S/P-7 Commercial F/V


Commercial F/V

50' x 35 Tons

28-Ft. Dia. Parachute Sea Anchor

Force 7-8 Conditions

File S/P-7, obtained from Captain George W. Newson, Comox, B.C. - Vessel name Kella Lee, hailing port Comox, commercial F/V, designed by Monk, LOA 50' x LWL 47' x Beam 15' x Draft 9' x 35 Tons - Sea anchor: 28-ft. Diameter C-9 military class parachute on 500' x 1/2" nylon braid rode, with 5/8" bronze ball bearing swivel - Full trip line - Deployed in a gale in shallow water (70 fathoms) about 40 miles west of lower Vancouver Island with winds of 30-35 knots and seas of 12-15 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Drift was estimated to be 13 n.m. during 13 hours at sea anchor.

Captain George Newson is the president of Newson Fisheries and a veteran of many gales in the Pacific Northwest. Whether longlining for halibut, trolling for salmon, or gillnetting for herring, the sea anchor has always played an important part in enhancing the safety, comfort and efficiency of his crew. Even as a young man he was accustomed to using government surplus parachutes while fishing Cape Flattery's stormy waters.

On the occasion of this file he used a 28-ft. diameter military surplus (C-9) parachute on the west coast of Vancouver Island.

He has since obtained - and used - a much heavier 24-ft. diameter Para-Tech sea anchor.

Newson was using a dedicated tether consisting of 500 feet of 1/2" nylon braid! Kella Lee is a 50-ft. Monk trawler with a dry weight of 35 tons, yet her skipper - with many years of experience - initially chose 1/2" line for the tether, a size that one would ordinarily associate with the ground tackle of a 26-ft. sailboat weighing three tons! This says something about the importance of incorporating elasticity into parachute anchoring system. Transcript:

I used a regular 28 ft. chute years ago while trolling salmon off the Washington coast. It was common practice for most of the West Coast troll fleet. We worked the area above Gray's Harbor, known as the Prairie. Most of the area was too deep for anchoring and too far away to run in, so we used parachutes for sea anchors. We rode out many NW gales in relative comfort, averaging 1 nautical mile of drift per hour to leeward in gale force winds. The boat always rode bow to the sea.

The Para-Tech 24' diameter chute, being somewhat smaller and considerably heavier, tends to set easier than the government surplus 28-footers.... We pay out 500 ft. of 1/2" Samson double braid nylon rode, which is shackled to the bow.... The drift is reduced by two thirds. The ride is reasonable because of the elasticity of the long, thin rode.

Update: Two years later Shane received another letter from Captain Newson, indicating that the 1/2" nylon braid had in fact broken in a gale. The break occurred right at the thimble area of the splice. Newson was able recover the parachute by powering up to the float. He now uses 5/8" nylon braid.

S/P-2 Commercial F/V


Commercial F/V

65' x 43 Tons

28-Ft. Dia. Parachute Sea Anchor

Force 9-10 Conditions

File S/P-2, obtained from Captain Marc Palombo, Sandwich, MA. - Vessel name Holly & Michael, hailing port Sandwich, commercial F/V, designed by Washburn and Doughty, LOA 65' x LWL 60' x Beam 16' x Draft 6' x 43 Tons - Sea anchor: 28-ft. Diameter C-9 military class parachute on 450' x 3/4" nylon three strand rode, with 5/8" galvanized swivel - Full trip line - Deployed in a whole gale in shallow water (45 fathoms) about 75 miles SE of Nantucket with winds of 45-55 knots and seas of 18 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Drift was estimated to be 15 n.m. during 24 hours at sea anchor.


Captain Marc Palombo is president of Calico Lobster, Inc.. He has a number of commercial F/V's that work out of Sandwich, Massachusetts. These lobster boats, designed by naval architect Bruce Washburn, have proven to be extremely stable platforms at sea. Because of their hard chines they don't roll very much. Their low profile allows them to fish in high winds, and their wide open after decks can accommodate hundreds of lobster traps. Palombo called Victor Shane's company a number of years ago about C-9 parachutes for the boats. It seems that a member of his crew, Arthur Davey by name (see previous file), kept insisting that they should have one on board.

Shane explained to Captain Palombo that he had a few C-9's in stock, but that in his opinion they were not suitable for a big, 40-ton commercial F/V. He reminded Palombo that they were parachutes, designed for one man jumping out of an airplane. Captain Palombo insisted that he wanted three of them. He said Arthur Davey had told him they should be adequate.

Shane said "O.K", but went to great lengths to explain the importance of the long rode, "Remember, the long rode acts as a load buffer. THE LONGER THE RODE, THE LESS THE STRAIN ON EVERYTHING!"

Those C-9 parachutes were subsequently used by the Calico fleet in heavy weather, in conjunction with 400-500 feet of nylon rode. They didn't tear, and some were still in use years later. In 1986, for instance, the Holly & Michael used one in a November gale on the Georges Bank - 45 fathoms. Transcript:

I am writing to compliment you on the usefulness of the PARA-28 [28-ft. C-9]. As an offshore Lobster Fisherman I have deployed the parachute many times. I am completely satisfied with its operation. In one instance, we deployed the chute in a November 1986 gale, 75 miles south-east of Nantucket. The weather conditions deteriorated rapidly and we found ourselves sitting in 45 knot winds with about twelve foot seas....

Holly tethered to a 28-ft. diameter C-9 parachute in 18-ft. seas during a November gale about 75 miles SE of Nantucket. Note the breaking crest to the left, and the rode leading to the sea anchor. "Through the toughest twenty hours of the storm we lay to the parachute.... The PARA-28 kept our bow into the seas as we drifted. We did not pound into the seas, nor did we lie beam-to. It was a soft, comfortable manner to ride out the storm." (Photo courtesy of Captain Marc Palombo, Calico Lobster, Inc.)
Holly tethered to a 28-ft. diameter C-9 parachute in 18-ft. seas during a November gale about 75 miles SE of Nantucket. Note the breaking crest to the left, and the rode leading to the sea anchor. "Through the toughest twenty hours of the storm we lay to the parachute.... The PARA-28 kept our bow into the seas as we drifted. We did not pound into the seas, nor did we lie beam-to. It was a soft, comfortable manner to ride out the storm." (Photo courtesy of Captain Marc Palombo, Calico Lobster, Inc.)

