File D/C-6, obtained from Robert Harnwell, Berwyn, PA. - Vessel name Malaika, hailing port Philadelphia, Snowgoose catamaran designed by the Prout brothers, LOA 37' x Beam 16' x Draft 2.8' x 7.5 Tons - Drogue: Seabrake GP-24 (24" diameter) on 100' x 5/8" nylon three strand tether - No bridle - Deployed in a gale in deep water about 200 miles WNW of Cape Finisterre (Spain) with winds of 30 knots and seas of 12-20 ft. - Vessel's stern yawed 10° - Speed was reduced to 4-5 knots during 48 hours of deployment.
Seabrake GP
Malaika was sailed from England to the Chesapeake Bay in August 1995. Like most Prout catamarans her mast is stepped aft. With her center of effort so far back she has a slight tendency to want to round up into the wind, and will yaw slightly more than other catamarans when running downwind. Taking the main down and using headsails will reduce this the yawing - and the weather helm. So will towing a speed-limiting drogue. This applies to any vessel with a mast stepped aft or a center of effort well back - schooners, for example. Transcript:
Deployed the drogue a number of times across the Atlantic. From England to the Azores the wind was straight behind. In the gale she was surfing 10-12 knots down the big ones, slewing around at the bottom. In a big, heavy boat like ours that's really fast. Deployed the drogue and it slowed the boat down to about 5 knots - like putting on the brakes. At one point had to roll out more jib to keep up speed and control the boat. We had a sail up throughout the 48 hours with the drogue. Most of the time she would track straight, slewing around only at the bottom of the waves.
No bridle, primarily because the boat is equipped with a real heavy duty cleat and roller for the stern anchor, slightly off the centerline of the boat, about 3 feet off the centerline. No noticeable difference. The wind was knocking us around and you really couldn't tell that the cleat wasn't on the centerline of the boat. Steered by hand through the worst of it. The autopilot in most cases could do a better job steering than we could, but there were times when you would get a succession of waves, of one, two, and three waves, and on the third one you knew that you had to get on the helm yourself, because you could feel that the boat was going too fast and you were going to lose control at the bottom of the wave - when you came off the bottom of the wave the autopilot wasn't going to be able to keep the boat straight so you had to take over. But she didn't yaw about significantly in those conditions. A couple of times things got thrown around down below, but that was about it.
Due to higher speeds on catamarans, use caution in deploying a drogue. We almost lost control of it when we first put it overboard. It took off so fast and it had so much drag that it almost overwhelmed both of us. My suggestion would be to practice deploying it beforehand, which is what we really should have done. We lost the polypropylene trip line due to a slipped knot and had to pull the drogue back in with a winch - it's like having a bulldog pulling against you at the other end.
[Positioning the drogue:] The drogue grabbed anywhere it was off the stern. Sometimes it would come out of the front face of a wave, so I guess the farther back you position it the better off you are. Given the moderate conditions [30-knot winds] we didn't want it much more than a 100 feet off the stern, worrying about having to haul it back again. It would have worked fine 25 feet off the stern, but at a 100 feet everything was a little more stable. You need to use good chafing gear. We had the rode running through an anchor roller. Even with the roller and the nice, smooth metal surfaces, I had to let out a little line every twenty minutes or so.
File D/C-5, obtained from Darryl and Diviana Wheeler, Auckland NZ. - Vessel name Heart Light, Catalac catamaran designed by Tom Lack, LOA 41' x Beam 18' x Draft 3' x 8.5 Tons - Drogue: 5-ft. Diameter hybrid parachute on 70' x 3/8" chain tether with bridle arms of 150' each (3/4" nylon braid) and 1/2" swivel - Deployed in the Queen's Birthday Storm (June 1994) in deep water about 400 miles south of Fiji, with winds of 80 knots and seas of 80 ft. - Vessel's stern yawed 30° with owner steering with the rudders and the engines - Speed exceeded 10 knots at times.
In 1987 Darryl and Diviana Wheeler sold their house in America and purchased Heart Light, a 41-ft. Catalac catamaran. They put out to sea, learning to sail as they went. They made it through the Panama Canal and across the Pacific to the Marquesas and Tahiti, arriving in New Zealand in November 1989, where Darryl worked for a number of years as a marketing consultant. On Tuesday, 31 May 1994, in spite of Diviana's premonitions, Daryl cast off a New Zealand dock, headed north. He wanted to sail to Tonga with the Tongan fleet - an annual regatta. On board were his wife, Diviana, their son, Shane, and their daughter-in-law, Stephanie. En route to Tonga they ran straight into what has since been called the Queen's Birthday Storm. Heart Light found herself in the worst part of the storm, flanked by the yachts that sustained the most damage, all within a 200-mile radius - Destiny to her left (File D/M-12), Pilot and Quartermaster to her right, Ramtha and Mary T up ahead, Silver Shadow and Sofia behind.
What transpired on Heart Light between June 4 and June 6 has to be regarded as one of the most remarkable feats of manual steering in the history of multihull sailing. All the more remarkable because in 16,000 sea miles Darryl Wheeler had never done the steering offshore - the autopilot had always taken care of that. Now, suddenly, he found himself perched in the driver's seat in the inside steering station, his hands clasped onto the wheel, Diviana's arms clasped about him - trying to keep him from falling off the chair.
The drogue used was a hybrid parachute, about 5 feet in diameter. In the course of numerous telephone conversations Victor Shane and Darryl Wheeler ascertained that it was not a BUORD. This parachute was light blue in color and seems to have been made of much lighter, non-porous material, perhaps Nylon Taffeta, or even heavy spinnaker Rip-Stop. It had less than a dozen shroud lines. It was deployed on a 75' chain tether, with 150' bridles made of 3/4" nylon braid. This bridle was shackled to heavy duty padeyes on the outboard ends of the catamaran's hulls - probably why it didn't chafe through.
As the storm built the catamaran started surfing down steep waves at speeds in excess of 10 knots with the drogue in tow. Already, in the few hours that he had been behind the wheel, Darryl had become an accomplished helmsman. And he had quickly learned how to make good use of Heart Light's twin inboard engines as well. Since the propellers were positioned 18 feet apart, by cutting one throttle and punching the other one Darryl soon found he could use rudders and engines in combination to keep the yacht more or less aligned downwind, in spite of the rogue waves that were hammering her from side to side.
With the lives of his family hanging in the balance Darryl became an expert at steering the boat down 60-ft. seas. The ride must have been incredible. The 41' x 18' catamaran all but became an Olympic toboggan, hurtling down the sides of sheer slopes, slamming sideways into rogue avalanches and occasionally falling off a precipice or two. The hulls and cross-arms were flexing. So were the huge windows, letting copious amounts of water in. Stephanie was perched on the floor, hopelessly sea sick. The entire yacht was wet and trashed, littered with food items and broken glass.
