Weather to go? and the herd instinct...

Pondering the weather?

I think we have all been there, in that anchorage or port - pouring over forecasts , grib files and weather maps, trying to decide whether to go or not. Somehow the perfect weather window always seems to have just gone or to be another week away. Our options seem to contain many uncertainties, despite (or maybe because) of the much more accurate long range forecasts available these days. The decision to go is often complicated by other boats all thinking about heading of as well.

The Herd Instinct

It always slightly amuses me how much sheep thinking is coded into our DNA's (or is it human thinking by the sheep?) and I realise I'm not immune to this either. You get 2 or three boats in an anchorage waiting to depart, and everybody starts in subtle ways to find out what the other boats are thinking, and when they are going, there is much at stake in these discussions, ego, fear and respect... This doesn't only apply to other vessels, a similar dynamic can happen between individual crew on a boat.

Ego, comes into it because people don't like to be thought of as wimps, so (typically) the blokes like to make light of the forecast... 25-35 knots, no problems, been in much worse than that many times, we'll be right.. Another factor with the whole ego thing is that it can trap you, if you have stated loudly that you plan to go tomorrow- to other people who thought the following day might be better, it can be hard to then change your mind to agree with them when they are right...

Fear, it’s funny how travelling in groups somehow makes us feel less fearful, watch a group of penguins about to jump into water that may contain a hidden leopard seal to see the same type of reactions... Be careful that you are not leaving against your better judgement because you are afraid of being left behind... Or not leaving on a good forecast because no one else is...

Respect, saying we are going to do something different from others is like saying you think they are wrong... once we are locked into group discussions this becomes a powerful factor, it can be hard to say no.

The factors to consider between different boats

Factors to be brutally honest about are our boat, our crew and our rush factor.

Our boat- Is it bigger, smaller, faster, slower, well found or dodgy

Our crew - it is the hardest one to be objective about; we all like others to think we have heaps of experience, it's that ego thing. And they may be playing the same game, the blind leading the blind…

The rush factor - How much of a rush are we in, have we got pressing deadlines, have we been waiting for weeks already. How much do we motor vs. slop around in light air? Are we ready to go yet or do we actually want to spent a few more days in this place....

Ultimately the decision to leave should be an individual one, and one that you are comfortable with. Don't let that Gung-Ho delivery crew make you feel like you are cowards. Or that boat that has been waiting for 4 weeks for a perfect patch of weather make you feel worried about the conditions as long as you are confident the weather is OK for the boat and for you. Also try not to put pressure on other boats to follow your lead; they need to make up their own mind...

Advantages

In saying all this there can often be advantages to discussing things with others, such as

•          local knowledge
•          A bit of a reality check
•          other boats may have better or different weather information
•          It is social and you get to know the crew from other boats.

You may even end up sailing at the same time and this can be fun (or a nuisance as they call you up every half hour to give you a position report and then expect you to slow down and wait!) If you are lucky you can get some good photos of each boat sailing…

Getting it wrong

I stuffed it up badly once (actually more than once but this one sticks most in my mind). I knew I was making a mistake at the time (Stupid hey...) I had a deadline, impatient crew and a bad forecast. Another boat was going, they reckoned it would be fine, and they had no engine - my ego didn't like that... My crew were starting to think I was a wimp and were really keen to go. I knew I could handle the conditions ok and I had faith in the boat, but I really thought the next day was a much better idea... It looked very unpleasant out there and the clouds were racing overhead. With a sense of foreboding we sailed. The crew got greener and greener as we left the lee of the land but their insistence on sailing meant they couldn't really bottle out, I should have taken the initiative and pulled the pin - it’s the skipper’s job, but I didn't want to be the one to bottle first. 

To windward the sky got darker and then without warning (actually there was good warning, I just ignored it) a solid squall came through flattening the boat. The seas rapidly built, steep and nasty, one throwing us well over and making me think the windows should have popped out. It didn't ease up any, so after a good struggle I clawed down the spitfire jib (we already had the third reef in) and we slogged our way back to the anchorage, motorsailing, arriving very wet and tired at midnight with our tails between our legs. The other boat ended up being towed in...

The next day the wind had eased somewhat and it looked much healthier but the crew were now very wary, they took some convincing before we headed out… We ended up having a great crossing, why I had headed out the day before with that forecast I don't know (actually I do, It was my ego, and I should stop listening to it.)  Now I must say that despite this incident they were a fantastic crew, and I enjoyed sailing with them. It was my error and ego that led to a miserable night.

