Wall Hangin'

 

A Wall-Flower's View

I was pretty far gone, but not so far gone that I thought anyone with half a toehold in reality would think what we were doing was a good idea.

-- Meg Rosoff

Wall Hangin'

For years we would scurry for shelter at day's end. Weather can come up from flat calm no matter the forecast, and we were afraid of the dark.

Over the years, though, we slowly got used to night sailing. Getting caught out gave us plenty of opportunities. With experience, anxieties ebbed. We learned that we could almost always see silhouettes and learned to navigate by them, the lead and echolocation. Anxiety slipped away.

We began to notice that exposed anchorings -- we call them wall hangs -- have their own attractions.

First of all, they're at hand. When the wind dies, we can most often get a hook or two down within fifty yards of shoreline. Often while it's still light and we can enjoy sunset and the last of the day.

And the view! One-eighty degrees of vistas open far and wide, unveiled by the close embrace of  cove or creek. 

The full palette of the boreal maritime rain-country waxes and wanes in intensity from distance muted greens, grays and blues to sunshot opalescences of vermilion and golds against bands of brilliant azures. Illuminated gulls like white fire against the sky, or their fuligin counterparts -- the crows and ravens -- like animated rents in the tapestry to the black, underlying void. Then dimming back to the more somber and twilit purples, perforated by stars uncounted as full dark descends.

Most nights the moon, crescent or gibbous, sails above us, illuminating cloud and fog to shades of ghostly pearl. 

And around us, the wider seaways come alive with bioluminescent script, eloquent of all that move within it; fish and kelp and wave and stone. Porpoise surging along in sprays of light, or the great whales fluking dazzlement in their wake.

We're not yet to the point that we sleep as well while wall hangin'. We doze with one ear cocked for the first ripple of wind. Best to be anchors-up and sailing before the wind comes on to blow.

But we're well compensated for these wakeful nights!

*****

A couple of observations...

• Much of our coastline is steep-to, falling quickly off to unreachable depths. But for reasons unknown to me, there is often a ledge running along before the drop-off at around 2 to 10 fathoms. Kelp fringes tend to holdfast, along here, giving some indication of a spot to prospect at our preferred depths (about 7ftm max). Where the lead finds decent bottom, we have a contender.
  
  
• Beware of rocks and reefs in this stretch, which are poorly charted, if at all... consider tapping around with the lead from the tender after getting a toe-hold, to confirm a clear spot.
  
  
• Because this ledge is most often narrow, we often put out two anchors to limit swing inshore and along the ledge.
  
  
• Consider setting a loose watch to check position occasionally... holding is unreported and likely to be marginal. We prepare to sail at the first breeze, though once awake and ready, may pause for breakfast at anchor if conditions stay light.

Storm Tactics: Inshore

Carved handrail from S/V TANTRA
by
Ried Stowe

You can't stop the storm, so stop trying.
What you can do is calm yourself.
The storm will pass.

-- Timber Hawkeye

 

If you think it might be time to reef, it's time to reef!

- Sailor's Wisdom

Storm Tactics: Inshore

In life and sailing, storms overtake us.

Most often, if we pay attention, we have some warning before their onset. In rare cases, they pounce like a cat upon a mouse. We're the mouse, at least in scale. Unlike mice, we have a range of tools to meet the storm.

NOTE: When I say storm, I'm speaking of high winds in general. Our standing policy is to NOT be on the water in full storm conditions or worse. Despite this, we occasionally find ourselves caught by surprise.

Foundation

These are things I recommend which underlie a successful response to storm conditions:

• Prior Knowledge... Knowledge and skills acquired ahead of crisis are priceless!
  
  Learn what you can before exposing yourself to storm...
  
  
• Trained Crew... and train up all who sail with you.
  
  
• Sound Vessel... Robust construction and maintenance, uncluttered decks, capable and easily reefed rig, good anchors with ample rode.
  
  Without these, any ship is at risk in any weather. When Storm comes with its long boots on, meet it with all head and hands on a stout deck!

 

 

Rules of Thumb

We use a small heap of rules-of-thumb to help us along our way:

• Fail Safe vs. Fail Dangerous
• Preserve Options
• Layer Redundancies
• Maintain Margins of Safety
• Act Decisively
• Develop Standard Operating Procedures
• Develop Communication Protocols
• An Ounce of Prevention is Worth a Pound of Cure
• Get Out of the Wind, Stupid!
  
• Avoid Smug
• Manage Fear and Panic
  

I go into these at more length here.

Storm Tactics

• Batten Down - Secure your gear inside and out, dog down hatches, dress for the weather and clip in. MOB (Man Over Board) in storm conditions is a very long shot, no matter how well drills have gone. Stay aboard!
  
  NOTE: Make sure your harness clips are short enough to keep you out of the water. The USCG warns that a person being towed in the water cannot clear their head to breath from their own bow wake from about 4 knots. We lost an acquaintance that way... his crew didn't know to round up and stop the vessel.
   
• Reef Early - Reduce power before you are over-powered. Sail handling is easier and you'll be more comfortable and safer on deck.
  
  
• Reach or Run for Shelter - Shelter ranges from protected coves, to the lee side of islands or points, to mere outcroppings that break wind and especially waves. Consider heading into the best shelter available before conditions deteriorate.
  
  It's important to note that, while wind can be unnerving, it is wind-driven water - weighing a ton per cubic yard/meter - which can toss your boat dangerously. Interruption of seas driven over a long fetch (open stretch to windward) will give your anchors the best chance of holding. Reefs, spits, and even thick kelp beds can provide effective shelter even as the wind whips over them.
  
  
• Consider Quartering the Seas - Quartering (angling across them at about 45deg) gives a much easier ride in large or closely spaced waves, both for boat and crew. This generally means sailing close-hauled or broad reaching.
  
  
• Consider Heaving-To, Sailing Backwards and/or Drag Devices - These are more often used offshore, but they have their place inshore. They help keep the bow up to wind and waves. You can adjust position to a degree by crabbing (backing or balancing sail to edge to port or starboard) without re-establishing full sailing trim.
  
  
• Look Around and Enjoy the Storm - I mean, they are magnificent! As long as we're fool enough to be caught out in one, we may as well enjoy it.
  