Many hours later, as the ordeal drew to a conclusion, a huge wave picked up the drogue bridle and threw it at the propellers. All lines became fouled. All engines useless. Heart Light was now dead in the water, lying a-hull. Darryl activated the EPIRB and deployed an 18-ft. Para-Tech sea anchor off the bow. The boat remained on station until they were taken off by the ship San Te Maru 18.
Those interested in a blow by blow account of the life and death saga that transpired on Heart Light can obtain a copy of Diviana's book, Heart Light, Rescue At Sea (Random House New Zealand Ltd., 18 Poland Road, Glenfield, Auckland 10, New Zealand). Here is a transcript of the DDDB feedback Victor Shane obtained from Darryl & Diviana Wheeler:
This is a recap of our experience using a drogue and para-anchor. The drogue was with the boat when we bought it. It was a 4-6 ft. diameter nylon chute. I had a swivel connected to 70 feet of chain that I could hook a bridle to and connect to each stern. During the storm I used my 150' bridle that was made for the para-anchor. As the storm started to build we were faced with the decision to para-anchor from the bow or deploy a drogue to help us steer and slow the boat. We had a lot of large windows on two levels across the front and as the waves were building, we decided it was in our best interest to run. A decision that proved itself to be correct under the unusual circumstances we later found ourselves in. Even if we had storm windows, we would not have para-anchored bow first into this tempest.
As soon as we deployed the drogue the boat became easier to handle. Every time she would want to broach the drogue would drag her back on course. As the wind built to a steady 77 knots gusting to 90 knots it would drive the 50 foot waves on top of one another. The faces of these monsters were vertical on both sides. In some cases the waves would stack 3 high, with the center wave becoming aerated. When you came off one of these giants the middle wave would drop out and the cat would free fall through the gap until hitting the next wave below.
Because of the height and steepness of the waves, plus the fact that every so often a group of waves would come from another direction, I feel that it would have been suicide to deploy the para-anchor from the bow. The New Zealand Air Force was reporting waves over 100 feet high from this stacking problem. We were careening down 100 foot waves under bare poles, sometimes reaching 13 knots dragging the drogue, doing our best to prevent a broach - we did find ourselves flying a hull more than once! When one of these monsters would break on top of us it was like a giant hand pushing us at will in any direction it chose. The power of these waves was so intense that if we were not moving in their direction we surely would have been damaged.
On our final broach waves pushed the rode from our drogue into our props. At that climactic point my engines were stuffed by missiles of sea water and my props were wrapped tightly in the drogue lines. We became dead in the water sitting sideways to the waves. After things calmed down to a mild roar of about 60 knots and the huge waves were no longer stacking, we did deploy our para-anchor to hold us in place. However, surprisingly, the cat did much better when free falling down the waves at that point. If we had not been intent on staying in ONE spot we would have cut it loose. The problem again, was the fact that we were getting hit broadside by rogue waves instead of just the seas moving on us from the front. It was terrifying sitting there jerking around and having the sea burst down on us, causing the windows to flex inwards and dump gallons of water inside the boat. Further confirmation to us that indeed we had made the right choice in running under these particular circumstances. I still feel that a para-anchor is a great line of defense for multihulls, I have successfully used mine on various occasions. It just was not practical in these extreme conditions. I hope and pray none of your readers will ever have the misfortune of being in a storm of this nature.
In the end, I will say from personal experience that the safest craft in this storm were the two catamarans. While our ordeal was horrific it was nothing in comparison to the monohulls that were being pitchpoled and rolling 360 degrees. Setting aside our experience of the event and looking at this from a seamanship point of view, we would offer the following. Make up your mind before you get in a situation of this type as to what you are going to do. Once you commit to a tactic it is almost impossible to change tactics. Even if we had wanted to, we could not have deployed a para-anchor during the storm. It was all you could do to just hang on, let alone shackle and deploy a drag device. Work out some sort of system so that if you are dragging a drogue and using your engines for control the rode is not carried into the props. Maybe a rope cutter on the shafts would work.
File D/C-4, obtained from Dr. Tim King, Elkhart, IN. - Vessel name Ariel, hailing port Juneau, Alaska, Lagoon catamaran designed by Jeanneau, LOA 46' 3" x Beam 24' 11" x Draft 3' 11" x 11 Tons - Drogue: 48" Diameter Galerider on 350' x 5/8" nylon braid tether, with bridle arms of 70' each and stainless steel 5/8" swivel - Deployed in a gale in deep water about 300 miles SW of Cape Finisterre, Spain, with winds of 40-45 knots and seas of 20 ft. - Vessel's stern yawed 10° - Speed was reduced to about 3 knots during 24 hours of deployment.
Dr. Tim King had a Valiant 41 monohull named Foggy Mountain. In June 1989 Foggy Mountain won a fifteen-round bare knuckle fight with a life-threatening storm in the Gulf of Alaska. No drag devices were used. It was a survival saga, with fatigue and hypothermia playing significant roles. At the height of the storm King and crew witnessed enormous "holes and pyramids" on the surface of the sea. In an article appearing in the Jan/Feb 1990 issue Ocean Navigator Tim King wrote that some of these "holes" were 30 feet deep. They were barreling along at 30 knots and it was only by blind luck that the boat didn't fall into one. Dr. King has since sold the Valiant and purchased a Jeanneau Lagoon 47 catamaran. In March 1992 he and crew took delivery of Ariel in France and set sail for the U.S. The boat was equipped with an 18-ft. diameter Para-Tech sea anchor and a 48" Galerider drogue. En route to the Canary Islands they ran into a gale and used the Galerider to slow the boat down. There was a copy of the Drag Device Data Base on board and crew members took turns reading it during the gale! Transcript:
Like all catamarans, Ariel tends to be very fast on all points off the wind. Specifically her fine entry and rapid flaring of the hulls allows her to surf without difficulty. The majority of the steering, even during surfing, was handled by the Autohelm autopilot. After 48 hours of building wind conditions, we found ourselves sailing under a broad reach with maturing seas. Our speeds were consistently 15-20 kts. under jib and/or triple-reefed main. The ride was relatively smooth except for the slamming of occasional waves under the bridge deck. The boat handled exceptionally well during prolonged surfs under autopilot control.
