Suddenly Overboard
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He started to release the halyards to drop the sails in case any boat motion was hastening the leak, but he thought they might be more visible for the searchers. He left them up but released the sheets so that they flapped listlessly.
The boat was settling deep in the water, and a wave sloshed over the rail and cockpit coaming. He scanned the water all around for lights of boats.
What happened when a boat went down? People talked about being sucked down after it, but he thought that probably only happened with big ships. On the other hand, he was concerned that at the last moment the boat might roll or pitch and snag him in the rigging. It seemed safer to be off the boat before that happened.
So he waited until it looked like the cockpit would soon flood, then unclipped the VHF and called to say the boat was about to go down and he was getting into the water. He felt in the pocket of the dry suit and told them he had a glow stick and would snap it on when he saw a rescue boat getting close. “Watch for a small green light,” he said, and signed off.
He stepped off the stern into the water and breast-stroked slowly away from the boat, feeling awkward in the dry suit. He felt warm enough except for the cold water that splashed his face.
Then he stopped and floated and watched his sailboat go down. It just slipped beneath the water, still upright, until even the masthead was gone, and he felt a deep sadness for the first time. Such a mystery, the unknown fast leak. He’d never even know what it was.
He figured it was only about 15 minutes before he saw the Coast Guard hovercraft approaching, throwing up white spray in the moonlight. He snapped the green glow stick and held it as high as he could. Its light looked uselessly feeble, but he saw the hovercraft alter course a little and slow its approach. In a minute they were pulling him aboard.
Bahia Transat Disaster
Mini class 6.50-meter sailboats are very fast race boats and can be a handful to sail, especially for the singlehanded sailors of the Charente-Maritime Transat, which in 2011 ran from France to Brazil via Madeira, a 4,200-nautical mile sprint. It’s a grueling race for solo sailors, who must be at the top of their game and prepared for many strenuous days alone at sea. For many, it’s also a significant test of self-sufficiency. Regardless of the team support and the best work of designers and engineers, once the boats leave the dock these skippers are as much on their own as any sailor can be out on the ocean, even with satellite linkups.
French sailor Mathieu Claveau was in the middle of the Atlantic, pushing on in his small boat, catching some sleep in a period of light wind, when he was abruptly awakened by what he later described as the powerful shock of the boat striking something. He rushed on deck but saw nothing in the water nearby. Then he experienced every sailor’s nightmare: he looked below and saw water gushing into his boat, already covering the cabin sole. Kneeling, he felt along the hull in his galley area and found a gaping, ragged hole so large it would be impossible to plug in time. There were no boats in sight; he was alone at sea and sinking.
But ocean races like this one have stringent safety requirements, and Claveau had an EPIRB as well as a life raft and enough emergency gear to stay alive for days if needed. He tried bailing water from the boat but realized immediately he could not keep up. He then activated his emergency beacon and started gathering his gear to abandon ship.
He had to trust that his signal would be received and help dispatched; he had no other hope. Even with a supply of food and water he couldn’t expect to survive forever in a tiny life raft. The literature of sail includes many stories of sailors spilled from their life rafts by storms at sea or drifting for weeks after running out of food and water. In 1981 Steve Callahan spent 76 days in a life raft in the Atlantic in the days before satellite GPS and EPIRBs, subsisting on fish, birds, barnacles, and rainwater. He was very lucky to have survived.
As it happened, Claveau was lucky that a cargo ship was only 45 miles away when his emergency signal was received. The ship was diverted to his location and soon reached him. As instructed by the Maritime Rescue Coordination Centre, the ship stopped on his weather side to enable its crew to help him board from his life raft, along with the first-aid bag he still clutched. The entire incident, start to finish, lasted only a couple of hours.
Although the rescue would have been more difficult in a storm than in the relatively calm seas, the outcome likely would still have been favorable because Claveau had the appropriate safety gear on his boat and was prepared to use it. With such gear now readily available to all, in recent years there have been very few fatalities among those who are so equipped. The days of frequent disasters during storms and other incidents at sea are rapidly receding, even as the common, everyday “little” incidents like tumbling overboard on a calm day continue to claim lives.
