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Sea Anchors on Monohulls

S/M-28 Camper Nicholson Sloop

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CAMPERS/M-28

Camper Nicholson Sloop

35' x 7.5 Tons, Low Aspect Fin/Skeg

15-Ft. Dia. Sea Anchor

Force 7-8 Conditions

 

File S/M-28, obtained from John G. Driscoll, Holywood, County Down, UK - Vessel name Moonlight Of Down, hailing port Southampton, Camper Nicholson sloop, designed by Raymond Wall, LOA 35' x LWL 24' x Beam 10' x Draft 5'6" x 7.5 Tons - Low aspect fin keel & skeg rudder - Sea anchor: 15-ft. Diameter Para-Tech on 380' x 5/8" nylon braid rode and 60' of chain, with 1/2" stainless steel swivel - Partial trip line - Deployed in a low system in deep water about 300 miles WNW of Bermuda with winds of 30-40 knots and seas of 12 feet - Vessel's bow yawed 30°.

UK sailor John Driscoll learned some lessons about the use of the Pardey bridling system when he crossed the Atlantic in November 1996. He offers the reader some valuable advice about having a game plan - and practice time:

Our vessel Moonlight Of Down was on a passage from Newport, Rhode Island to Bermuda, manned by myself and my wife. At 2200 hrs 1 Nov 96 the vessel was hove-to under triple reefed mains'l in a SW Force 7 wind with a rough sea, as it was not possible for the off-watch crew to sleep when underway. By 0000 hrs 2 Nov it was blowing SW Force 7-8 as a trough or local low center passed by. It was decided to deploy the Para-Tech sea anchor. This had not been attempted before, but practice runs of the deployment procedure had been carried out to the point of dropping the DSB [deployable stowage bag] overboard,

The drill calls for the 5/8" octo-plait [8-ply braid] rode to be passed forward from the cockpit - outside everything - and shackled onto the shank of the 33 lb. Bruce, main bow anchor. 20 Meters of chain is then run out. A "Pardey Bridle" is rolling-hitched to the chain, and a further 10 m of chain run out. The parachute buoy, tripping line, primary float, float line, DSB and the main part of the 120 m nylon rode are then deployed from the safety of the cockpit.

The drill went perfectly, no problems, and the vessel lay at 50° to the wind on the starboard tack with some tension on the bridle. The vessel then tacked and lay with the bridle under the boat. The vessel tacked every ten minutes or so. It was decided that the weight of the anchor and chain were too great for proper bridling (angles wrong), so some chain was reversed and the bridle re-attached. No improvement. At 0430 it was noted that the wind had dropped to Force 6 so it was decided to lay without a bridle, head to wind - so the crew could sleep.

A rapid, severe roll developed with the vessel occasionally tacking about 30° each side of the wind. Sleep, or even rest were completely impossible, and it was decided to recover the sea anchor at first light, by which time the wind had dropped to Force 4.

The anchor was brought aboard with the windlass. The vessel was motored up the rode, which was recovered by hand to within 30 m of the sea anchor. The vessel was maneuvered to the parachute buoy, which was recovered and the sea anchor picked up by the partial trip line over the starboard bow. It came aboard so well-arranged it was immediately re-bagged for re-deployment if necessary.

In spite of the Hydrovane Self-Steering rudder being lashed amidships the vessel had at sometime backed down with sufficient force to free the rudder and stock hard over within the head clamp. No other damage or chafe occurred. Whereas the procedures for deployment and recovery were completely successful, the method of utilization was not considered successful and will have to be modified.

The following points are considered significant in the failure to achieve a satisfactory set: 1) Lying to a sea anchor off the bow head-to-wind is not considered practical due to the violent rolling induced. 2) Attaching the nylon rode to the sea anchor and dropping it over the bow, although improving the catenary and avoiding chafe, does not allow a Pardey Bridle to be used effectively on this vessel. 3) A sea anchor cannot be considered an effective asset unless practice runs have been carried out in suitable conditions to determine the exact method of utilization.

My next attempt (a practice run) will be to deploy the sea anchor as described in Storm Tactics as shown in diagrams E & F (pages 38 & 39) and photos 3 & 4 (pages 79 & 80). I feel that the rode and bridle should be in the approximate plane of the vessel's gunwale to be effective. They should not lead steeply downward as occurs when chain is used off the bow. Should chain need to be incorporated into the rode it would probably be best at the sea anchor end. In conclusion we feel that the Para-Tech sea anchor is well constructed and its drag characteristic will enable it to achieve the desired performance, once we have developed the method of utilization appropriate to our own vessel.