For about twelve hours the National Weather Service out of Boston had storm warnings up. Through the toughest twenty hours of the storm we lay to the parachute. We were as comfortable as could be expected under these conditions. The PARA-28 kept our bow into the seas as we drifted. We did not pound into the seas, nor did we lie beam-to. It was a soft, comfortable manner to ride out the storm. The parachute enabled us to stay and ride out the storm. Some of the other vessels went into port with broken trips. We stayed and were able to complete our trip. In this respect the anchor paid for itself tenfold. I must stress that there is no substitute for good common sense in some of the decisions to either go home or stay out. But if I were to decide to stay and ride out a storm, I would definitely want a parachute sea anchor out.

Holly & Michael of Sandwich, Massachusetts. This commercial F/V uses parachute sea anchors to stay on top of the fishing grounds offshore.  (Photo courtesy of Captain Marc Palombo, Calico Lobster, Inc.)
Holly & Michael of Sandwich, Massachusetts. This commercial F/V uses parachute sea anchors to stay on top of the fishing grounds offshore. (Photo courtesy of Captain Marc Palombo, Calico Lobster, Inc.)

S/P-1 Commercial F/V


Commercial F/V

50' x 22 Tons

28-Ft. Dia. Parachute Sea Anchor

Force 10 Conditions

File S/P-1, obtained from Captain Arthur Davey, Yarmouth Port, MA. - Vessel name Sea Roamer, hailing port Hyannis, MA, commercial F/V, designed by Gallagher, LOA 50' x LWL 48' x Beam 16' x Draft 6' x 22 Tons - Sea anchor: 28-ft. Diameter C-9 military class parachute on 150' x 3/4" Poly-Dacron rode with 5/8" galvanized swivel - No trip line - Deployed in a storm in shallow water (60 fathoms) 75 miles east of Chatham, Massachusetts, with winds of 50 knots and seas 20-30 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Parachute disintegrated after 20 hours (probably due to short, low-stretch rode).

This file was derived from numerous telephone conversations with Captain Arthur Davey, along with an article called The Wreck Of The Sea Roamer by William P. Coughlin of the Boston Globe (courtesy Boston Globe).

At the time, Captain Arthur Davey was a 30-year veteran of the commercial fisheries. He has been through more storms than he can remember. This one was different, however.

On the night of Tuesday 15 December 1981, Sea Roamer, a steel-hulled gillnetter out of Hyannis, was about 75 miles offshore, riding to her 28-ft. diameter parachute in 30-knot winds. The rode consisted of about 150 feet of 3/4" low-stretch Poly-Dacron. The barometer was dropping. There were warnings of two weather fronts, with an interval of 12-18 hours forecast between them. A faster moving upper altitude TROUGH was about to overtake and reinforce a surface LOW (classic "bomb" type storm development, similar to Fastnet '79.)

By 8 a.m. the next morning it was blowing 45 knots as Sea Roamer's bow, snubbed to her parachute, lifted in what now were 30 ft. combined seas. One and a half hours later it was blowing 50 knots - with 90-knot gusts recorded at Chatham Weather Station.

The 150 feet of Poly-Dacron rode was not long enough, nor did it have sufficient elasticity to absorb the dynamic loads imposed by the wind and the seas on the 22-ton commercial F/V. Those loads were being transmitted directly to the lightweight surplus parachute in the water, and it began to fail - panels began to blow out.

Sea Roamer's bow began to swing off the wind in an increasing arc. The parachute finally disintegrated and Captain Davey had to cut away its remains. Sea Roamer came beam to the seas and began rolling heavily, rails buried. The skipper fired up the engine and put her on a westerly course, the 300 horsepower Caterpillar Diesel chugging at 1200 RPM. That was when the two weather fronts came together. They fell into synch, "Right on top of us," Captain Davey said. No 12-18 hour interval. No window of escape for Sea Roamer. The forecast had been wrong.

The seas rapidly built until some of them started to curl over and break. Arthur Davey was at the helm, trying to call them. He had to steer carefully, using Searoamer's bow as a shield. When he saw one coming he would head into it by putting down the wheel and easing off on the throttle. The wave would slam against the bow, making the hull pivot on its CLR. The skipper would then apply throttle again, inching westward, rounding up north to parry off another wave, then inching westward....

Captain Davey: "Once in a while, one would break over the bow, but I wasn't concerned. I had been caught in it before. And, if worse came to worse, I figured we could go further to south'ard and go in the deep water route by Great Round Shoal Channel."

An hour later the wind was screeching at hurricane force - 75 miles per hour sustained. The sea had become white with foam and was now delivering hammer blows at Sea Roamer's steel hull.

Already the Coast Guard had its hands full. For that was the dreadful night in which the 94-ft. F/V Pioneer went down and all hands had to be rescued. Meanwhile, Marjorie and Arthur Davey Sr., the skipper's parents, had been calling Sea Roamer over the base station from their home at South Yarmouth - to no avail. Their concern mounted until finally a call was put through to the Coast Guard. Soon they were listening on Channel 16 as the Coast Guard station at Chatham put out its own calls: "Come in Sea Roamer. Come in Sea Roamer." There was no answer.

Sea Roamer, apparently out of range, continued to inch her way through streaked, white mountains of water until 3:40 in the afternoon. That was when the hands on the ship's clock stopped - a watery giant, coming from a different direction, curled and exploded right on top of her.

"It was a rogue. A rogue wave of good proportions," Captain Davey said later, "I was at the wheel. I was on watch. That's all I remember to this day. How it hit, I don't know. I can vaguely remember the chopper, then the brain scan machine at the hospital. That's about it."

The wave ripped open and devastated Sea Roamer's heavily built oak and plywood wheelhouse. It also knocked the skipper unconscious. According to Roy McKenzie, mate for two years, "Everything was blown out in the wheelhouse. The captain was on the floor... the doorway was gone. Blood was pouring out of both his ears, his forehead and mouth. His eyes were open, rolled back."

Somehow McKenzie and deckhand Jack La France managed to get the unconscious Arthur Davey into a survival suit, and then put their own suits on. Sea Roamer lay dead in the water, with three of her five watertight compartments flooded forward. "The sea had gone to just foam. It was all white. Terrifying. You could hear the wind. That shrieking noise. That roaring," said McKenzie.

