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Drogues on Catamarans

D/C-9 Catamaran, Searunner

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D/C-9

Catamaran, Searunner

44' x 25' x 6 Tons

Shewmon VP and Shewmon 9-Ft.

Severe Tehuantepeccer (Hurricane-Force)

 

File D/C-9, obtained from Captain Fred Yeates, Tarpon Springs, FL. - Vessel name Anna Kay, hailing port Gwenn Island, VA, catamaran, designed by Jim Brown, LOA 44' x Beam 25' x Draft 3' x 6 Tons - Drogues: 4-ft. diameter Shewmon Variable Pull & 9-ft. diameter Shewmon (sea anchor) on 250' x 3/4" nylon braid tether, with bridle arms of 25' each and 5/8" galvanized swivel - Deployed in a severe Tehuantepeccer storm in 160 fathoms of water in the Gulf of Tehuantepec with winds of 120+ knots and seas of 40 ft. and greater - Vessel was blown 100 miles offshore in 20 hours before having to be abandoned.

 

Situated on the Pacific side of the Mexican isthmus, the Gulf of Tehuantepec ranks among the most perilous bodies of water on the planet earth. Experienced ship captains fear the Tehuantepec as they fear Bengal monsoons, Caribbean hurricanes, North Atlantic icebergs, North Pacific fog and the freak waves of the Agulhas (see a list of such events by month in Appendix V at the back this publication).

Crossing the Gulf of Tehuantepec is not something to be trifled with. The weather mechanism that can generate 70-knot winds in a matter of hours can be likened to a boiling kettle from which high pressure steam has only one escape route - the spout. The kettle is the Gulf of Mexico, flanked by the Mexican Plateau and the 10,000 ft. Sierra Madre mountains.

The steam consists of the northeast tradewinds reinforced by a massive high pressure cell situated over Texas or thereabouts. The spout is the cut in the Sierra Madre Mountains (in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec) through which the wind blasts out into the Pacific.

The Tehuantepec Demon (as locals refer to it) is most active in the months of November, December and January, though it has been known to wake up in other months. The demon's reach may extend a few hundred miles out to sea.

In crossing the Tehuantepec most southbound cruisers hold up in Huatulco Bay, waiting for a weather window. Northbound cruisers do the same on the other side of the Gulf of Tehuantepec, in Puerto Madero. The distance between Bahia de Huatulco and Puerto Madero is 260 miles as the crow flies

Since a strong wind must blow over a minimal distance - fetch - in order to build dangerous seas, and since the Tehuantepeccer blows from land out to sea, standard procedure - the highly recommended course - is to hug the beach and anchor if the Tehuantepec awakens, using the boat's heaviest ground tackle. Note that in doing so there are currents and other hazards that have to be watched for.

Captain Fred Yeates built Anna Kay with his own hands in 1984. She was the largest Jim Brown designed catamaran at the time. He spent five years cruising the Caribbean before transiting the Panama Canal in the spring of 1991. After several years in San Diego, Yeates sailed up to Santa Barbara where Victor Shane briefly met him. In the autumn of 1995 Yeates and Holly Janette Gatioan set sail out of Santa Barbara. Their destination was to be the Caribbean, via the Panama Canal. They spent several months in Mexico, arriving in Huatulco Bay in late February. Anna Kay waited there for two weeks. On 5 March a 48-hour window came through from the Canadian route forecaster Herb Hilgenburg via SSB. The weather fax was good and the port captain predicted safe sailing for two days. Fred and Holly set off to cross the Gulf of Tehuantepec and a nice warm breeze pushed them past Salina Cruz that night. The next day the wind freshened and Anna Kay was moving along at a nice clip, hugging the beach just in case the Tehuantepec should awaken. In the afternoon of 7 March 1996 the Tehuantepec awoke with a vengeance. The wind did an abrupt right-face and started blowing offshore, building to hurricane force in two hours, wiping out the local fishing fleet and claiming dozens of lives. Anna Kay was blown offshore. Transcript:

We were sailing off the Mexican coast, on the Pacific side, in the area known as the Gulf of Tehuantepec. At 1500 hrs on the afternoon of 7 March 1996 I found myself staring at a true wonder of nature - the largest thunder cloud I had ever seen, grow and form into a massive solid black wall of wind and rain bearing down directly on Anna Kay. I awakened Holly from her sleep. She came up on deck and saw what was coming down. I can't repeat her first words. The cold wind and rain hit us like a sledgehammer. There were other vessels around us, large shrimp boats, with crews of four or five. We watched them struggle with the sudden buildup of wind and sea.

Anna Kay was handling the conditions very well, the wind pushing us along the beach in the direction we wanted to go, there being no reason to anchor. In fact, by then it would have been quite difficult to do so. The bottom was too deep and the surf along the shore already quite spectacular. The wind continued to build. As we were being blasted down along the shore we witnessed one shrimp boat capsize. Clearly others were in trouble as well. With darkness falling, conditions worsening, and having no radar, I felt it would be wise to move offshore. Around 2000 hrs the wind suddenly shifted 90° and quickly built up to 75 knots! I deployed my 4' Shewmon VP [variable pull] drogue. Holly and I watched the last shore light disappear. We were now alone and heading out to sea.

The Shewmon Variable Pull drogue is designed for drag adjustment while underway. The pull is varied by means of a secondary line affixed to the inside center of the drogue. This secondary line leads out of the shackle termination and comes back to the boat along with the main tether. Drag can be reduced by pulling on the secondary line. It can be increased by slacking off on it. (See Shewmon's Sea Anchor and Drogue Handbook for details)
The Shewmon Variable Pull drogue is designed for drag adjustment while underway. The pull is varied by means of a secondary line affixed to the inside center of the drogue. This secondary line leads out of the shackle termination and comes back to the boat along with the main tether. Drag can be reduced by pulling on the secondary line. It can be increased by slacking off on it. (See Shewmon's Sea Anchor and Drogue Handbook for details)

With the drogue deployed from a stern bridle the behavior of the boat was relatively comfortable and I was able to lie down and rest for an hour or so. By midnight the confused seas had built to such an extent that the ride was getting scary. Suddenly we started moving faster, crashing-banging sounds all around. We came on deck and discovered that the drogue had twisted and tangled itself. I retrieve it, straightened it out and re-deployed it. The behavior of the boat improved. Around 0300 the drogue fouled again. In the darkness I couldn't tell why. It was a vital piece of gear and it had always worked before. About all I could do was to haul it back in and try re-deployment.

Dawn revealed an ugly sea. As the sun came up the wind increased, and with it came even larger seas. Once again the drogue fouled and I hauled it in, with Holly at the helm. By now the wind was gusting to 100. With no drag in the water we started to be picked up and thrown about by huge confused seas, cresting on both sides and to the rear. I went below and hauled out my 9-ft. Shewmon sea anchor. Everything was a mess down below, with water sloshing about my ankles. With quiet a bit of difficulty I set the bigger sea anchor [off the stern, on the fly] and breathed a sigh of relief when it opened and held. With the big Shewmon deployed the boat slowed down and I didn't have to steer. I could leave the helm and actually go inside. I felt like resting for a while. But that was not to be. A wave washed the dinghy overboard. It was still tied and being dragged ten feet behind Anna Kay (the sea anchor being some 250' behind the boat). Big waves were breaking over our transom, trying to throw the dinghy at the catamaran. I thought about letting the dinghy sink and provide more drag. But the next wave convinced me otherwise. The dink had to go. I crawled to the transom with a knife in my teeth and cut it away.