BJ

Sea Anchors on Monohulls

S/M-27 Contessa 26 Cutter

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CONTESSAS/M-27

Contessa 26 Cutter

26' x 2.7 Tons, Full Keel

12-Ft. Dia. Sea Anchor

Force 9-10 Conditions

File S/M-28, obtained from Brian Caldwell, Jr., Honolulu, HI - Vessel name Mai Miti Vavau, hailing port Honolulu, Contessa cutter, designed and built by J.J. Taylor and Sons of Toronto, LOA 26' x LWL 21' x Beam 7' 6" x Draft 4' x 2.7 Tons - Full keel - Sea anchor: 12-ft. Diameter Para-Tech on 300' x 3/8" nylon braid rode with 1/2" stainless steel swivel - No trip line - Deployed in a gale about 12 miles east of Pt. St. Johns, South Africa, in shallow water (50 fathoms) with winds of 50 knots and seas of 12 feet - Vessel's bow yawed 30° - Drift was about 3 n.m. during 24 hours at sea anchor.

On 1 June 1995, amidst much fanfare, Brian - "BJ" - Caldwell cast off from the Hawaii Yacht Club aboard his Contessa 26 on the first of 13 planned legs, in an attempt to make it into the Guinness Book of World Records as the youngest person to circumnavigate the globe before his 21st birthday. On 28 September 1995 a flotilla of sailboats and other vessels welcomed BJ back to Honolulu with double the fanfare, as he accomplished his goal.

Mai Miti Vavau of Honolulu. Posing before, BJ Caldwell, was entered in the Guinness Book of Records as the youngest solo circumnavigator at that time. The yacht is a Contessa 26, designed and built by J.J. Taylor & Sons of Toronto. (BJ Caldwell photo).
Mai Miti Vavau of Honolulu. Posing before, BJ Caldwell, was entered in the Guinness Book of Records as the youngest solo circumnavigator at that time. The yacht is a Contessa 26, designed and built by J.J. Taylor & Sons of Toronto. (BJ Caldwell photo).

 

Don Whilldin, president of Para-Tech Engineering, had sponsored the young man's effort with a sea anchor and a drogue. BJ Caldwell ended up using both drag devices on numerous occasions, declaring them to be the most important pieces of equipment on his boat. Here are some excerpts from the interview conducted by Sailing (December 1966, courtesy of Sailing):

I don't know how our family cruised for six years without this. There's no excuse for leaving on a long cruise without a sea anchor and a drogue.... The sea anchor I used for the first time in the Indian Ocean. Eight days out of Cocos winds were blowing 50 knots. The seas were mountains coming in from all directions. I also used it in hurricane-force winds while rounding the Cape. The blow lasted for an hour and then subsided to about 50 knots.

The smaller drogue kept the mast above the water for about 10,000 punishing miles. I trailed it about 100 feet behind the boat whenever there was a risk of broaching. In the Indian Ocean I often had about 15 percent mainsail and 6 percent jib with the drogue out. I ended up using it for about a week during my 21-day passage from Cocos Island to Mauritius.

Mai Miti Vavau in the Indian Ocean with Para-Tech Delta Drogue in tow (visible left of center). (BJ Caldwell photo).

Here are transcripts of two reports Victor Shane obtained from BJ Caldwell, one dealing with his use of the sea anchor and the other with his use of the drogue. The two categories have been combined into a single file for ease of comparison:

Para-Tech Sea Anchor (12-ft. diameter)

Unique situation - big seas in the Agulhas current [off lower east coast of Africa], but much smaller inside the 100-fathom line. The axis of the current acted as a type of breakwater. Conditions in the current were utterly unpredictable. The seas very confused and powerful. It was much better inside the current line [meaning the area bounded by the current and the coastline]. Initially drogue was used outside of the continental shelf in Agulhas current and in 100 fathoms of water. As the wind increased I moved out of current and into shallow water for deployment of sea anchor. Both the drogue and sea anchor greatly enhanced safety.

The hardest part in deploying the sea anchor was in handling the 300 feet of rode. Rope gets stiff from saltwater and use. I wouldn't say the ride [at sea anchor] was comfortable. It was like a rodeo or a roadstead anchorage with no barrier to the fetch.

The waves broke down the length of the boat and exploded over the cabin top. Main concern: Chafe was definitely a problem. Before I leave on my next trip, I'm going to put a couple of feet of chain into every hundred feet [of tether] so chafe will be a non-issue. I was also concerned that the wind might switch from Nor'east to Sou'west, which would have created the 20-meter freak waves known for breaking ships in the Agulhas current. Fortunately this did not happen. I was able to sleep between switching chafe guards - let's say every couple of hours. The rudder was lashed to one side.

 

Para-Tech Delta Drogue (36-inch diameter)

My average speed with drogue in tow was approximately four knots. Without the drogue I would have been hitting seven, while averaging 5½ knots. I used the device on and off for the whole trip. Instead of yawing and broaching, the drogue would keep the stern aligned with the seas and allow me to still make four knots - and boil water for coffee. I never had to steer manually. The drogue helped the windvane steer in large following seas.

I've said from day one that conditions in the south Indian Ocean are unique. Because there's no stationary high pressure cell in the Southern Ocean, the systems are continually racing eastward. So at any given time you've got swells coming together from a variety of directions - a washing machine, if you like.

