There are many types of sounds that a boat makes while hard on the wind in a sloppy sea. There is the pervasive and arrhythmic thudding of the bow and wind whipped spray landing on deck and dodger. There is various squeaking of blocks and
line, and more thudding of things shifting in their lazerettes and cubby holes and the chatter of fishermen on the
VHF radio while several coffee cups dance in the sink.
But the sound I heard on my night watch as our 35-foot Sparkman and Stephens designed
Althea made its way up the coast of Mexico’s Baja California last spring was like no other I'd ever heard
—a groaning, clunking, clanking sort of sound
—and it was only after listening it for a bit and feeling a thud reverberate through the hull a couple of times that I realized that the secondary 30-pound
Danforth anchor had come loose from its mount on the bow pulpit and was now chewing away at our boat’s new
Awl-Grip paint job sprayed on mere months before in Venezuela.
I yelled down to Laurie to wake her and once she was in the cockpit and awake, darted forward into the spray and wind whipped darkness wearing neither
harness nor lifejacket (sorry Mom!).
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"At some point I realized that I should have been wearing a harness and been tethered in." |
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The
anchor streamed along side the low side of the boat casting a phosphorescence wake, caterwauling on seven feet of chain. At some point I realized that I should have been wearing a
harness and been tethered in, and my actions became slower, methodical, and less reactive, my grip tighter. It’s hard to dial down the adrenaline, in a perceived ‘emergency’ but sometimes that’s exactly what’s needed. It became apparent that this would be a silly way to go. After a bit of wrestling with only one hand (the other had a hydraulic-like grip on the stanchion) I had the
anchor aboard and tied it down on to the deck.
Making my way back soaked and cold I knew that I had just done a careless thing and gotten away with it and that that’s not always how the deal goes down. The
paint job had been saved, barring a few chipped places on the toe rail, but risking my life wasn’t worth saving the boat from a few inevitable war wounds that cruising imparts.
Despite the fact that today’s boats are designed with as many safeguards against having to to go forward, inevitably there is something that needs to be done on deck. This is likely going to be scheduled for a moonless night in rough weather. Such nettlesome chores can take many forms: a halyard that has somehow gotten loose in the night, a leech
line that needs tightening to prevent a sail from chaffing itself into oblivion, a preventer that needs
rigging, a
spinnaker pole that needs to move forward off the shrouds, or even a
dinghy on deck that is about to unship itself and set out on its own nautical adventure. You’re going forward at some point and who’s to say that the weather is going to be cooperating for the effort.
One of the most important components of going forward is the crew left behind in the cockpit. While no one likes being woken up on their off watch to suit up and go above, especially if the wind and seas are up, going forward with no one watching you pretty much eliminates any chance of being found should you go over. The stomping around on deck will likely wake them anyway, so they might as well be up and watching. There are more practical considerations, since often a halyard or mainsheet in the cockpit needs adjusting. Those in the cockpit should be versed in man overboard drills to say nothing of knowing where or what the jib halyard is. If they are hand steering, you need to make sure they won’t throw an unintentional jibe at you if you’re going down wind.
Having the right tools for the job helps take away some of the initial trepidation of going forward
—a harness, tether,
life vest, and the right foul-weather gear, if the conditions warrant it. In cold waters, a conventional
life vest has the benefit of keeping you warmer longer should you happen to somehow go over the side, and it also frees you up from worrying about when the last time the CO2 cartridge had been filled on inflatable models. In warm waters, inflatable vests have the benefit of being easier to put on and offer more maneuverability. These should have lots of SOLAS reflective tape them, as well as a clip on strobe and a whistle attached to it.
On the bow of a bouncing boat, especially at night, it’s easy to become tangled in spinnaker pole ends and sheets, and untangling yourself is easier if you don’t have to unclip to do so, and can instead remain fastened to the boat at all times. Several tethers on the market offer two clips, so in the event you do have to unclip to negotiate whatever impeded your progress, you can have the other clip attached. We'll be looking for such a model on our next cruise. On Althea we use flat nylon webbing rated for several thousand pounds of breaking strength with heavy duty pad eyes. These are attached at either side of the stern and run up to the bow. Flat jacklines are less likely to roll underfoot—you hardly notice when you step on it— and they don’t hamper your balance. A knife or tool that you can use for opening shackles or hanks on reluctant hank-on sails is also useful, as is a small, dependable flashlight. Obviously, the less cluttered you can keep your decks of jerry jugs, windsurfers, oars, fenders, surfboards, and other necessary toys and tools of cruising, the easier your trip forward in the night will be.
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Keep in mind that there are some areas on the deck of a sailboat that are safer than others. Areas by the shrouds just ahead of the boom extended all the way out is a relatively safe place to be. Know where loads are focused on your boat for a particular point of sail or condition. Let’s say you have to go forward and the boat is going downwind with the boom all the way out. It’s still good practice to keep your head below the boom even with a preventer on. Your stance should be as low to the deck as possible, since a low center of gravity will keep you more centered against the rising and dipping motion of a boat in a sea. Having your feet slightly more than hip’s width apart also gives you a more solid base. Keep an eye forward for any sheets of water that may be heading your way when the bow of the boat plunges into a wave.
The tried and true rule of the Golden Age of Sail still applies today: one hand for you, one hand for the boat. Be especially wary when looking up at the top of the mast, say to free a tangled halyard, since this can produce an unbalanced feeling. Likewise, have a common sense respect for sheets and blocks under high loads. Keep focused on the deck of the boat in front of you while making your way forward. Go slowly
—even if the
anchor is chewing up your
Awl-Grip paint job
—and be methodical. In some cases having a plan ahead of time works, in others, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into until you’re up on the bow. If you have to wrestle sails down or are changing sails, know that sail material on a wet deck is a slick combination. Stand someplace else if possible. If the boat is over on its ear heading upwind, clip in on the high or windward side, since if you do loose your footing you’ll have the chance to regain it and still be on board. Finally, when at all possible, try to substitute finesse for brute strength. For example, when taking a
spinnaker down, jibe the main over to blanket the sail and take its wind away, which will make taking the sail and the pole down easier and safer.
When should you wear a harness? Some people clip on whenever they leave the cockpit. Go with your comfort level, but, remember it is a good rule of thumb to wear a harness and tether whenever you’re sailing alone, or in heavy weather, or going on deck at night—whenever you think that you could slip and it could cost you dearly. Proper technique in sailing and cruising is often best illustrated by the what-not-to-do’s. I’ve left the chipped paint on the bow as a reminder that I now know better.
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