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Big Freakin' Sails

593K views 3K replies 293 participants last post by  smackdaddy 
#1 ·
Okay - this thread is for people that ACTUALLY LIKE Big Freakin' Sails (note for morons: the verb, not the noun). BFS simply means sailing that pushes limits - whatever those limits may be. And herein lies the rub...and the reason I need to explain a couple of things so people don't start foaming at the mouth right off the bat.

There has been a tremendous amount of hubbub over this "philosophy" in another thread - but that thread apparently "came with a lot of baggage" - to the point that the topic itself got lost in the fog of war. So, this is an attempt to start cleanly.

It must be understood that the love for the adventure and excitement of hard sailing is just as valid and robust in the newbie as it is in the big-sailing old salt. The gap between the two is experience and knowledge. And the goal here is not to fill that gap by quashing the spirit of adventure and excitement with a deluge of cynicism and technicality - but to help us all learn, if and when the time comes, how to better handle that moment when mother nature starts rising beyond our sailing abilities. Because if you keep sailing - it will happen, period. And as you'll see, it can get very frightening very quickly.

For an old salt, these limits will obviously be worlds beyond those of the typical newbie. That old salt will probably snicker at the point at which the newbie becomes terrified - understandably so. Yet, there will inevitably be an even more seasoned salt that will, in turn, snicker at the snickerer when he/she soils his/her own breeches in a blow. It's all subjective and un-ownable.

Therefore, the BFS factor of a newbie experiencing a hard heel and wayward helm for the very first time is just as exciting, important, and valuable (in BFS terms) as the old salt battling a 50 knot gale. It's just about the attitude with which the exploit is approached and remembered - and taken into account as they go back out for more. There are great stories and valuable lessons in both experiences - as well as great opportunities for good hearted slams on the brave posters (which is valuable as well). That's BFS.

So, to be clear this thread is JUST AS MUCH FOR THE SAILING NEWBIE (of which I am one) as it is for the old salt. It's a place to tell your story, listen to others', learn some lessons, and discuss the merits or detractions of Big Freakin' Sails.

The following inaugural BFS stories illustrate what this thread is all about. As I said, I'm a newbie - and you see my first BFS story below. You can then compare that with the other great BFS stories thereafter (sometimes edited to protect the innocent) which I think are great tales from great sailors; they cover the spectrum of "pushing the limits". Then, hopefully, you'll throw down some BFS of your own (either your own story, stories you admire, or stories that are just flat-out lies but with great BFS value - whatever).

Now, let's have some fun...shall we?
 
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#2,477 ·
Esso drilled for gas in the Beaufort years ago and the artificial sand islands have washed away but the drill stem still sticks out. I was lucky not to find one with my yellow cedar hull but one of Dome's ice strengthened supply ships flooded her engine room when she came across one.
 
#2,478 ·
Lots of great stories.... It'd take me a long time to catch up on the nearly 250 pages of info over the years on this thread.

Just adding a short story, nothing epic like some of things so many others have endured... just in my mind really funny actually in a "family interaction" sort of way.

...heading out with my aunt and uncle 5 or so years ago on lake erie. Blustery to say the least, but at the time his boat was well over 40 feet (I simply can NOT remember what it was) and he was very comfortable sailing her, and I'm confident in his abilities. My aunt was at the helm, uncle at the companionway playing crew as all lines came back... Main was reefed, jib was rolled out just a bit, and we were close hauled just out of from the protective breakers. The waves were rolling big... the wind was solid... the boat was creeping forward... and the decision was made to tack. As we came about the timing was perfect, but perhaps not in a good way. Right as we began sliding over the back side of a big rolling wave our trajectory was perfect along the side of the boat and the wind easily pushed the sails over... The boat was deep in this trough, on it's side, the main was taking in some water and that moment seemed to suspend there forever in slow motion. I swear it seemed like all I could see was water. We were all tucked into the cockpit hanging on and I didn't have the sensation of coming out of the boat or danger. It was in all reality a very calm moment. We just waited for those slow moments to pass as the rolling wave lifted us back up and the boat (like a weeble-wobble) stood back up. Of course the water that started to fill the main was flung across us, which made for a nice dramatic touch.