It was blowing a sustained 40 knots the night I got rolled 180°. Because the reinforced trades weren't that strong I abstained from switching to sea anchor. With the wind just a few degrees above a dead run with the drogue out, nothing but the staysail up and the boat sealed up, I heard a deafening roar approaching around midnight. Then everything hit the ceiling, including me. When I finally made it back to the cockpit and looked at my mast I couldn't believe it was still standing. I know it hit me broadside, so I think this is what happened: just before the freak wave broke over the boat the windvane lost the apparent wind in the trough and corrected for the loss of wind. As the boat veered upwind the monster erupted across the hull, rolling the boat through 180°.

Aside from the torn staysail, bent solar panels and a soaked single-sideband radio, the rollover caused no serious damage to the boat.

Mai Miti Vavau sailing out of Honolulu, with Diamond Head Crater in the background.
Mai Miti Vavau sailing out of Honolulu, with Diamond Head Crater in the background.
Sea Anchors on Monohulls

S/M-26 Bristol Sloop

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CDORYS/M-26

Bristol Sloop

27' x 3.5 Tons, Full Keel

9-Ft. Dia. Sea Anchor

Force 8-9 Conditions

File S/M-26, obtained from Bud Clay, Pensacola, FL. - Vessel name Miracle, hailing port Pensacola, Bristol sloop designed by Carl Alberg, LOA 27' x LWL 22' x Beam 8' x Draft 4' x 3.5 Tons - Full keel - Sea anchor: 9-ft. Diameter Para-Tech on 80' x 1/2" nylon three strand rode with 1/2" stainless steel swivel - No trip line - Deployed in a low system in deep water in the Gulf of Mexico about 150 miles NW of Tampa with winds of 35-45 knots and seas of 9 feet - Vessel's bow yawed 30-45° during 14 hours at sea anchor.

Miracle, a full-keeled Bristol 27, was en route to Pensacola from Tarpon Springs (300 miles as the crow flies across the Gulf of Mexico) when she ran into a cold front in the month of June! Bud Clay told Victor Shane that a friend had loaned him the para-anchor, "just in case." At any rate, when the wind switched and started building right on the nose Clay beat into it for a couple of nights and a day.

Being shorthanded, tired and sleep-starved he deployed the para-anchor at three in the afternoon of the next day. He spent the night at sea anchor, managing to get some sleep in between trips forward to check for chafe. He felt somewhat rested up by next morning, at which time the wind and seas subsided and he was able to get underway again. Clay, who is now building a 31-ft. Farriar trimaran, told Shane that he would never go offshore without a sea anchor.

Sea Anchors on Monohulls

S/M-25 Valiant 40 Cutter

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S/M-25

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.

Sea Anchors on Monohulls

S/M-24 Roberts Motor Sailing Ketch

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S/M-24

Roberts Motor Sailing Ketch

39' x 14 Tons, Full Keel

7-Ft. Dia. Conical Sea Anchor

Force 10+ Conditions

 

File S/M-24, obtained from Tim Kelly, Tralee, Ireland - Vessel name Kerry Dancer, hailing port Brisbane, Australia, motor sailing ketch, designed by Bruce Roberts, LOA 39' x LWL 33' x Beam 12' 6" x Draft 5' x 14 Tons - Full keel - Sea anchor: 7-ft. Diameter custom-made cone on 300' x 1" nylon three strand rode with 5/8" stainless steel swivel - Full trip line - Deployed in a storm in deep water about 1000 miles WSW of Cocos (Keeling) Islands with winds of 65-75 knots and breaking seas of undetermined size - Vessel's bow was kept at a slight angle to the seas by the sea anchor and mizzen.

Kerry Dancer was en route to Cape Town from Cocos-Keeling in September 1992 when she ran into a storm. Might it have been a cyclone? Although tropical cyclones are rare this time of year in the Indian Ocean, they are common in the Bay of Bengal fifteen hundred miles north of Cocos. At any rate, Kerry Dancer's owner, Tim Kelly, had designed and made a sea anchor for just such an occasion. It was a large, heavy canvas cone, seven feet in diameter at the mouth, with a one-foot diameter opening at the other end. Kelly used a stainless steel wire hoop arrangement to keep the mouth of the cone open - similar to the arrangement found on the Galerider drogue. Kelly's hand-written note:

I kept the mizzen up whilst the sea anchor was in use. This kept the bow into the wind, (actually at a slight angle off it). But it worked well and I was able to sleep in peace whilst the storm blew itself out.

Sea Anchors on Catamarans

S/C-10 Catamaran, Iroquois Mk II

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S/C-10

Catamaran, Iroquois Mk II

30' x 14' x 3.5 Tons

12-Ft. Dia. Sea Anchor

Force 8-9 Conditions

 

File S/C-10, obtained from Rudolph L. Kirse, III, Palm Desert, CA. - Vessel name Banana Split, hailing port Palm Desert, Iroquois Mk II catamaran, designed by McAlphine Downie, LOA 30' 6" x Beam 14' x Draft 5' 6" (18" board up) x 3.5 Tons - Sea anchor: 12-ft. Diameter Para-Tech on 500' x 1/2" nylon three strand tether and bridle arms of 40' each, with 1/2" galvanized swivel - Full trip line - Deployed in a gale in deep water about 200 miles east of New York with winds of 40-50 knots and seas of 18-20 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Drift was about 5-6 n.m. during 15 hours at sea anchor.