The wind was still increasing. As we rose to the top of a wave the sea was a white-out all around. The sea anchor was getting rolled by the steep, confused waves, from the left, then from the right. Later, as I was watching, it got caught by two cross-seas and collapsed right before my eyes. I worked very hard to retrieve it, with Holly at the helm, trying to keep the boat from broaching. The sea anchor was all tangled up but not torn. I untangled it, only to have a wave come along and tangle it again and almost sweep me overboard. After straightening out the sea anchor I carefully deployed it, trying to let it out as slowly as possible. It worked fine again for a while, before being fouled by more cross seas. I had no choice but to pull it back in again. This took some doing. The 3/4" rode was slippery and my hands were all white and wrinkled by now. My safety harness saved me many times. I felt the problem was not having a swivel. Dan Shewmon himself had told me that it was not necessary. But in this situation it was. In the chaos down below I found my heaviest ground tackle swivel. I hooked everything up - not an easy task. It took a little time. The wind was gusting way past 100 now. The gusts were so powerful that they would flatten the sea by the acre, whipping up spray that would white-out the entire ocean. I heaved the sea anchor overboard again. As I tried to ease the line out we surfed down a huge wave and I lost control. We were surfing at 15 knots. I had to let go the rope. I had to get my feet out of the way of the lines that were running out. The line reached its end and stretched. The sea anchor opened, a beautiful sight. Then it shuddered, turned into a rag and disappeared.

We had lost the sea anchor. I sat down next to Holly and kept yelling "what happened?" But this was not the time or place to cry over spilt milk. When I retrieved the rode only one new shackle was at the end [the connecting eye of the 5/8" galvanized swivel must have broken]. I hooked up the 4' drogue and put it out again. Again it helped some, but didn't last long and I had to retrieve it. It was badly torn now and we couldn't tell what it had originally looked like. I asked Holly if she could sew it up. She went below looking for the sewing kit. I then put out a tire, and a couple of anchors to slow us down. I went forward and struggled with our largest anchor, trying not to look at the waves crashing all around (hope never to see such a sight again). I trailed as many things as I could off the stern to create drag and it helped a little bit. I seem to remember we managed a drink of water or juice then. I also remember seeing birds that couldn't fly, and turtles in great distress.

Late afternoon. Night was coming and there would be no moon until midnight or later. It was very cold. I had put on my Mustang immersion suit earlier, but it was open at neck, sleeves and ankles, so I was soaking wet and shivering. Holly was no better off as we screamed our commitments to each other above the noise of the wind and encouraged each other to fight on. The poor boat was trashed inside, but structurally sound. We would surf down a wave, be lifted to the top only to be sledge-hammered sideways by a cross sea. This action would launch heavy things around inside, levitating them, then causing them to hit something hard when the boat moved again. At the helm it was hang on for your life as white water tried to sweep you clean off the deck. The boat would be lifted by a crest, the bows would hang in mid-air and teeter there, before dropping one way or the other. Going over the back was much better than surfing the front, but you had to be ready for both.

Holly saw it first, pointing straight ahead, yelling "A freighter! A freighter!" It was half a mile away, a big white freighter, her bow scooping a huge sea, the wind whipping the water into a rainbow of spray that went clear over the bridge. The poor freighter looked like a canoe in the rapids. I went below and called on the VHF. I tried three times. No response. Finally they came back. I talked with the captain. He said the weather report was for conditions to get far worse. I was concerned about our lives. I was concerned about Holly. We truly love the life style, the people, the fun and the freedom of cruising, but we weren't out there to commit suicide. I issued a formal mayday. The captain of the freighter said he would try to make a lee.

I went down below. There was no time to gather the treasures of a lifetime, clothes, books, charts, photographs, things that can never be replaced. My wallet washed past my ankle. I picked it up, put a few other papers in my backpack and went out on deck. Holly went below to put a few things in a bag. The freighter passed by and came around behind us. Its towering bow came right on top of us, stopping in the nick of time. I saw her name, CHIQUITA BARU. We slid by and they fired rocket lines. But the wind blew them right back at the freighter. I asked Holly to cut away all the things we were dragging in the water. She was almost washed away in the process. It seemed that conditions were getting worse by the minute. I could see that the freighter was having its own problems, rolling dangerously, heavy surf crashing on deck as it lay broadside to the wind.