Doesn't look so bad? Don't take the red arrows lightly...

Getting it right

I remember sitting at the Melchior Islands in Antarctica. We had a shocking system coming though the Drake Passage; the Grib files had it intensifying rapidly into 50 knots or so of southerly. It is about a 3-4 day passage and the trick is to try to time it to avoid a nasty westerly at Cape Horn, it's not normally too hard but in this case the timing would have to be perfect. Too early and the southerly could be dangerous, too late and the next westerly could make it difficult to lay the shelter under the lee of the horn... To make matters more complex five crew had flights from Ushuaia in the next week - And the new crew were to join shortly after...

I was pretty happy with when I had to leave, but I wanted to talk to Eric from Vaihere, he was heading off soon and had much more experience in the area than me. Vaihere is a bigger and faster boat than us and he was planning to leave 6 hours after me. 

It was good to talk to him, because it showed me that he didn't much like the situation either (very bad...) so there was some justification for my nerves... But we were both pretty confident that we could time it right for our respective vessels, and cope with the situation if it didn't pan out how we thought. He waited and I left. He arrived at the horn 2 hours after me, and I was probably an hour or so later than I should have been (because it was starting to get very nasty); it blew like stink that night. Vaihere kept going and looked magnificent sailing past in 50 or so knots of westerly. But I was glad we were tucked up in a safe anchorage.

What worked well about talking to Eric is that we had both dropped our ego's, he admitted that it looked nasty, and he was worried about it, as was I, we weren't trying to impress each other. We both had a pressing need to get away, but we were prepared to wait if needed. And we were aware of the different speeds and capabilities of our boats. My plan was to head out, and assess the situation in 12-24 hours, if I thought I couldn't reach the horn before the westerly’s started to crank up I would head back to Antarctica and cancel the flights... I had not used Eric to prop up my decision, but I wanted the benefit of his local knowledge of the Gribs and their relationship to the local weather systems near the horn.

Learn to sail in a dinghy first

John Vigor has just written an excellent piece extolling the virtues of learning to sail in a dinghy rather than a keelboat. Like all his stuff it's well worth a look. John is an author of many fantastic sailing books, and if you haven't read any of John's excellent books... well... get reading.

I can highly recommend his Seaworthy Offshore Sailboat as a brilliant place to start, and it has informed many of my better decisions, and the Boatowner's Handbook is a great resource with  lots of useful formulas and such for a boat nerd like me... Oh and John Vigor is also the inventor of the black box theory on safety, something I credit with helping to keep me alive at sea all these years...

So my ears (eyes?) perked up when I saw John's post about faster learning in a dinghy. Since I learnt to sail in a dinghy naturally I  reckon it is the best way to start... And I think the good grounding in seamanship and the "feel" it has given me has helped me at sea on everything from the 290 meter (950ft) Tokyo bay, down to my 17 foot kayak.

So a bit of background (or a chance for me to reminisce...), after sailing borrowed Optimists and Sabots for a few years we got a couple of cheap "P classes" when I was 8, they were beat up 7 foot 7 inch catboat style dinghys with an array of complex controls and a nasty streak such as a tendency to violently pitchpole (pigroot) given a moment's inattention, and they also carried some serious weather helm... But they were the best christmas and birthday presents ever, and over the years have taught many of the great NZ sailors such as Sir Peter Blake and Cris Dickson. We were very proud of our little boats.

Built from plywood, we repainted them black and put Swallows and Amazons skulls on the sides and I called mine "Death 'n Glory"... Well I didn't get much glory, but neither did I die so I guess I can't complain.

We first sailed them on a local lake, chasing each other around. The best trick we learnt was to sail through the underwater gate (in summer it was a paddock) and then close the gate behind us, trapping the pursuer until he could figure it out...

I did a Sailing School weekend at our local yacht club and after approximately 1 million capsizes and careering out of control around the harbour for a day or so, due to being a such a skinny little runt, far too light for the boat (thats my excuse anyway). I was awarded my most prized certificate, (see below) I was more proud getting this at 9 than when I got my chief mates. I particularly liked the bit where it says I was Safe and Competent, because I certainly wasn't fast..