They deployed the life raft and struggled with it, but had to cut it loose, unable to put the unconscious captain in. The seas were now breaking regularly and Sea Roamer was lying a-hull, rolling heavily - up to 60°. Twilight descended. A tanker passed by, but didn't see the lights that they flashed at it - it was having troubles of its own. Exhausted, the men lay down on the steel deck next to their unconscious captain. Both recall having lifelike visions of their past lives.

By dawn the next day, the Coast Guard had a helicopter and a fixed wing Albatross out of Otis Field searching for Sea Roamer. On board the boat, Captain Davey suddenly groaned, opened his eyes, and looked around. "What happened?" he asked. "Get on the radio. Call the Coast Guard. And, Jack, Jeeze, will ya close the door. It's cold in here." There was no door to speak of - it had been blown away. The radio had been damaged - and the EPIRB lost - when the rogue wave hit. But McKenzie and La France bailed and managed to reconnect the battery line to the engine. They found the starter switch in the jumble of wires and hit it. The big diesel turned, stopped, turned again, caught and started to chug.

Sea Roamer was under way again, but her captain lapsed back into unconsciousness. The men steered for the west and kept bailing with buckets. At 12:39 p.m. on Thursday Dec. 17th, Lt. Steve Hilfery and co-pilot Lt. Ted Ohr, flying an Albatross seaplane out of Otis Field, spotted the little white hull of Sea Roamer in the rough sea below and a message quickly crackled back to the air station: "Located F/V Sea Roamer. Position, 41-dash-31 North latitude, 68-dash-50 West longitude, proceeding 330 degrees at five knots. Appears disoriented. There is damage to the pilot house."

The twin engined plane banked, turned and made a low-level pass over the boat. When the men heard the aircraft roar overhead they began sobbing uncontrollably. They came out and waved their hands.

CHOPPERAt 2:55 p.m. a Coast Guard helicopter lifted the unconscious Captain Arthur Davey to safety, the seventh human life it had plucked from the ocean on that day.

The ordeal ended the next morning when the cutter Point Bonita eased into her berth at Woods Hole, having put three Coast Guard seamen on board Sea Roamer for the slow tow to Hyannis, and having taken La France and McKenzie on board the cutter for initial treatment for "harsh exposure." Roy McKenzie's wife Melody and his son, Roy Jr., were standing at the dock as lines were heaved to the Point Bonita. Jack La France stepped onto the concrete dock and made a vow never to go to sea again, a vow that he has yet to break.

But Captain Arthur Davey? Well, no sooner did he get released from the hospital than he was right back offshore, staring down another winter gale on the Georges Bank. For cryin' out loud Arthur.

How would Sea Roamer have fared at sea anchor if she had used 600 feet of elastic nylon rode instead of only 150 ft. of low-stretch Poly-Dacron? Would she have been able to ride out the storm without damage? We will never know, but Arthur Davey told Victor Shane that he was never too old to learn. He still uses parachutes at sea. But now with a long NYLON rode.

S/T-18 Trimaran, Searunner


Trimaran, Searunner

40' x 24' x 7.5 Tons

28-Ft. Dia. Parachute Sea Anchor

Force 10 Conditions

File S/T-18, obtained from Steve and Cheryl Bow, Auckland NZ. - Vessel name Labyrinth, hailing port Auckland, Searunner trimaran designed by Jim Brown, LOA 40' 10" x Beam 23' 6" x Draft 6' 11" (3' 6" board up) x 7.5 Tons - Sea anchor: 28-ft. Diameter Australian army cargo parachute on 400' x 3/4" nylon three strand tether and bridle arms of 90' each, with 5/8" galvanized swivel - Partial trip-line - Deployed in a storm in deep water about 270 miles south of Kermadec Islands with winds of 50-60 knots and seas of 30-35 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Drift was 6.2 n.m. during 41 hours at sea anchor.


Steve and Cheryl Bow cruised the world aboard their 40-ft. Searunner Labyrinth. On 15 June 1995 (a year after the Queen's Birthday storm) they left Auckland and headed north for Tonga. Two days later they ran into a Force-10 storm about 270 miles south of the Kermadecs. Transcript:

We are a two-handed husband and wife crew. It was our plan to leave NZ on the back of a low that was at that time centered near Mt. Taranaki. Following it was a huge high over Australia and the winds between the two promised fair sailing. No fronts or depressions were forecast or expected from the coming weather. Our first days run was a rolly 155 miles broad reach in a 30 knot SW breeze and we were feeling very happy about things until we discovered water in the bilge at 2200 hrs on the 16th June. A porthole under the wingdeck had blown in and was leaking considerably. We effected a temporary repair and that took us through to daybreak.

At 0800 hrs we changed course and ran off before the wind for 6 hours while I epoxied the portholes closed with underwater epoxy. While we were running off, the latest weatherfax showed that a rapidly deepening low had formed north of Sydney and was heading our way - fast. If we hadn't had to run off to make the repairs we would have been OK, but as it was we were right in its path. Knowing that we were in for a rough night I went to bed, leaving Cheryl to do a long watch so that I would be fresh for the evening. When I awoke at 1800 hrs the winds were gusting over 30 knots from the NE and Cheryl had hove-to. We had two reefs in the main and the stays'l set; at this point the boat was comfortable despite the worsening seas and we settled down to sit it out. The 2000 hrs fax showed a second rapidly deepening low had formed behind the first.

Between 1400 and 1930 hrs the barometer dropped from 1005 bar to 998 bar. When the winds reached 50 knots and the barometer was still dropping we had to make the decision - run off, or set the parachute. It was 1930 hrs and very dark, we could see the approaching seas only by the foam as they broke, and the spray was being driven horizontally by the wind. The seas were still building and had reached the unstable stage, with steep faces and rolling crests. We carry a SEABRAKE on board which was set up ready to go, however we opted to set the parachute for two reasons: 1) We were both very tired and probably not up to spending a considerable time helming a running yacht in steep seas; and 2) The NE wind would have been driving us back towards the North Island of NZ. With further depressions developing and no early respite expected, the parachute was selected as the better option.

We set the parachute. We had never set it before, however I had read all the information I could acquire and had watched the video prepared by Para-Tech. It had been assembled as per their instructions, complete with one of their deployable storage bags. It was deployed over the weather bow while still hove-to, and worked like a charm. It was gusting 60 knots and more by the time we had it set, and it was difficult to see or work on deck because of the driven spray. As the tension went onto the tether we were swung gently around bow to and then sat there. The hard part was getting the stays'l and main down and under control in the high winds. The centerboard had already been pulled up.