At 0600 (on the beginning of the 3rd day of the gale), before sunrise, the boat was lifted by the stern on the crest of a very large wave. There was a slight hesitation as the boat approached the crest, whereupon a second wave apparently augmented the first one and lifted us even higher up the new crest. (This second wave must have come from about 30-60° off the prevailing wave direction). Three things then occurred. First, the now confused breaking wave crest broke over the dinghy davits (the dinghy was stored upside down on top of the davits) and crashed chaotically into the cockpit (which rapidly drained off due to a well-designed drain system). Secondly, the boat was turned sideways and heeled some (10-25° ?) to starboard. The boat apparently then slid sideways for a short distance, being carried on the breaking crest of the wave, until the leeward hull and keel finally dug in. Thirdly, poised as she was at the crest of a larger than normal wave, she took off at an angle down the face of the wave and reached a speed clearly in excess of 20 kts. (We did not see the knot meter, but judged the speed from the vibration of the hull/rudder system.)
It was at this point that it was decided to deploy the Galerider in order to slow the boat down and prevent uncontrolled surfing. The Galerider was deployed via a bridle and 2 x 100' lengths of rode. Extreme care was taken in its deployment, but there were no injuries or hardware problems (remember, it was still dark). The result was that the vessel immediately slowed to 2-4 kts. and no surfing occurred at speeds greater than 5 kts. This slower speed allowed cross wave patterns to more easily catch up to us and pass by, thus creating more bridgedeck slamming and leeward hull pounding, but NOT with the intensity that had occurred while surfing. The boat would not self-steer in these conditions and continued to require an active autopilot. She was, however, well-balanced under bare poles and the autopilot did not have to work very hard.
Daylight showed us a sea with multiple well-developed wave trains coming at angles off the beam and stern. During the next 12 hours we saw several wave interactions that could have accounted for our early morning incident. However, it was never repeated while under drogue. Speed and steering were well under control. The yellow drogue could be seen (fully submerged at all times) under the surface about two full wave trains behind. After 24 hrs. it was winched in without incident and we proceeded under jib and triple-reefed main in 28-30 kts. of wind.
I think in retrospect a slightly longer rode would have prevented some of the bridle's vertical "slapping" of the waves as the rode stretched and contracted. There were, however, no chafe or hardware problems. We were well-prepared with the proper equipment, shackles and rodes. Therein lies the key to success.
File D/C-3, obtained from Thomas W. Kintz, Groton, CT. - Vessel name Sundsvalla, hailing port East Lyme, MA, Snowgoose catamaran designed by the Prout brothers, LOA 34' x Beam 15' 8" x Draft 3' x 5.5 Tons - Drogue: 9-ft. diameter BUORD on 350' x 3/4" nylon three strand tether, with bridle arms of 45' each and 1/2" galvanized swivel - Deployed in a gale about 60 miles west of Cape Finisterre, Spain, with winds of 40-45 knots and seas of 20-25 ft. - Vessel's stern yawed up to 90° off to each side - Drogue was eventually tumbled and rendered useless - Drift was about 30 nm during 18 hours of deployment.
Sundsvalla crossed the Atlantic in August 1987. On her way down the Iberian Peninsula she ran into a northeasterly gale about sixty miles west of Cape Finisterre. She used the same parachute drogue used by Echo in the previous file (D/C-2). The behavior of Echo was satisfactory. The behavior of Sundsvalla was anything but satisfactory. She would not lie to the relatively large drogue by herself. She had to be steered manually down the steep wave faces. And she kept doing the same thing that Galliard did in file D/T-2, i.e., surge forward and then snap back on the elastic rode. Later on, when the line had temporarily gone slack, a breaking wave threw the drogue and tangled it around itself.
What was the big difference between Echo and Sundsvalla? Sundsvalla has her mast stepped aft (most Prouts catamarans do). Any sailboat with her mast stepped aft will behave relatively well when using a sea anchor off the bow, but relatively poorly when using a drogue off the stern. The opposite is also true, of course: any sailboat with her mast stepped well forward - cat-rigged - will behave relatively poorly when using a sea anchor off the bow and relatively well when using a drogue off the stern. Transcript:
Echo (previous file) behaved quite well with a 9-ft. BUORD off the stern. Sundsvalla did not. Sundsvalla has her mast stepped aft, as do many Prout catamarans.
On passage from the south coast of England to Bayona, Spain. Encountered "dry" gale from the northeast. Sailed in rising wind/seas all day under staysail alone. Near dusk, wind rose to Force 9 and occasional seas began to break. Took down all sail and deployed BUORD off stern. No problem with deployment, but vessel would not lie to the parachute by itself - it had to be steered. Line would go slack periodically. Could not keep bows pointed downwind all the time. Finally, a breaking wave caught the drogue and tangled it around itself. We left it deployed, but effectively lay a-hull all night and into the next day. Took several breaking waves over the boat - not recommended! Recovered BUORD after gale subsided and continued to Bayena.
PROBLEM: The Prout Snowgoose 34 catamaran has the mast stepped way aft. I believe that this is what caused our problem. The center of effort of the boat's aerodynamic drag was so far aft that it would yaw from side to side. This allowed the tether to go slack and ultimately tangle.
SOLUTION? The next time on a vessel of this type, I would use a storm jib hanked onto the forestay and sheeted athwartships. I believe that this would keep the bows pointed downwind by moving the center of effort forward. This would allow the helm to be untended and the tether to remain taut. Although I haven't tried it, a large para-anchor deployed from the bow should work very well because the aft mast position would increase yaw stability. [Note that a large diameter para-anchor did work well off the bow of the Prout Snowgoose, Rhayader, in File S/C-3.]
File D/C-2, obtained from John Kettlewell, Middle Grove, NY. - Vessel name Echo, catamaran, designed by Mark Louis Rifflart, LOA 31' 6" x Beam 16' x Draft 2' 8" x 4 Tons - Drogue: 9-Ft. diameter BUORD on 400' x 1/2" nylon three strand tether, with bridle arms of 25' each and 1/2" galvanized swivel - Deployed in a gale in deep water about 400 miles SW of Bermuda with winds of 40-50 knots and seas of 18-25 ft. - Vessel's stern yawed 10° - Drift was estimated to be about 30 nm during 20 hours of deployment.
Echo was en route to San Juan, Puerto Rico, from Beaufort, NC., when she ran into a gale. Her owner John Kettlewell is a marine consultant with a good deal of cruising experience. He has written numerous articles and was acquisitions editor for International Marine Publications for a while. (See also his article entitled, Rough Passage To San Juan appearing in the November/December 1991 issue of Multihulls Magazine).
Echo ran downwind for a while until it became unsafe to do so. She lay a-hull for a short period thereafter and Kettlewell deemed that just as unsafe - the occasional breaker would knock the bow off and she would surf sideways out of control.
