I'll be writing, here, about TRILOBOATS, 'square boats' and our life on the water in SE Alaska. It's a blend of engineless, junk rig sailing, shoestring living and voluntary simplicity, with a few yarns thrown in for good measure.
Access to the net comes and goes, so I'll be writing in fits and spurts.Please feel free to browse the archives, leave comments where you will and write... I'll respond as I can.
Fair winds!
Dave and Anke triloboats swirly gmail daughter com
I think often about risk and its management. Our own lives and those of others in SE Alaska - anywhere, really - bring a stream of reminders lest I forget.
Risk is a fundamental aspect of life, and no amount of preparation brings it to zero. Hence, I write 'fail-safer' and 'saferty' to remind myself that safety is an ultimately unattainable goal however advisable its pursuit. I like to know my 'risk tolerance', on the one hand, but also keep in mind that mortal risk can and does reach past tolerance for those of us who brave the water. That awareness is both humbling and helps keep one alert.
Recently, I was introduced to a new-to-me framework for thinking about risk - the Risk Budget. The idea is that we have several 'stocks' (in system terms)... accumulations of resources which provide us with various margins of saferty. As we proceed in a risky endeavor, we draw these stocks down, reducing the total margin of saferty. When one or more of these stocks becomes critically depleted, our risk skyrockets. The outcome of cascading, catastrophic failure becomes ever more likely with each further withdrawal.
In terms of sailing, these stocks cover quite a range, and interact in suites.
Personal energy, hydration, and warmth directly support stamina and mental acuity. Vessel integrity, stability, gear and stores support ability to keep the sea. Stability, distance off, fall-back options and generally defensive sailing fend off extremity. Knowledge, experience and practice help make our options visible.
Thinking of our resources in terms of a budget reminds us that they are finite, and to spend them wisely.
But even with all these, time constraints, season and climate change may increase situational risk and rates of depletion. Age, infirmity and entropy lower our personal and material reserves.
What then to do? Make sure that...
We are well fed, hydrated, clothed and rested.
We have cultivated skills proportional to the risk.
Our vessel is robust and ready.
Stocks are ample, replenished, and rotated.
We sail in open windows of time and opportunity.
We sail defensively with plenty of margin and fall-back.
We favor fail-safer solutions.
We practice saferty-in-depth (redundancy).
We Keep It Simple, Sailor!
And before we exhaust our reserves?
Take immediate action to restore our margins of saferty.
Head for shelter ahead of trouble when possible.
All in all, not too earth-shaking. Not too difficult. Most of the time.
We can't eliminate risk and, as sailors, aren't really looking to. We accept the inherent risks of being on the water. But we can manage it.
We can hold ourselves prepared - as best we may - for the stitch-in -time.
Now roll on, Buddy? Why ya roll so slow? I gotta roll slow With my weight so low.
-- Adapting a Folk Song
Metronomics: Understanding Roll
Being an Old Fart, I had the privilege of growing up with mechanical metronomes. Mechanisms - as opposed to algorhythms - that set and keep the beat.
Metronomes keep the beat, adjusting their tempo by sliding a weight higher or lower along a bar.
Higher Weight = Longer / Slower
Lower Weight = Shorter / Faster.
Puts me in mind of the dreaded short and snappy roll that fatigues and throws crew around if not overboard. Longer, slower roll periods are desirable. Up to a point. Beyond that point, they can become self-reinforcing and enter 'death roll' dynamics. We're with Goldilocks... we're looking for a sweet spot that's juuuuuust right.
Being a sailor, I can't help but see roll dynamics in the metronome.
Bar = Mast Weight = Rig's Center of Gravity (CG) Axis = Hull's Center of Buoyancy (CB) Counter-Weight = Ballast CG
Tempo = Roll Period
The connection is easy to spot. We can adjust roll period (by raising and lowering the Rig's CG while all other points remain constant.
A baseline is established by weight distribution along the mast, most likely at construction time. Hollow masts offer lots of options for messing with distribution via placing of internal weights. Choice of hardware (e.g., masthead fittings, blocks, spreaders, etc.) for weight placement all count. Designers aim for one-size-fits-most.
Junk Rig is interesting... as the sail is raised, more weight goes aloft. Typically the yard is heaviest at the top, while battens average out(?) along the mast. The total effect is that more sail slows roll.