"Death 'n Glory"

Slowly I graduated into bigger dinghys after a 4 years racing P classes. I even got a newer faster "P" called "Privateer". But I had learnt many things the hard way as skipper of my little vessel... like:

• Make sure the bungs are in before you go sailing... (sinking isn't fun..)
• Don't lose the rudder, and then the centreboard.... (rescue is embarrassing)
• Tie the forestay lanyard up properly (masts are impossible to put back up at sea)
• Check the forecast, and respect 20 knots, (and cold fronts are untrustworthy)
• Make your own decision on safety, and retire after 1 or 2 capsizes (a safety margin)
• Don't be afraid to put in a reef (once won a race by reefing before I went out)
• look under the sail occasionally (I hit a yacht, he wasn't looking either... and I was on starboard) 
• learn to duck really quickly... (the boom is called the boom for a reason)

Many these lessons are much better learnt on a little boat with help nearby, than far offshore on my own... Basically I learnt how to handle a boat in all conditions, on my own, and how to make my own decisions on tactics, weather and safety (as a sailing wimp I withdrew sometimes..) We sailed in an open bay outside of Napier, NZ, with strong 15-20 knot sea breezes, big swells and nasty southerly westerly cold fronts blowing us out to sea. I also learnt sail trim, how to surf down waves, and how to gybe the nasty wee boat without pitchpoling by getting her surfing first to reduce the apparent wind.

Over the years I have often heard the saying " if you can sail a P Class, you can sail anything"  , and there is certainly a grain of truth in it. The "Feel" learnt from sailing a small boat with nasty habits like the P class has never left me (at least I hope not..), and sometimes sailing Snow Petrel I close my eyes and sit on the windward coaming with the tiller extension in my hand and I can almost feel the memories and sensations of that little P class, bobbing into the short steep chop from 20+ years ago. Even when helming the 100 foot brigantine "Soren Larsen" echos from that little boat remain, in the slight kick of the helm as she slides over a swell, or the subtle heel and surge as a puff comes though....

So if you want to really learn to sail well, a good cheap way is to jump in a small overpowered dinghy for a season or two and start getting wet.... You will learn many fundamental skills much quicker than you will as crew on a larger boat.

And thanks John for the chance to dredge up those old memories.

Cheers

Ben

Ps I think I have broken the spell checker on this thing, overuse perhaps... so you can blame the dictionary for any errors

Listen to the old guys (and girls..) and the locals

An old saying, there bold sailors, and there are old sailors, but there are no old bold sailors comes to mind as I read Rod Stephens excellent manuscipt kindly provided by S&S and posted on the Dashews site. The manuscript shows every bit as much commonsense and good seamanship as you would expect from someone with Rods depth of experience, spanning 75 years or so. The lessons contained are hard earned ones, and timeless, and clearly shows why Sparkman and Stephens has such a great reputation.

I am always amazed at the amount of stuff I can learn by listening to experienced older seamen (and seawomen...). Some of what they say might not be in current fashion, or may not conform to the latest scientific ideas, but it often confirms to the hard rules of seamanship and commonsense. And many time quotes from old timers have come back to me in the light of some situation and suddenly make perfect sense. Of course make sure of the credentials of the person you are listening to, there are always plenty of armchair experts...

Also local knowledge is fantastic, I always try to ask the locals about their area, even the newbie boat owner knows much more about the area they sails in than I will. And it is a great way to meet local people. I have had alot of luck talking to the local fishermen, many are often surprised when I ask them about the area (being more used to yachties snubbing them) and their knowledge of the local coast and weather is often incredible. I take a pen and paper for drawing mud maps, and writing stuff down.

Of course I need to be careful of blindly accepting everything at face value, sometimes it is wrong, or more frequently the info is right but I may have interpreted it wrong, but I usually get some really good useful info, and make some friends as well.

Fair winds

Ben

Storm Tactics Part 1 Preparation

After last nights boring battery discourse I thought I'd better give you something abit more salty, Although truth be told electrics will probably give you more grief than storms...

Careless is the ass, who sleeps with a low and falling glass.

I'm sure what you want to hear is lots of salty sea dog tales of waves washing the ship, while lightning flashes around our stout ship and the low clouds race overhead.. But I can't be bothered tonight (maybe I'll do some as case studies latter). What I can do is give you a glimpse into my thoughts on dealing with very bad weather.