Rudolph Kirse III, singlehander, mariner and author, was sailing Banana Split to Bermuda from Montauk, Long Island, when the barometer began to fall. The first paragraph of the following is an excerpt from an article entitled Gunkholing, by Rudolph Kirse III, appearing in the March/April 92 issue of Multihulls Magazine (reproduced by permission). The second paragraph is a transcript of the feedback Shane Victor received from Rudolph Kirse III:

By 4 p.m. a storm had sprung up off the south New Jersey coast. It was traveling north, winds gusting to 45 knots and creating 20-25 ft. seas. By 5 p.m. all sails were down, and I was running before the wind... back to Long Island. With a lee shore fast approaching and night setting in, I decided to come about and set a para-anchor on 500' of 1/2" line, with an accompanying float and trip line. It did all, and more, of what it was supposed to do. According to both the GPS and the Loran, I drifted no more than a third of a mile per hour, with the bows held into the waves and only spray coming on board. By noon of next day, the storm had passed (later I learned that three boats had sunk, and one person was lost).

Neither I nor the boat would be here without the sea anchor. This storm came up with no warning (VHF, NOAA, Fax, etc.). Everything worked well on deployment. Boat rode easily with some pounding on hulls (lee boards half down as per your suggestion) rudders up & lashed, virtually no pounding on cabin underside. Chafing was solved on bridle by putting "poly-tubing" on line, 3' sections before eye-splicing, then held in place by whippings. Float was 3' inflated ball type anchor float. At approx. 1:30 p.m. a commercial fishing boat ran over and cut the [full] trip line. Later on had many problems trying to get anchor in - dislocated my wrist while trying to winch in the parachute. Anchor was finally brought in by removing bridle from bow and floating it off, tied to four life jackets [then powering up to the recovery float].

 

Sea Anchors on Catamarans

S/C-9 Catamaran, Crowther

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S/C-9

Catamaran, Crowther

36' x 17' x 6 Tons

24-Ft. Dia. Parachute Sea Anchor

Force 8-9 Conditions

 

File S/C-9, obtained from Gary Jones, Rockville, MD. - Vessel name Corinthian XIII, hailing port Chester River, MD, "Witness" catamaran, designed by Lock Crowther, LOA 36' x Beam 17' x Draft 2' x 6 Tons - Sea anchor: 24-ft. Diameter military chest reserve parachute on 450' x 3/4" nylon three strand rode and bridle arms of 25' each, with 5/8" galvanized swivel - Full trip line - Deployed in low system in shallow water (12-15 fathoms) about 50 miles SE of Cape Fear, NC, with winds of 35-45 knots and seas of 8-12 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Drift was estimated to be 5 n.m. during 10 hours at sea anchor.

Parachute sea anchors are worth their weight in gold in difficult coastal situations with the wind on the rise and the crew sick and exhausted. Their low rate of drift means that they require practically no sea room, making them the only viable means of stopping the boat and calling "time out" in close quarters. Transcript:

Wind and sea started building about 1800 hrs as we came up on Frying Pan Shoals. With the wind on the nose and the sea becoming choppy we weren't making any progress toward Charleston, South Carolina. At midnight the wind had turned the sea white and many waves were coming over the bow. We were heavy with provisions for a long cruise and five people were aboard. One crew member got sick and the rest were exhausted from fighting the weather.

The prospect for weather during the next 8 hours sounded bad and we knew the chances of being set into the shoals were great, so we decided to set the chute. Holding onto the heaving deck with one hand and setting the chute was tough due to water coming over the bow. It took 1.5 hours to deploy the rig, but it worked great and gave us time to go below and get much-needed rest.

Sea Anchors on Monohulls

S/M-23 Tayana 42 Cutter

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TAYANAS/M-23

Tayana 42 Cutter

42' x 15 Tons, Full Keel & Cutaway Forefoot

18-Ft. Dia. Sea Anchor

Force 8-9 Conditions

 

File S/M-23, obtained from Captain Robert Proulx, Homer, Alaska - Vessel name Even Star, hailing port Homer, Tayana cutter designed by Bob Harris, LOA 42' x LWL 35' x Beam 12' x Draft 6' x 15 Tons - Full keel & cutaway forefoot - Sea anchor: 18-ft. Diameter Para-Tech on 400' x 5/8" nylon braid and 200' of chain with 5/8" custom-made bronze ball bearing swivel - Partial trip line - Deployed in a gale in deep water about 60 miles west of Humboldt Bay, California, with winds of 40-45 knots and seas of 15-20 feet - Vessel's bow yawed 20° - Drift was about 12 n.m. during 72 hours at sea anchor.

Captain Bob Proulx is a veteran of the Alaskan fisheries - the owner of a 105-ft. fishing vessel working the Bering Sea. He is also a marine safety instructor and an avid sailor. In this file he provides a sobering tale of what one might be getting oneself into when one asks the Coast Guard for assistance in marginal situations. Forewarned is forearmed!

