HEAVE-TO!

A bracing 40-knot breeze, to some people, is a Force 10+ to others, in the marina bar...
When it comes to genuine stormy weather, it is my opinion that one should resist the adages "beat the storm"; "press on"; "fight the savage sea" (you'll lose); "meet it head-on" etc.
Codswallop! If Neptune and Davy Jones have had an upset over a game of cards, don't interfere by trying to 'control the situation'.

Good policy is to take the line of least resistance. Forget about deadlines and rendezvous times. There's a ship to be taken care of. Don't press her to destruction.
The few heroes who have made it home, without extreme damage to boat and equipment, despite all the odds, are both rare and very lucky.

At the risk of upsetting a lot of 'push it 'til it breaks' sailors, I would suggest that there are sea conditions that no mortal, or group of mortals could hope to best whilst driving the vessel on.
Believe it, or not, such conditions occur, regularly, in the dear old Mediterranean Sea which was termed "The most dangerous sea in the world" by no less than Admiral  Cumberlege R.N., founder of the Australian Royal Navy.

Sailing to windward in big seas, being crashed, banged and walloped, with cooking almost impossible and the boat fast becoming a submarine? 
If the barometer tells you it's going to get worse, get rid of what sail you have and heave to. 
Play a game or two of cards; read a book; above all, relax.
Let the hard noses and gimlet-eyed skippers "push on through", leaving behind them a trail of broken booms; lost masts; burst sails; fittings ripped out of the deck and so on.
Generally, we have found that, after a good sleep - eight to twelve hours - the weather has either got worse; and you'll have to find something more serious to read; or it has got better, in which case you may be able to be of some assistance to the 'Ahabs' who took on Old Mother Nature and lost...

Bottoms up!


Keith 'Robbie' Robinson, Executive Editor of MarineZine and captain of the 71' staysail schooner Leopard Normand III. 

In case you are busy shaking your head in horror at the idea of a full night's sleep, it should be pointed out that proper watches are kept aboard the 'Leopard' at sea. 
Every twenty minutes, whoever is on watch makes a visual check through the saloon ports, which offer 360 degree views of the surrounding seas and, in addition, uses the radar to check for shipping within range. Because this is less tiring  than a normal watch, it is kept going until the one on watch cannot stay awake any longer and is obliged to raise the sleeping off-watch or the other person has woken up naturally.

MURDEROUS OR SUICIDAL?

On April 14th 1999, early in the morning, Dag Blidback on his Arcona 36, 'Star Dust', and a number of other yachts, left Guadeloupe. Bound for Trinidad in a racer/cruiser, Dag soon pulled ahead of the fleet. 

At around noon he was ten miles off Antigua when he spotted a big sailing vessel leaving Falmouth Harbour, heading south. Dag was reaching, on auto-pilot, doing about seven or eight knots. The vessel, heeled over, was now eight miles off Falmouth Harbour and coming right at him, bow on. It was not a small yacht. Maybe 75 feet. She had no headsails up but was motor-sailing with the main up only.

Dag moved to starboard but still the yacht came. He moved out of the way several times but still it came. Turning off the auto-pilot, Dag ducked down under the vessel, to leeward of her. There was no-one on deck and nobody in the cockpit. The yacht passed so close that Dag could have jumped aboard. The vessel's name was 'Kodiak'. He hailed her and got no answer. 

Behind him, the next closest yacht was being sailed by a Frenchman, known to Dag and, following him, there were fourteen or fifteen others. Dag warned his French friend and the others and looked back to see the fleet open up and let the 'Kodiak' through.

Apart from the fact that your vessel could run down another, whose skipper was unable to get her out of your way, for whatever reason, you would also be running the risk of being run down yourself, by a vessel larger than your own which, like yours, was also travelling 'blind'!

If you have been guilty of failing to keep a proper look-out whilst in charge of a vessel, please remember: If a life, or lives, are lost; injuries sustained or boats wrecked, as a result of your actions, you will have to live with yourself, knowing that you could have avoided it. If, indeed, you live.

Dag Blidback is a veteran single-handed cruiser. He says he always dozes in the cockpit, never below decks. He puts on the auto-pilot, sets his alarm clock for thirty minutes. He usually wakes up, instinctively, just before it is due to go off. He gets up, checks the area for shipping, checks the sail trim, sets the clock again and goes back to sleep. This system has kept him alive and sailing happily alone for a long, long time and may it continue to do so for a very long time to come.

Our thanks to Dag for sharing so much of his time and knowledge in this and other sections of MarineZine's first edition.

We asked a few friends and acquaintances to preview the first hundred or so pages of MarineZine. A reader, who is also a writer, comments:

A very interesting tale! (Ed: Not sure which one this refers to...)
 
One wonders how the people in the cockpit of some catamarans can look over the front of their vessels without standing on tiptoe?  It seems that the designers have not allowed for normal sized people, either sitting in the helmsman's seat or standing up, to look over the top.
 
Comments from catamaran owners please!
 
Best wishes for a super magazine........
 
Ian Wollen
Yacht 'LUNGTA' - Salar 40, 

We met Ian and Debbie, during a stay at Humming Bird Marine in Chaguaramas, Trinidad, W. Indies. We were delighted when he responded to our invitation to preview the magazine by commenting on the article on this page.  

When they went up the Macareo River, Ian was kind enough to stay in touch and even sent us some photos to help get us started! Looks to us as though Ian is ready for anything!