I have been through some nasty weather in many different yachts and ships, There are plenty of people with more experience than me, and plenty with less, and lots of perfectly valid ideas and concepts. My best advice is to read widely, including opposite opinions to what you might think, Ie the Pardeys have a very different ideas to what a round the world ocean racer might prefer. Both are valid for different vessels and sailing styles and also listen to that quiet old sailor in the corner of the bar, his words might make all the difference in some blow somewhere.

My thoughts are that it really comes down to luck, good preparation, a strong boat and a good mental attitude, ultimately it has less to do with the specific tactics involved. I think to many people get tied up in the one magic solution, Hanging all your hopes on one favored tactic is rather dangerous, The sea is too dynamic, each storm will have very different wave characteristics, and each boat can behave unpredictably in extreme winds. what worked well in one case might not work at all in others.

Ok I will give you a salty story to illustrate this point. My friend Dave Pryce is one of the most experienced sailors I know. He took his 20 meter alloy yacht Blizzard down to Commonwealth bay and got caught in a very serious blow. In the past he has always run off at speed, steering down the waves, but this time the wind was to strong, the boat kept surfing down the waves, broaching uncontrollably, He described it as as if he had a spinnaker up in 40 knots. And he was under bare poles. He ended up lying a hull, apparently the wind lay her over so far she just slid down the waves with no rolling, like being hove too. Now this is interesting because if Dave said the storm was something else, it was, and the vibrations from the harmonics in the rig undid one bottle-screw, and the prop shaft bolts (he lost his shaft..). Dave agrees that lying ahull is not normally a good tactic, but he had no other options, and it worked for him. I wouldn't recommend this, beam on is usually the worst way to lie, but it shows that you need an open mind.

I start my storm tactics at the dock before I leave. Mentally I expect to be rolled, that way I am not surprised if it actually happens. And at least some of the lockers will stay closed (because I will have made sure they all have some sort of hold down). I make sure I have the basic gear and an idea how to make some sort of jury rig, because in a rollover the odds are not good that the rig will stay in the boat. I make sure I have confidence in the boat actually staying together. Any specific niggles are dealt with as far as possible, either physically or mentally (I tell myself that cars are much more dangerous..). 

There are always some things that will worry you, That is normal see The wimp, fear at sea . I suppose that's where experience comes in, and the luck. Fix what you can and try not to worry to much about what you can't fix. Remember, the fundamental prioritys, don't do any other nonessential work until these priority's are sorted out.

1 Keep the boat afloat and in one piece (staying afloat also means keeping off the rocks)

2 Keep yourself attached to the boat and uninjured.

3 Keep the rudder attached.

4 Keep the rig up.

If you can maintain at least 1 & 2 from this list you will almost certainly survive any storm. if you are not sure of these maybe reconsider your plans? Not sure who to credit these rules to, I first saw something like this written by John from www.morganscloud.com  many years ago in a magazine and they certainly are spot on.

I know when the boat and crew are ready enough. The key word here is enough, It doesn't mean all the jobs are complete (they never are...), just that the boat is safe and the crew are ready. The crew are familiar with the boat, this is best gained by working on the boat.

On Number 2  Keeping uninjured, I like to have helmets for extreme weather, and some sort of restraining device for my bunk, so even inverted I will not fall out. Quarter berths are good for this, but stick your head up the cockpit end. Lee cloths need to be strong (the only nasty injury onboard was due to leecloth coming undone) , and I like to have another flap that holds me in and protects me from flying sextant boxes and the like.

Enough for today, I have run out of steam, and you are probably bored, I will continue this latter, if my fickle mind doesn't forget and give you more electrical drivel instead.. 

But if you have got this far I have a reward for you, a Video,  I hope it loads OK, I took it from Blizzard on the way to South America somewhere halfway across the southern ocean.  See if you can work out how we were lying and what the wind speed might have been... Its about 3 megs or so, and has a big wave hitting us.

By the way, I think I lost the game (see the video to understand this cryptic remark..)

Cheers

Ben

Videos

Hello,  I have added a video page, to access it click on the video button next to home in the top ribbon panel just under the header, It has a couple of short videos made by my little brother Matt, I think they are very good, but then I am a bit biased... They also show how you can make anything look dramatic and scary if you put in the right music. You can post any comments regarding the videos here if you feel so inclined.

