Days 36 & 37: When to trust your gut & why you have to really understand…

Days 36 & 37: When to trust your gut & why you have to really understand weather forecasts before going off shore…

Yesterday we woke up in Destin, and saw heavy heavy easterlies forecasted for the day. Sounded like an inside the ICW day to me. Got moving, made breakfast, weighed anchor and off we went.

Our first stretch on the ICW was actually across a fairly large body of water known as the Choctawhatchee Bay. (Try saying that three times fast). Destination for the day was Panama City about 53nm from Destin, not a bad ride. Well once we rounded the point and made it into the bay, we started seeing some pretty stiff breeze, and since it was running the length of the bay, we had a decent set of waves 3-4ft coming right on the nose. Highest windspeed I saw was 31knts, but the average was 24.

This was one of those days I was thankful for the Autopilot. Set it on track and then hid out in the companion way to stay out of the spray. Got caught up on some reading while we motored straight into it for 3 hours. Finally we made it across the bay and into a river that offered us some nice wind and wave protection. By sunset we were in the Grand Lagoon, the body of water Panama City is on. Had a nicely lit passage under the highway 98 bridge, and made our way into the marina.

In freshwater you wash your boat before you take it out. In salt water you wash it after you get to port for the day. Especially after the wet and wild ride we had earlier. A few years back on a delivery with Willie Lynch: “Yacht Manager To The Stars”, he told me in his colorful Irish brogue “A clean boat is a happy boat, the proper way to treat a lady who carried you safely back to land is give her a proper bath.”

He then handed me a deck brush and a bottle of boat soap and said “Get to it nipper”. I realized he wasn’t imparting wisdom, just giving me directions. That was also the day I realized an Irish accent can make giving an order sound like old world wisdom. Don’t be fooled by those sneaky Irish.

What I did find out later on, was that Willie was right. So I now make it a habit to wash a boat every time we return to port in salt water. Waking up in the morning to everything and I mean EVERYTHING coated in salty crust is not a fun way to start the day. You might as well be sailing a well-salted stadium soft pretzel.

After giving Gypsy her well earned bath, and the dogs their first walk in 36 hours, I settled in for the night. A habit I’ve always had whenever I’m on a boat, even in port, is to have the radio on 16. Part of me wants to know what going on out there, another part of me likes to listen to weather alerts. Hi, My Name Is Graham, and I’m a Maritime Nerd.

Over the years I’ve heard some interesting things. I’ve even responded to a few distress calls back in Chicago when I had Naida. I could go on but I imagine your attention span is only so long and I need to get to the moral of tonight’s story.

While flipping through the channels looking for something to watch (Bad Sisters on Apple TV is excellent by the way, speaking of irish brogue), the VHF came to life with a call from the Coast Guard. They were talking to a vessel, who I couldn’t hear, that was in some kind of distress. Hearing a distress call is far from entertainment, but as a mariner you can’t help but listen to it. There is someone, out there, who is in need of help. It’s a situation all of us who take to the open water hope we will never be in ourselves. I only had 1/2 the story, as I could only hear the coast guard radio operator’s side of the conversation. But after a few minutes I learned it was a sailboat, they were about 30nm south of land, about 75nm from me. They were clearly having trouble making way, and were requesting the CG come tow them. The CG declined based on the heavy and unsafe sea state the sailors reported, the only offer of assistance the CG made was to come extract them from the vessel via helicopter.

I couldn’t see him on my AIS receiver, but I could see him on Marine Traffic dot com. Moving west, presumably sailing downwind, at 1.5 knots. I pulled up the data from the weather buoys in the gulf in that area, I didn’t see anything wild being reported, 15-20knt, 3-4ft waves. Same as it had been all day. Odd. I figured he must have experienced some kind of rig failure. The VHF traffic died off after he apparently declined swapping his ship for a CG rescue basket, and that was the last I heard for the night.