My family and I decided to put commercial fishing "on hold" and go sailing. The early part of our voyage was great as we cruised the inland waters of the Pacific Northwest. Our story begins as we set sail southbound from Newport, Oregon on July 12. Winds were light, 10-15 NW, but began to build by evening, reaching sustained 30 from NW. By 2300 hrs. it didn't look like conditions would improve, so we shortened sail and decided to try out our new parachute sea anchor. Better try it out now, than have to sort out glitches when we absolutely have to use it. Deployed the sea anchor on 400' of rode, the bitter end secured to the 66 lb. Bruce anchor on the bow roller. It stabilized the boat and we were pretty comfortable, despite the 30+ winds and 15 foot seas. I lashed the helm, took the pendulum off the windvane and secured it to the rail.

Overnight the weather worsened. The barometer hadn't dropped and the weatherfax wasn't showing anything, so I though it would all be over in a few hours. I had all the hatches dogged down and all the vents capped off, just in case. The seas and swell built to 18-20 ft. and the wind was on the increase.

At first light I checked the rode and damn if it wasn't chafed at the thimble by the anchor on the bow roller. So I let out the anchor and 50 feet of chain. This eased the motion of the boat noticeably. The wind increased to 40 knots and higher. This was beginning to remind me of Bering Sea weather, having the earmarks of a good blow. But at least it was warm and everyone on board was in good spirits. The swells and the seas were getting farther apart and the boat more uncomfortable, so I let out more chain - now about 200 feet. The boat then began to yaw noticeably [too much chain out - review page 3.14].

We experienced some waves breaking forward of mid-ships, port and starboard, and on our stern quarter. Next, our rudder cable parted with a loud crack. I got the emergency tiller, put it on the shaft and lashed it secure. A wave broke over the starboard side at about a 30° angle and knocked the wind vane mast down. Before I could get a line on it another wave carried it away....

We had been on the sea anchor for better than 48 hours with not much to eat. My family wasn't sea sick, but my friend Joe was having a time of it. I decided to call the Coast guard and let them know our situation. I stressed that we had NO emergency, and requested the forecast for the next 48 hours. Due to worsening conditions, Humboldt Bay Coast Guard then decided to dispatch the 110-ft. cutter Edistow to the scene. The cutter arrived around 1600 hours. After circling around us for a while they called us on the VHF, saying that it was too rough to do anything. They said they would standby the rest of the night, advised us to get in our survival suits and said they would call every hour, which they did....

By morning the sea anchor was still holding well. I checked our drift. It was about half a knot. The wind had dropped to 30, but the seas and swell were now 20-30 feet. I have a great picture of the 110-ft. cutter with her bow and two thirds of her bottom out of the water. At this time the CG skipper decided that he would tow us to Humboldt Bay. I said NO. A little later he called back and said he would tow us south instead. This made a little more sense, though I was still not sure why I needed a tow. I thought, maybe he knew something about the weather or our situation that I didn't. Anyway, he asked if I had a drogue [to stabilize the tow]. It took them two attempts to pass us a drogue. I then asked the skipper of the cutter to pick up our trip line on the sea anchor, to retrieve the sea anchor and its nylon rode - attached to our Bruce anchor - and attach his own tow line to that. This way the CG cutter's bow would be into the oncoming seas, so would ours, and this would be the safest for both boats. He said 'NO', he said that would be too dangerous for his crew. This started me worrying. I explained again how the sea anchor was laid out, and that there was no chance of him getting the rig in his props. He came back and suggested that I retrieve the sea anchor and rig - 400' of rode, 66-lb. Bruce and 250' of 3/8" chain, in 20-ft. seas, with a hand windlass!

I have the greatest regard for the Coast Guard in Alaska. They have performed many amazing rescues and I have the greatest confidence in their ability to make the right decision at the right time. I assumed that all Coast Guard units along the coast would be the same. But now I was beginning to have my doubts.

Second mistake coming up: The cutter's skipper called me back, saying I should cut everything loose. I called him back saying I didn't like the idea of losing my last-ditch survival gear - meaning my sea anchor rig. And I told him I didn't like the idea of lying in the trough, sliding down the faces of 20-25 ft. seas. I asked him what the forecast for the next 48 hours was - he said "more of the same." I asked how he was going to approach us. I thought he said he would come in at our windward side, and then across our bow with the heaving line and 4" tow line.

Like an idiot I cut the chain loose from the boat. We swung around instantly in the trough and I knew in that moment that in all my years at sea I had never done anything so stupid. I told the CG skipper he would have ONE PASS, and ONE PASS only. My friend Joe and I crawled to the bow with our safety harness on, grabbing what we could to hang on. I was on the starboard bow, about two stanchions back, Joe being forward on the port side. I looked for the cutter and, Oh my God, it was downwind from us and coming at the wrong angle. And fast. I was hanging on for dear life, waving and screaming for him to abort. He rammed us about ten feet aft of the bow with his port stern quarter. I felt the cutter hit me, at the same time that it hit the boat, sending me flying forward through the air. The harness held - I felt a jolt at my shoulder. I had a death grip on the inner stay and looked up to see our bow pulpit and running lights hanging by the wires, the big double bow rollers twisted and mangled, the stanchions flattened on the deck. I yelled at Joe that we had to get below to see if she had holed us. Luck was with us: no hole.