This suggests the possibility of elective roll period manipulation via weight that can be raised and lowered to adjust for conditions. The challenge would be a 'doohicky' which would observe these Thou Shalt Nots...
Not be difficult to deploy
Not interfere with the rig
Not swing wildly
Not be difficult to dowse
Not be difficult to stow
While giving a seriously positive return cost/benefit ratio-wise.
Clearly, the need for roll control will all have a lot to do with the roll dynamics of the hull in question. Low form stability (/easily driven) hulls will benefit more; Form stable (/it's complicated) hulls will benefit less.
Do all you have agreed to do. Do not encroach on other persons or their property.
-- Richard J. Maybury's Two Laws
Maybury's Laws for the Low Road
Along any road -- but especially the Low-- a Code is a fine travelling companion.
The further we walk with a Code, the more we internalize its virtues. Cloudy, moral dilemmas condense and wash away leaving pellucid vistas of arid clarity.
Ahem.
A Code cuts through the BS. It blows away the smoke. Guides our choices. Walk far enough with the Code and really, truly we begin to see more clearly, reason more cogently and react more instictively.
But that goes for most any Code. The Samurai had theirs. Fascists have theirs. Predatory capitalists have theirs.
A good Code, by my estimation, helps us ease on down the road. And nothing, me again, nothing eases our way on any road more than earning and giving Respect. This goes double along the Low Road.
We earn respect through integrity, which in turns makes us reliable. Respect is something it costs us nothing to give, but elevates every relationship it touches. Along the Low Road, we are often assumed to be both disrespectful and unworthy of respect. To ease down this road, we must earn it. To give it freely is to inspire it.
Which brings us to Maybury's Two Laws.
Do all you have agreed to do. Do not encroach on other persons or their property.
These two laws are about as good a Code as I've come across. The first earns Respect; the second confers it.
Let's look at them in turn.
Do all you have agreed to do...
This is a pretty durn good idea.
If you don't follow through with what you've agreed to do, your are living down to expectations. Even those who like and love you will not turn to you in their time of need, nor likely be there in yours. You'll be kept at arms distance by most. The next gig will be hard to land. Opportunity will flee.
Let your word be your word. It's that simple.
This doesn't mean you have to agree to anything, much less everything. Be selective about what you agree to... only those things you expect and intend to fulfill. Another's need is not, of itself, an obligation. But, according to this Code, your word is.
Of course, the best intentions don't always work out. But if you cannot fulfill a promise, promptly communicate your inability, your regret and work to make it right.
Few will begrudge us a good faith effort.
Do not encroach on other persons or their property...
This one's a doozy!
'Encroach'... that's a great word, but what does it mean? I think it's something we each have to answer for ourselves. But we each of us know when it happens to us... turn it around.
'Property'... I've known many's a Low Roader -- and even more High Roaders -- who play free and easy with what constitutes another's property. Our entire culture, having commodified everything, struggles with the notion. The phrase 'the Haves and the Have Nots' gives a glimpse into the the moral mush involved.
Here too, we must find our own meaning. And best do it before that tempting morsel is discovered, unattended before us! The answers we improvise in that moment are likely to be facile.
And that's where a Code helps out. It helps cut our own BS as well as that of others.
What's In It for Me?
These Laws... they're more like guidelines, really.
They're not handed down from God. They're not really enforced across the reach of their jurisdiction. So why follow these and why follow these?
Well... I speculate that the more of us who follow this Code for more of the time, the better the world will be for all of us in it.
I further speculate that, if this Code were a meme released into some evolutionary substrate (human culture, say), it would multiply and come to dominate, outcompeting its rivals.
[You see what I'm doing, here, right?]
Finally, I speculate that we will prosper as individuals if we follow this Code.
I have followed these Laws for decades, now. It comes natural... maybe that's why I'm drawn to them? Or maybe I'm the result of them? Anke seems to have come that way!
Despite our drifting, dreaming life, we are known to be reliable for that to which we commit. Despite our (technical) poverty, we are known to be trustworthy. Despite sailing full and by without an engine, we are known to be punctual.
And that comes back to us, with interest.
As we travel the Low Road, we follow the Code not because we are good, nor because the Code is righteous...
Winter covers a lot of ground. Pretty much a whole hemisphere at a time. Arctic sailing techniques and equatorial call for radically different sets of tools!