Cheers 

Ben

The wimp and I... Fear at sea

Saw a very interesting  blog on the excellent site Attainable Adventure Cruising. See here for the article. John mentions dealing with fear and nerves at sea. It got me to thinking and I even decided to reply, I think this is a key topic and I hope to add more later. Here is my reply (after abit of tweaking and spellcheck!), but I recommend reading johns piece first.

About to enter the pack ice for the first time..Me and my Father, I hope you can tell I'm the one on the right.. Photo Matt Tucker

Hmmm..

Interesting, and thanks for being so frank about the wimp within.
I can be one of the wimpiest sailors I know, fretting and worrying over small and big things.

But then I have also managed to safely sail a small engineless 26 footer singlehanded across the Tasman in winter (Nelson to Sydney), Sail my 34 footer from Hobart to Commonwealth Bay, Antarctica and run a 60 foot charter boat in antarctic peninsula plus manage numerous dodgy deliveries.

Still the wimp within remains with me, nagging at me and keeping me up to scratch, and so far safe (touch wood).

I am a great believer in John Vigors Black Box theory, a kind of safety Karma thing, if you haven't already heard about it go and look at http://johnvigor.blogspot.com/ and click on the black box theory link at the top.

Thanks to all of you for making me feel not so unusual in my wimpyness. It does makes me wonder if maybe some of the great sailors of the past may also have a similar degree of wimpiness, and if in fact the very presence of Mr whimp is what somehow drives us to test our selfs.

When I first got my Ticket and became Third Mate on a 40000 tonne container ship I started having nightmares about running aground (the real wake up sweating type). When I mentioned this to the chief mate he just laughed and said they were normal “mates mares” and would soon pass as I got used to the responsibility.

By building up my skills and comfort level slowly I have gained an understanding and ability to analyse some of my feelings and know which ones are normal jitters and reactions and can be ignored and which ones signify some subconscious and important concerns that need to be actively dealt with.

However I still envy those happy go lucky sailors that seem to get by with not a care in the world, maybe there is 4 stages,

1 Ignorance is bliss, not even being aware of the dangers
2 Knowing the dangers and fearing them, or fear of the unknown
3 Confidence that you can deal with the dangers as they arise and any unknowns
4 Overconfidence and a fright can kick you back to stage 2

And those fearless sailors are at either at stages 1 or 3.5, or maybe they just lack any imagination.

Cheers

Ben

If you have any comments to add, please consider chucking them up on Johns site, This post is really an extension of his.. Ohhh and a big hello to the three people who have been over here for a look at my amaturish efforts..

Ben

Snow Petrel, an introduction

Snow Petrel in very open ice

Snow Petrel is a 34 foot (10.15m) steel yacht that has been my home and transport for a few years. She is strong and simple, the two of the most important qualities in any offshore boat.

She has taken me south from Tasmania to Antarctica and may be the smallest boat to sail to East Antarctica (the bit that doesn't include the antarctic peninsular).  
See the videos page.

I have sailed ever since I can remember, starting on my grandparents 34 foot ketch and then sailing my parents 45 foot gaff ketch. I Raced dingys as a kid and then did some some offshore racing. 

NZ Maid, My parents Herreshoff Mobjack

I went to sea as a navigating cadet when I was 17, sailing (steaming..?) around the world on  P&O container ships for 6 years, and getting my chief mates ticket.

Needing a change I jumped onto a square rigger as mate for two seasons around the pacific... A lovely ship. Soren Larsen

After sailing my 26 foot Warsash one Design (something like a Folkboat) across the Tasman singlehanded I have now settled in Tasmania. Since then I have done a lot of yacht deliveries across the Tasman and around Aussie, sailed to South America, and run an old open 60 charter boat on the Antarctic Peninsular, and more or less rebuilt Snow petrel (a never ending job, still not complete). See Snowpetrel The boring details for more information on the her.

Soren Larsen

Reiger

I will try to put up the odd post now and then, hopefully my writing style will improve with practice, please forgive any grammatical and spelling mistakes, writing is not a strong point...

Also be aware that there are many ways to sail an ocean, many ways to set up an ocean going boat and many valid opinions, I tend towards the crude and cheap options, but understand that those with better budgets may prefer other solutions. I also try not to get to set in my ways and always reserve the right to change my opinions without notice... Keep an open mind.

Fair winds

Ben Tucker