Now here's what to me is the funny part. We're now moving through the water much better and heading out where the water doesn't seem so unpredictable. This is good sailing!! And after just a few moments of that great sailing my aunt says, "Don, I think we should head back." He knows she was startled, but we were fine and said something along the lines of, "well, we're fine... sailing is good... getting out into better water... etc" She paused. Eyes fixed on my uncle who seemed to be trying to mind his own business adjusting a sheet or considering letting some more of the jib out. She didn't let him off the hook, and though he wasn't looking at her, she was looking strong at him and simply said (in a tone that makes every husband's spine tingle), "Don."

He didn't move.... then glanced at her, almost slowly... paused again... then said (somewhat light-hearted), "Yeah, that's fine, we can head back... we've had our fun... mumble-mumble.. trail off trail off.... "

We tucked back in without any troubles whatsoever, had some wine in the slip, and called it a great day on the water. Looking back I still laugh when I can see so clearly in my mind my aunt's expression.... tone... and my uncle's smart response.
 
#2,479 ·
Hey bio, welcome to the BFS thread. It has some truly incredible sailing stories...so it's worth the read.

Speaking of, nice offering! I know EXACTLY the tone you describe in your aunt's voice. When the old lady is giving you the stink-eye...you probably just BFS'd. As a dude, you're all excited that you didn't die - so you're ready for more! That never seems to fly with the Brooding Freaked-out Spouse.

You always have make decisions based on the storm that's most likely to kill you. Sounds like your uncle chose wisely. Heh-heh.
 
#2,480 ·
@smack: thanks for the welcome. It's funny how when you look back on something; how it turned out forms your perspective. No harm no foul.

No one was hurt... nothing was broken... we were on the water maaaaybe 30 minutes.

One of the BEST days sailing ever :)

If we were in a smaller boat there may have been some soiling going on and the memories wouldn't be so fond, "and we all got into the car with our jackets around our waists because we threw out our crapped-in-pants and drove to the nearest bar."

Not all adventures are dangerous... and danger isn't always adventurous.
You can have fun and be safe, and be dangerous doing something boring.
 
#2,481 ·
My dad had semi-retired and taken the boat from Chicago to Florida. He lived aboard for about a year, until a storm left his boat beached. Then he bought a house with a dock for the boat.

I would take the kids down every year to see him. The first time, while he was still a liveaboard, he wanted to take the boat over to the Bahamas. It was late February. The locals warned, "Never cross the Gulf Stream when the winds are out of the north!" That stuck in my head.

We left Ft. Lauderdale and headed south on the ICW to Miami. When we arrived at the Government Cut I saw several large ships docked and a couple of cruise ships coming in. We motored out towards the mouth, right by one of the cruise ships. Some of the passengers waved at us. They looked like ants.

Once we exited the channel it became very apparent we would have to motor most, if not all, of the way. We had 4' waves crashing into our bow and the spray was splashing back into the cockpit. While my 7 year-old son was sucking the salt out of his ocean-sprayed jacket sleeve, I was busy trying to figure out where I could put my 1 year-old daughter so I could help raise the main.

While standing in the companionway with my daughter in my arms, I peered out towards the horizon. I could swear I could see large breaking waves. I thought, "That's probably where the Gulf Stream is!" I swallowed hard.

The wind was out of the northeast ~15-20 knots. I looked at my dad and asked him if maybe we might want to head down to the Keys instead, you know, to have a nice sail. He said no, we were just fine. :confused:

I went below and sandwiched my daughter in between pillows in the forward berth so she wouldn't get tossed around. Then I went topside and raised the main.

I knew this trip was a bad idea.

I heard my daughter cry and ran down to check on her. The pillows weren't holding her and she was being tossed around like a rag doll. I picked her up and resumed my place in the companionway with her in my arms, trying to figure out how to get my dad to agree we were doing exactly what the locals said we shouldn't. My dad didn't easily change his mind. :(

Then it hit me. I knew he needed my help, depended on it in fact. Then I said, "Dad, I'll have to hold Jennifer all the way. It's too dangerous for her down there. You'll have to sail the boat yourself."

He looked at me holding my daughter in one arm and using the other arm to brace myself in the companionway. Then he said, "Maybe we should go down to the Keys." WHEW! Averted another hair-raising experience!

We turned around, had the most beautiful sail through Biscayne Bay and enjoyed one of the best trips on the boat we had ever had.

But every year we returned to visit my dad he talked about sailing over to the Bahamas. After that first turn around, he sailed over there several times and loved it. He wanted to share that with us. But each year the weather just wasn't cooperating.

Once my oldest entered high school, we could no longer visit my dad during spring break because the grade school and high school had different vacation days. So we waited until the summer. My dad had told me many times it's much easier to find good weather in the summer. And we did.