Our home waters are the islands of the Southeast Alaskan archipelago. Very roughly from 55 to 58 degrees North. At this latitude, daylight hours grow short and the nights long.
We’re warmed by the Japanese current, which keeps our temperatures moderate relative to continental cold air masses. But this thermal energy, exacerbated by pressure gradients between offshore lows and continental highs, makes for some mighty winds. Worse, they can huff up from nothing at a moment’s notice. They can hurl down-slope from icefields and on high. They might blow out quickly, or they might settle in till spring.
We can get a lot of early snow, then warm abruptly with copious rain, causing flooding and freshwater outflows over the surface of denser, salt-water tidal movements. Things get lumpy.
Cold snaps can freeze any surface water holding still. Or can blow freezing spray which can cripple and sink the unwary. Lines can freeze stiff, refusing to run and resisting any handling, while strength drops to the snapping point. A warming turn can cause ‘break up’, which can strip anchors and carry a vessel from shelter. Skim ice can slice a boat along its waterline, clean through the hull.
And, y’know, it’s cold!
Winter Tactics
Winter sailing can be a different kind of a beast anywhere outside the tropics. All the hard stuff is harder. More fail-dangerous. More apt to sap our energy and mental acuity. Ice and snow are strident factors.
Warmer, moist maritime air carries a load of heavy water vapor, which packs a whallop; as much as X times the force in the sails. Cold, dry interior air has less of a punch, but dries and freezes exposed skin, even at low speeds. Both can lead quickly to hypothermia and bad decisions. Protect yourself!
Here’s a handful of the things we do in the face of winter. These are all considerations (despite all the DOs and DON’Ts)... they’re stated as imperatively as we observe them:
Clothing and personal gear:
Layer Up – Moisture wicking near the skin, then thinnish, lofty (air trapping) layers until warm, topped off by a waterproof layer (PVC isn’t breathable, but it’s impermeable). Have lots of standby clothes to trade out if they become wet or damp, and don’t put off getting dry!
Headgear – Lotsa heat leaves via the head. Hats, balaclavas, neck gaiters, scarves… these help keep it in.
Gloves and Mittens – Rubber gloves with inserts keep hands warm and dry while getting under way, but then sweat and chill. We switch to mittens, ASAP, so our fingers can huddle together.
Insulated Boots – Felt lined rubber boots are great for cold weather. They’re fully waterproof and, like PVC, non-breathing. Slipping plastic bags over (the first layer of) socks still gives damp feet, but preserves outer insulation for warmth.
Goggles – These warm your eyes and keep snow, ice and slush out of them. A swipe with mittens clears them pretty well, unlike glasses.
Sailing Harness with Lanyard, Clips and Jackline – A little insurance for slippery decks and surging hulls. We like our lanyards short with a quick release shackle inboard and caribiner to the jackline. Short enough to keep us bruised but on deck, should we stumble, rather than drowning in our own bow wake alongside. We like inflatable vest/harness combos with whistle, survival kit and strobe light attached.
A Hole in the Weather
Warm Interior – We like to keep our fire going for winter sailing. We trade off frequently and get warm below. A hot water bottle in the foot of a sleeping bag helps with toes. NOTE: Make sure ahead of season that the smokehead draws well in all winds and at all angles of sail!
Warm Food and Drink – Making up a stew ahead of sailing and keeping our vacuum bottle topped off lets us keep hot energy flowing.
Hot Stones – Warming in the oven, these make great hand and pocket warmers. Watch out for any that are too hot, and wrap as necessary. A larger, flat stone works great for feet. Water bottles work, too, but they're a little harder to keep renewing underway.
Weather and Sea States
Check the weather before heading out! – Forecasts are fairly accurate for big winds, but diminish proportionally. In winter, anything up to Force 5 could be from about anywhere. But check. And use our own eyes and knowledge! We are privvy to local knowledge the forecasters and their models can only infer. Doesn’t matter what the forecast tells us if actual conditions are shouting otherwise.
Avoid (Strong) Wind or Surface Outflows against Tides – These conditions cause the seas to stack short and sharp. Hard on us and our gear. Whatever else is going on is that much harder to handle.
Don’t head out into rising conditions – In winter, things that are getting worse don’t know when to stop. Even when the forecast calls for a moderate pick-up, things can get carried away. ‘Course, a calm going light gives some margin of error… I’m thinking more of 15 going to 25kts… we might well get 40kts!