Anna Kay's motor started right up. The rudders worked fine. I tried to hold position by motoring around. Impossible. I tried reverse. No good. The freighter made another pass close by behind us, firing rocket lines that just got blown away again. We turned again. They were putting cargo nets over the side. Somehow we managed to come alongside. The catamaran's stable platform made it easier to get off. There was only time to help Holly up the ladder. She was alive, and that was all that counted. The ladder was swinging in and out, banging against the side of the huge hull. I urged her on, "climb, baby climb," and jumped myself. I got her moving up to strong hands that were waiting at the rails. She was taken below immediately, the conditions even on the deck of this Norwegian freighter being dangerous. The lines of the Anna Kay were let go and she drifted away. My last sight of her was a huge wave crashing over and onto the bows. She shook it off, and rose to the next, and then seemed to disappear in the stormy night.

 

Drogues on Catamarans

D/C-8 Catamaran, Crowther

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D/C-8

Catamaran, Crowther

40' x 26' x 3 Tons

Sea Squid Drogue

Force 9-10 Conditions

File D/C-8, obtained from Dr. Gavin Le Sueur, Mallacoota, Australia - Vessel name Windswept, hailing port Mallacoota, catamaran, designed by Lock Crowther, LOA 40' x Beam 26' x Draft 2' 6" x 3 Tons - Drogue: Sea Squid on 300' x 3/4" nylon braid tether, with bridle arms of 28' each - Towed in a whole gale in deep water from Perth to Adelaide with winds of 40-50 knots and seas of 20-30 ft. - Vessel's stern yawed 20° - Speed was reduced to about 4 knots.

SEA SQUID (no longer available).
SEA SQUID (no longer available).

Although the Sea Squid is no longer in production we are presenting files that involve its use because they contain invaluable insights relating to the use of speed-limiting drogues in general. Dr. Gavin Le Sueur (see also S/C-16) used Australian Sea Squid drogues in the rough 1988 Two Handed Around Australia Race, the same race in which Peter Blake participated on Steinlager II (File D/T-1). Transcript:

I was offered a 40ft Crowther catamaran to sail in the 1988 Two Handed Around Australia Race. I crossed the starting line with Catherine [wife to be] as my crew. We were given a plastic "Sea Squid" drogue to test during the race. The first night brought a southerly buster that capsized a 35ft trimaran (Escapade), sank a police launch and cost the life of a crewman on a monohull (Boundary Rider). We towed the Sea Squid on 300ft of 1" braided nylon. It porpoised all night [diving in and out] and by dawn we were just dragging rope with a small plug of plastic shackled on the end. At the first stopover we were given a second Sea Squid. This one had a reinforced head (fiberglass resin poured into the bolt attachment). After a gale in the Coral Sea the inlet valves of this Sea Squid had split and folded back. Again this one would leap out of the water on occasions. At Darwin we were given a third Sea Squid to test. This time the inlet valves were smaller and reinforced across the center. We added 6ft of anchor chain right next to the drogue. This stopped the porpoising.

While crossing the Southern Ocean from Perth to Adelaide all competitors went through gale after storm. We could not carry full sail for 3000 miles! We towed drogues and warps for most of the way. The last Sea Squid worked famously. With the chain, reinforcing and altered inlet valves, we had no further structural failure. It was speed limiting to approximately 7 knots. We no longer surfed down waves, and often would add sail before taking in the Squid so that we could maintain a constant 7 knots and not stall in the troughs.