 

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

We've just completed a winter passage - under press of calendar obligations - that pretty well kicked our butts and tried our mettle. So all this is pretty fresh.

A mere 80ish nautical miles as the fish swims, we started out with winds which, unforecast, edged into gale force. Turns out that our main halyard had jumped a sheave and jammed... we could neither raise nor lower sail. 

 

Fortunately, it jammed in deep reef position... low gear, as it were.

 

Unfortunately, before we had reached a place to pull in, the wind first died to nothing, then turned foul. 

Fortunately, we had shelter behind us and ran for it.

Unfortunately, that shelter had its own katabatic blowing from it over the ebbing tide with river outflow... with our short sail we couldn't sail in.

Fortunately, after heaving-to in a lee all night, the wind returned in our favor, and we again sailed for our destination.

Unfortunately, the forecast called for gale with storm force gusts due before we could possibly arrive.

Fortunately, there was a small hook of shelter right at hand. We know it from years back and call it Whoa Nellie Nook (Nooks protect from North). It has a good lee, a protecting reef and good holding. So we sailed in, set anchor and got our sail (mostly) working again.

Unfortunately, our lee was SO good that a back-eddy of breeze blew us toward the beach as we slept (contrary to the wind that was howling about four boat-lengths from our position)... we whunkered down onto a rocky bottom as the tide ebbed.

Fortunately, the rocks were pretty round. We buffered with some wood cut ashore and lifted off again after several hours and re-anchored.

Unfortunately, the next morning's wind was blowing into our nook (the opposite was forecast).

Fortunately, there was a bit of sand off our protecting reef and we could kedge out and sail on.

...

That was two nights and three days of a five week passage. I won't subject you to the rest, but will merely note that we only got two full nights of good sleep in peace and quiet in all that time.

Looking back in appraisal, we find the following:

• We need to ditch time-bound commitments, especially in spring, fall and winter.
  
  Each time we commit to some deadline (for a job, for instance) our decisions become influenced by calendar pressures. We're reluctant to back-track and give back hard-won miles. We trim our margins of safety and head out into smaller, less reliable windows. We push fair winds, tides and daylight hours, which can erode our rest and recovery. All together, we take on higher risks to honor our commitments.
  
  
• We need to increase redundancies in some areas.
  
  For instance, we have a spare block with halyard on our mizzen, but haven't yet arranged one for the main. This turned out to be an ELE (Exctinction Level Event) on this trip (the jammed halyard could possibly have set off a lethal string of consequences).
  
  
• We need to be more skeptical of weather forecasts in high wind seasons.
  
  Time and again, we sailed or anchored in conditions which proved contrary to the forecast. In one case, this could have cost us the boat (our sheltered anchorage became dangerously exposed in a 180deg mis-forecast blow).
  
  Area forecasts cover large areas, and 'predominant winds' is a squishy concept. Worse, we were mostly sailing between one weather system that reaches up into the Yukon (Canadian) interior and another that opens on the Gulf of Alaska. We're learning to look up and take the whole chain into consideration, rather than rely on more local forecasts. This is especially true when updating forecasts flip-flop in wind direction and/or strength.
  
  NOTE: To be fair, SE Alaska is made up of what we call geographical wonders (local places which alter, amplify or diminish weather patterns). Forecasting the weather - both for pros and amateurs - is notoriously difficult.
  
  Weather data collection points are few and far between, and are often in sheltered or compromised locations (e.g., at points between two weather systems or in towns whose location was selected for sheltered weather). Models and forecasts based on these data are accordingly unreliable.
  
  Furthermore, a warming planet increases the discrepancies between models (based on historical data) and the real, emerging world. Winds are tending stronger and less predictable across the board. We need to increase our weather pessimism accordingly.
  
  

• New technique for anchoring in marginal lees:
  
  Our problem at Whoa Nelly Nook was that, as the tide came in, our protecting reef covered and wrap-around waves sideswiped us badly. So we anchored in very close to the beach and ended up too close.
  
  The remedy for similar spots - now SOP - is to set two anchors aft against potential wind reversal and one or two high on the 'windward' shore. Tend the vessel with the tide to position close in the protected lee of wind and wave, then out as the tide falls and protecting reef uncovers.
  
  UPDATE: Given a more recent experience sheltering from Force 11 winds in which a backwind clobbered us briefly, we're now making sure to set our BEST anchors aft and lesser anchors/shoreties set into the lee!
   
• We're approaching a decline in physical ability.
  
  This trip was physically demanding. Long hours on deck. Sails and (multiple) anchors up and down. Sculling long distances. Kedging. Swamped dory and recovery, and lots of bailing, often in rough conditions underway. Jury rigging gymnastics. And so on. Meanwhile, we're at the further end of middle age, and looking downslope.
  
  We're already planning a small, camper-cruiser for high mobility with less physical input. In coming years, we will be sailing WAYWARD less, and in less challenging windows. We are mulling adding an engine down the road (diesel/electric, possibly yawl-boat mount?).

*****

 

Sooo... we loved this trip for all its challenges. It kicked us hard, but there is no living like that at the edge in a gorgeous seascape of stormy wilderness. But all good things...

As Joan Baez sings the poem by Lord Byron:

 

So, we'll go no more a roving

  So late into the night,

Though the heart be still as loving,

  And the moon be still as bright.



For the sword outwears its sheath,

   And the soul wears out the breast,

And the heart must pause to breathe,

   And love itself have rest.



Though the night was made for loving,

  And the day returns too soon,

Yet we'll go no more a roving

  By the light of the moon.

Not there, yet, but we can see the storm ahead. Time to be thinking of shortening sail.

Dock? Am I Gonna LIVE??

No dock; no body.
Photo by Amy Gulick

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I...
I took the one less traveled by.
-- Robert Frost

in·ter·stice /inˈtərstəs/ an intervening space, especially a very small one.

Dock? Am I Gonna LIVE??

The Inside Passage is an amazing, fractal coastline of islets entwined among waterways. Literally tens of thousands of places to anchor, each with their own perspective on a breathtaking land and seascape.