It gave me great pause. Just two days prior I had planned on sailing from Pensacola straight through to Tampa on that same route, but the morning of departure the weather forecast changed just enough that my gut said “Can you? Yes. Should You? No.” Having had some terrifying weather related moments at sea, I opted to trust my gut which at this point in my life is about as well seasoned in weather decisions as a Gibson’s W.R Chicago Cut that’s been crusted in peppercorns. (Sorry writing this while cooking dinner)

Understanding weather on the water is something that you can read all about, but until you apply it, and get stuck in some real shite weather, you can’t fully understand it. Let along “feel it”.

The scariest moment I’ve ever had on a boat was the final leg of a delivery from St. Thomas to Marco Island, FL. After a fairly lumpy but uneventful 7 day offshore passage, we made it to Key West, got fuel, and carried on the last short hop to Marco Island. Navigating into ports on the Gulf can be downright dangerous at night. We are spoiled in the great lakes where there are no crab pots to snag.

For damn near 20 miles north of the keys there are 1,000s of crab pots, each attached to their own polypropylene line with a buoy. Snagging one with a prop is bad, catching and jamming your rudder is even worse. During the day you can see them and avoid them. At night, it makes an approach impossible.

We left Key West around 2pm, and by 7pm we were motoring straight into 6-8ft seas, and 25-30knt winds. The autopilot failed, thus hand steering was the only option. The 38 ft cat would climb one side of the wave, reach the crest, then SLAM down on the other side. Over and Over. I was taking waves over the helm. Imagine standing outside and just having someone throw a bucket of saltwater in your face at 15 second intervals for 8 hours. I instructed the crew to stay in their cabins to avoid getting injured by the violent motion of the boat. As I stood at the helm I realized we didn’t have much choice but to motor on, turning around would mean entering the minefield of crab pots at night, in 8ft seas, and the port we were headed to was the nearest safe harbor. So we motored on, both engines full speed, making 3 knots. I vividly remember thinking several times through that night that we had about a 50% of making it to land. I was shocked we didn’t lose the rig with the violent see-sawing. Every ceiling panel in the boat had fallen down. It was an experience that reminds you no matter how good you think you are, or how much experience you have, or how many hours at the helm, all it takes is missing one weather report to make the difference between an uneventful trip, and an experience that will have you reevaluate your relationship with God. Whatever form of God that may be for you. Further more, that entire situation was caused because I didn’t check for an updated forecast since that morning. Had I looked again when we got fuel, that storm may have been predicted and we could have avoided the whole endeavor.

That night will be seared into my memory forever. Hearing this conversation with the CG on VHF 16 brought me right back to it, and brought me great worry for this fellow mariner in distress. He was clearly well beyond my radio range, but part of me just wanted to call out “I’ve been there buddy, you’ll be fine just keep going.” I checked marine traffic several times through the night to see his progress.

Fast forward to this evening. I had stayed in Panama City for a day as we had a tornado watch this morning till noon, and by the time the line of squalls moved through it would be too late to make it to the next port by a reasonable hour. Spent the day cleaning, getting some provisions, and visiting the local West Marine for some bits and bobs. Just isn’t the same without Tina and her purple hair.

This evening as I was sitting on the settee, I saw the distinct glow of a sailboat steaming light through my cabin-top hatch. Being the marina snoop that I am, I poked my head up through the hatch like a gopher and low and behold it was the boat from the previous night’s distress call. He was a solo sailor like myself, he looked tired and ready for some rest. I threw on shoes and shouted out to him to offer help and met him at his assigned slip.

As he attempted to back into his slip, I couldn’t help but sternly but calmly shout out commands when he appeared to be out of his element. After years of watching customers hopelessly slam Alizé, our Catalina 400 into the dock in reverse I have mastered the skill of shout-teaching reverse docking in real time. It’s all about physics kids… This was my first sign that something didn’t quite measure up.