The drogue bridle ran inboard from each hull to two winches so that the arms could be adjusted for steering. The tether itself continued into the cockpit and the bridle arms were spliced together and the combined end bent onto the tether with a rolling hitch with a lock. The tether was then let out until the bridle grabbed. It was secured to another winch as a backup if the bridle arms failed, or the knot came undone. This never happened. We finished the Around Australia Race in second place in the 40ft division, third multihull over the line behind Steinlager (Peter Blake) and Verbatim (Cathy Hawkins and Ian Johnston). On the finish line I asked my crew to marry me and surprisingly she said yes!

Our drogue system has continuously undergone experiment and changes. These changes are entirely experimental and apply only to our catamaran, but may be of use to others. Our first problem was the stowage of the Sea Squid, and rigging it for convenient use. It meant getting out our short length of chain off the breakfast anchor line [lunch hook]. It usually meant digging the Squid out from the recesses of the bow. We read about textile drogues and have tried four systems since 1992. The first was a scaled down parachute. It worked out but slowed the cat to less than 3 knots in 35-knot winds. Too slow to avoid getting pooped. We then tried a "series" drogue, provided as a trial. It slowed the boat, but was a stowage mess and very impractical. We then tried a textile drogue that was fluted. It was like a normal parachute (3ft diameter) but with the middle ten inches removed and the continuous shrouds holding the two pieces of material together [see image below]. This fluted drogue worked as well as the parachute - 3 knots and too slow in 35-knot winds and 12ft seas. We had the drogue re-shaped by Para-Anchors Australia, the outlet hole enlarged and a rope tie put into the ends of the shrouds so that we could adjust the outlet [as with a drawstring bag].

Adjustable pull, "fluted" drogue conceived by Australian Gavin Le Sueur is similar to drogue used by NASA to lower the Pathfinder mission onto the surface of Mars. Note the drawstring arrangement on the smaller ring, allowing the outflow diameter to be adjusted from 14" to 4" to increase or reduce pull. The optimal pull for a particular boat will have to be determined through prior trial and error and in practice runs. The drogue cannot be adjusted while in use.
Adjustable pull, "fluted" drogue conceived by Australian Gavin Le Sueur is similar to drogue used by NASA to lower the Pathfinder mission onto the surface of Mars. Note the drawstring arrangement on the smaller ring, allowing the outflow diameter to be adjusted from 14" to 4" to increase or reduce pull. The optimal pull for a particular boat will have to be determined through prior trial and error and in practice runs. The drogue cannot be adjusted while in use.

With all three drogues and the Sea Squid we put out to sea for a twelve month cruise. We have used the variable outlet - fluted - drogue four times in anger, using it to control our speed, or to stop surfing, or to ease the work of the autopilot. In 37-knot gusty conditions we sailed up to 8 knots with the outlet open. We put up our storm spinnaker (a small, bulletproof racing kite with a low center of gravity) and we were unable to push the boat speed over 8 knots. With 200ft of rode it appeared that the drogue rapidly increased the turbulence as we increased the pulling power [by adding sails]. It was as though we had hit a speed barrier. We winched it in (about ten minutes hard yakka) and then re-launched it with the outlet hole tightened up (from 10 inch diameter to 4 inches). We were then back to three knots boat speed. Again we were unable to exceed this speed. It took a bit longer to haul it in the second time but the exercise seemed fruitful. I thought it justified further development and sent a copy of the reports to Para-Anchors Australia. Why a variable drogue? Vary the outlet hole so that one drogue can work for different boats. On any boat, with practice (essential) you can "dial a speed limit." A simple system that is stowed in the cockpit without hassle. At no time did any of the textile drogues break the surface, although I would add a weight if I was to run downwind in tumbling sea conditions.

Dr. Le Sueur's "fluted" parachute drogue is similar in concept to the ringsail and disk gap-band drogues used by NASA and the Aerospace Industry. Alby McCracken of Para-Anchors Australia has developed Dr. Le Sueur's idea - replete with drawstring drag adjustment - and is now offering models for sale (see Appendix III at the back of this publication).