Yet so many we see passing through scurry from dock to dock. If they anchor at all, it must be in one of a relative few 'hurricane harbors' - protected from all winds at all times. And then it must be of a certain depth - not too shallow, not too deep.

But docks and such ideal havens are few and far between.

These 'cruisers' nervously push from one to the next in tight and often tumultuous weather 'windows', which often snap closed on them. They hurry past mile after nautical mile of beauty, heave a sigh of relief on making it to a 'safe' spot, and squeeze in amongst all the others who think alike.

And then they start to build up a head of steam for the next leg.

At the end of 'the season', it's push home (wherever that is) to avoid storms. Usually motoring for hundreds of miles.

But hey... now they've 'done' the Inside Passage.

*****

Here are some tips and tricks to help open up the interstitial world between docks. Many are for extreme situations, but hedging your bets makes for confident sailing.

Stay Put Gear

Good anchor gear is essential for getting away from the dock. What follow are some ideas for what you might look for, and why:

• Redundancy - Having several anchors with rode safeguards in case of loss.
• Variety - Different anchors excel in different conditions... consider anchors for a range of bottom characteristics.
• Synergy - Consider systems that work well together (e.g., swing limiting, pin-pointing, doubling up for storm conditions, etc.).

Consider:

• Shore tie lines - The shore never drags!
• Manual option winch(es) - These haul the boat into strong wind and the anchor home, plus many other jobs. More than one, of varying strength are possible.
• A good tender - This lets you scout an area that may be (very) poorly charted. Poke around and eliminate surprises.
• Tender deployable gear - Can you set and retrieve anchor from your tender? In what wind strength?
• One or more anchors with rope / chain rode - These are adequate for many bottoms. Being lighter and more quickly and easily raised than all chain rode, deeper anchorages are less trouble.

Shoal or Ultra-Shoal Draft

A boat that can slip into skinny water and take the ground (dry out) level is perhaps your biggest asset.

• The shoal vessel can shelter in a hundred places for every one available to a deep vessel.
• Shallow water means generous anchor scope (the ratio of anchor rode to depth) requires less rode, and at any given scope, swing radius is smaller.
• Dangers are most always visible when only submerged in a couple of feet of water.
• If you do go ashore in a hard chance, you'll be wading ashore - not swimming.
• When aground, waves that lift the vessel are enough to move in (deeper vessels can pound their sides open before they float free).

If you can't go shoal, consider using sheer legs (aka beaching legs). These let you stand upright on a more or less protected beach.


Estuaries

Rivers often provide the shoal boat with excellent shelter behind shoals, berms or banks. If you're weather bound, they're wonderful places to explore.



'Open' Anchorages

For years we felt as many do that we needed to find a snug cove for the night. Protection from anything that might come up, from any direction, while darkness was... um... dark.

Over the years, we slowly realized that night sailing is not to be feared, but enjoyed.

This means that 'open', temporary anchorages can be enjoyed in steady weather. Pre-assess fallback destinations, then just get up and go if the wind rises or changes to an unfavorable direction.

They fall into three types:

• Lees - Hunkering down on the lee side of anything that blocks the wind will do until the wind changes.
• Open bights - Dips in the coastline often provide shelter from coastwise winds in either direction. Do take care not to become embayed (caught by an onshore wind in a bight you can't sail out of)!
• Wall-hangs - Finding bottom along a smooth stretch of coast is fine in calms and some of the most beautiful, wide view anchoring there is.

In all cases, know your escape route and destination options for various eventualities. Easy in / easy out anchorages are just that. When things change, get going while the getting is good... don't wait until it's untenable.

Remember, the wind blowing you out of a hidey-hole is a fair wind to somewhere.

*****

Docks are fine things. Secure, all-round coves are better. But they are the beaten path.

There is a whole world of opportunity in between. Glorious vistas. Intimate nooks. Holes in the wall. Hangs along the wall.

And all far from the madding crowd.

Not really a harbor...

Tumble Hitch: A Useful Knot for Rowing Out an Anchor

                                               This side takes load...                    Pull to spill...

                                               Make fast to tender                        Lead near to hand

Tumble HitchFrom www.animatedknots.com

The wooden dowel represents the anchor's shank

Seek the wisdom that will untie your knot.

-- Rumi

Tumble Hitch: A Useful Knot for Rowing Out an Anchor

Rowing out an anchor in a gale or more of wind is serious business.

After considerable experimentation, the method we settled on is as follows:

• One of us takes position at the bow, one in the tender.
• The anchor and chain are transferred to the tender.
• Line is paid out from the boat as the tender works to position.
• The line is made fast at the boat (by signal or pre-arrangement).
• Chain is paid out from the dory by hard rowing against the fixed line.
• At the perfect moment, the anchor is thrown from the tender.
• Anchor is set from the boat.

Sounds simple, right?

Well... we find that sitting toward the tender's bow depresses it to lower windage, while the stern lifts high and acts as a riding sail for easier rowing into the wind (avoids blowing off, beam on).

Tossing the anchor and last bit of chain over, clear of oars, locks, one's own feet and the gunnel is no mean feat. It can hang up in a number of ways that all fail more or less dangerously.

Enter the Tumble Hitch - a variant of the Highwayman's Hitch.

The latter was said to have been used by thieves who tied their horses with this easy-to-tie, quick-release hitch for a fast get-away. Only problem is that it's not very stable and can capsize and release prematurely. The Tumble Hitch was devised in 2004 by Dan Lehman as a more stable solution.

What's unusual about both hitches is that, where others take one or more round turns around whatever they're hitched to, these open like a hand releasing. For anchoring purposes, that means a clean, anti-fouling release without unraveling any round turns.

The Tumble Hitch doesn't slip quite as readily as the Highwayman's... consider a smoother finished, braided line similar to the one shown. Laid and 'textured' lines have enough friction to require one or more harder pulls to release.

So here's the drill...

• Make fast to the tender, slightly aft of center, with the line end that holds strain. 
• Tie the hitch around the anchor just behind the flukes, let hang a foot or two below the tender's bottom.
• Lead the spill end up and slack to a point handy to the oars(wo)man
• Row on out to position.
• Pull the slip end to release.

We haven't tried this yet, in any harsh weather. But initial tryouts are promising.

Definitely feels safer!