Don’t head out into freezing spray – Of all the dicey conditions, freezing spray gives us the willies. A little can be tolerated; a lot can roll us under. But which it’ll be is a crapshoot.
Don’t anchor in the mouth of vertical valleys, avalanche chutes or off of windbroken trees – Williwaws and avalanches are no joke! Consider a topographical map (e.g., the state Gazetteers) to help spot wind holes.
Don’t Sail through Skim Ice – Our copper plating gives a big margin of safety, but ice is patient. Be aware that, if sculling, even a little ice will stop you in your tracks.
IceUp Calls for High Alert – We try to keep an ice free moat around the hull with breakout to the point our anchor lines intersect the water/ice. If possible, we neap out above the worst of it. Once the weather warms (or melt begins from below), we set a watch, and start breaking things up as soon as possible. Worst comes to worst and we are dragged out of shelter (never happened, but it could) prepare to sail. Run for shelter as soon as free of ice. Maybe even before?
Frozen Lines
Make Sure Sheets and Halyards are Running Free – This is tricky. If it’s very cold and dry, often iced lines will more or less sublimate free (solid ice evaporates with no intermediate liquid), aided by beating and working. Tails can often be brought below to thaw and dry. We don’t set out until we can raise and lower all sail. If in doubt, stay put when possible. If not, keep working on them once underway.
We start working the lines free as soon as it gets cold enough, even if we’re not planning to sail. It’s a slow process, and ya never know.
Install (Temporary) Downhauls – Sometimes our best efforts fall short, and a sail that can’t be lowered is positively dangerous. Downhauls are good insurance. We can usually haul a reluctant sail down by hand, but our winches are handy in case we need more pursuasion.
Anchor Lines – these are a skosh more forgiving… In our self-bailing anchor locker, they can be swashed down with seawater before deploying (salt water has a lower freezing point than fresh). Usually, this is a little less time critical, as they have no blocks to run and are gravity assisted. Still, take a look to check they’re not a block of ice before we set out.
Dock Lines – Double them up and use wider angles than usual. Where possible, get them working together, rather than one by one, to share loads. Try to minimize shock loading from a surging hull by reducing slack.
Fenders – Double them up, too (they can get brittle) such that, should one fail, the hull is still fended off. Consider some non-inflatables such as tires or rope fenders. Consider an off-haul system (anchor set abeam or strut ties).
NOTE: Recently, I’ve seen a type of loosely braided, synthetic line being used for docklines in winter conditons… It shrugs off water so doesn’t freeze so remains pliable and presumably retains strength. Haven’t yet been able to research. Might it be fit for sheets and halyards?
Rules of Thumb
Throw Away the Calendar – Scheduled sailing is dangerous any time of year. In winter, it can be deadly. Having to be somewhere pushes us to sail when we shouldn’t. Sailing when we shouldn’t can lead to pushing daisies.
Await the Opportune Moment – Wait for a fair wind, in fair amount, over a fair sea, with a fair prospect. This is our best shot at getting on down the road safely. Don’t fight conditions… long money’s on them!
Increase All Margins of Safety – Maintain more than ordinary room to deal with trouble. We’ll likely need it. Consider a winter set of heavier anchors.
Move in Short Hops – Winter windows are short and snap closed fast… go from one secure situation to the next with dispatch. Don’t long haul for distant shelter or dawdle daylight away.
Prepare for Night Sailing – Chances are, we’ll end up in the dark. Be ready with navigation, information, skills and lights.
Have Fall-backs and Be Ready to Engage Them – Should conditions change, be prepared to change with them. Even if it means giving up a whole difficult day to run back to where we started or worse. Better safe in a downwind anchorage, than caught out in a rising, night-time gale!
Be Prepared to Hunker Down – If we get weathered in, we want to have all the wherewithal to stay for an extended period. Like maybe the rest of the winter? Food, water, books. Some winters, may be best to catch up with friends in a town.
All this is on top of having our selves, vessel, gear and outfit in fine fettle. Winter is no time to let things slide. Of course, knowledge is imperfect so we can and will encounter the unexpected. But we do what we can…
Heh. Clever. But I believe... A generalist knows more and more about more and more until eventually s/he knows something about everything.
A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects. -- Robert A. Heinlein
If one's only tool is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.