We left the Lake Worth inlet around 2200, with 3 kids in tow. The ocean was a mirror, reflecting the full moon. Not a ripple, not a hint of wind. Still, I raised the main, just in case. It was my security blanket. :D

It was about 0330 and I was at the helm. Everyone else was asleep. The drone of the engine, the bow slipping quietly through the glass-smooth water, was all I heard. Then I heard something. I couldn't make it out. It sounded like it was behind me. Like something cutting through the water. I turned to look back and off the starboard I saw this huge freighter coming up on us. It was about 200 yards off our starboard quarter! I looked up at the radar reflector, back at the ship and almost screamed, "What the **** are you doing!!!" :hothead

As I saw the ship pass by and soon felt the wake rocking the boat, I couldn't help but wonder if we were just lucky or if they saw us and felt such a close approach was prudent. I certainly didn't think so. I was POd! It woke me up though!

We had a LORAN to guide us and around 0800 we arrived at where the chart showed some shallow shoals that you had to navigate between to get to the harbor in West End. The charts showed a 55' tower with a flashing red light. All I saw was a 55 gallon barrel that had been painted fluorescent orange, floating right where I expected the tower to be.

When we checked in with the authorities in West End I said to him, "I was looking for a 55' tower but all I saw was an orange barrel."

He laughed with a big smile and said in his Bahamian accent, "Oh! That tower blew down in a storm years ago! We put the barrel in its place." I guessed we had heard right about navigational aids in the Bahamas being less than reliable. :rolleyes:

We were there for almost a week. The weather was gorgeous! But every night, when I was on deck enjoying the night sky, I would see flashing lights, as lightning from nearby storms lit up the horizon. I figured one would come our way. I just hoped it wouldn't put too much a damper on our trip

We left from Lucaya early in the morning to head back to Florida, never having one damp day while in the Bahamas. Once again, the weather was very mild but a bit overcast. We had to motor but I had my trusty main up just in case the wind picked up.

I kept expecting rain or maybe some winds. At one point I could see raindrops falling on the water. As it approached us slowly I prepared for a light drizzle. Then it seemed to stop just before it hit the boat. The rain was still falling, just not on us. I could see the drops splash in the water right next to us but we were dry. At one point I reached out and felt the drops hit the palm of my hand. Yet not one fell on the deck.

I thought, "We waited all these years to sail over to the Bahamas. I guess the sailing gods are smiling on us." I was feeling blessed.

It was dark, around 2200, when I saw the lights at the entry to the channel of the Lake Worth inlet. I had been doing frequent checks on the charts and marking our location on the chart as we made headway. My dad was at the wheel, still wearing only his bathing suit. I told him, "Line up those lights and we'll be right in line with the channel. The LORAN has us about 4 miles out." The charts showed the next marker to be a buoy located a mile from the channel. It was marked "LW" on the charts. The lights onshore were glistening, inviting us home. It was so peaceful. All was well. It was good to be sailing but I was sad it would soon be over.

Suddenly, like the rapid closing of a sliding door, the lights on shore vanished!

Then BAM!!! The boat heeled violently to port. Everything below that wasn't tied down went crashing. I looked up to see the wind pressing against the full main. I knew we were in danger of either capsizing or the mast snapping. I moved as carefully as I could to the main outhaul winch, located on the deck, to the stern of the cockpit. I eased out every last inch of it. I saw the end of the boom slide over the water only inches from it. The wind had not yet been able to build any waves.

My dad yelled out, "We're going to run aground! We have nothing under the keel!"

:eek: "WHAT!!!" I cried out. "What are you talking about?" I knew we were in the shipping channel where the minimum depth was well over 30'. I had seen nothing on the chart that told me we were anywhere near shallow water.

"The depth is reading .5 feet! We're going to run aground!" my dad screamed. "I'm in reverse and we're still doing 6 knots!"

Still sitting on the aft deck watching the main and the end of the boom, I cleated the main outhaul and attempted to walk to the cockpit. I immediately slipped and grabbed on to the winch before I slid off the deck and into the water. I knew if I went in there was no coming back. On my way to the cockpit, I saw the anemometer pegged at 70. I told myself it must be broken. We couldn't be in near hurricane winds, could we? We were.

When I got to the companionway, I saw my kids huddled at the settee with fear in their faces. "It's okay. We'll be okay." I looked down toward the strange sensation at my feet and saw the water running off my body, overflowing my deck shoes and pouring down onto the cabin floor. I was drenched. Behind me I kept hearing my dad screaming, "We're going to run aground. We'll have to run with the storm!"