At 2400 hrs the barometer had dropped to 993 bar and the wind speed was rarely below 60 knots. The motion of the boat was good, just a steady rise and fall to the waves with an occasional loud BANG! as a cross swell broke against the hulls. Despite my previous fears of excessive strain on the yacht the bows were NEVER pulled through any of the breaking crests, instead rising up and over them. There was tremendous strain on the bridle and tether, which "hummed" at times. Despite the noise the motion was easy enough for us to get sleep and cook between watches.

Waves continued to break on either side of the yacht, but we appeared to sit in a "slick" behind the parachute where there was only foam. We rigged nylon chafe protection on the bridle near exposed metalwork on the yacht and I checked for chafe every hour, both there and at the snatchblocks on the bows. At the end of 41 hours we still did not have any chafe. A mistake I made was in relying on the hydraulic steering ram to hold the rudder amidships. The force on the rudder from cross swells and rogue waves was substantial enough to drive the hydraulic ram to the end of its travel, and the rudder hard over. This was cured by shackling sheets [ropes] direct to the rudder and winching/cleating it off amidships.

We sat to the parachute for 41 hours; the wind went up and down averaging 45 knots and sometimes dropping below 30 knots. At 1230 hrs on the 19th June the wind was still 30 knots but had backed to NW. We opted to pull up the parachute and make a run for it north to try and get above the depressions. All went well retrieving the chute except that just as I was about to pull it in over the side of the boat the retrieval line ripped off the apex of the parachute and the chute filled again! We were drifting broadsides at the time and making quite a bit of way. I nearly got pulled over the side and lost most of the skin off my hands while trying to re-cleat the tether. This could not have happened with a purpose-built sea anchor! A 28 ft diameter parachute is almost impossible to retrieve in those conditions with no retrieval line and only two crew. We tried for over two hours and in the end I had to cut it free.

If we had known what we would face for the next 48 hours we would have stayed on the chute. We started off hard-on into the wind which was averaging 25-30 knots. This became a tight reach as it was more comfortable. Seas were rough and confused and repeatedly broke against the hulls.... Each time we hit one we would stop dead in our tracks. The noise was incredible and with the front of the boat continually getting swept by the seas I was worried that something would get broken if we didn't slow down (it turned out that we did break a stringer in the forward section of the stbd float).

On 21st of June we finally ran out of the weather. Incredibly a fourth low had formed and taken the same path as the other three, but by this time we had climbed out above it. We would never put to sea for an ocean passage again without a parachute.

S/T-17 Trimaran, Kantola


Trimaran, Kantola

34' x 24' x 3 Tons

28-Ft. Dia. Parachute Sea Anchor

Force 9-10 Conditions

File S/T-17, obtained from Richard R. Barrie, Van Nuys, CA. - Vessel name Fifth Fox, hailing port Channel Islands, CA, trimaran designed by Jay Kantola, LOA 34' x Beam 24' x Draft 3' x 3 Tons - Sea anchor: 28-ft. Diameter C-9 military class parachute on 400' x 3/4" nylon three strand tether and bridle arms of 100' each, with 3/4" galvanized swivel - No trip-line - Deployed in a Pacific storm in deep water about 1000 miles west of Guadalajara, Mexico, with winds of 55-70 knots and seas of 20 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Drift was estimated to be 12 n.m. during 72 hours at sea anchor.

Sailing to Los Angeles from Panama, Richard Barrie decided to take one long - 1000 mile - tack out to sea and back, avoiding the Pagagayos, Tehuantepeckers and other hazards that one ordinarily associates with the Central American coast. However, Fifth Fox ran into a storm well offshore. Transcript:

During the last week of May, 1984, my wife and I with our two daughters left the Las Perlas Islands in Panama, and headed back to California. The first two weeks of the trip north were idyllic, 15-20 knots beam reaching with the spinnaker and the Tiller-Master doing all the work. During the second week of June the wind gradually went northwest and increased.

Before noon on the second day of the wind shift, a strong gust hit us (we had put a reef in the main, but still had a 120 genoa up) and the lower after stay on the port side parted at deck level. My first thought was to deploy the parachute, fix the shroud and continue on. We deployed the chute off the stern [on the fly] going downwind without a trip line in moderate conditions. I fully expected to replace the lower shroud and continue on. While sitting to the chute during the first hour or so, I went up the mast with a new Sta-Lock attached to a new lower stay. While I was at the spreaders attempting to exchange the wire, the wind quickly increased from a steady 30-35 knots to a steady 50 knots with higher gusts, with the sea state increasing rapidly. I had never been seasick in all my life, yet I became nauseous. I could not continue with the work aloft so came down the mast and jury-rigged the lower at the deck with some wire clamps. That took the S-curve out of the mast so we could sail if the chute let go.

After sitting on the parachute anchor for a few hours, I was in the cockpit when a huge wave pushed the boat up to the crest and back on the rudder. The rudder had been locked in place amidships with the Tiller-Master. In the middle of this particularly large cresting wave, I heard a sickening crack and looked down and saw the tiller head starting to swing independently of the tiller. It was very apparent what was wrong. Fortunately there was a hole in the rudder blade itself, so with a stout line tied to the port float near the transom, I dove in the sea and rove this line through the rudder blade, with a knot on either side, then on to the starboard float. This action no doubt saved the rudder....

For the next three days we were anchored to the parachute, with the wind screaming and the waves cresting. While it was difficult to sleep soundly, we could at least sleep. As time wore on, it became apparent that we and the boat were safe, even with the wind flicking salt water bullets at us at 50 or 60 knots. The wind moderated to 35 knots after the third day and we cast off the lines and sailed up to the float and retrieved the parachute quite easily. Previously we had deployed the parachute with a trip line and it fouled rather quickly. I resolved then never to use a trip line again. I will now carry two parachutes for insurance.

I took star shots each evening and morning during our three day stay in this part of the ocean and was quite surprised to find that we moved only 12 miles in a southeasterly direction.