-- The Law of the Hammer
Avoid optimization; Learn to love redundancy. -- From Nassim Taleb's Phronetic Rules
Optimal is Not Optimal: The Sweet of Suites
Let's get it said, upfront. I'm a Generalist. Jack of Many Trades. Proud Master of None.
I'm much less drawn to Rules than to Rules of Thumb. I admire precision, but prefer the loose fit. I'll take one-size-fits-most over tailor-made any day of the week.
So here's the problem with Optimal. It is by definition the very best solution for a particular problem. Often very particular problem. A problem one can foresee with great confidence and specificity. A can opener. A mouse trap. A barrel bolt. These things have solutions that are pretty durned optimal and are notoriously hard to improve upon.
But problems abound, and each has its own, special way of driving us bugnutz.
Generalized (sub-optimal) tools and approaches cover a much wider range of problems. So wide that they often spill over into other whole species of problem. A suite of generalist tools - especially those which work well together - cover a very wide range indeed.
In discussions I read on the subject, Specialized vs General evaluations tend to measure in degrees of Success (often vs Failure). For example, a Specialized tool has a high degree of success, but only at a narrow task. The Generalized tool is assessed at some lower degree of success, but over a swathe of loosely related tasks. Most such writers argue for the General.
What I think is often missed is that Efficiency is a much better standard. The Generalized tool will succeed... it just takes longer for a small fraction of that range. That it does so over a wider range of problems is a better measure of its advantage over Optimal. It is less efficient at one particular task, but more efficient overall.
Veritas rabbet planes
Consider the Rabbet Plane vs the Chisel.
I'm not knocking the Rabbet Plane. This one by VERITAS is a well designed thing of beauty and a boon to the task. If your life calls for a lot of rabbets, it may pay its way. But it's not happy performing most of the other chores one asks even of a plane. Very bottom line, it's a specialized Chisel.
But which fits better into a limited space toolbox? Which is less expensive to purchase? To replace or repair? Can it do any single thing a chisel cannot? No. Can a chisel do things it cannot? Let me count the ways... (okay, I won't... you get the picture).
Another important consideration is reliability. Given quality components, this is the product of simplicity (less to go wrong) and imprecision (loosely 'coupled' components).
Okay, I once said, I get KISS. But imprecision is a virtue???
Turns out that precise, tightly coupled systems are prone to failure. The kind of failure that chewing gum and baling wire can't fix. A little sand in the finest Swiss watch and it will drop to merely semidiurnal success. But one can make a sundial with a stick stuck into sand. If it gets kicked over, stick it again and recalibrate. [We can also use that stick to lean on, plant a seed, pry a up a rock, bind a tourniquet, whack a mole...]
Efficiency, as I mentioned, is a factor here... that sundial has its limitations in this regard. Cost / benefit analysis is the guide. That stick is very efficient, in its modest way.
A final point I seldom if ever see discussed is how well tools (or approaches) work together in suites (combinations). What I call the sweet of suites.
Simple, generalized tools can join forces to accomplish almost anything! Their areas of efficacy overlap, affording redundancy and choice. A heavy screwdriver can be a prise bar can be a chisel can be a lever can be a...
NOTE: We are strictly warned against abusing a tool beyond its designed purpose. HA.
A sweet suite of tools, skills, approaches, methods, guidelines... what-have-you... covers the ground. Covers it better, to my mind, than any ungainly heap of one-shot wonders.
Sweet.
NOTE: I realize that all this is, in fact, a spectrum. At the KISS extreme, brain + opposable thumbs are as simple as it gets, and all the others are to some degree specialized. The kind of optimal we look for will always be the happy middle ground.
All boldface below are quotes from Dr. Gawande's book.
In Being Mortal, Dr. Gawande writes:
This is a book about the modern experience of mortality -- about what it’s like to be creatures who age and die, how medicine has changed the experience and how it hasn’t, where our ideas about how to deal with our finitude have got the reality wrong.
Our main take-aways from the book:
Quality of life is preferable to mere quantity for the vast majority of us.
Care should be determined - in discussion with one’s family, doctors and care-givers - by asking...
What is our understanding of the situation?
What do we fear?
What do we hope for?
What are the trade-offs we are willing to make?
What are the trade-offs we are not willing to make?
What is the best course of action which serves this understanding?
Consider, answer and communicate, if possible, before the onset of care…
Do you want to be resuscitated if your heart stops?