He then deployed a 9-ft. BUORD parachute off the bow, his wife Leslie assisting. The 400 feet of line smoked out so quickly that they were barely able to cleat it before it reached the end. The 9-ft. diameter Naval Ordnance parachute (porous canopy) did not produce enough drag to keep the bows pointed into the seas - they were yawing up to 90° off to each side. So Kettlewell decided to switch ends and use it as a drogue off the stern instead.
This accomplished, the parachute then kept the stern pointed into the seas in a satisfactory way, with no further steering required. The crew was able to go down below and get some rest on the floor of the saloon area. Transcript:
In general we were very pleased with the performance of the drogue. As I stated previously we could not lie bow into the wind with this size chute. I wonder if we had removed our roller furling jib we could have laid bow to.... In any case I'm sure I would now prefer to run before the seas on this boat. Our cockpit is well protected with a strong door and great drainage due to the motorwell for the outboard. I think it is useful to give with the punches of the waves. We even raised our rudders to take the strain off of them from wave hits.... With a bridle to each stern the drogue held us straight on to the sea and we did not have to steer.
I am very wary of using a trip line as I find storms tend to make amazing tangles of even the simplest rigs. On the other hand, if something were to disable the chute suddenly, it would be very difficult to get it in and untangled during the height of a storm. However, even though it was extremely tiring and difficult to retrieve I still would not rig a trip line. We had some success using the motor to slowly power up to the drogue.
We had no problems with the line kinking or chafing. I used two 5/8" braided bridle lines led through clear PVC water tubing. Our rode consisted of 2 x 200' lengths of 1/2" nylon connected by a large shackle in the middle. I feel your length recommendations (i.e., LOA x 10) may be a bit short. I was certainly happy I had 400' of rode!
File D/M-12, obtained from Paula & Dana Dinius, Long Beach, CA. - Vessel name Destiny, hailing port Long Beach, monohull, Norseman 447 designed by Robert Perry, LOA 45' x LWL 37.6' x Beam 13' x Draft 6.5' x 14 Tons - Low aspect fin keel - Drogue: Australian Sea Squid on 200' x 1/2" nylon braid rode + 12' of 3/8" chain, with bridle arms of 20' each - Deployed in the Queen's Birthday Storm in deep water near 25° 55.7' S, 175° 28.4' E (about 400 miles SSW of Fiji) with winds of 80-100 knots and seas of 60 ft. and greater - Vessel's stern yawed 45° and more with the owner steering - Speed averaged about 6 knots during 15 hours of deployment - Destiny was damaged after somersaulting off a huge stacking wave and had to be abandoned.
In June 1994 a regatta of pleasure yachts left New Zealand, headed for Tonga. En route they were devastated by an unseasonable cyclone.
The event coincided with the celebration of Queen Elizabeth's birthday, and has been referred to as the Queen's Birthday Storm ever since. About half a dozen boats were abandoned. Two dozen sailors had to be rescued. The yacht Quartermaster sank with loss of three lives.
Destiny, the subject of this file, did a spectacular dive off the top of an eighty foot wave. Dana Dinius told Victor Shane that it was like going over the falls on a surfboard - the yacht fell straight down. He distinctly remembers being weightless while hanging on to the wheel. Destiny went end over end when she finally hit bottom, doing a cartwheel and snap roll that bent her mast all the way around the hull. Dana's leg was badly broken at the hip, incapacitating him. Paula somehow managed to drag him inside, where the two spent a night to remember, rescue aircraft circling overhead.
The life and death rescue drama that transpired the next day is described in great detail in other texts and videos, among them Tony Farrington's book Rescue In The Pacific (International Marine Publications), and Ninox Films's epic video, Pacific Rescue (Ninox Films, Ltd., PO Box 9839, Wellington, NZ).
At this point we would like to digress and say something else about the Queen's Birthday Storm: the cyclonic conditions were exacerbated by microburst-generated ESWs. The term ESW - extreme storm wave - was coined by Jerome W. Nickerson when he was head of NOAA's National Weather Service Marine Observation Program. "The ESW appears to be about 2.5 times the significant wave," wrote Nickerson in the NOAA publication, Mariner's Weather Log (Vol 29, No. 1 - see also Vol 37, No. 4, the Great Wave issue). ESWs arrive as colossal walls of water with a deep trench in front. When aligned with the seaway they may be technically classified as episodic (wave events that stand apart from all others during the analysis interval). When misaligned, they may be classified as freaks, mavericks or rogues, because they intrude into the dominant seaway at angles of up to 50°, causing "stacking" and "wave doubling" where they intersect with the regular significant waves. Sometimes ESWs come in pairs, the largest following on the heels of the first. On rare occasions they may even come in sets of three, a fearsome phenomenon dubbed the three sisters by ancient mariners.
GUST FRONT OR SHEAR LINE
Microburst producing a 'gust front' or 'shear line'
Cold, dense air from the upper part of thunderstorm cell plummets downward. When it reaches the surface it spreads out on all sides, but most strongly in the direction of the movement of the storm. The outer edge is called a gust front or shear line. Bold arcs in lower right corner indicate dangerous area in which the gust front is sufficiently synchronized with the prevailing waves to reinforce/amplify a few significant ones into Extreme Storm Waves (ESWs). There were dozens of massive thunderstorm cells embedded within the Queen's Birthday Storm.
Putting all things together, several components can be applied to the Queen's Birthday Storm, setting the stage for the genesis of ESWs: Inordinately steep pressure gradients, resulting from the confrontation of differing air masses; a rapidly developing, warm-core cyclonic system, rotating clockwise in the southern hemisphere; wind field rapidly increasing to above Force 10 (50 knots sustained), producing significant waves of about 20 feet. The picture so far is fairly representative of the average storm. However, we now have to look for an additional reinforcing agent or catalyst by means of which significant waves can be built up to the 80-ft. monster that threw Destiny end over end in the Queen's Birthday Storm.
According to Jerome W. Nickerson, one such catalyst or reinforcing agent can be found in extreme downbursts. Such downbursts are associated with the rapid venting of energy bottled up in discrete thunderstorm cells embedded within the larger storm system. Thunderheads have been known to reach heights of 65,000 feet. The cold, dense downdraft from such a concentrated energy cell will sometimes produce wind gusts of 100-knots and higher - as with tornadoes. When such a downburst reaches the surface of the sea it could statistically synchronize with, organize, reinforce and amplify the existing significant waves into ESWs.
We already have a 979 mb cyclone in the Queen's Birthday Storm. Add sudden, catalytic release of energy bottled up in massive thunderstorm cells, pulsing down against the surface of the sea and thereafter spreading out on all sides (but most strongly in the direction in which the storm is moving) in the form of a gust front or squall line.