S/M-25 Valiant 40 Cutter


Valiant 40 Cutter

40' x 14 Tons, Low Aspect Fin/Skeg

28-Ft. Dia. Parachute Sea Anchor

Force 10-11 Conditions

File S/M-25, obtained from Jim & Lyn Foley, San Lorenzo, CA. - Vessel name Sanctuary, hailing port Alameda, Valiant cutter, designed by Robert Perry, LOA 40' x LWL 34' x Beam 12' x Draft 6' x 14 Tons - Low aspect fin keel & skeg rudder- Sea anchor: 28-ft. Diameter C-9 military class parachute on 300' x 5/8" nylon three strand rode with 1/2" stainless steel swivel - No trip line - Deployed in a storm in deep water about 300 miles north of Bermuda with winds of 55-70 knots and seas of 24 feet - Vessel's bow yawed 20° - Due to the Gulf Stream drift was 15 miles to windward in 4 hours.

Sanctuary, a sea-kindly Perry-designed Valiant 40 was en route to the Azores from Florida when she ran into a northeasterly storm in the Gulf Stream. The stream was flowing exactly contrary to the wind at a current speed of five knots! One can only imagine the hell that Sanctuary must have gone through on the night of 28 May 1995. Transcript:

While crossing the Atlantic in May 1995 we encountered a Force 10 storm, an occurrence we will never forget nor care to repeat. Sailing east at approx. 38° 45' N, 63° 58' W, we enjoyed the fast moving east setting current and warm waters of the Gulf Stream. Dolphins played in our bow wake, tunas were jumping and the birds were fishing. With hardly a breath of wind, we attributed most of Sanctuary's forward progress of 6.5 knots to the Gulf Stream.

The morning weather report from NMN (Norfolk, VA) included gale warnings for 40° north, 60° west, with forecast winds of 35-40 knots, seas 14-16 feet. The gale was indicated moving ENE at approx. 15 knots, and had a 200 miles semi-circle of influence to its southeast. In other words, we were some 75 nm behind the gale, and proceeding towards it at about 6 knots [while it was moving away at 15 knots]. We plotted the parameters of the Gulf Stream as reported by NMN. The stream's main body was moving northeast above 40° N, and then curving back down to 39° N, creating a bend or bight in its eastward flow. While we realized that we were sailing into the lower semi-circle of the gale, we hated to give up the favorable current and thought we could ride the tail feathers of the forecasted gale as it moved forward of us. It did not occur to us that the gale would stall in the bight of the stream and build to storm force before the day was out.

Early in the afternoon a northeast swell began to rise and fall with no wind to show for it. suddenly the blue sunny skies disappeared, winds picked up to 25, then 30 knots, increasing steadily. Seas had risen by that time to 10-12 feet. Accordingly, we kept busy reefing down our full flying sails, until we carried our smallest storm sail plan - a triple-reefed main and a storm staysail.

As conditions worsened we hove-to using the two sails, thinking the "gale" would move eastward. We planned to sit tight until it passed - but the Gulf Stream current held us in the trough more than our sails could hold us into the steep, confused, falling and breaking seas. Then the northeast wind increased to a dramatic 55 or more knots. At the crest of waves Sanctuary would round up, get knocked back and over. We had one very dangerous Chinese jibe - a wave broke on us, knocked our stern around and the cockpit filled with green water.

We decided to lower the sails and set the parachute sea anchor. With 55 knots and more of wind, it was a challenge to get the sails down. As Jim struggled on the wheel, Lyn managed to douse the main and staysail, staying on the deck thanks to harness and tether. We then deployed the 28-ft. diameter C-9 military parachute - with 1/2" stainless steel swivel and 300' of 5/8" three strand nylon rode. The rode was led from the port side bulwarks hawsepipe, aft to the primary winch and cleat.

We deployed the parachute to windward, with no problem, but the line went taut so fast and so tight that we couldn't get the double-lined fire hose chafe gear in place. We tried motoring up on the anchor to relieve pressure - but with 55 knots of wind on the nose, and the parachute in 5 knots of opposing current pulling us INTO the wind and waves, we couldn't get the rode to slacken. We were unable to uncleat and unwind the rode from the winch, slip the chafe gear on, rewinch and recleat it. The rode was so taut instantly that we could see the 3-strand 5/8" nylon reducing in diameter. It was stretching down to 1/2" or less. We felt the rode wouldn't last long, and carefully stood clear of the line.

This line was brand new, never used before, dedicated to the para-anchor. We held 30 feet of the bitter end in the cockpit in reserve, and let out about a foot every 20-30 minutes to combat chafe. Meanwhile, as we worried about chafe, the para-anchor was working beautifully. The boat rode up the face of the waves, punching through their tops as the huge seas rolled under us. No more green water came on board, no more near knock-downs. For four hours we rested below, taking turns watching and letting out the rode to combat chafe. But in spite of our efforts the line parted after an especially strong gust, and the sea anchor was gone.

We fearfully lay a-hull until first light, then turned and ran before the waves, towing warps in an attempt to break up the curlers before they broke on us. We trailed 300 foot lines, with fenders and heavy gear in their bights. Lyn stood and looked aft, watching the waves and warning Jim as he steered down their faces. We were pooped several times in the next few hours. The seas were too strong for Lyn to steer, and we were both exhausted. Luckily, a few hours later we broke free of the Gulf Stream and the storm moved on.

We heard officially on that morning weather broadcast from NMN that the "gale" had been upgraded to a Force 10 storm, carrying winds up to 70 knots. We don't believe we experienced winds that high, however, using our stern-mounted radar arch as a measure, we know we had seas of 20 feet.

What we learned: When we heard the gale forecast, we should have changed course to leave the Gulf Stream and its five-knot current. We believe the rode parted because: 1) The parachute was too big for our boat - that the current actually pulled us forward at more than 3 knots, instead of actually stopping the boat or truly "heaving-to." 2) No chafe protection on the rode. 3) Unusual circumstances of extreme current and opposing seas and winds.

We will purchase a smaller diameter parachute. We will use 600 feet of 7/8" nylon line for the rode. Since the incident we have read Lin and Larry Pardey's Storm Tactics Handbook and discussed what happened. Due to what we learned from them and our experience, we plan to add a bridle as they describe, with a snatch block over the rode and a turning block at the bow - and have heavy duty chafe gear in place before deployment.

It is Victor Shane's considered opinion that if Sanctuary had deployed the given parachute on a much longer rode, with adequate chafe gear, this might have been one of the most remarkable files in the S/M section of the Drag Device Data Base. In some respects it still is.