I went below and checked the charts. No way we were running aground. The water was plenty deep. And no way was I going to run with this storm! NO WAY!

Then my dad screamed, "I'm freezing! Get me a coat!" My oldest son ran to the locker to help.

When I got topside I told my dad, "We're not going to run aground! And we're NOT going to run with this storm! I checked the charts. Stay on course and we'll be okay." He looked me and realized I was taking charge. He didn't argue.

Just then, my son handed my dad a pink women's raincoat. It belonged to my dad's wife. He could only get one arm in it. He was still in his swimsuit and was shivering.

I looked to port and saw the end of the boom bouncing off the water. I grabbed the winch handle and cranked in the main outhaul until the end of the boom was safely clear. The boat heeled farther. I took a few seconds to catch my breath when I saw my watch, sitting on the deck, now at over 45 degrees. Somehow it had popped off my wrist and landed on the deck and by some miracle it just stayed there. :confused: Then my son yelled, "We're flooding!"

I scrambled down the ladder and went into the galley. I looked at my son. He pointed to the sink. The valve to the sink drain was open and the sinks were filling up with water, and starting to overflow. I quickly closed the valve and told him if he sees anything else, let me know immediately!

Then my dad yelled below, "Where are we?" I looked up through the companionway and saw him at the wheel with the translucent pink raincoat sheltering one side of his body from the biting rain. His hair was sideways. I looked up at the LORAN. I saw the readout flash several times then go blank. We had lost it.

I went topside and told my dad the LORAN went out. The wind was blowing so hard we had to scream even though we were only a couple feet from each other.

"We lost the LORAN?" he asked, with fear in his eyes. "We're in trouble! I can't control the boat! We're still doing over 6 knots and I have the engine in full reverse!" I looked at the lever and saw it wasn't full reverse but probably half. "We need to call the Coast Guard! We're going to beach this thing!" The depth sounder was still reading between 0 and 1 foot. Nothing was making sense. Brain synapses were firing but it was utter chaos in my head.

Then it hit me.

"Dad, the transducer for the depth sounder is out of the water!" He looked at me as if he wasn't grasping what I was saying. "What you're seeing is the waves pounding against it and scrambling the readings." The rain was biting at my flesh so hard it felt like needles piercing my skin. "That's the only reasonable explanation." My dad's lips were blue and he was shivering badly now, but I knew I couldn't take the helm because there was no way he could respond to emergencies the way I could. I could get around the boat much faster than he could. He looked disoriented. I felt terrible I couldn't relieve him but there was no other option. "Just keep an eye on the compass and stay on course." The adrenaline was pumping so hard I too was having a hard time thinking straight.

"Look! A light!" My dad pointed off the starboard bow. "I'm heading for it! We need to see what it is!"

"No dad! Stay away! You don't know what that is! It could be anything. If we hit it, we're DEAD!" We were on it in seconds. Thankfully it was a buoy. Then I saw "LW" on it.

"Dad! That's the Lake Worth inlet buoy! We're right on course! Keep your heading due west and that will take us straight into the channel!"

At that point in time, we could have been in the middle of the ocean for all that mattered. The wind blew ferociously. I feared losing the mast. I kept looking for any signs of imminent failure and imagined in my mind what I was going to do if it snapped. Every scenario I imagined was pure hell. And any thoughts of going forward to drop the sail without any safety gear on board was out of the question. We'd have to hope for the best. I tried to trim the main in such a way as to allow the wind to blow evenly on both sides of it. With our heading, that wasn't always possible.

I got a taste of the rain as it poured off my face and into my mouth. It was salty. I looked at the churning waters over what was now the highest part of the boat, the starboard rail, and saw foamy whitecaps and the wind whipping the tops off the waves. Then I realized, some of the "rain" was coming from the sea.

My dad continued to yell his concerns about running aground. He couldn't accept the depth sounder was lying to him. I stood my ground and insisted he remain on course. My kids, in the meantime, dealt with this all by remaining huddled below. Their bulging eyes told of their terror.

Suddenly we saw it. Lights! A red buoy! Then a green buoy! We were almost there! A power boat blew by us and disappeared into the inlet. I tried to imagine what they had just experienced.