Speculation locates the genesis of an ESW at a place where the speed and direction of the moving gust front coincides with the speed and direction of the highest existing waves (lower right corner, bold arcs in Fig. 55). The developing ESW - the dominant wave in the train - will now collect more energy from the wind than the other waves. Moving faster, it will also merge with and collect energy from the smaller waves it is overtaking, in effect "stacking" and "snowballing" into the stature of a genuine extreme storm wave.
Was this the case in the Queen's Birthday Storm? Well, it could have been a contributing factor because we have many first hand accounts of violent thunderstorm activity. In fact there was so much electrical activity that many claimed to have seen strange lights - some even thought they had seen flying saucers. Commander Larry Robbins of the HMNZS Monowai (one of the rescue ships) reported seeing such lights, as did other personnel aboard the ship. "Suddenly the decks lit up... the sky just lit up and we could see for miles," said Lieutenant Andrew Saunderson. Jim Helden, captain of the cargo ship Tui Cakau III - whose Fijian crew took Paula and Dana off Destiny - saw the electric show, as did Paula and Dana Dinius themselves. Said Paula in the interview that she and Dana did for Ninox Films, "The lightning was approaching... I believe we went right through the center because of this lightning show... it was just amazing... you could just see it coming directly, and then it was on us, and it was just all over us... you could feel it as it cracked... it would just go through your body."
One can also infer microbursts from the baffling testimony of Dana Dinius himself. Dana was bewildered by the chaotic nature and direction of the wind as he struggled with Destiny's helm: "We had 85 knots of wind, and it really wasn't a wind... it was a mist, it was really intriguing... there was a real presence there, an evil that we felt... the wind would come in from the right or the left and swirl up in front of us in a big mist, and then it would exit... and it might exit forward, it might exit over my shoulder... it wasn't a consistent type of a wind, and with the lightning cracking all around us, it was... we can only describe it as a real evil." (Courtesy Ninox Films).
Only a severe microburst - or macroburst - could have exhibited such chaotic characteristics (meteorologists call downbursts with outflow diameters of no greater than 2.2 nm microbursts, and those with outflow diameters greater than 2.2 nm macrobursts). Depending on her position beneath the downburst, Destiny might have been blasted with 80-100 knot gusts from any number of directions. Transcript:
On June 4, 1994, five days out of Auckland, New Zealand, approximately 400 nm SSW of Fiji, my wife Paula and I were hit by an out of season 979mb cyclone. It was to come without warning and deliver constant 80-85 knot winds (gusts over 100 knots) and 15 meter breaking seas. At the storm's conclusion 21 people were rescued, 7 cruising boats abandoned and, sadly, three lives lost. Our boat and home for seven years, a Norseman 447 named Destiny, was a 45 foot fiberglass performance cruiser designed by Robert Perry. Unfortunately, she was not to survive the storm, pitch-poling off a 100 foot stacking wave resulting in severe damage to both the boat and her crew.
The cyclone dropped on us without warning. Our land-based weather service had forecasted for us 35-40 knots of wind during the evening, coming from a 1005mb LOW located to the north around Fiji. Since our weather fax printouts from both New Zealand and Australia confirmed that report, we had no reason to suspect anything else. At 1800 hours, after our evening check-in and with 3 meter breaking seas behind us, we elected to go to bare poles and deploy our drogue. At the time we felt it to be a bit of an overkill, but thought it would provide us with a relatively quiet night. Our drogue was an Australian SEA SQUID, an orange plastic cone designed to channel water into its sides and out the rear, creating a braking effect. Not expecting any real weather, we deployed it off the port side on 200 feet of 1/2 inch yacht braid, and 12 feet of 3/8" chain to hold it down under the surface. The line was run through the aft port chock and up to the primary winch in the cockpit. A bridle of sorts was jury rigged by tying a shorter piece of 1/2 inch line to the rode and running it back to the primary winch on the starboard side. By adjusting the length of the both leads we could get the drogue to trail directly behind the boat, or to either side.
SEA SQUID (no longer available).
During the night the seas increased to giant mountains towering well above the mast. It had the look of traveling through snow-capped mountains during a lightning storm. The P-3 Orion crew that held station over us during the rescue, said their ground search radar was giving them 80 to 100 foot variances, indicating trough to peak heights. We found our drogue set-up to be optimal in conditions that far exceeded what we expected that night. Destiny was held to 3-4 knots in the troughs and 7-8 knots running down the giant wave faces. There seemed to be little or no yawing, and steering control, while being a little sluggish from the trailing drogue, was responsive enough to handle the storm. The ride in general, although very wet, was relatively smooth.
Although the speed was well under control we still felt it necessary to hand steer the boat. The blast of wind hitting the transom as we raised up out of the trough (generally 35 knots in the trough and 80+ on the crest) was strong enough to drive the stern of the boat hard to port or starboard. Reaction had to be quick and complete enough to bring the stern back around before the breaking seas engulfed it. Failure to complete this maneuver left us exposed at an angle to the breaking seas, which would in turn push the boat further around, greatly increasing the danger of a broach/roll. There were times we were hit so hard that Destiny, even with the helm hard over, barely corrected stern to the seas before the next wave crest. It is our feeling that the autopilot (an Auto Helm 6000-Mark II) would not, at the peak of the storm, have been able to correct fast enough to complete the maneuver.
We feel our chances of surviving the storm were greatly increased by choosing an active role at the helm. This decision took into account exhaustion and exposure. Warm, tropical weather diminishes exposure problems, and as for exhaustion, we've learned in extreme conditions the pure adrenaline pump will keep you going many more hours than you think is humanly possible now. Had we been in a colder climate we may have decided differently. We also realize that an active technique is not for everyone. For those who do not wish an active part, a much larger drogue that would hold the boat at a snail pace, "perhaps" would give the resistance needed to stay stern-to with the aid of an autopilot. We are sure, however, the boat would take a terrible beating given the size and power of the seas we experienced. As it was, we lost most of our cockpit canvas and saw extensive damage to the supporting stainless steel long before the pitch-pole.
What was learned:
1) 200' of rode is not enough. Twice during the night our drogue broke loose and pulled out of the wave behind us. Destiny shot from 7 knots to 14 knots in the bat of an eyelid. Had there been any way to extend the rode at that point we would have, but by then the weather was critical. The cockpit was constantly awash. Hanging on and steering was all we could manage. We learned that given a shorthanded crew, the rig you go into extreme weather with is most likely what you will be forced to stay with for the duration. Hindsight tells us that even if we didn't think we would use it, we should have rigged more line. Our suggestion is to have the stern anchor rode rigged so you can attach the drogue at a moment's notice.