*****

Here are some animated tutorials for the Tumble Hitch:

http://www.animatedknots.com/tumble/index.php
https://www.netknots.com/rope_knots/tumble-hitch

Might and Main: Tactics for Engine-Free Sailboats

 

Hear no Engine, See no Engine, Smell no Engine.

A sailor's task is to make his/her boat move.
-- Paraphrased from Tristan Jones

Might and Main: Tactics for Engine-Free Sailboats

OKAY. I ADMIT IT! Engines are pretty handy things!

At the same time, they're expensive, hungry, noisy, smelly, needy beasts with big feet. The effort they save in boat handling is offset by effort in labor (to pay for them, their accessories, parts and fuel). And yada, yada, yada... in our lives, we calculate the offset to represent a net loss.

When engines fail (as they do), many vessels feel themselves to be dead-in-the-water. I'm embarrassed (as a sailor) to hear Maydays from sailboats who've 'suffered' engine failure or run out of fuel. I'm concerned for power boaters -- many with zero-redundancy -- who find themselves helpless (at best) and/or endangered through lack of alternatives.

We're often asked if we don't want an engine for safety. Answer is No; we develop more power than we need under sail. We reef to dump power when things whump up. Otherwise, no emergency. Their one possible safety advantage would be for scampering into shelter in 'the calm that precedes the storm'. Still, in a third century practicing defensive sailing in the Pacific NW, we've never gotten caught out.

Engines answer three basic needs; propulsion, maneuvering and backing down to set anchor. If we're going to get around with out 'em, we have to find other ways to get along. None of these means are new, but have scattered and dimmed since the Age of Sail.

Propulsion

Sailboats come alive when the wind blows. Sailing techniques are well known and documented, even unto anchoring and approaching docks under sail. I'll only mention such techniques as seem less familiar, here.

Rowing / Sculling  -- On board we might have one or two oars over the side, or a sculling oar over the stern. These are big guys; stowage, deployment,  use and stowage again take crafty thought.

Two oars make for a 'sword-dance' of the cockpit, and resist quick set-up and take-down. One oar is better, but wants to turn the vessel, which tendency can by countered by rudder once steerageway is attained.

Sculling oars are effective, leave the cockpit relatively uncluttered and can be let go of without shipping (for sail-handling, say). They turn the boat effectively and work well in tight quarters.

Poling -- In shallow waters, the mighty pole can be used for propulsion, to force a tack, and even - with the fat end out - as an oar to supplement the main set. With a soft cover for the tip, it can fend off the fancyboats. With other, sleeved and fixed accessories, it could be a bladed oar, pike pole, crab rake, net, or ???

Kedging -- This is using anchors like hands to grab the bottom, and their rode like arms to pull us along.

To begin, set one anchor as close to your destination as possible in the circumstances, and lie to it on short scope. Row out a second anchor on a long rode, pulling the first as you pass it by. Repeat as often as necessary.

More complicated maneuvers can be executed (zigs and zags). 

In some cases, you might want to Kedge between two anchors for better control, buoying and slipping the one behind for later retrieval, or as a fixed point for your future exit.

Warping -- This is like Tarzan, swinging from vine to vine. Except we hang the vines and never let go! The vines, in our case, are lines, aka warps, when used in this manner.

With this technique, we move from one fixed point to another. Fix a line at the next reachable point (walk, throw or row it). Recover your last line and haul in on this one. Repeat.

Warping is handy for gusty approaches to a dock... anchor in clear water, close in, and then row a line over to the cleat, or merely throw it to a crew-member who's rowed in ahead. Consider a grapnel, to get a hold when short-handed.

Multiple lines can be used at once to control drift set or make turns, etc.. Take your time to work out a plan for your conditions, and make sure everyone understands what's to happen.

Kedging and Warping are often useful for wriggling deep into a harbor's dock/finger layout. Harbors are usually built on shallow, first class anchoring bottom. On occasion, you might want to trail a dredge to limit your swing in tight quarters. Be aware that lots of junk can accumulate on the bottoms of some harbors. Often the Harbormaster can advise you, ahead of time.

Yawl-Boating -- In this method, the tender (aka 'yawl-boat') is used to tow, push with its bow, or tie alongside (use good springlines!) to transfer thrust to our cruiser. This method is still used by many schooners of the Northeast coasts.

The tender can be equipped with an engine. It has power for long runs away from an anchorage, while a sailboat proper will function better without engine accommodations and prop drag. The combination is perhaps not quite as turn-key, but more versatile.

Pedal Power -- Various units can use your strong leg muscles to move faster than arm powered oar/scull speed. They take up space and don't have that righteous, organic feel, but we like it well enough.

Two commercial systems that intrigue are the Sea-Cycle Drive Unit and the Hobie Mirage Drive.

Maneuvering

Sailing Backwards -- Reverse is very handy for coming out of irons, fine-tuning anchor drops, positioning in current-against-headwind, slowing in a headwind (beating into a slip, say)... even parallel parking,

The basic method is to back a sail. Headsails (the well known method) affect the bow, while Aftsails affect the stern... by manipulating them, we can spin a vessel around her CLR (Center of Lateral Resistance). The farther ahead or abaft a sail's CE (Center of Effort), relative to the CLR, the more effectively it can be used for spinning the boat.

A fine point to keep in mind is that a backed sail can be trimmed to the wind -- just as if it were sailing forward -- for optimal effect. Consider where its force vectors point to get a better picture of cause and effect.

The rudder, too, is used in backing down; it pushes the stern one way or the other (reversed from forward operation), and still needs steerageway to be effective. Pump it at stand-still, if necessary.

Ketches, Yawls and the odd three+masted Schooner  facilitate sailing backwards, and maneuvering in general.  Each has a sail set well aft of the CLR (the point around which a vessel spins). It can be backed from the cockpit all the way to the beam (hard to do with a headsail). With an extra person, both fore and aft sails can be backed opposite one another to spin the boat on a dime.

If not wishing to fall off, alternate sides to keep the vessel fairly close to head-to-wind. Once you fall beam-to, steerage-way is lost and hull windage picks up to the point that recovery takes (possibly) valuable time. Or, if you've got an after sail, sheet it tight (to keep head to wind) and back a headsail. On many vessels, it's almost impossible to fall far off the wind with a strapped in aftersail.