Most important, gear like an EPIRB is not only for well-financed racing teams or wealthy sailors. These units are now so inexpensive that every boatowner can have one, or at minimum a PLB or submersible handheld VHF radio (in areas of coverage) for coastal and even lake sailing. (These devices should always be registered by the owner to expedite the search-and-rescue procedures followed when an emergency signal is received.) And in most cases, near shore, you don’t need a life raft; a good PFD will keep most sailors afloat and alive until rescue arrives as long as they also have the means to summon help.
Almost every sailor who met a tragic ending in the stories in this book could have been saved by this simple combination of equipment along with a “what if” attitude toward always being prepared.
APPENDIX
Interview with Gary Jobson, President of U.S. Sailing
Gary Jobson, a lifelong sailor and racer, is currently president of U.S. Sailing, the governing body for the sport in the United States. A former winning tactician in the America’s Cup, he has written 17 books on many aspects of sailing and is generally regarded as the premier spokesman for the sport of sailing. On March 2, 2012, he spoke to me about his attitude toward safety issues when sailing.
You’ve had a very long sailing career on many different types of boats and races and in all kinds of waters. Have you come close to emergency situations yourself?
I’ve been in several situations that involved fatalities on sailboats. During the 2002 Block Island Race, a crew on the boat I was on was hit in the head by a spinnaker pole and went over the side and drowned. It was very traumatic. Another time I was on a ship where a man fell off a lifeboat and hit his head, and he died. I was also in the [1979] Fastnet Race off England when 15 sailors died during that storm. Last year I helped put together the investigation after Olivia Constants died while sailing a 420 near Annapolis where I live [see Chapter 2]. We all know there’s some risk on the water, but it’s very sad and unfortunate when things like this happen.
What can be done to help sailors stay safe on the water? Is it a matter of teaching so people are more aware of what can happen?
I definitely believe in teaching safety. After the Fastnet storm in 1979, U.S. Sailing created a Safety at Sea seminar series. For our distance ocean races now it’s mandatory to take one of these safety seminars at least every 5 years. They really make a difference. You go through these scenarios; like if somebody goes over the side, we go through the routine—the safe way to save the person, doing crew-overboard drills, the whole step-by-step process. The fact that you’ve talked about it, you know the equipment and how to use it, testing your inflatable PFD—everything. It gives you a much better chance if something happens.
It’s especially important if you’re new to sailing or you just bought your boat. It’s worth the time to take a safety course, get some instruction, or hire a coach for a day, so you know how to operate the boat, what to do if the weather goes bad, and so on.
How should we talk about the everyday safety issues that can arise when sailing?
I think you need to strike a balance. Sailing is fun, it’s accessible to everyone, and it’s a great sport, good for all ages. But you need to balance that with the me
ssage you have to be careful, safety is an important issue, and we want to do it properly.
What other preparations do you advise sailors to take?
Whenever you’re going sailing you need to be able to call for help; take a radio with you. Tell someone where you’re going and what time you expect to get back. Sometimes it’s just that simple. Then, when you’re on the boat, be purposeful. Pay attention to everything. Someone’s on the helm, someone’s keeping a lookout, someone’s paying attention to the sails—as opposed to kicking back with a beer and letting the boat sail itself. You have fewer accidents when people are paying attention to everything going on.
And common sense counts. If your dog goes overboard and you’re by yourself, your first impulse may be to jump in and save the dog, but it’s better to think a second and then sail over and haul the dog back on board.
What about wearing a PFD?
When I race a sailboat like an Etchells or a Laser, I always wear a PFD. I just always do it. I try to set an example. Even when I’m sailing by myself casually, I still wear a PFD. You just can’t afford not to.
Anything else?
I always think it’s important to try to educate people, so I think your book is going to provide a service to someone you’ll never know: they’re going to read it and take note and do some of these things to stay safe. So I applaud what you’re doing.