S/M-5 Steel Schooner


Steel Schooner

75' x 36 Tons, Full Keel

28-Ft. Dia. Parachute Sea Anchor

Force 10-11 Conditions


File S/M-5, obtained from Jeremiah Nixon, St. Louis MO. - Vessel name Goodjump II, hailing port St. Louis, steel Schooner, designed by George Sutton, LOA 75' x LWL 62' x Beam 15' x Draft 6' 2" x 36 Tons - Full keel - Sea anchor: 28-ft. diameter C-9 military class parachute on 600' x 1-inch nylon three strand rode, with 5/8" galvanized swivel - No trip line - Deployed in deep water during a storm near 39° 50' N, 49° 30' W (mid-Atlantic) with winds of 60 knots and seas of 18' - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Drift was about 18 n.m. during 18 hours at sea anchor

Goodjump II was sailing to Portugal from the U.S. east coast. The skipper, Jeremiah Nixon, had purchased a para-anchor from the author's company. It was a 28-ft. diameter C-9 military parachute, converted into a sea anchor. This parachute has been a staple of the Armed Forces for decades, and is still in use by the Air Force. You can tell a C-9 by the colors of the canopy, either red and white, or a combination of red, white, gold and olive drab. C-9s have 28 suspension lines.

Shane Victor has handled hundreds of C-9's to date, each and every time with awe and amazement. Little wonder World War II pilots used to refer to their parachutes as "silken angels." Light in weight, resilient and strong, a military parachute (not to be confused with lighter sport parachutes) embodies eighty years of development and refinement. Government contracts require that C-9 parachutes be able to negotiate dynamic loads of 5,000 lbs. without failure - they have to be test-dropped from aircraft flying at high speeds with dummies attached.

When Goodjump II ran into a storm in the middle of the Atlantic, the crew decided to put out the chute. They had some initial difficulty in getting the big canopy in the water. The wind took hold of it on deck and it was almost airborne . The crew persevered, however, and finally had the chute properly deployed on 600 feet of nylon rode. Goodjump II rounded up into the seas, her bow nicely snubbed to her parachute sea anchor in 18-ft. seas. Transcript:

The para-anchor worked perfectly, we rode nicely. Learned the hard way to deploy it from the windward side of the boat by pushing it right into the water while holding it against the side of the boat. It got loose on our first effort on the lee side and went into the air.

You asked the question of the angle and movement of our bow during the storm. I cleated the rode to the forward port cleat and as a result the bow held about 10° to the right of the wind and there was no swing from side to side that I noticed. In fact the deck was dry and there was no spray or pounding. The 600 feet of rode stretched and raised out of the water at the point of wave crest and then came back down with an easy controlled feeling.

We drank beer and ate chili during the worst and I got a solid 6 hours of sleep at a time when we had to wear a safety harness because of wind when we went forward to check on chafe.

No trip line is necessary. Just motor up to it and bring it up. These are some of the reasons why I consider this equipment the most important safety item on my boat.... I will never make an ocean passage without one on board. People must realize that ocean cruising can be safe if you go with the idea that you will go into a defensive position before the seas build too high. The flat-out philosophy of professional racers must be disregarded by the small crew cruising yachts

(Note: The problem of the wind inflating parachutes prematurely on deck can be minimized by wetting down the parachute beforehand. Nylon cloth is much more manageable and less likely to fly open in the wind when wet and heavy. The other alternative is to use a deployment bag.)


S/C-1 Catamaran, CSK


Catamaran, CSK

65' x 30' x 22 Tons

28-Ft. Dia. Parachute Sea Anchor

Force 8 Conditions


File S/C-1, obtained from Bruce Reid, Costa Mesa, CA. - Vessel name Rose Marie, hailing port Vancouver, BC, catamaran, designed by Vince Bartalone, LOA 65' x Beam 30' x Draft 3' 3" x 22 Tons - Sea anchor: 28-ft. Diameter C-9 military class parachute on 500' x 1" nylon three strand tether and bridle arms of 60' each, with 5/8" galvanized swivel - No trip line - Deployed in gale force winds in shallow water (40 fathoms) off Point Conception, California, with winds of 40 knots and seas of 15-20 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 5° - Drift was upwind at 2 knots, induced by current.


Rose Marie was on her way to Vancouver from Newport when she ran into gale force winds off Point Conception - the "Cape Horn of the Pacific." The skipper put out the 28-ft. diameter C-9 parachute when progress against headwinds began to diminish. The strong coastal current that flows northward hereabouts caused the para-anchor to tow the big catamaran upwind! Because water is some 800 times heavier than air, large sea anchors should be used with caution where there are local currents, especially in close quarters. The sea anchor will pull the boat with the current, regardless of the intensity and direction of the wind. If the current is going your way, then fine and well. If not, be warned that the sea anchor may tow your boat over a ledge, across fishing nets, a shipping lane or into other hazardous areas. Transcript:

We were conducting sea trials of our newly launched C/S/K designed catamaran. We had departed Newport Beach on 9 June 1984 with the intention of making our way north to Vancouver B.C. On the evening of June 11 we anchored at Coho, an open roadstead just southwest of Point Conception, along with six or seven fishing boats and two other cruisers. The winds were northwesterly at 28 knots, gusting to 38 knots, and the seas were about 15 ft., which continued to build during the night. By early dawn the fishing vessels all departed in the direction of Santa Barbara, along with one of the cruisers. The other cruiser, a Westsail 32, raised sail and headed out to sea. At around 5:30 am we motored out to see what the conditions were... the 2 am weather report was 35 knots gusting 45, with seas of 15-21 ft. We continued on course for about an hour and a half when the wind shifted to the north by northwest and our progress began to diminish. The Westsail 32, under sail and engine, passed ahead of us on a port tack and seemed to be taking a lot of green water. Standing on our cabin top my eye level is about 18 ft. above the waterline and in several of the troughs I could not see over the approaching wave. The 6 am report described the sea as 18-26 ft. and I am sure they were all of 18 and occasionally 26 ft.

Within one mile or so of Point Arguello, the Westsail 32 turned and ran back toward Point Conception.... Though we were not in any trouble, we decided to deploy our 28' diameter parachute and take a rest. We had covered only nine miles in about three and a half hours. My windspeed indicator averages out most of the gusts, so the peak winds are not known, but while lying to the parachute the wind rarely fell below 40 knots, and on occasion we saw 50 knots.