Crabbing -- Similar to sailing backwards, but more sideways. Can be used for veering out a second anchor and positioning. Sails are backed opposite where you wish to go. At anchor, you'll crab out along your swing radius, while when sailing free, you'll crab aft and over. Watch your ranges to keep track of progress.

Sheering -- Similar to Crabbing, but uses current instead of wind. Use any tool (sails, rudder, pole, oars, tender) to cock the hull to the current. If you've got the power to match the current, you will sheer sideways; with less, you will sheer aft and across.

Note that a rudder often develops steerage-way in a current, so long as you are moving relative to the water. A following or headwind (back the rudder in this case), anchor, or propulsion can provide this relative motion.

This technique may be useful at anchor. One night we'd managed to sound in several reassuring pot-holes before anchoring along the edge of a high current channel. We woke at low tide, cheek on jowl with a long reef!. By cocking the rudder (which has steerageway when anchored in a current) and letting the rode run from mid-ships (to control angle of hull), we sheered away from the reef to deeper water (where we dropped a second, swing limiting anchor).

Lee Bowing -- Here, one tacks across a current running from the lee side. Current counters leeway, while sheer effect increases drive at right angles to the current. Used strategically (often timed for tidal currents) it can shave many's the mile from a traverse.

Dredging -- This is adapted from a technique used by (at least) Thames Barge sailors. To slow down on a down-wind approach, a shot of chain is payed out over the stern, which drags along the bottom. Drag is adjusted by more or less chain. The real deal used an iron sled (the dredge) at the end.

The advantage is that a (time consuming) reef may be avoided, and more sail power is available for maneuvers, should they become necessary.

Anchoring

Classic Set -- Sail or scull up to the drop point, rounding into the wind. Drop. Fall back paying out rode and make fast at desired scope (adjusted upward for tide range).

Problem is, a snug harbor will seldom have enough wind/current to provide enough force to set the anchor firmly. So we tend to use a disreputable method...

Downwind Set -- Run down on the drop point. Drop. Turn up about 10deg (as if the boat were a cleat for the rode) while paying out rode (in clear water, you can see it paying out to one side). Make fast on long scope. DOINK (sudden, lurching stop and/or round-up)! Pull back to desired scope.

The 10deg angle delivers a goodly amount of force to anchor, while safely dumping any excess with a quick round-up. In strong conditions, this can be dramatic, so hang on! Wider angles dump more force, while an in-line DOINK (for light conditions) sends everything available to the anchor. Consider adjusting according to conditions.

The idea, here, is to get the boat moving -- if no wind, row, tow, etc. -- and use its inertia to set the anchor at the DOINK-point (for a preddygooddoink). Unfortunately, in light or no wind, sculling in high gear is a tough slog. A mushy doink means consider reset.

CAUTION: In-line, downwind sets can be positively dangerous at high speed-over-the-ground, which has given this useful technique a bad name. We use the verbal caution, "StandyBy for RoundUp!" to remind crew to hold tight.

Jerk Set --  Fall back on the anchor rode. Pull like crazy until the line comes taut -- you may have to repeat this a few times until the rode straightens out -- then give it several, hard jerks. If it skips and jumps (you'll feel it through the line), reset / retry / combine techniques until satisfied.

Here, we're trying to use the at-rest inertia of the boat to pull against the anchor. If you haul line too slowly or jerk too often, the boat accelerates toward the anchor and reduces the force you exert on it. In no wind/current you get one, smooth shot at this. Otherwise, just fall back and try again.

Consider rechecking holding if and when a wind or current arises.

Two Anchor Set -- This is the most reliable, and I recommend it if you think the holding's iffy.

Drop two anchors in a line oriented across expected conditions, pull to the middle and set them against one another. If you're hauling in line, at least one is dragging (feel each line while pulling to determine which... you can feel it skipping). If necessary, pull the laggard and reset until both are holding fast.

Once set, one anchor can be retrieved, or we can sit in the middle (limits swing radius) or fall back to V out our rodes on long scope (for a big blow).

Consider that both rodes need adequate scope. If one is short, make sure the other is set against expected trouble.

Pulling the Anchor -- If an anchor gets stuck, it may be sailed out, hauled out with mechanical advantage (using onboard gear such as winches, haulyards, etc.) or pulled with the tide. This last is slow, but mighty powerful... consider tying on with a tow-boat hitch, in case your deck starts to pop before the anchor pulls!

*****

So that's a pretty versatile set. They can be combined, and often are. They work well, and aren't prone to failure at a critical moment (do take care that your anchors are set, however). They layer redundancy for 'safety-in-depth'. All of the gear is likely on board already, or useful to acquire.

What's not to like?

Chain of Command: Command in Chains

Cap'n Dave
Anarchist at Anchor; Autocrat Afloat

 
I'm an anarchist. Don't like hierarchies and reject authority.

Which is why it pains me to admit that, shipboard, all this goes out the porthole. Handling a vessel requires prompt, decisive and coordinated action. A bunch of anarchists have trouble pulling together on short notice. Democracy is a day late and a dollar short.

Nothing but autocracy has stood the test of time and the sea.

With the Captain lies the burden of decision. It is the Cap'n who issues the orders, coordinating crew actions; to whom the crew reports. For good or ill, when the Cap'n says jump, the only question is how high? No argument; no discussion. Not because father knows best, but because there ain't no time.

But that's only urgent in the very few times that events are coming thick and fast.

Most often, there is time for the Cap'n to gather opinions, expertise and wishes from the crew. Consensus can, in most cases, be reached. Humor and grace and tolerance... these are not just magnanimities, but contribute significantly to working the vessel. Disrespect toward the crew has lost many's the otherwise tight ship.

On SLACKTIDE, as a crew of lovers; maltreatment and disrespect aren't options.

We trade off the captaincy, because, like any skill, it takes practice. When we need that skill, we want it well worn and familiar in the hand. We don't want to be thinking about the process when our minds are full of wind and rocks.

Most times it's easy going... falling into the rhythms of drop anchor and pull, set sail and reef. We talk over our wishes and the realities that beset them, and come to an accord. But when push comes to shove, and Cap'n Anke's on deck, when she says jump, I ask how high!