Do you want aggressive treatments such as intubation and mechanical ventilation?
Do you want antibiotics?
Do you want tube or intravenous feeding if you can’t eat on your own?
Hospice approaches and attitudes appear to serve the terminal patient much better than standard medical interventions.
In the Epilogue, Dr. Gawande writes:
We’ve been wrong about what our job is in medicine. We think our job is to ensure health and survival. But really it is larger than that. It is to enable well-being. And well-being is about the reasons one wishes to be alive.
The way the mind will lean under stress is strongly influenced by training. -- From Frank Herbert's Dune
Don't Panic.
-- Printed in large, friendly letters on the cover of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
When Panic Rears Its Ugly Head
Panic is one of the very worst dangers sailors face.
Panic may paralyze us. It may send us into a frenzy of useless or even detrimental action. It may benumb the mind or send it reeling.
Panic, more often than not, is a far greater danger than the conditions which invoke it. Indeed, it can strike in a total absence of danger if the situation is misread.
An instinct to freeze in the face of danger might sometimes help prey animals survive. Panic adrenalized flight might have helped our ancestors live to fight another day.
But panic on board – whether of captain or crew – is not our friend.
It can overwhelm anyone, but favors the unprepared. It's contagious and can debilitate an entire crew. At worst, those caught in its grip are a danger to themselves, the crew and the vessel.
Fortunately, we can reduce its onset with training, and break its grip with breathing and focus.We are none of us immune to panic, but neither are we its helpless victims.
Panic - and climbing out of it - is serious business, for which it is well to be prepared.
It was a dark and stormy night.
Well, not stormy, yet, but one was bearing down on us. And it was dark... that nebulous kind of dark where even silhouettes are blurred and indistinct.
We had fetched the reefbound entrance to a fjiord. Just the sort of place that wind, when it hits, funnels together and venturies itself into a rage (vent = wind + furies?). But we were ahead of it and dropped anchor close in the lee of a sheltering island.
Before we could set the anchor, however, the first lick of squall pounced on us and stripped it, blowing us back into exposed water, embayed by rock and reef, lost in blinding rain and intensified dark.
This is not as dangerous as it sounds, but calls for close sailing in tight quarters, with strong, confused winds. It was just a matter of navigating between the lighter water smudges bracketing the island, visible at either end of our tacks. Round up and stall in the blackouts. Work our way into the inky lull between them and anchor on soundings. Not an everyday occurrence, but we've practice aplenty.
Anke went forward to haul the anchor, while I raised sail, an operation that briefly fouls the deck with loops of halyard. Normally this is cleared at leisure as each sail is raised. But, with trouble close to leeward, there was no time for niceties. Sails and anchor up, we set course close-hauled, intending to tack back into our island's lee.
Anke returned to the cockpit and took the helm while I set about clearing the decks by feel. Despite the fact that I couldn't see any of the lines, by habit, I put my head down for a moment. A side gust hit, and we heeled hard and SLACKTIDE rounded toward it in a swoop, dumping power and regaining her feet.
As my head came up, I found that I'd lost my bearings. Neither wind nor the sketchy blots of black fell into a pattern I could recognize. Which way to turn and how long before burning up scant searoom? Panic clamped down hard. Heart pounding, mouth gone dry, knees weak and knocking, mind clutching wildly at any purchase within that churning darkness.
Breathe x four, and my mind began to work again. Still disoriented, but ready to do the sensible thing... ask Anke what's where.
And she soon set me straight.
Panic took me in its vice that night. It happens. And if we don't get a handle on it, it'll run us under.
Note: If we'd both been lost, an unpanicked assessment would quickly reveal standard options; heaving to or dropping anchor till bearings were regained. If we drag, we can row out another, or dredge downwind (dragging anchor acting as a drogue to keep head up; back sails to skin through breaks in the reef (clearly visible for ultra-shoal draft as patches of smoother water between breaking water). If a lee shore (no breaks), ground out and step ashore if and when we must. The first happens now and then, the latter two once or twice.
*****
So here are some tools we've found useful. While they don't all address panic itself, together they lower the odds that panic will take over. And once your mind is your own again, you're ready to take on trouble.
Preparation
Take care of yourself – Dress appropriately for conditions. Get adequate rest. Eat and drink well (never alcohol, however, while at risk).
Outfit yourself– Reliable gear that works well together across real and anticipated scenarios gives you the physical basis to deal with emergencies.