2) We found that directly downwind was the most stable and survivable course. In our case, at 7 knots, burying the bow was not a concern. Our biggest concern was being caught sideways and rolled. We attempted to cheat to the SSW whenever possible to work out of the dangerous SE quadrant of the storm, but found it almost impossible to make much ground without putting the boat at risk of a broach.
3) The most critical point of the storm, with respect to survival, came when the winds had subsided a little, during the eye of the storm. The wind was never the real problem. As it fell from the 80's to the 50's the seas, which up to this time had their crests blown flat, began to break more top to bottom. The wave faces became steep enough to force corrections port or starboard to keep from broaching in the troughs, even traveling at 7 knots. Three times during the morning hours, Destiny's keel broke loose and we slid down the wave face like dropping in an elevator. It was at this point we felt control had been lost and we issued our PAN PAN call. As the wind began to clock south and increase again, there developed a secondary wave direction which created a "stacking effect." Ultimately, we feel that's what killed Destiny. Two or three breaking waves stacking on top of one another produced a bottomless situation. Under those conditions we don't think any drogue could have held the boat from that fall. There comes a time in extreme conditions when your survival boils down to the luck of the draw. We feel this was one of those times.
4) We have been asked if our chances would have been better with a sea anchor. Not having tried one we will never know. We do know that after the boat pitch-poled and had been dismasted, we were lying a-hull for many hours. During that period we suffered countless 120° knock-downs, but were never rolled again. Perhaps the broken mast, which was wrapped around the boat, gave it additional stability? Who knows. The boat did take the pounding and seemed to hold up pretty well. But it should be noted here that conditions were such that things could have gone pretty much any way at that point. Had the boat broken up, a hatch tear off or a window break (we had the storm shutters on), we would not be here today. To attempt to man a life raft in those conditions would have been a sentence of death.
Being inside, without control, was the first time we felt helpless to protect ourselves. Because the boat withstood the pounding [while lying a-hull] one could make a case for the para-anchor. However, given the size of the seas we were in, we would worry about how the anchor is attached to the hull. The issue of chafe goes without saying, but even more worrisome is the question of attachment points. What stresses are at work when you are hit by a breaking wave taller than a telephone pole moving along like a freight train? And this continues for 12 to 16 hours? We question the ability of many cruising boats to hold up under those conditions. Still, all things being equal, with adequate warning of extreme conditions, we feel we would chose to go with a large para-anchor, 500 feet of heavy line, attached with a wire bridle distributing the load to points throughout the hull. In our opinion, there is a good case for both a drogue and a para-anchor aboard a seaworthy cruising yacht. In the final analysis it's up to each of us to decide on the solution we can live with. When that moment comes, it's nice to have options at hand.
In subsequent telephone conversations Victor Shane pressed Dana Dinius about the perennial question as to whether one should run directly downwind or try quartering the seas. After thinking about it Dana replied that on Destiny, in that storm, it had to be directly downwind. However he added that in other situations he might decide to quarter the seas, especially if the bow was beginning to bury itself in the base of the next wave now and then.
On another matter, Dana confirmed that he and Paula felt most vulnerable when the wind dropped in the eye of the storm. He said, "as the wind dropped, the waves became hollow." This is something that Shane had heard before, something that one should be prepared for. Compare with John Glennie's statement in File S/T-7: "Without the wind regulating the seas, I was afraid that two or three waves might ring hands and turn into rogues."
File D/M-8, obtained from Jim Gilster, St. Clair Shores, MI. - Vessel name Windsprint, hailing port St. Clair Shores, monohull, Morgan 382 designed by Ted Brewer & Jack Corey, LOA 38' 4" x LWL 30' 6" x Beam 12' x Draft 5' x 9 Tons - Low aspect fin keel - Drogue: 5 each 14" diameter plastic cones (Davis Instruments) on 300' x 5/8" nylon three strand rode plus 20' of chain - Deployed in a storm in deep water about 200 miles north of Bermuda with winds of 60-70 knots and seas of 20 ft. - Microbursts - Vessel's stern yawed 10° - Speed was reduced to about 2 knots during 33 hours of deployment.
On 3 June 1984 the British sailing barque Marques capsized and sank with loss of 19 lives, 80 miles northeast of Bermuda while participating in the Tall Ships Race. On 14 May 1985 the replica sailing vessel Pride Of Baltimore capsized and sank 240 miles north of Puerto Rico. On 31 August 1986 the Calida, a 135' replica of the Cutty Sark, capsized and sank in similar circumstances 90 miles southeast of Cape Fear, North Carolina.
The culprit in each case: Microburst. Microbursts, or "white squalls," as they are sometimes called, are associated with massive thunderstorm cells embedded within existing storm systems. A microburst involves a sudden, cataclysmic release of bottled-up energy in the form of one or more downbursts. These downbursts - sometimes sporting wind gusts of 100 knots - consist of cold, dense air which plummets down to the surface of the sea, thereafter spreading out on all sides, the outer edge being called a gust front or shear line.
This precipitous downward movement of air, also known as wind shear, is now believed to have been the cause of a number of previously inexplicable air tragedies, among them the tragic crash of Delta flight 191 in Dallas in 1986. The crash of Delta 191 prompted the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration to sponsor the development of NEXRAD - "next generation" pulse-doppler radar capable of detecting wind shear as well as incipient tornadoes and twisters. (Today NEXRAD is in wide use throughout the world). The added leverage gained by the wind, because of its downward vector, has no doubt been the undoing of many a sailing vessel. Try sailing under the wash of a hovering helicopter with a sailing dinghy and see what happens. The downward blast from those rotors will instantly knock your dinghy down. The same phenomenon occurs in nature, only on a much, much grander scale - microbursts. It is Victor Shane's opinion that the Queen's Birthday Storm of June 1994 was reinforced and exacerbated by a great many microbursts (see File D/M-12).
Normal wind blowing horizontally will heel a canvassed yacht before spilling out of the sails. Microburst coming down at an angle will instantly roll the yacht onto her beam ends.
Sailing vessels situated directly beneath the microburst will find themselves in grave peril, especially those with lofty rigs. The added leverage gained by the wind will easily knock down, capsize, or drive the bow down under, as was the case with the Marques. The downward force of the wind struck against her lofty rig from the port quarter, burying the bow; the sails, then on the starboard side, served as the lever to spin the Marques around and quickly roll her onto her beam ends. She filled with water and sank in a matter of minutes.