It isn't necessary that the most experienced person be captain. That can help, sure. But, so long as captains draw on the experience of their crew, and can depend on crew to execute their commands, the ability to be decisive trumps experience.

On a warship, for example, the captain is unlikely to be most qualified to maintain the engines, sit sonar, or even navigate... all those are skills to command; resources to be called upon. On a cruiser, the captain might put the most experienced person at the helm in a blow, or the lightest to the masthead to free a haulyard. Decision and delegation are the captain's business.

*****


Work out Communication Protocols - This feels goofy, at first, and sounds like a bad play until you get it down. But it helps immensely to develop terse, easily understood communication standards for each SOP. Some will be non-verbal (whole arm signals, and the like). Verbal exchange should be just as simple and precise. It helps to use words of one or two syllables which carry well. Speak up, and turn to face the recipient. Repeat back for confirmation.

Some of these protocols are well known maritime standards. Shippy terms and usages aren't just vain souvenirs of times gone by. They evolved because they work well under stress. I'm not talking about piping the Admiral aboard. Ready about / Helm a-lee is the kind of thing I mean.

Traditional forms are tried-and-true and understood by most sailors. For example, the term 'tack' is common usage, while its trendy alternative, 'flop', is not. Either work, however, so long as all aboard are fluent with the terms.

[This bit is reposted from Rules of Thumb.]

*****

Our most useful call outs are Stand by! and Say again! These mean Hold on aminnit! and Huh? respectively, but carry further. By saying the same thing each time, it's much more clear than a bag of equivalents shouted across a windy deck. We've learned to trust them, too, that they'll work without further explanation or complaint, and that heads off the quetsching to which couples can be prone.

Here are some sample exchanges we use....

Getting underway:

Haul short!

Hauling short... short! 

Haul away!

Hauling... anchors a'trip... anchor's aweigh... anchor's aboard!

Anchor's aboard!

Back main to starb'rd!

Backing main to starb'rd!

Let go the main!

I toldja this sounds goofy. Lot's of redundancy and small steps, practiced in calm times, make it go like clockwork when it's blowing up and sleeting sideways.

The mizzen (aft sail) is hauled up before we get started, which holds our bow into the wind. While the anchor is being hauled aboard, the helm hoists the main. If there are any difficulties at the anchor (weed, say), the bow will answer the backing call with "No can do!". The helm will then go forward to back the sail and complete the maneuver.

In that last step, backing the main makes the bow fall off away from the backed sail. The helm will reverse tiller away from the sail, as well, and the boat spins on a dime. At 45deg off the wind, we let go the main, trim, and sail off under normal helm.

Dropping anchor:

No bottom at twelve fathoms!

No bottom at twelve fathoms!

Mud bottom at ten fathoms... standby to drop port side!

Standing by!

Mud bottom at five fathoms... Drop!

Dropping!

Make fast!

Making fast... line coming taut!

Line coming taut!

**DOINK**

Preddygoodoink!

The helm is doing the sounding. As soon as the doink is done, the helm hauls the boards, to prevent fouling with the anchor line. Tidy up commences with no commands necessary.


Reefing:

Reef two main panels!

Reefing two main panels!

Reef two mizzen panels!

Reefing two mizzen panels!

The helm will trim the sails as each is reefed.


Tacking up a narrow, rocky cut:

Stand by the pole!

Standing by the pole!

Rock on the port bow, four meters, half fathom!

Rock on port bow, four meters, half fathom!

Tack!

Tacking!

Note that dangers are identified by direction, distance and depth. We accompany this with whole arm pointing, when possible.

In this case, the bow usually call the shots as they have the good view. It's their call whether to push with the pole, or not, though the helm can also call for a push or backed sail.

We actually prefer to sail close-hauled through dangers. The only active option is to tack, which simplifies things greatly. If we somehow end up in a cul de sac, worst case is luff up, drop the main, and drift backwards through clear water until we can fall off again.

*****

As you can see, there's not much to it. The main trick is to have clear, unambiguous words. Repetition helps nip misunderstanding in the bud. And practice, practice, practice!

Assess, Address, Amend. This is our mantra. We work out standard operating procedures (SOPs), and debrief them after every task in which there's the least whiff of trouble.

When something has gone wrong, there are only two possibilities: Either the SOPs need improvement, or we need more training (drills) in their use.

Neither of these is a personal issue... there is no blame or recrimination called for, no matter how dire the consequences. There's a tendency to think that guilt is proportional to a bad outcome. I propose that guilt is an impediment to action, and to the correction of problems. Guilt, defensiveness, and blame are a useless and unpleasant tangle of emotions... I strongly suggest you chuck 'em overboard.

And when the anchor's down, Cap'n, take off the hat?

Warp Six: Looking Over the Anchor Gear

Neither should a ship rely on one small anchor, 

Nor life on a single hope.  

Epictetus 

Warp Six: Looking Over the Anchor Gear

There are some nights, me Boys and Girls, where well set anchors are the best of friends!

Most cruising advice is to carry three anchors; the bower (usually hanging ready at the bow), the kedge (lighter, and ready to deploy form the stern) and storm anchor (often stowed deep and in pieces, it's called upon only in the worst conditions). Many cruisers will double the bower.

This is a pretty good set (especially with the second bower) and covers most cruising for boats that don't dry out. For those that do, however, the more the merrier! But alas, small boats suffer limitations. 

Over the years, we've slowly worked out a system of six anchors. These have been chosen for flexibility and synergies among them. Here's the list:

• Bowers - 2 x Manson @ 25lb (spade) on 10ftm of 3/16in chain and 300ft of 1/2" nylon rode, each.
• Kedges - 1 x Northill @ 15lb and 1 x Northill 25lb (fluke) on 10ftm of 3/16in chain and 150ft of 3/8in nylon rode, each.
• Claws -  2 x Lewmar Claw @ 22lb on 30ft of 3/16in chain, no rode.

NOTE: Since this writing we've added a capstan windlass with rope clutch and gypsy. All chain is now matched to the gypsy at 1/4in.

