepared to carry on without it.

  • The gear on board vital to your survival must be the gear you can mend yourself.


A Couple Is A Team

A majority of those who set out sailing do so as couples or families. Yet, often, the push to take up sailing and cruising belongs to the man in the group, while the woman finds herself involved without having the experience or the inclination to shape the final form of how she sails and cruises to her satisfaction. No doubt the traditional role of skipper which many men embrace with gusto tends to relegate the women in the party to secondary and therefore uninteresting roles aboard the boat.

When you hear a skipper at the wheel of his new production 36-footer bellowing at his wife at the bow while she's doing her level best to heave the 45-pound plow over the lifelines, you don't have to wonder for long why she might prefer simple pursuits like skydiving or fire walking to sailing. The wonder is that so many couples do in fact make successful partners aboard ship.

For most cruising people, the ability to work as a team marks the difference between safe sailing and unsafe sailing. If there is only one person aboard who can navigate or who knows how to use the radios or who can reef in high winds, then the other member of the crew is forever at the mercy of the keeper of skills and knowledge. Should he take an untimely swim, he'll soon know the folly of his pride.

The sailing life offers a unique environment for men and women to work together as at team. Aboard a boat, even if only for a weekend, the well being of all aboard depends upon cooperation, planning, forethought, the execution of sometimes complex maneuvers all the qualities one might find in a fine doubles partnership in tennis or bridge. And it is a mistake to think that conforming to traditional roles between a man and woman is always the best way to proceed.

Miles and Beryl Smeeton again come to mind. They were a dynamic pair who took to sailing in the Forties after they felt they had become too old to continue mountain climbing at the level they had become accustomed to above 18,000 feet. The sea offered another challenge, one they could face together. As they played it, Beryl was the spark that ignited their plans. It was her vision that drew the couple to the Horn, not once but three times. She led them on an east about circumnavigation, against the wind and currents. It was Beryl who took such great pleasure in planning journeys that would take Tzu Hang where no cruising boat had gone before.

Miles, a towering man of six-feet, six inches, was not simply a follower. He was a retired brigadier general in the British Army. He had been much decorated in the Second World War. He stood tall among men. But, in the team he formed with Beryl, he more often than not found himself being the implementor or her grand dreams instead of the sole active partner. Miles navigated and ran the ship. He lorded over maintenance and seamanship. He made the dreams real.

Together they made a classic and marvelous pair.

But most couples who take to sailing together don't naturally fall into such a pattern. Instead, they have to learn the ropes of how to work together as shipmates. They have to find ways to live in the confines of a boat, to make decisions and to carry out plans as a team.

There are a few places around the world favored by cruising boats on long passages. Such passages can be hell for couples that have not become a team. In Gibraltar, or Barbados, or Panama, or Tahiti it is not uncommon to witness a cruising boat make up to a quay and to see the female member of the crew waiting on deck with her bags packed only to leap off as soon as the boat comes close enough. Something has gone wrong and the only solution is an airplane home.

One of the most common downfalls leading to a mutiny is the failure of the skipper to share the whole voyage with his team mate. A good example of how this happens and how it can be overcome occurred during a three year cruise undertaken by Jim and Nina Hunt aboard the O'Day 40 Whale And The Bird. Jim has been a sailor all his life, had been in the sailing business for twenty five years and knew his way around a cruising boat as well as any man. In his last working position before setting off he had been president of the O'Day Corporation and was thus responsible for building more sailing boats than just about any man alive. When his time came to take a few years off, he was ready.

Nina was ready, too. Sort of. She was not an old salt. She sailed and had cruised with Jim for years. But sailing was his thing, cruising was his passion and offshore passage making was not something high on her list. As Whale And The Bird cruised south from the East Coast to the Caribbean, wintered in the islands and then headed off for a season in the Mediterranean, Jim often brought crew along for the offshore runs. These were guys who were happy to get offshore, who relished the challenge and who shared a manly spirit of teamwork aboard the boat.

Nina, in those days, often preferred to fly. She knew as many sailing wives know that nothing goes to windward like a 747. Why fight it when you can hop over it?

But, after sailing together for months in the Med., after sailing together, with crew, back across the Atlantic and after another winter in the islands, Nina had become of a convert. Over those months, she had gone from being a passenger aboard her own boat to being the other member of a two-person team. She took over radio duty and handled all communication chores. She took over the chart table and handily piloted Whale And The Bird hither and thither. Nina and Jim gradually began to divide work more evenly and the satisfaction they both derived from the division aided the success of their cruise.

They had never sailed offshore alone together. But,when they were in Bermuda on their way home to Massachusetts in the spring of l989, they could find no crew to help them. They could leave the boat until a crew could join them. Or they could sail her home together. Jim says it was Nina's idea. She doesn't disagree. They set off just the two of them and had a marvelous passage home across the Gulf Stream, sailing for five days, watch on and watch off and always relying on the other to hold up his or her end. They both agree it was the best passage of the whole voyage.

They arrived back where they had started having see some of the world and having removed themselves from the treadmill for a time. They were the same couple. But they were changed. They had become a team.

There are thousands of similar stories that will vary in detail but will remain constant in overall theme. In the end, the success of a couple's cruising experience and the safety of the boat and its crew depends upon teamwork.