It is interesting to note that the builders of the old Baltimore Clippers seemed to have had foreknowledge of microbursts, and made allowance for this vice of nature in the way that they designed the rigging. In an article called The Baltimore Clipper, appearing in volume 14 of Sea History, Melbourne Smith writes, "Everything aloft was made as light as possible to reduce windage and save weight. The gear could be struck at will by the large number of men carried aboard. Some of it was purposely fashioned light as a built-in safety factor so that it could be `removed by the Lord' if the crew failed to do so in time." (Courtesy Sea History, a publication of the National Maritime Historical Society.)
Getting back to file D/M-8, Windsprint, a Morgan 382, was being sailed to England in June 1984 when she was caught in the same storm system that sank the Marques. The owner of the boat, Jim Gilster, was quick to take down all sails and set a new course downwind, a few degrees off the rhumb line to Bermuda. Windsprint was soon averaging 7 knots on bare poles with the helm manned. The skipper then deployed a drogue consisting of five 14-inch diameter plastic cones, shaped like Mexican hats, manufactured by Davis Instruments. (Davis is still manufacturing the "Mexican hats", but for use as "rocker stoppers" only). The five cones, spaced 18" apart at the end of a 300' nylon rode, did a good job of keeping the stern of the yacht pointed into the seas for some 33 hours. In fact, once the helm was properly adjusted and locked no further steering was required. The crew was able to retire down below and rest in relative comfort, seventy knot winds and twenty foot seas raging outside. Transcript:
We were in the storm pattern that sank the Marques on June 3, and we were told of its sinking by one of the tall ships continuing on to Halifax. When we arrived in St. George's Harbor in Bermuda we witnessed services being held aboard the one tall ship that dropped out of the race to assist in the search and rescue effort.
The five plastic cones were spaced 18" apart; I rigged them up with 5/16" braided nylon, doubled, with a thimble at the bend, and figure eight knots at the holes in the cones. I attached all this to 20' of chain and 300' of 5/8" nylon line, led to the port stern cleat and port sheet winch. I felt confident it would all hold up. It did, in 70 knot winds and 20' seas. We slowed down to 1.5 to 2 knots from 7 knots on bare poles. I adjusted the wheel to allow us to quarter the waves, and we were "comfortable".... We were occasionally pooped, but with a bridge deck and tight hatch, little water entered the cabin. Although each of the five cones was cracked when we hauled them back in, we did not notice any diminished resistance while "at anchor." I am in the process of affixing two cones together to make five sets of two each, somehow each set of two cones sealed/glued together for strength.
Interestingly, these cones were originally marketed as "sea anchors" in the early 60's when I purchased a set for this purpose. I think Davis should beef them up a bit and again denote them "sea anchors." I would, and will, use them again in the same manner. I was very pleased with the way they slowed the boat down, although, of course, I had no lee shore to contend with.
File D/M-4, obtained from Charles E. Kanter, Key Largo, FL. - Vessel name Lorilynn, hailing port Philadelphia, monohull, center-cockpit sloop designed by Ted Irwin, LOA 37' x LWL 34' x Beam 14' x Draft 4' x 6 Tons - Low aspect fin keel - Drogue: 150% Genoa sail (three corners tied together like a diaper) on 200' x 5/8" nylon three strand rode, with no swivel - Deployed in a low system in deep water midway between Great Anagua and Ackland Islands (Bahamas) with winds of 30-40 knots and seas of 8-12 ft. - Vessel's stern yawed 10° - Drift was said to be very little.
A former delivery skipper, Charles E. Kanter has well over 100,000 blue water miles under his belt. He has served as sailing coach to the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis, conducted extensive tests on ground anchors, written articles about sea anchors, ground anchors and hurricane mooring systems. On the occasion of this file Kanter and crew were sailing their newly refurbished Irwin 37, Lorilynn, from St. Thomas to the Bahamas when they ran into full gale conditions. To the north lay the treacherous shoals of Acklins Island, and to the west the equally treacherous lee shore of the Great Bahama Bank.
Kanter rigged a "drogue" out of his largest genoa. He tied the three corners of the sail loosely together with dock lines; he then connected it to 200 ft. of anchor rode and carefully deployed the whole thing over the stern. He was able to get the sail to fill and assume a shape similar to a triangular parachute. The boat then lay comfortably stern-to the seas for a period of about 12 hours, more or less anchored to the surface of the ocean. The wind and the rain were so strong that it was impossible to go on deck. The EPIRB, life raft and the calamity pack were made ready just in case. The crew prepared itself for the worst.
Every fifteen minutes one of them would try to poke a head out of the hatch as a lookout, but it was a futile exercise, the air being so thick with spume and spray. In related articles appearing in the February 1985 issue of Cruising World and September/October 1987 issue of Multihulls Magazine, Charles Kanter wrote that he spent the entire night on the cabin sole, agonizing and reflecting on the tactic as it related to the particular boat and situation. As it turned out the center cockpit Irwin rode out the storm quite nicely, without excessive yawing or broaching. Her stern stayed more or less snubbed into the seas, and in twelve hours she had drifted only about three miles westward - the wind being from the east. By dawn the storm had abated and they got under way again, after hauling the "genny anchor" back in. It is interesting to note that Kanter mentions observing large cresting waves breaking over the location of the makeshift drogue:
We found that the sea anchor being close to the surface caused the waves to break before they reached the boat, just like being behind a shoal. It was awe-inspiring. Giant waves would rush up behind us, looking like they were going to overwhelm us and they would, literally, explode when they hit the sea anchor artificial shoal. We never took green water on the deck in the twelve hours we lay there. It looked a little like the famous Hawaii surf, with us standing just far enough up the beach to get a little foam. (Multihulls Magazine, September/October 1987, by permission).
In parts of the Mediterranean where ancient Phoenicians knew of the existence of underwater currents they would lower their sails into the depths and get a tow when becalmed. Sails have great potential for use as makeshift sea anchors and drogues. Think about it. If a sail is strong enough to drive a heavy boat through the sea at several knots, why can't it be used as a sea anchor or drogue to reduce drift? In section 8 of Oceanography And Seamanship, William G. Van Dorn discusses the use of parachutes as sea anchors and adds that a makeshift parachute can be rigged out of any heavy spinnaker, "using three sheets as shroud lines and any spare nylon for a rode." He goes on to say that the forces will be about the same as if it were flying in a strong wind.
Sailors should also read the article Sails As Sea Anchors by Daniel C. Shewmon, appearing in the July/August 1986 issue of Multihulls Magazine (back issues available from Multihulls Magazine, 421 Hancock St., Quincy MA 02171). This article explains and illustrates how to convert sails into emergency sea anchors. Shewmon emphasizes that purpose-made sea anchors should be standard equipment on all offshore boats, but that if the unit is lost or damaged it can temporarily be replaced by a sail. "Mains, genoas, and spinnakers are ideal shapes for conversions to sea anchors.... The key to their success as sea anchors is equal flow of water from all three sides." (July/August issue of Multihulls Magazine, by permission).