With our new neighbor in his slip I asked him about last evening. Turns out he is a new sailor. Like just bought his first boat (a well appointed 40ft cruiser) last week new. He decided he would just sail from Tampa to Panama City, no biggie right? As a mariner we do our best to withhold judgment of other mariner’s sea stories. But based on the weather radar and buoy data it was clear this wasn’t The Perfect Storm that he encountered, just an inexperienced guy motoring a sailboat across the gulf in a tail wind…

This is where my pro-sailing “grow the sport” shoulder angel, and my “These idiots who watch 5 youtube videos and now think they are sailors are going to get someone killed” shoulder angel argue feverishly. I love it when folks want to get into the sport. The only way we keep the industry alive is by growing it. But after spending 10+ years teaching sailing, and 4 years running a sailing school and rental fleet, I’ve seen some really overconfident or clueless boneheads do some great damage to boats, their egos, and in one unfortunate event a woman’s thigh… While this guy seemed like a nice guy, he clearly was in over his head. We have all been there, I know I have. The difference here is how this guy seemed oblivious to it. Like calling the coast guard when you are floundering off shore in 15-20knts is something we all do, right? How many times have you done it!? Ha!

Turns out he was motoring, his motor died. I mused that the lumpy seas probably stirred up the algae in his tank and clogged his filters, has happened to the best of us. He looked at me confused as that was exactly what happened. Confused at how I guessed so quickly. Well just like Farmers insurance, I know a lot, because I’ve seen a lot. Clogged filters off shore are way more common than you may suspect and I’ve done it on a solo Mac return trip. This did however highlight a glaring red flag for me. You are in a 40+ft well appointed cruising sailboat, in moderately challenging conditions, heading downwind (best direction you could be going in that situation) so you decide to motor, and when the motor fails you call the USCG instead of just sailing?! What?! It’s impossible for me to know exactly what conditions he was in. But thanks to modern weather data tools, it’s fairly apparent he probably encountered a squall, they are small, but they are common, and to the inexperienced mariner can be scary. But to quote Captain Ron Rico “It’s just a squall boss, they come on ya fast, and they leave ya fast”.

Being offshore is a choice you make, and it’s never one you make lightly. Yes, the CG is there to help in an emergency, but bringing more people into a situation, even professional rescuers just raises the stakes. The rescue swimmer that is coming out to get you in that orange and white helicopter is someone’s son or daughter. They may have spouse and kids at home they want to get back to. They are human, and the margin for error in these situations is huge. Along with the weather, that is a huge factor to consider when making the decision to leave port. This isn’t a flat tire and they aren’t AAA. Putting people at risk because you wanted to motor your new to you boat across the gulf and don’t know what you are doing is in my opinion, unacceptable.

I wished him well and made my way back to the boat, while fighting the urge to tell him how he should seek out the nearest US Sailing Basic Keelboat course, but I kept my thoughts to myself for once. I love meeting folks who are excited about getting into the sport. Taking a class isn’t the only way to learn how to sail, but it is the most effective. Like any new sport, when starting out you literally don’t know what you don’t know. I know I didn’t. I made all kinds of stupid mistakes as I learned the ropes, that is a big part of learning. It’s always painful to see someone else make the same mistakes you made. I wish we could just dump all of the information from our brains from one sailor to another, like Neo learning martial arts in the Matrix. But alas, we live in the real world, where there is no substitute for real experience and time.

I hope this sailor takes some time to rest up after his arduous journey. Then takes a few more minutes to reflect on what he can do better to mitigate his risk and the risk to others in the future. I know the most important thing I have learned over the years is you are never done learning. Every time I leave land, especially for an ocean passage I take a deep breath, and think through every part of the trip one last time. Provisions, weather, route, crew, and risk. I learned that applies to the middle of the trip, as much as it does the beginning after leaving that Key West fuel dock….

Hope you had a great evening, if you made it this far Gold Star for you! Write “Gibson’s Steak” in the comments below and I’ll know you have made it to the end of my rant.

Cheers.