To summarize, here are a few dos and don'ts to help couples work toward teamwork:

  • Preparations and stocking of the boat should be a joint effort, for if you don't know where the soup is stored, how can you cook dinner?

  • The deck layout and deck systems should be worked out so one person can work the sails, handle the anchor gear and otherwise tend ship while the other steers or sleeps. All of these systems should be worked out in such a way that brute strength is not the first required ingredient for use.

  • Deck work should be shared. No one likes tying down a loose sail when the wind is up and the rain is pelting down. Why should one person have to do it every time?

  • Don't hog the helm. Or, conversely, don't always avoid the helm. Steering can be exciting and it can be dull. No one should just end up with only one or the other.

  • Do maintenance together as much as possible. Hands on experience during routine onboard chores, whether changing engine oil or changing the sheets will keep all informed on where things are kept, how they work and what condition the gear is in.

  • Practice as a team, switching responsibilities from time to time. If one or the other suddenly needs to handle the boat alone, such practice will be a great help.

  • Listen while the other person talks. This is the most difficult on board task. However, those who have mastered it, report that it creates miraculous results.


 

Setting Safe Goals For A Safe Cruise

When you take to the sea, you put yourself at the mercy of wind and wave and tide. These are things over which you have no control, so it only makes sense to lay plans that are flexible enough to bend under a fickle wind change, a mean streak of weather or a foul current. Most often you will arrive where you intend to. Yet, it is surprising how often, if you spend enough time sailing and cruising, you will find yourself someplace else altogether. Should you be forced to alter course and alter your destination, safety dictates that you be prepared to navigate in areas off your original course.

A contingency plan for every leg of a cruise is essential to the setting of safe cruising plan. Carry the charts and guides you will need, not only for the areas along that thick pencil line you've drawn on the chart, but also for the coasts and harbors along the way. Equipping yourself with extra charts involves an additional expense. But the expense will seem small should you be forced to enter a strange harbor under the duress of wind and weather.

Setting safe goals for a cruise begins with such contingency planning. Just as important, it is vital for the skipper and the crew to appreciate the capabilities of the boat, the abilities of the crew and the types of conditions that can be expected ahead.

Most sailors fit their sailing and cruising into the narrow cracks of time between work, family commitments and the running of a household. They leap up from their desks on a Friday afternoon, heads filled with the details of busy lives, and step aboard their boats with grand plans to sail off for a few days or a few weeks. No matter how experienced the crew, it will take a day or two for all aboard to get their sea legs, to overcome seasickness and to fall into the rhythm of the sea. A prudent skipper will plan for such a break-in period and will set courses accordingly.

The first day or two of a cruise should involve short runs and practice time for the crew in protected waters. It takes time to refamiliarize yourself and your crew with sheet lead placements, with reefing systems, with the workings of the Loran, depth sounder and other complex electronic aids. Time spent going over all the systems and sharing the skills of how to manage them with the rest of the crew is time well spent. Such a beginning can lead to famous runs later, when everyone aboard and everything aboard is ship shape.

Scheduling is often the single most important factor when planning a cruise. Schedules, like the choice of sleeping apparel, is a very personal thing. Some sailors progress along an intended course with the speed of a snail, stopping at every available harbor, sampling every beach, every shop and restaurant. Others have distant destinations in mind and rush headlong toward them, damning the head winds, the torpedoes and just about anything else in their way. Most of us fall somewhere in between.

The trick with scheduling, whether you are a snail or a hare, is to leave enough slack, enough flexibility in the schedule to allow for the unforeseen. If you plan to meet friends at a distant anchorage, you will do well to leave yourself an extra day along the way. You may not need it. Or you may. Engines break down. Anchors get snagged. Thunder squalls and strong head winds can cross your path. Leaving an extra day in the plan will allow you the luxury of not going out when you don't want to or don't have to or can't.

Too many accidents have marred a sailing experience simply because the crew was pressing on when tired, when sick or in bad weather, simply because there was an important appointment at the other end of the cruise. No one ever lost a friend, or a job or a business because they were delayed by bad weather. No one ever suffered because they had an extra day built into their schedule. A day off, even a day off from cruising, can be welcomed.

Setting safe goals for a safe cruise requires the skipper and crew to be honest about what they can and can't do, what they will and won't do, and why they have chosen to take to sailing together. To run over the points discussed:

  • Always have a contingency plan, needed charts and guides, should you be forced to change your destination in midstream.

  • Maintain a flexible attitude about achieving destinations. If you don't make it to that far harbor this year, there's always next year.

  • Plan a break-in period at the beginning of a cruise for both the skipper and crew. Let everyone get his sea legs before asking them to really go to sea.

  • Leave slack in a sailing schedule, a day here and there, for downtime, for maintenance or to meet the needs of some change in plans. Rushing can cause mistakes and accidents.

  • Choose your weather. No matter what the schedule says, it is vital to make sailing decisions based upon the present conditions and not upon airline reservations, business appointments or an invitation to cocktails.


The human factor is the most important element when going to sea. You may have the best boat, the top gear and have taken every sailing course offered. But, if you have not adopted a seamanlike attitude toward your boat, your crew and your sailing, none of it will make a difference.

Experience is a great teacher. The safety-minded skipper will gather his experience slowly, deliberately and will always keep a weather eye on those who sail with him.