Large, equilateral sails, such as genoas, can be converted into sea anchors - or drogues - by tying the three corners together like a diaper, or by using three short lengths of rope as shown above. A swivel termination is a good idea. On some vessels this "genny anchor" can then be used off the bow, along with a mizzen or riding sail. On others, it may be used off the stern as a makeshift medium-pull drogue.
File S/T-11, obtained from Frans Aeyelts, Halifax NS. - Vessel name Amakama, hailing port Halifax, trimaran designed by Roger Simpson, LOA 43' x Beam 27' x Draft 3' 6" x 5.5 Tons - Sea anchor: 18-ft. Diameter Para-Tech on 430' x 3/4" nylon three strand tether and bridle arms 70' each, with 5/8" galvanized swivel - Full trip line - Deployed in a whole gale in deep water about 260 miles north of Bermuda with winds of 40-50 knots and seas of 20 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Drift was estimated to be 5-10 n.m. during 27 hours at sea anchor.
Charter skipper Frans Aeyelts has used the parachute sea anchor half a dozen times in Halifax to Bermuda runs. Like Voss and the Pardeys, he's not one to give any storm the benefit of any doubt. Transcripts:
Having used the chute several times convinces me that it is essential to the safety of the boat and crew. (Nobody is going to tell me otherwise, especially those who have never used one and have firm opinion about it!) October 22, 1987: This was the maiden voyage of Amakama to Bermuda, with final destination Barbados. Early during the morning the wind came up from the NW and kept increasing and veering. By noon we were clipping along nicely with a fresh breeze from the north. Wind force kept building and veering to NE. Speeds up to 16 kts. We decided that if the weather would not improve by 1600 hrs. we would put out the chute. Since this was the first try of the device in the open ocean, we wanted to deploy it in daylight. By 1700 hrs. the parachute had been deployed.
Seas are continuing to build, so is the wind (Force 8). Foam streaking down the steep waves - breaking crests. Twice a rogue broke over the boat. Too rough to cook. Everybody in their bunks. From time to time we look out to see how the weather is. Very noisy down below - 36 hours is a long time to be cooped up with five people on a boat. Cross seas from the north aggravating the confused sea state. Chute behaved very well. Trip line [full] made it easy to retrieve. Very good device. To heave-to under such conditions would be dangerous - you are taking the elements 50-60° on the bows and may sustain damage or capsize. Running off...? Also dangerous - waves were too steep. Retrieved parachute 0815 hrs. next day. Motorsailed in rough conditions (close-hauled SE wind) to St. Georges Harbor, Bermuda.
May 28, 1988: Fast moving front. Sea and wind came around from SSE to NE very quickly. Situation was such that we could no longer sail and had to put out the chute. By midnight the sea state had calmed down considerably, but was still "lumpy." Chute performed admirably well again, giving us relief from a long wet watch in cockpit. I figured it was better to sit at the para-anchor than risk sailing on, not knowing what was going to develop later. Tim and myself were able to haul back the chute without difficulty.
October 8, 1988: Left Halifax harbor at noon. Crew of three, including myself. NE wind, already blowing strong. Forecast called for 40 kts. Sailed for 6 hours - sea and wind force kept building as we left land behind us. Going very fast. After 3 hours of this we dropped the jib, next the main, and finally the inner stays'l. Because we were over La Have basin (approx 40 miles south of Halifax) well on the continental shelf, the seas built up to short, steep waves in a very short time. With two inexperienced (multihull) sailors on board I did not want to sail the night in huge seas. Parachute deployed. Safety first. This was a short-lived gale. A schooner that had left only 2 hours before us blew out her sails in the same gale and had to limp back to port. Better safe than sorry!
File S/T-8, obtained from Daniel A. York, Costa Mesa, CA. - Vessel name Gold Eagle, hailing port San Francisco, trimaran designed by Norman Cross, LOA 42' x Beam 23' x Draft 4' x 7 Tons - Sea anchor: 18-ft. Diameter Para-Tech on 400' x 5/8" nylon braid tether and bridle arms of 60' each, with 5/8" stainless steel swivel - No trip line - Deployed in gale-force winds in shallow water (25 fathoms) about 15 miles west of the Nicoya Peninsula (Costa Rica) with winds of 45-60 knots and seas of 10 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Bearings taken from three shore lights indicated no noticeable drift during five hours at sea anchor.
This file is about a 42-ft. trimaran that used an 18-ft. diameter Para-Tech sea anchor to stand off a lee shore against the sudden onslaught of 40-60 knot winds. Gold Eagle was sailing to Puntarenas, Costa Rica, from Corinto, Nicaragua. In the evening of 22 May 1990 she was about fifteen miles offshore, about to clear Cape Blanco on the Nicoya Peninsula, when the wind came up out of nowhere. Incidentally, this is a common occurrence on the Pacific side of the Central American coast. Whether caused by a massive high pressure cell over Texas funneling air through gaps in mountains, or by the seasonal migrations of the Inter Tropical Convergence Zone, it is something one should always be prepared for in Central American waters. Transcript:
Wind (45 knots) came up very fast at approximately 2000 hrs. I rushed forward to drop the club-footed jib (already reefed). The aft reef grommet tore out along with 3' of sail before I could drop it. Under full power (40 hp. Mercedes Diesel with 18" diameter 3-bladed prop) boat was being blown backward so fast that the rudder was trying to jam hard over. Seas starting to come over port beam after engine secured as it was overheating. Dropped 18-ft. diam. para-anchor. Bridle shackle almost hung up on port ama cleat, but I cast it free just before strain on bridle. Boat immediately swung into wind and seas. Seas very short and steep as boat climbed and fell off crests.
I was concerned we'd be blown to shore, but over the 5 hour period I took bearings from three shore lights (360°, 125°, 100°) with no noticeable drift. Winds maintained 50-60 knots for approx. 1 or 1.5 hours, then lowered to approx. 40-45. After five hours winds dropped to only 10 knots. Another trimaran, returning to Long Beach after participating in a trans-Atlantic race, had trouble with jammed sail track slides and was dismasted in the same blow. My sea parachute is one of the few items I purchased that performed as advertised and no defects or surprises. I appreciated the quality and the performance more than I can express. Wouldn't leave port without it ever.
Using Parachutes, Sea Anchors and Drogues to Cope with Heavy Weather – Over 130 Documented Case Histories