The CG skipper called us to see if anyone was injured. We were all OK but I was furious! My wife Linda grabbed the mike before I could say what I was going to say. She told me to calm down. She said at least we were all OK. I unlashed the emergency tiller and brought our stern to the seas. The CG skipper then called back and said he KNEW he could heave us the tow line on the next pass! I said "no thanks!" I felt I had made enough mistakes in 72 hours to last a whole life. It was time for me to take command of the situation again. The CG asked what my intentions were. I said my intentions were to sail bare-poled out of there. He said that was not advisable and called Humboldt Bay CG to find out what to do next. Finally he came on the radio and told us that he would have to leave the area.

As the cutter pulled away I began to feel safe again. We were now running downwind, and our canoe stern was handling the 20-32 ft. seas superbly. The wind and seas let down in about six hours and we repaired the steering cables. The CG called us nearly every hour, wanting to know our ETA. The next day things calmed down and we motored into Bodega Bay.

The CG gave us a day to rest, before coming to take pictures of the damage the cutter had inflicted. They assured us it would all be taken care of. All we had to do was to fill out the claim report and find a yard to do the work - we needed to get two bids. A month after delivering the paperwork to the Alameda Coast Guard Station we have yet to hear anything about our claim.

Lessons Learned:

  1. Don't call the Coast Guard unless it is an absolute emergency, life or death situation. Call other vessels in the area first.
  2. Evaluate carefully any advice given by anyone - Coast Guard or any other vessels - trying to help you.
  3. If you accept a tow from the Coast Guard you have given them the command of your vessel - in our case our home.
  4. Never forget that you are the one in command of your boat and the responsibility is your's.

 

Sea Anchors on Monohulls

S/M-22 Bristol Channel Cutter

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BCHANNELS/M-22

Bristol Channel Cutter

26' x 7 Tons, Full Keel

12-Ft. Dia. BUORD Parachute

Force 11 Conditions

 

File S/M-22, obtained from Roger Olson, Costa Mesa, CA - Vessel name Xiphias, hailing port Los Angeles, Bristol Channel Cutter, designed by Lyle Hess, LOA 37' (with bowsprit) x LWL 26' x Beam 10' x Draft 5' x 7 Tons - Full keel - Sea anchor: 12-ft. Diameter BUORD on 300' x 5/8" nylon three strand rode and 20' of chain with 5/8" galvanized swivel - No trip line - Deployed in hurricane Tia in deep water approx. 25 miles off the Queensland coast near Bundaberg with winds sustained at 60 knots and seas of 30-40 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 45° - Drift was estimated to be about 5 n.m. during three days at sea anchor.

 

Roger Olson is an experienced offshore sailor and a partner in the firm of Sam L. Morse Co., builders of the Bristol Channel Cutter. Here are the transcripts of two files obtained from Roger:

Hurricane "Claudia" Near American Samoa (1980)

I was lucky to only catch the edge. There were two hurricanes at the same time. On WWV I heard that a hurricane was approaching our location but there was too much interference to hear the exact coordinates. I used the ham radio to call New Zealand. A ham operator informed me that it was north of us and heading away. I wasn't aware that this was a different storm and that we were heading into the original one.

As the weather deteriorated I ran off with storm jib and storm trysail. I considered dropping the trysail but wanted it up in just case I decided to heave-to. Deployed two "MINI" tires [makeshift drogue] off the stern for better control. Wind and seas not too bad (40 to 50 knots) and it was going in my direction. A huge wave broke next to us, depositing ample amounts of water on me and filling the cockpit. It doesn't take a genius to realize that if the wave had been over the stern I would have been rammed against the flat aft side of the cabin. Also, I could easily imagine this wave carrying me to the end of my harness tether. If the tether didn't break it would surely break my ribs. So I decided to come about and heave-to. I had to cut the drogue loose to come about. The boat set well for several hours but as the wind and seas increased it was apparent there was too much sail area up. So I dropped the storm jib onto the staysail stay and remained hove-to on storm trysail.

Never expected it to get this bad or I would have used the parachute anchor. It was in the lazarette and my rope was still shackled to the anchor chain and anchor, all lashed forward. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that I was going forward in those winds and seas to unlash it, undo the shackle, etc. I went below to get out of it. My hand-held wind indicator could only register 60 knots and it was at the maximum. During the night I knew my storm trysail was too much because the boat would heel severely on the crest of the wave. As the boat entered the trough she would change her set so when she got the full force of the wind on the crest the sail would flog and it seemed like it would rip the boat apart. Then it would fill and we would heel to the extreme.

There was only one knockdown, which was when everything came out of the lockers and drawers, burying me under cans and boxes. So much for the "slick!!" During the night it began to improve until I was able to sail by late the next afternoon.

