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We
left the dock at Villasimus, on the southeast coast of Sardinia,
July 18 at 13:40, figuring a daylight arrival in Gibralter if we
averaged five and a half to six knots of speed. That afternoon we
had a beautiful sail with a cool breeze, a beautiful sunset and
Charlie on the cell phone conducting business with the office. Cellular
coverage in the Mediterranean Sea is excellent and the Europeans
and Asians are far ahead of the US in cellular technology.
Overnight
we were monitoring all the traffic in the area as we progressed
west to our next destination which was seven hundred thirty miles
away. On July 19, as the day wore on, we began getting messages
over our Immarsat system warning of worsening weather conditions
and at about 13:30 the winds started building and so did the seas.
We also were picking up satellite pictures with very suspicious
cyclonic cloud formations. The system, out of the west and headed
eastward, was giving us strong headwinds and we were motoring doggedly
into the mounting seas.
My intrepid
captain was video recording the waves breaking over the bow, some
even going over the cockpit. He was handling this a lot better than
I was for I was hoping for a respite when, POW!!, the spinnaker
pole which was stored fixed to the main mast tore loose and went
crashing down and over the port side of the boat. The pounding was
taking its toll. Charlie put the engines into neutral, turned down
wind and we saw one end of the spinnaker pole on the aft starboard
side extending from underneath the boat.
Trouble,
big trouble, now we are not only in the teeth of a major weather
system, we have a pole jammed under the boat where it can do tremendous
damage to the rudder, the shafts or the props. It could even tear
a shaft out which would in turn set us up for sinking unless we
could stem the incoming water. Charlie went over emergency procedures
that we should prepare. The next time we saw the pole, it was protruding
from the stern and trailing behind the boat. In order to keep tabs
on it one of us had to go into the aft cockpit through the aft cabin
and lean over the stern. First I tried, then Charlie went aft and
tried to snag it with an extended boat hook but it was too deep
and we were sailing too fast downwind even though we were under
bare poles. I saw a line trailing and managed to get it caught with
a gaff but could do nothing with it.
We put out
the mizzen to heave to, trying to have the boat quarter into the
seas to give us a little time to assess our situation. The boat
was rolling terribly, with her almost going on her side as the waves
kept relentlessly coming. This kind of weather is exhausting for
many reasons. One is simply muscle strain. You are never still.
You have to brace yourself at all times. Two is mental strain, you
know you are in a dangerous situation and a wrong move could prove
disastrous. Third is you cannot quit, there is no, "stop now
and try again later," you are on whether you want to be or
not. When trying to think about something good about our plight
I thought, at least it isn't cold. That would be worse.
Our incoming
Inmarsat EGC messages were forecasting the weather worsening in
the Western Mediterranean with force nine predicted. We were experiencing
between seven and eight with winds of 35 knots, gusting to 40 and
waves higher than the top of our pilot house cockpit and breaking.
Possible
damage had to be assessed before we turned either engine back on
because either or both propellers could be wrapped with the extension
lines attached to the spinnaker pole. In this event trying to try
to run the engines would only worsen the situation. We knew these
lines had snagged on something under the boat causing us to drag
the spinnaker pole which was banging on the bottom of the boat in
the rough seas. We didn't know whether it was hitting the rudder,
the propellers or shafts, but we knew it could cause serious damage.
The banging matched the roll of the boat and the incoming waves
as we hove to.
Since it
was not prudent to attempt to go over the side to assess the situation
in these heavy seas and the weather reports indicated an even worsening
of conditions, we decided to sail to the most accessible port or
bay where we could go over the side and survey the situation and
make any necessary repairs. We would have had to beat southwest
to Algeria in this heavy weather. We could not sail on west to Mallorca
directly into a worsening storm. Our only reasonable option was
to sail east downwind 150 miles back to the first protected anchorage
on the southwest coast of Sardinia. By sailing rather than lying
hove to, we would have the spinnaker pole trailing and not beating
the bottom with every wave. However the possibility of the spinnaker
pole and attached line jamming the rudder while underway was a concern.
We unfurled a small amount of Ginny and sailed west at 8+ knots
and had no problem with steerage.