In addition, we've got the following line on standby: 1 x 300ft of 1/2in nylon rode, 2 x 150ft of 3/8in nylon rode (on spools), 1 x 300ft of 1/4in nylon rode (on spool).

Standby line is used for shore tie, to extend primary rode for deep water or warping, dory line, hauling or hoisting with our 'endless' rope come-along, and any number of oddball projects that come up from time to time.

Anchor ratings are a voodoo science. They are usually given by length-of-vessel... by itself that tells you nothing about a vessel's weight, windage, and most importantly, motion in waves.

Ours are claimed to be adequate for boats considerably larger than ourselves, and this is in fact what we see in the general fleet. I am always amazed to see some multi-millon dollar yacht with a hillside's worth of windage sporting a single, dinky anchor at the bow. Hope their insurance plan delivers to Bleak Reef!

The Mansons are the largest we can comfortably pull. Several features commanded love at first sight. Their roll-bar will rotate the tip downward to engage the bottom. Normally, this is accomplished less reliably by a heavily weighted tip... weight saved goes into a broader spade; more area = more holding power on given weight. Since the weight is out of the tip, it can be sharp and slim for cutting down through moderate weed. Lloyds of London granted them their first, ultra-high holding rating.

You might have noticed the slot along the shank. In iffy bottom (where it could get stuck in rock, say), one can shackle to the slot and stand a chance of pulling it from the crown end, in case of fouling. But these are spendy suckers! We send one of the cheaper styles down if we have any doubts.

We have the pair hanging in rollers at the bow, ready to drop at a moment's notice. If we walk them out over a beach, the roll-bars make convenient grips, and balance fairly well out from our legs.

Northills are one of the early lightweight anchors designed for aircraft, and are favored by many of the local fishermen. They stow flat with cross-bar folded flat along the shank. They bite easier and in firm bottom, hold better than any other fluke anchor, for their size. They're not being made any more, but can often be found at auction (try online), or welded up (be sure to replicate angles, exactly).

Being lighter, they can be rowed out and handled with greater ease. Pretty good in weed. If we can't avoid the weed, we might put down one or both to back up the bowers. Most often we use them on broad, open beaches- they and the bowers splayed out from the quarters - where we need to fix the boat's position (over a sand-patch among rocks, say).

They do leave a fluke up. If anchoring with them, it's always against another holdfast to limit our swing from overrunning the exposed fluke... a half-hitch around that and off you go!

The Claws are broad lobed knock-offs of anchors designed for oil-rig platforms. They're not as easy to set as the others, having blunt entrances, but once in, their geometry holds well. They are reported to out-perform other types on short scope (a plus in offshore anchoring), and this seems to hold up in many's the tight anchorage.

A claw is often brought forward as a second bower... in light winds, the boat can turn many times a night, twisting two rodes... the claw, being set on a spool, can easily be set straight by passing the spool with any line still aboard round the fixed, bower rode.

A vital use for the claws is to double the Mansons in-line for storm conditions; end of each claws' chain shackled to a Manson's crown. 

The effect is greater than the sum of its parts. Very strong pulls on the rode straighten the sag in the line. If the line is straight, the inboard anchor shank can lift to match the scope, and possibly pull free. In this case, however, it still acts as a catenary (resisting straightening of the rode), and thereby backing up the outboard anchor by its very presence.

If we know storm conditions are coming, and we're committed to an open anchorage, we'll set up both bowers this way, angled about 60deg to one another.

If it's to be a real bad one, we'll wing the Northills wide along the line formed by the other two (perpendicular to the expected wind), and leave their lines a bit slack. When it all comes down, we can adjust tension among the lines to spread the load.

Better to be snugged into a tight lee, however, and better yet high and dry!

A PREDDYGOODOINK: Setting Anchor Engineless, Absent Wind

A well set anchor is a good night's sleep.

 

 Wind? Any Fool can sail with wind. It takes a Man to sail without it!

One of our Snaggle-Toothed, Water-Rat Friends

Setting anchor under sail is a valuable skill, well documented by serious sailors in serious venues (but here you are, instead... tsk). That's easy! Most sailing is pretty easy when the sails are full.

The real challenge is not blow high, but blow low.

Wind is not always with us. The sea breeze (anabatic) tends to die just about the time we're considering calling it a day. Wind and tide don't always agree, so we're sometimes out in a flat calm riding the bus; once we've reached our stop, we still have to climb off and anchor. And the good anchorages are like little, hand-held vanity mirrors, smiling placidly up at the sunset.

There are three general ways we've settled on to get an anchor set.

In Settled Weather, when we've no expectation of change, we scull our way across our chosen spot on a heading away from any possible wind (expected, typical or geographically worst case). On command from the helm, the anchor is dropped and warp paid out slack, while the helmsperson, working the scull, huffs and puffs to a sprint. At 10:1 scope* if there's room (less if not), we make fast, charging in slow motion down the line (which is trailing over the bow and straight aft).

* NOTE: We've heard, and it seems true, that long scope allows a better set, yet retains much of its holding power when hauled in to shorter scope. Short scope will straighten chain and pull anchor sooner than long scope, but takes considerable wind to do so, even at 2:1). For setting, however, longer is better, as it helps remove spring from the line/chain.

The person at the bow keeps a hand on the line, to see if its skipping or dragging. If all goes well, though, the line goes taut and DOINKs the boat. Pretty Good Doink is the signal that we've done our worst (Anke's brother rolled it into one word, Preddygoodoink, which we've used ever since). We haul back to lesser scope, (more on this, below) and settle in for the evening. If it's a dull, draggy sludge to a halt, we pull and repeat until satisfied.

If any wind comes up, we pop out to assess our hold and take new anchor bearings. Once we've fallen back on the anchor, we jerk set to test its hold. This entails hauling sharp and fast, jerking against the inertia of the boat. It should feel hard set (no change of resistance), and the boat should accelerate toward the anchor (visible against bearings).

Sometimes, if there's a particular danger (a rock, say), we'll scull toward that. We reason that we'll want our best holding against Murphy's Wind - the one that will set us onto the worst case. If space is tight, we go as close as we dare before making fast... if the anchor doesn't set, we need room to react.