And just as soon as it began, the wind completely stopped. All there was left was a slight drizzle and an eerie calm. I turned around and looked back on the dark waters we had just left and thought to myself, "Did I just imagine that?" It was if someone had just turned off the terror switch. I had no idea how long we were in that, all comprehension of time had been completely paralyzed, but I was glad it was over.

We slowly motored into the channel and as we approached the Coast Guard station I asked my dad, "Are we going to check in?"

My dad, still half dressed in that pink raincoat but no longer shivering said, "Tomorrow. I'll call them tomorrow. Let's go home."
 
#2,482 · (Edited)
^^^^^



THAT, my friends, is a big sailing story. Very nice Julie.

Can I steal that for the "Featured Throwdown" section of the BFS site? Do you have a pic of the boat and/or your dad? That would top it all off.

To sweeten the pot, I always offer a free boozie or stick for a Featured Throwdown. It's an insanely sweet deal!
 
#2,484 ·
THAT, my friends, is a big sailing story. Very nice Julie.

Can I steal that for the "Featured Throwdown" section of the BFS site? Do you have a pic of the boat and/or your dad? That would top it all off.

To sweeten the pot, I always offer a free boozie or stick for a Featured Throwdown. It's an insanely sweet deal!
Okay, I'll do the throwdown as long as I don't have to be hit over the head with garbage cans or get hit by folding chairs. I can do shots... no not that.. I'll sit in an Irish bar, getting progressively drunk, and sing songs. Is that okay?

I'll try to unearth the pics. Everything I have is pre-digital.

BTW, you are a trip! I love your enthusiasm! :cool:
 
#2,483 ·
Julie's story reminds me of the old episodes of "Rescue, 911" that William Shatner used to host. EVERY... and I mean EVERY story started out the same way. "It was a beautiful day, the family was hanging out.... life was good... everything was perfect..." and then Shatner's tone would immediately change and he'd say, "AND THEN SUDDENLY... TRAGICALLY..." and would continue on as the exciting story unfolded.

It also reminds me of the episode of Seinfeld where George pretended to be a Marine Biologist and at the episode's end recounts his story about the beached whale. He starts by saying, "The sea was angry that day my friends!..."

That's white-knuckle stuff!

 
#2,485 ·
Great story Julie ! Thanks for shareing it I really like what your Dad was made of !
One's gotta love a guy that buy's a house with a dock just for his sailboat :)

BTW you have a fine mind to reason out the transducer problem during a crisis ! exellent reasoning ... "cooler heads prevail" as the saying go's.

Smack as always your a riot ;)
 
#2,486 ·
You know, more and more I'm beginning to wonder if the predecessor to a BFS was to head out to sea with my dad. Don't get me wrong, I loved him dearly and I still miss him like hell. But he had this thing about him, I don't know what it was, when he said, "We are going to..." you just accepted it. I can't explain it. And then suddenly you found yourself scrambling for your life! :eek:

After he died, life wasn't as exciting. Yeah, that's sad to say. But he believed in his kids so much that he thought they could do anything. Somehow I guess I ended up to be the one that believed that the most. And when he invited me for a sail, I was there. OMG, the emotions are overflowing...
 
#2,491 ·
Thanks, but you put it together. I sent you about all I could find with the pics and you used them all really well. Nice job!

I've never raced the Chicago-Mac but I sailed up there 8 times. In 2011, the race had its first fatalities when a storm clocking 100 knots tore through the racers. Here's a video of one boat coming into the storm. This is an enormous BFS!


This is what was left of the boat that had loss of life, Wingnuts, a Kiwi 35
 
#2,493 ·
Nice videos re the macinac race last year.

Those fronts come in like freight trains sometimes. About a month ago, while distance racing on an evelyn 26 with some add on crew, we had a front blow on through. We saw it coming on the water about 3 miles away, so we figured we had some time. Literally ten seconds later it hit us full on. We autotacked and were taken aback when an at least 25 knot sustained wind hit us with full genny and lightwind settings and the boat was knocked down to over 90 degrees, spreader in the water. I could see the crew on the low side literally floating near the cabintop until the helm finally got the sheets released and we popped back up. Conditions went from 8-10 knots wind, sunny and flat, to 25 gusting higher with rain and 4' steep chop/swells within 2 minutes flat.

I have always wanted a trimaran, but after broaching and getting knocked down this season with experienced racers as crew, it makes me think we prob would have capsized a trimaran if we had one. At least monohulls pop back up when u screw up... Except j/24's :)...
 