Hurricane "Tia" Off Queensland, Australia (1981)

Australian radio stated that the Tropical Storm was strengthening to cyclone strength in the South Coral Sea and was heading south. This time I was better prepared. I had disconnected my anchor from my 5/8" nylon rope and pulled it all on deck. I tied the bitter end to the sampson post, leaving about 10 feet for freshening the nip. I had already run the rope through a fairlead on the bottom of the Cranse Iron (this is how I anchor anyway) and led the rest aft to the cockpit. Where the rope led through the fairlead I had sewn on a meter of leather for chafe. This was set so the leather just passed through the fairlead so I could let rope out to "freshen the nip" if necessary. (Later I never checked for chafe because I was too frightened to go forward).

I led the rope along the top of the life line and lashed it in place with fine nylon thread (dental floss would work) and to the cockpit where I coiled it and used stops to hold the coil in place. The parachute anchor was kept in the lazarette. I already had added about 25 feet of 5/16" chain to the end of the swivel attached to the parachute. I removed the parachute anchor, chain and swivel as a unit in a bag. Using a bowline with a double wrap, I attached the rope in the cockpit to the swivel. I deployed the parachute early while I was hove-to. From the cockpit I deployed the float (enough buoyancy to float the chain and anchor on 20 feet of rope attached to the center of the crown of the parachute) over the windward side. This was followed by the parachute anchor, chain and rope. The boat was making slow leeway so I was able to maintain complete control of the rope until all (300' + 20' chain) was out. As I let go of the rope it broke the thread along the life line until the boat was riding bow to the wind and seas. I dropped all sails and went below.

I remained below for the better part of three days. I still don't know the strength of the winds as my hand-held indicator wasn't working properly - it was stuck at 60 knots. The boat did tack in this position. In the trough there was little pull on the parachute anchor and the boat would set up to 50° from center. As she neared the crest more tension would be put on the rode, pulling the vessel straight. I had substantial water overboard because I was making little or no sternway. This was proven by feeling the pressure on the tiller, which I had lashed amidships. I was concerned about damage to the rudder if I made too much sternway. I don't know the amount of drift in those three days, nor do I know the current.

After the worst was over I finally got permission to put into an illegal port of entry (Mooloolaba, Qld). I set my course based on my last known position and allowed about five miles for drift. I was sailing entirely on celestial navigation and didn't have GPS or SatNav. I used my RDF to take a rough bearing and set a course for Mooloolaba. As I approached land I found my DR wasn't far off.

Comments: With the parachute anchor I never really felt in danger. Deploying it from cockpit worked great. I can't believe anyone would go forward in storm conditions to work anything on the foredeck. There was some chafe on the leather but it never wore through to the rope. I never adjusted it in the three days, but it was apparent that there was about one foot of stretch on the leather. I spent all my time inside during this and other storms. Only when conditions were not life-threatening would I go forward to inspect for chafe or damage. I had everything strongly lashed down, including my dinghy on the foredeck. The only things I lost were two 5-gallon fuel containers which were lashed with old 1/4" rope. Roller furling jib remained on the headstay - not recommended as it creates considerable windage. I had rolled it up tightly and pulled the sheets as tight as I could so the headstay wouldn't flog. It still shook the boat more than I thought it would. I don't know what I would have done had it unrolled.

I should never have been sailing in those waters during the hurricane season. However, in both cases I was rushing to meet my girlfriend... wasn't worth it!

Xiphias of Los Angeles. This Bristol Channel Cutter rode out two hurricanes in the South Pacific, one to a sea anchor, "I remained below for the better part of three days... with the parachute anchor I never really felt in danger." (Roger Olson photo)
Xiphias of Los Angeles. This Bristol Channel Cutter rode out two hurricanes in the South Pacific, one to a sea anchor, "I remained below for the better part of three days... with the parachute anchor I never really felt in danger." (Roger Olson photo)
Sea Anchors on Catamarans

S/C-8 Catamaran, Kelsall

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S/C-8

Catamaran, Kelsall

36' x 20' x 4 Tons

18-Ft. Dia. Sea Anchor

Force 11-12 Conditions

File S/C-8, obtained from Rick Kazprzak, Kodiak, Alaska - Vessel name Catherine Estelle, hailing port Kodiak, "Tonga Tora" catamaran, designed by Derek Kelsall, LOA 36' x Beam 20' x Draft 18" x 4 Tons - Sea anchor: 18-ft. Diameter Para-Tech on 450' x 5/8" nylon three strand tether and bridle arms of 50' each, with 5/8" galvanized swivel - Partial trip line - De-ployed in a storm in the Gulf of Alaska about 350 miles west of Queen Charlotte Island, with winds of 70-80 knots and seas of 30-40 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Drift was estimated to be about 5 n.m. during 48 hours at sea anchor. 

Linda Kasprzak read the second edition of the DDDB and urged Rick to equip Catherine Estelle with a Para-Tech sea anchor. She also saw to it that tether, bridle, hardware and all fitting were ready to take on the Gulf of Alaska.