Train yourself – Develop skills before you need them, and practice them in increasing conditions. If nothing else, imagine scenarios and response in detail.
Drills help immensely. But a word of caution... skills are most powerful when seen as modular – useful separately or in combination with others. Seen thus, they empower improvisation. Overfocusing on set drills can leave us unprepared when the real world deviates from the 'script'. I seen it happen! Orient yourself – At all possible moments, know where you are. Where are your fall-backs? What is your fail-safe strategy? What is the path of least resistance?
In the Moment
Breathe! -- First thing you'll need is oxygen. Adrenalin kicks us into high gear and we start burning through O2 reserves like wildfire, and we need to up our intake.
I like the 'fourfold breath'... enough air to supply the brain, and counting helps focus and bring me back. Consciously use feature to ease yourself down. Four quick breaths are not enough to hyperventilate or delay your recovery. But do take more if you need to.
TIP: If you are in the grip of panic, it may help to close your eyes for this step... this shuts out alarming visuals which, at this point, you are in no shape to process. Benefit varies from one individual to the next, however.
NOTE: I've since read of a technique use by US Navy Seals called square breathing. In 4 seconds, hold 4 seconds, out 4 seconds, hold 4 seconds. Repeat. Long story, but this helps bring O2 and CO2 into balance.
DO NOT PROCEED until panic ebbs... until you do, your actions are unlikely to be helpful and may cause harm! Our best shot is to keep with it until we have ourselves in hand. Note the distinction between panic and merely being afraid. You can function with the latter. To captains: If you allow your personal panic to persist, both ship and crew are as though rudderless. Your calm and confidence aid the crew to deal with their panic. You may have to relieve crew who cannot control their panic before it spreads lest they endanger the ship or themselves with panicked mis-actions.
Assess, Address, Appraise – What are the dangers and/or damages? Options? Resources? Priorities? What is your plan? Are your actions producing their intended effect? What must be done to remedy, if not? Don't hesitate to trade up one plan for a better one, where possible. We need to home in on effective address, pronto.
To captains: This is your responsibility. If time allows, consider consulting with knowledgeable crew. Consider staying in the moment... what came before or comes after is likely irrelevant in the crisis.
Communicate – Make sure everyone involved knows their job. If time permits, fill them in on the situation and the why of what they're told to do. This helps them deal with their panic. Help them with that process where time allows.
To crewmembers: Consider that the skipper may not have time to fully brief you. This is the time to 'put your head down' and perform each assigned task to the best of your ability. If you observe something urgent, report it, but consider that the skipper must rank that information into priorities to which you may not be privy. S/he may have you abandon your assigned task in favor of another as plans change rapidly. Resist the urge to act without instruction (at least such actions as dropping or raising sail).
Buy time – Actions which buy you time – to think, orient, improvise, etc. - can be invaluable, even when they don't directly improve your situation. Make the most of the time you've bought!
Afterwards:
Attend to the ship – Damage assessment and control that hasn't been addressed during the emergency. Make all gear ready to run. Get to shelter, if necessary. Initiate repairs, if necessary.
Attend to the crew -- All present and accounted for? Any trauma or medical issues? Apply first aid, if necessary. Get help, if necessary.
ReAssess – What went well? Not so well? What could be improved? Has training adequately prepared each for their role? Was the ship's outfit up to snuff?
Fix what's broke.
NOTE: As with any debriefing session, this is not a blame game. That someone panicked and/or was unable to to climb out from under it is not reprehensible, but rather grounds for further training. This includes everyday and emergency seamanship AND in techniques for ending panic.
*****
Bonus Feature
In the following scene, from the movie Flight, involves a flight crew's response to mechanical failure.
I admire this depiction of the captain's expertise and handling of the situation and crew. He is decisive and proactive in both respects. He plays a large role in keeping his crew from panic and moving toward a solution.
NOTE: Thisscene focuses on what happens in the cockpit but includes asides depictingphysical trauma to crew in the cabin. It was loosely inspired by a real life incident (Alaska Airlines flight 261) in which all passengers and crew perished). Though ultimately unsuccessful, by not panicking, the real-life crew gave themselves and their passengers the best chance of survival. They were posthumously awarded the Airline Pilots Association Gold Medal for Heroism.
Please view with discretion.
From the movie, Flight, starring Denzel Washington