#2,495 ·
Does crossing the finish line just before completely shearing your boom off the mast, including the entire gooseneck fitting, then finding that the main halyard cover has worn through and bunching up so you can't drop it either count?
Note to self, a J24 is quite interesting in 20+ knots with a full main and spinnaker.
 
#2,497 · (Edited)
Smackdaddy and all the rest of you I just read about a man named Jarvis that is going to try to copy Shackelton open boat same stuff and all I was going to start a thread noticed sail net has one but the crowd in it is wicked. 2 pages of trash from dock huggers. If he makes it half way and lives it will be huge. Go check it out find the thread and post and post!! Back round so you can find out some with out all the bad crowd making the water turn to mud is expedition watch the shackelton epic wwwoutsideonline Regards, Lou
 
#2,501 ·
Here are a couple of the "dock huggers" (the Admiral and me) finishing first in our class in the 25th annual Blackburn challenge; a 20 mile open ocean race that finishes in Blackburn's home port of Gloucester, MA. We couldn't find a dock to hug so we got into one of our small double enders and joined the salute to Mr. Blackburn! A maritime hero of ours.

Down

 
#2,503 ·
sorry mom dead when I was 15. Dad passed when my first son was 2 weeks old I was 22 I was living in my own home not renting 3 states away. I do not drink soft drinks or hard drinks. You are right I do have four eyes. I read the book on Shackelton. He made the bfs ever imho. Shackelton had his troubles but that sail and little hike was super human. Looks like I got a few things wrong about you also. Sorry about that mates. Oh and good race Down 20 miles is a haul . Regards Lou
 
#2,505 ·
Lou,

Agreed, Shackleton's BFS may be the best ever, and he was certainly the best captain ever. Keeping a crew together through all that.... wow. I especially liked reading about his "game" of, "what's for dinner is under the hat".

In other BFS news, I'm safely on the couch reading SN after tripling up the lines on my boat. Big storm warning here and it's blowing nicely. Here is a wintertime video to whet the appetites of those of us who are couch-bound for now.

You know what I love the most about Australians and the Kiwis who imitate them? They're so under-spoken. Listen to this guy's account of being told to take an experimental boat out and see if he can break it. FORTY-some knots over the ground and the bows burying at regular intervals, with a pitch-pole a very real possibility and he is all cool and calm in his description of it. Just look at how small that jib of their is!

Anyone else got the stones to gybe downwind at 42knots of boat speed? My account of the race would begin with, "after I my bowels were completely emptied I could get on with the business of holding on to the nearest stanchion...."

Cheers mate! --MedSailor
 
#2,507 ·
Thank you I will check out Blackburn. Please give the full name and around the time of his feats. When a captian sets out for lets say a big sail? I am trying to get some feed back here. If it is like the Kiwis above or Shakelton, the 8 millon $ capsize in the SAN FRAN bay or even the HMS Bounty?? When is it a fool and when is it a BFS. Shakelton had no choice or did he? It would be like us setting off to Mars. The cup racers have a lot of data and are cutting edge. I am not sure The HMS Bounty is related. I pick her fate because it seems so easy to call less than wize. What steps make it a calculated risk and what makes it less? I do not expect a one size fits all, just some thoughts. I have my own thought. I think a bad day out on the water is better that a good day at work. Regards, Lou
 
#2,508 · (Edited)
Lou,

Howard Blackburn is considered on of the great solo sailors. He is worth checking out if you are interested in BFSs. His sailing adventures followed his life fishing. He sailed around Cape Horn and soloed the Atlantic twice in small boats. With no fingers! Yikes!

Blackburn Challenge - History

The event both celebrates and helps to keep alive the story of Howard Blackburn’s desperate mid-winter 1883 rowing of a small fishing dory from the Burgeo Bank fishing grounds to refuge on the south coast of Newfoundland. Blackburn and his dorymate Thomas Welch had become separated from the Gloucester fishing schooner Grace L. Fears during a sudden squall and found themselves nearly sixty miles from the nearest land. Over the course of the ensuing five-day ordeal, Welch would give up and succumb to a merciful death, whereas Blackburn would allow his bare hands to freeze to the shape of the oars, and row until he reached land.

Though Blackburn survived he ultimately suffered the loss of most of his fingers and toes due to frostbite. In spite of his handicap, he later went on to twice sail solo across the Atlantic Ocean, earning himself the title “The Fingerless Navigator”. His story is told in Joseph E. Garland’s “Lone Voyager”.

Quite a BFS mariner! Read this book if you get the chance.

Down
 
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