Standing about a mile and a half offshore, lying abeam to the sea under minimum power, we slowly deployed the parachute off the port bow, letting it stream off to weather about 30 to 40 feet. We then snubbed off the rode and watched the chute fill and come to full shape. We then fed out the rode until it was a full 500 ft. out to windward, then secured it to the bridle, in turn secured to the port and starboard bow bollards. Everything became quite peaceful. We took reference sights on the shoreline and went below for breakfast.

About twenty minutes later, I checked on our shore marks but could not identify them. I had a feeling of confusion and together with a crew member established a new set of reference marks on shore. Fifteen minutes later I went on deck and saw that the marks had shifted unexpectedly. What had confused me on my first sights was that I had expected our drift to be to leeward. After careful calculation we estimated that we were making about 2 knots to windward! We were making about the same progress to weather as we had been making motor-sailing, however, with everything shut down life had become so peaceful we had to refer to the windspeed indicator to verify the winds had not decreased and in fact had increased slightly.

After about two hours we decided to practice picking up the parachute and attempted a hand over hand retrieval. A bit of foolishness. We then cast off the rode and began to motor up on the trip line float. Again another bit of foolishness. The float's relationship to the parachute was impossible to determine and in short order we had the parachute around a prop. After recovering all the rode and what we could of the parachute, we sailed off back around Point Conception. So far as we could determine, our cat has never shown any tendency to sail about while laying to a parachute (on 500 ft. scope). Whatever movement there may be is within a five degree arc. If the movement is in fact greater than that it is very difficult to identify it from the other motions, created by the sea state.

All my parachute retrievals since this event have been by a polypropylene trip line, however I find even with the help of various crew members recovering a chute on 500 feet of rode is always work, even when conditions are less hectic. So far as I am concerned, getting to port ahead of a storm is the best tactic. But if that is impractical, lying to a parachute on a bridle, head-to-wind, or even with the sea quartering, is by far the safest and least wearing storm tactic I have tried to date.

S/T-3 Trimaran, Cross


Trimaran, Cross

50' x 27' x 16 Tons

28-Ft. Dia. Parachute Sea Anchor

Force 10 Conditions


File S/T-3, obtained from the owner of the boat, residing in Durban, South Africa - Vessel name withheld by request, hailing port Yarmouth, England, trimaran ketch, designed by Norman Cross, LOA 50' x Beam 27' x Draft 6' x 16 Tons - Sea anchor: 28-ft. Diameter C-9 military class parachute on 500' x 3/4" nylon braid tether and bridle arms of 80' each, with 5/8" galvanized swivel - Full trip line - Deployed in an Atlantic storm in deep water south of Tristan Da Cunha with sustained winds of 50 knots and seas of 30 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 20° - Drift was estimated to be 12 n.m. during 36 hours at sea anchor.


South African safety expert, yachtmaster, instructor and Intec Maritime Academy principal Henton Jaaback had heard about the Casanovas' pioneering work. He acquired a military parachute, which he ended up loaning to the owner of this passage-bound trimaran. On her way to Rio from Cape Town the trimaran ran into a horrendous storm south of the island of Tristan da Cunha. Exhausted, the owner and his wife deployed the parachute according to the Casanovas' guidelines. It pulled the three bows into the huge seas and kept them there for 36 hours - through the worst part of the storm. After the 36 hours there was a jerk, the bows fell off the wind, and the big multihull lay beam to the seas, drifting downwind. It is the owner's opinion that the galvanized swivel in the system seized - failed to rotate, though the 3-strand rope used for the bridle arms is suspect as well (3-strand will torque under load). At any rate when he pulled the lines back on board, all that remained were the two bridle arms of about 60 ft. each, twisted around each other and their ends unraveled. The full trip line had snapped at the same time, so they lost everything, hardware, swivel, tether, parachute and all.

Galvanized swivels have always been a source of concern to your author, though one looks at the Casanovas' file and sees that they never had a problem with theirs in eighteen years of cruising and storm use. The problem with these swivels lies in the galvanic process, which results in an acid-etched coarse surface, liable to stick or "gall" under load. Even so, the swivel - if of good American or Japanese make - usually gets a chance to rotate during slack cycles, as born out by many other files in this database. Moreover there are excellent stainless steel swivels on the market today.

Why do parachutes rotate under load? They may do so because of inconsistencies in fabrication, or shroud lines that are not precisely equal in length. But mostly they rotate because of the ratchet effect produced by the overlapping of the panels. These panels, shaped like pie wedges, have to be sewn together to form the circular shape of the canopy. The edge of the first panel is laid over the edge of the second and sewn, the edge of the second panel is laid over the edge of the third, etc., the radial seams being over, over, over, and this is where the ratchet effect crops up. To do away with this built-in cause of rotation one has to stagger the fit of the seams. The edge of the first panel is laid over the second and sewn, but the edge of the second panel is laid under the third, etc. Over, under, over, under. The parachutes that are used to slow down supersonic aircraft on the runway are of staggered fabrication. You won't see them spin.

Canopy panels

The panels on Para-Tech sea anchors are now sewn in such a way as to be spin-neutral, although swivels are still a good idea. Here is a transcript of the DDDB feedback provided by the owner and his wife:


Swivel on bridle galvanized iron 16 mm - swivel on parachute 16 mm also. The bridle was attached to the swivel of the main line with two shackles. Main line 20 mm "multiplait." Bridle was 25 mm nylon 3-strand rope. After recovering the remains of the bridle we saw we had lost the two shackles and the swivel. The remains of the arms of the bridle were unraveled & twisted around each other - everything else was lost. We have been informed that galvanized swivels apparently lock under strain....

The trip line also snapped when we lost the para-anchor. This was at about 3 pm (we felt a jerk). We rushed into foul weather gear and on deck.... When we started up the engine and tried to find the "rig," the wind was so strong the boat could make no headway - also the seas were white, so the [white] buoy was impossible to see! A red buoy would perhaps show up better, even though we could not have motored to get it....

Some hours after we lost the para-anchor, after broaching dangerously south of Tristan da Cunha, we decided to use a drogue to slow the boat and eliminate broaching. We were bare-pole doing 5-6 knots and descending the slope of waves at 12-13 knots. The drogue consisted of 150 ft. of "multiplat" 20 mm. rope plus 33 ft. of 1/2" chain with 4 knots to make more vortex [turbulence]. All the above was attached to a bridle of 30 ft. [each arm].... We used the engine [in conjunction with the drogue] at the minimum, about 1000 revs, that gave us a speed of approx 4-5 knots and maximum speed in descending wave slope of 7-8 knots and no more broaching.