The physics of the method relies on the momentum of the boat. Even at sculling speeds of little more than a knot and a half, the momentum of a three ton boat develops high shock load (why you don't want to fend off with a leg). This buries the anchor for a decent set whenever it gets a bite.

Some anchors are better at this than others. We don't use Danforth pattern anchors for this, as they can skip at higher speeds. We want one that will sink a tooth into the bottom, and then chomp it home with the doink.

Wind Expected situations require a more secure set. We may have achieved it with the preddygoodoink, but can't test it any further than what muscle provides.

What we need is a second anchor point. This can be another anchor or a shore tie. Once this is set, we can pull on either line, which should not come home. No jumps, slides, creeps or crawls allowed.

If one of two anchors fails to set, the trick is to decide which. Careful bearings  - at near right angles to the line between anchors - are the best indicator, as movement relative to them clearly shows which anchor is moving. But often, you can just feel it through the line. If the one in hand feels solid, it's likely the other that's dragging. Don't shrug it off... set and reset until everything's rock solid.

If you're feeling paranoid (and some days that's a prudent kind of a feeling), a handy billy or come-along can be used to set and test, well beyond what you can provide by hand.

Digging In by Hand is the most reliable method of all, and can be done on even the worst bottoms. We nose up to a beach or row to exposed beach. Using a WWI trenching shovel, we dig that sucker down till the shank is lying flat (can bury it, too, if that paranoid feeling is about). We've found that leaving undisturbed soil ahead of the flukes maximizes holding power, so dig a sharp wall toward the pull.

Surveying the Bottom helps a lot.

Visually, by lead or pole (which have the advantage over electronic sounders in being able to feel the bottom) , or, best of all, by foot at low tide, we gain much information seldom charted in these out-of-the-way spots.

Later, we'll draw up hand charts for the log, noting depths, patches of good holding (with bearings to find it again), foul bits to avoid and so on.
 
Needless to say, we hope to actually drop anchor on a good spot. As connaisseurs of bottom, we cheer for the silty suck-mud that grabs our lead in its velvet grip. Five star!

A pass or two in new territory usually turns something up. Often, once anchored, well row around prospecting spots with good protection or especially good vistas. It never hurts to row around and get an idea of the bottom around the boat's position, too... let's us know how much drag we could afford, if we did.

Over the years, our local knowledge base is growing, helping us anchor with confidence ahead of, or in the midst of bad conditions. This kind of data informs decisions on when and where to make a run for it if things take a turn for the wild side.

Nothing beats insider information!




PS. Being shoal drafted, we like the advantages of getting in close as possible. Good lees and best views of wildlife onshore. But our beaches, so close in and high up, are often cobble which resists a bite. Typically, they'll have muck at their feet, though, a bit further out.

In recent years, we've been dropping an anchor or two out in the soft bottom, with long warps in and a line to shore to limit swing and hold us close.

Keep It Simple, Sailor

Steve Lewis' CHUGGER: A Simple Boat UNDERWAY

Go small, go simple, go now!

Lynn and Larry Pardey

Keep It Simple, Sailor!

Laugh if you will, but this fella's underway in a vessel of his own making. Look around him! He's chugging through Paradise. If the sneers and jeers of the easily offended held sway with him, he'd be standing ashore looking wistfully across it, something I've done my share of. In my book, this guy's stylin'! 

Thumbing through the glossy pages of most maritime media, one gets the impression that only a Fool would attempt the sea unballasted by the latest gear. Everything from radar to moisture wicking undies. Can you spell B.O.A.T. (Bring On Another Thousand)?

Boating forums teem with paraphrases of, "I'd never go to sea in a boat that couldn't A, B and C." Or "If I wanted to go to sea in a crate, I would, but I don't." Or variations on, "Boats having properties D, E or F can't X, Y or Z." Uh... do these people actually ever get to sea at all?

"Ya gotta do/have this." 

"Ya can't do/have that."

Oh yeah? Well, my friends, it doesn't have to be that way.

Here's an example: A recent forum discussion focused on the economics of free-standing masts. Carbon fiber vs. efficiency vs. sail stability vs. flag-poles vs. the cost of losing the boat on that lee shore you can't sail off. Can't. Won't. Doesn't. Oddly, at no point did using a tree come up... they grow on trees, you know.

Like thousands over a span of centuries, Anke and I have sailed with unstayed masts, year round for years, engine-free, in a region that do come on to blow. We cut 'em from local spruce, but fir, pine or cedar would work just fine. Yep, they've got knots. Simplified junk rig (won't go to weather as swiftly as more refined JRs). DIY hinges and tabernacles. The entire rig cost less than a small winch. Yet we get where we're going and stay off the lee shores, thank you very much. Can. Will. Do. Sure there are trade-offs, but their economy is outstanding.

Why the difference? I think it's that folks get it in their heads that it's got to be first class or nothing. Never mind that, if we didn't inherit, somewhere along the line we've got to earn that first class ticket. 

Or nothing? Or do what most sailors have done through most of history... substitute relatively inexpensive skills, materials and patience for expensive hulls and gear. If we want and can afford it, good for us. If we can't, go 'cattle class', but go!

The Pardey's exhortation: Go small, go simple, go now!  These words inspired a generation of sailors, and ring as true today as ever. In today's world of shrunken and shrinking wilderness, frontiers and opportunities - of rising prohibitions, costs and environmental traumas - they are more urgent than ever. Carpe diem... sieze the day! The sun is setting both personally and on a global scale.

Our vessel needs to hold together. It needs to take care of us to a certain degree. But the idea of the Ideal Boat is a fata morgana. There is no Ideal Boat, but there are a range of capable boats suited to our waters, needs, pocket and skills. Our tastes are capable of revision.

Obsession with perfection, with the ideal, holds us hard aground!

Most of us are coastal or inland water sailors. We don't need to survive the perfect storm at sea. Most of us are the 99(.9)% and can't plunk down ten years' salary on a boat, even if it is to be our home. Some of us take pride in having built our own, but want to get it done with and underway.

Take a hard look at anything about a prospective boat that keeps us from the water. Can we live without it? Can we live with less of it? Can we Do It (Y)ourself? 

The choice seems clear... Let's scale-down, simplify and get going!

Or get used to disappointment.