Rick and Linda Kasprzak left Kodiak on 13 July 1991, headed for Vancouver Island, 1200 miles as the crow flies straight across the Gulf of Alaska. At the half way point they ran into one major storm, one gale, and one minor gale, spending a total of five days tethered to the sea anchor. There were some anxious moments.

The transcript of an official Coast Guard document (CG Juneau, Archive Number 2285) reads as follows: Urgent Marine Information Broadcast - Communications have been lost with the S/V Catherine Estelle endangered by weather in position 53-05 N, 142-65 W. The vessel is a 37 ft. catamaran with 2 persons on board. Vessels in the vicinity are requested to keep a sharp lookout, assist if possible, and advise the nearest CG station.

At the time of this urgent broadcast Catherine Estelle was being held to survival by the long rode leading the Para-Tech sea anchor. Transcript:

The storm we encountered was a major one with a very quickly dropping barometer (1 millibar every 1/2 hour). At the height of the storm we encountered 35-40 ft. seas. I believe I am under-estimating this as the seas were so big that our GPS could not get a fix at times, because it was being blocked out by the huge waves.

Surface analysis chart of the Gulf of Alaska for Sunday 21 July 1991, showing the Aleutian Islands on the upper left, Alaska and Canada on the upper right, and Vancouver Island on the right. Catherine Estelle's position at this time was 53° 15' 42" North, 142° 36' 09" West, which would place her right in the center of the LOW. Note the 2200 mb HIGH to the north. (Courtesy of University of Alaska).
Surface analysis chart of the Gulf of Alaska for Sunday 21 July 1991, showing the Aleutian Islands on the upper left, Alaska and Canada on the upper right, and Vancouver Island on the right. Catherine Estelle's position at this time was 53° 15' 42" North, 142° 36' 09" West, which would place her right in the center of the LOW. Note the 2200 mb HIGH to the north. (Courtesy of University of Alaska).

               Wind speed increased at the start from 40 to easily over 70 knots. The seas were nothing but white spray, breaking crests and huge waves. We have lived in Kodiak for 15 years and so have experienced many a storm, but have never seen anything like we experienced during those 48 hours. The situation was so bad that we were dressed in survival suits and had the catamaran ready so that if we flipped, we could have access to our EPIRB, survival food and water.

The boat handled very well, but it was unnerving to be held to survival by a thin 5/8" line. Sleep was impossible. The sea anchor definitely saved the boat and I'm sure our lives. It operated flawlessly on those 2 days and the other 3 days during the other 2 gales.

We had 50' bridle arms that went through a specially made SS bow plate, but we had also built a U-bolt to this plate. The bridle was encased in 1/4" thick rubber tubing where it hit metal on the plate. We had a little trouble deploying the sea anchor, mainly because we have a seagull striker in front, plus 2 head stays. But once around all that, we were able to set the anchor just fine. Our catamaran rode these huge seas like a duck rides a wave on the sea anchor. But because the seas were so big, we did have a lot of noise due to waves slapping on the under-body.

The bottom line is that the 18-ft. para-anchor operated as you said it would, and with your help, my wife Lin's forethought, and a well-designed boat, we all did what should have been done and came through a very violent storm and survived with NO damage. Mr. Kelsall must be commended on his fine design of this boat.

Rick & Linda Kasprzak have since logged thousands of miles and used the same sea anchor in other marginal situations. In a letter to your author dated 16 September 1991, Rick wrote about one other episode. At the time Catherine Estelle was beating against 30 knot winds and 10-15' seas when a big wave slammed into her. There was a loud bang. A frantic search revealed that a weld had broken on one of her rudders.

The sea anchor was immediately deployed to bring the situation under control and wait for calmer seas. A radio call to the Canadian Coast Guard brought a response from a nearby fishing boat, with an offer to tow the catamaran to Bella Bella (the nearest port).

In the radio conversation that followed, the skipper of the fishing boat expressed concern about the initial pick-up and transfer of tow line in rough seas. He said he had seen more damage occur in this transfer than in any other situation in all the towing experiences he knew of. Rick Kazperzak:

I said to the captain of the fishing boat, "No problem! Just pick up the trip line connected to the red buoy, pull the chute in, bag it temporarily on deck, then cleat the tether and start your tow."

The fisherman had no problem doing this. He towed Catherine Estelle to a small bay in Bella Bella, and then released the tow - dropped the parachute back in the water and went on his way. Rick Kasprzak:

 The point is this: here is another safety use of the sea anchor - towing. Easy pick up of tow line and easy release.

NOTE: When it come to tow lines the Coast Guard will not go along with the above proposition. It has always been the policy of the US and Canadian Coast Guards to use nothing but their own tow lines in all operations. They will not tow a vessel with anything else because they don't want to be liable for failure of the rope - and damage or injury resulting from that failure. See also Captain Bob Proulx's Coast Guard experience in File S/M-23. However, the above proposition is eminently logical when receiving a tow from a friendly fishing boat or pleasure vessel.

SC8
EASY TOW LINE TRANSFER