We needed the engine to keep enough steering power. We had a 3-blade fixed prop that spoiled the efficiency of the rudder; I think we lost about 50% efficiency! But we used the autopilot without any problem and we really appreciated the work of the drogue in straightening the boat each time at the beginning of a broach. The bridle was fixed to two sampson posts of 4" square oak, fixed to the keel of each float. The wind was then about 40 knots, with big breaking seas for about 24 hours.

We were very surprised by the efforts [loads] imposed by the drogue and also by the parachute anchor and we don't think that normal cleat-type fitting would have lasted under the strain....

We now have two para-anchors.... We honestly feel we would not sail without one now. Our experience around Tristan, and the knowledge that we were safe and could ride out a storm, has made this indispensable.

S/T-1 Trimaran, Horstman Tristar Ketch


Trimaran, Horstman Tristar Ketch

39' x 22' x 8 Tons

28-Ft. Dia. Parachute Sea Anchor

Force 12 Conditions



File S/T-1, obtained from Joan Casanova, Oregon City, OR. - Vessel name Tortuga Too, hailing port Seattle, Trimaran, Tristar ketch, designed by Ed Horstman, LOA 39' x Beam 22' x Draft 44" x 8 Tons - Sea anchor: 28-ft. Diameter C-9 military class parachute on 400' x 3/4" nylon three strand tether and bridle arms of 60' each, with 1/2" galvanized swivel - Full trip line - Deployed in numerous storms during 18-year cruise from Seattle to African coast, the Southern Ocean and back to Texas - Severest use case was over the Burwood Bank, between Cape Horn and Falkland Islands, with winds of 85-100 knots and seas in excess of 30' - Vessel's bow yawed about 20° - Drift was estimated to be 16 n.m. during three days at sea anchor.


By and large this is probably the most important file in the Drag Device Data Base. Other than a handful of known but poorly-documented cases of commercial fishermen and some sailboats using parachutes, our knowledge about the general behavior of boats at sea anchor was sketchy until the Casanovas came alone. We didn't know if a boat would "rise to the seas," or be pulled through green water. We didn't know if the boat would roll with the punches and "yield to the seas," or stand up against them and break up. We didn't know if the boat would get "slingshotted" off the crests as the elastic rode stretched. We didn't know if the boat would "back down" on her rudder, so as to cause it to break off. We didn't know if the hardware and fittings on boats could withstand the forces involved. Well, thanks to the pioneering work of Joan and John Casanova, now we know.

The parachute anchoring system never failed on Tortuga Too, not once in eighteen years and some 200,000 blue water miles. Off the coast of New Zealand where cyclone winds were recorded at 90 mph, in a hurricane off Fiji where several other boats were lost, in 40-ft. seas in the Indian Ocean, and in a truly devastating storm off the Falklands, time and again Tortuga Too survived without damage by the correct use of the parachute sea anchor. While Lady Luck might have played a significant role in some of the other files in this database, it is clear that her role was minimal in this one. Indeed, the number of times that the parachute was used, and the broad range of life-threatening storms and heavy weather situations in which it was deployed, seem to tell us that luck had very little to do with anything here - though it goes without saying that luck always favors the wise and the well-prepared.

Despite her relatively lightweight - plywood - construction, and despite her 22-ft. beam, Tortuga Too was never in any danger of breaking up. Not once did she get slingshotted off the huge storm crests; she never went crashing through green water; the galvanized swivel did not fail; the deck fittings did not pull out. The 28-ft. diameter military parachute held and the system worked, time and time again.

Tortuga Too's worst-case scenario occurred over the shallow Burwood Bank, between Cape Horn and the Falklands. This was a "bomb" type storm development, to use the expression coined by professor Fred Sanders of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. The term "bomb" is generally used to describe the rapid development of a secondary storm, which overtakes - and reinforces - its predecessor. In particular it describes the pressure gradient amplifications that result from the overtaking of a surface LOW by a faster moving upper altitude TROUGH, resulting in barometric pressure decreases of 24 millibars or more in a 24-hour period, as well as abruptly angled surface wind fields. This type of storm development - usually identified by high-altitude comma-shaped clouds on satellites pictures - was associated with Fastnet '79.

In the book The Parachute Anchoring System Joan Casanova describes Tortuga Too's encounter with a genuine ESW - extreme storm wave. Tortuga Too was tethered to a 28-ft. diameter C-9 parachute when an enormous mountain of curling, roaring water rose before her bows, something akin to the terrifying photographs in Coles's Heavy Weather Sailing. This sobering account should be a source of comfort to multihull sailors in particular. It is reproduced by permission of Chiodi Advertising & Publishing, publisher of Multihulls Magazine:


It was the type of a wave which pitchpoles yachts in these oceans, the type which every voyager sailing in the high latitudes of the Southern Ocean fears. While we watched, horrified, this monster welled up for a second time, curling over as if breaking on a beach, then roaring in foamy masses on top of Tortuga Too, covering deck and wheel house before running off into the sea once more. We were so shaken by this experience that it seemed an eternity before we regained our composure to check the boat's condition, but she was all right. In fact, Tortuga Too recovered faster than we. There was no structural damage. She had returned to her original position of facing the storm and was already climbing the next wave....

We want to stress here that no vessel, multihull, monohull or freighter, could have survived such a sea unless tethered with a long line from a sea anchor... we share this story with you only to prove how this technique can protect a craft in extraordinary circumstances. Although Tortuga Too survived this mammoth wave crashing on her deck, there was no backing down on her rudder, nor any structural damage to the hulls.


The experiences of the Casanovas with parachute sea anchors is so broad-based, so extensive that it has entered into the legend and nomenclature of multihull sailing. In the multihull community the name "Casanova" is synonymous with parachute anchoring, to the extent that the names "Voss" and "Pardey" are synonymous with heaving-to in the monohull community. In the course of logging all those blue water miles, Joan and "Cass" tried every conceivable heavy weather tactic known to man, including the use of makeshift drogues off the stern, but they always found themselves coming back to the bow-deployed parachute sea anchor. Multihull sailors owe a debt of deep gratitude to Joan Casanova in particular, for having the vision to see in her valuable storm experiences a responsibility to inform others. (See also her early articles in the Spring 1976, July/August 1979 and August 1980 issues of Multihulls Magazine).