Downwind
sailing even in high seas is a lot less uncomfortable than heaving
to and certainly better than crashing headlong into it in order
to reach an upwind destination, and Sea Gem handled the following
seas including the large waves very well. The traffic was non- existent.
Where before we had up to six ships on radar, now there were none,
at least one plus for being out in a storm. We did have one ship
appear behind us, and to be prudent we got on the radio to make
contact, let them know we were under sail with limited maneuverability.
A voice answered our radio call almost immediately, an oriental
voice. We asked, "Do you have us on your radar?" The answer,
"I don't have radar, but I can see you." A freighter without
radar, in a storm, now that is a comforting thought. He was very
polite, understood our situation and assured us that he would keep
an eye out as he passed by. He also said that maybe tomorrow would
be better weather. Apparently he wasn't listening to the weather
reports.
Less than
twenty-four hours after the accident we reached Capo Teulada, with
a small bay we had selected that we could sail into for a protected
anchorage. The wind was still high, up to twenty-five knots but
the protection of the land broke the seas and gave us an opportunity
to prepare for anchoring without using engine power. Sailing, without
engine power into the anchorage was another problem. As we closed
on the anchorage, the mountains hovering over it changed the wind
direction from west to north within the narrow channel which was
bordered by rocky cliffs. This slowed our forward motion to less
than three knots and slowing. Because of the wind shift we had turned
northeast to gain way for a port tack back into the anchorage but
the eastern rocky shore was coming close. Getting enough way on
to turn, bring the boat through the wind, without getting caught
"in the irons," to be pushed against the close-by, rocky
shore was very difficult. There was little space to maneuver. Charlie
had prepared the anchor to drop quickly, when he took the boat to
a spot where we wanted to anchor or if we needed to drop the hook
in an emergency. He turned hard to port to tack and Sea Gem almost
made it through the eye of the wind when an errant gust of wind
caught Sea Gem, held her in the irons and then started pushing her
toward the eastern shore. There was not enough room to gibe and
take her back out. We were being blown into the rocky cliffs. In
a moment Charlie had to elect whether to drop the anchor in seventy
feet of water to keep Sea Gem off the rocks or try to start one
of the engines, and if he started an engine, which one might not
be wrapped by the spinnaker pole line. If we dropped the hook it
might not dig in right away and even if it did we were probably
too close to keep us off the rocks. He started the starboard engine,
engaged the gear and she moved forward. We had an engine! The prop
was clear, and it took us away from the rocky shore. I took the
helm and we took our usual positions to anchor Sea Gem. (I am at
the helm. He drops the anchor.) The anchorage was ideal. We had
space. No other boats were there. Even though the wind was howling
we were able to get the anchor down and secure the boat for the
next job.
Charlie prepared
to dive under the boat to assess damage. We were now in a safe place
to do this even though the storm had brought the temperature of
the water down to sixty-three degrees. He donned his gear and over
the side he went. I had planned to go in also but when I looked
at the thermometer the chicken in me won and I stayed dry. He found
no serious damage to hull, shafts or rudder although the rudder
had several gouges taken out by the spinnaker pole. Also, there
was some paint missing where the pole whacked the hull but no major
damage. Somehow the pole and lines had become disentangled and dropped
away during the sail back. He checked the anchor and found our 110
lb. Bruce well dug in. He cut another fishing net off the starboard
prop and I ran both engines, one at a time so that he could see
the props turn, and see if there was any wobble on the shafts. The
water was intensely cold, and even with his Aussie dive skin, by
the time he finished he was well chilled.
We sailed
one hundred and fifty miles back to Sardinia for safety. Was this
unnecessary? We don't think so. If we had been able to determine
that we had no damage we might have continued toward our destination,
only to be caught in the worsening storm. As it was, we spent two
nights in this anchorage with the wind howling but safe and snug
on Sea Gem, we slept, we put the boat back together, we put Saundra
back together, and we rested. You cannot have a strict time table
when at sea. The sea sets her own schedule and you must be willing
to bend to her demands. Until later, from Sea Gem after the storm.
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