Drogues on Catamarans

D/C-5 Catamaran, Catalac

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D/C-5

Catamaran, Catalac

41' x 18' x 8.5 Tons

5-Ft. Diameter Hybrid Parachute

Force 12 Conditions

 

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.

Drogues on Monohulls

D/M-17 Monohull, Cutter

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D/M-17

Monohull, Cutter

41' x 8 Tons, Modified Fin Keel

36" Dia. Galerider Drogue

Force 11 Conditions

 

File D/M-17, obtained from Michael & Doreen Ferguson, Auckland, NZ - Vessel name St. Leger, hailing port Vancouver, monohull, G.R.P. cutter, LOA 41' x 8 Tons - Modified fin keel - Drogue: 36" Diameter Galerider on 250' x 3/4" polypropylene three strand rode, with 5/8" stainless steel swivel - Deployed in the Queen's Birthday Storm in deep water about 400 miles south of Fiji with winds of 60 knots and seas of 40 ft. and greater - Speed was reduced to about 3.5 to 4 knots during 60 hours of deployment.

St. Leger was in the same June 1994 "Queen's Birthday Storm" that claimed three lives and numerous yachts. Her Canadian owners, Michael and Doreen Ferguson, sent the following report to Skip Raymond of Hathaway, Reiser and Raymond, who then forwarded it to Victor Shane for inclusion in the database. Transcript:

We launched St. Leger in 1 May 1982. She is a 41 ft. G.R.P. cutter with modified fin keel and fully unbalanced rudder, using a "Sayes Rig" self-steering vane. We moved aboard St. Leger the day before the launching and have lived aboard since 1982. We retired in 1991, Mike was a Sargent with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police - the NCO I/C of Marine Services with commercial maritime qualifications. After a hair raising experience in severe weather in Queen Charlotte Strait in 1989, we purchased a Galerider drogue directly from Hathaway, Reiser and Raymond after seeing an advertisement in a yachting magazine.

In May of 1991 we left our home port of Vancouver, Canada, and headed for Alaska. Thus began our life as full time cruisers. In April 1993 we crossed the Pacific from Mexico, arriving in New Zealand in November of that year.

In June 1994 we departed Tauranga, New Zealand, bound for Fiji, with only Michael and I aboard. At 1600 hrs on our second day out and approximately 75 miles from the North Cape of New Zealand, we first heard of a low pressure system situated over Vanuatu, predicted to track southeast into our intended path. The weather forecast in our area predicted southeast winds 35-40 knots, not particularly severe, so we decided to continue on our course under reduced sail. Later, under bare poles and in deteriorating conditions, we ran before it in very steep, short seas, and the wind sustained at 50 knots, with higher gusts.

DM17

At about midnight on day 2 of the storm we decided to deploy the Galerider as our boat speed was now 11-12 knots in precipitous seas. We deployed the Galerider using a single line off the starboard quarter, approximately 250 feet of 3/4 inch three strand polypropylene line. We selected polyprop three strand because of its floating ability. Our plan was to slow St. Leger down, whilst still maintaining steerage using the "Sayes Rig" vane, due to shorthanded crew. Immediately upon deployment our boat speed was reduced to 3.5 to 4 knots and we felt much more comfortable.

The wind vane continued to steer beautifully, but as St. Leger slowed down in the troughs of the huge seas the tow line and Galerider tried to catch up to us, leaving a loose coil of 12 to 15 feet of tow line floating in close proximity to the vane's trim-tab steering paddle. Fearing that the slack line might tangle in the trim-tab and surely tear it off, Mike began bringing in the slack each time we were in a trough, using a primary cockpit winch, until the Galerider was approximately 80-90 feet behind the boat. The drogue was in the same wave as St. Leger, but on the other side of the crest [on the back side]. We observed the Galerider for hours! A small "half-moon" section of the drogue was visible at times, and we noted the three strand polypropylene tow line did not unwind, nor did the Galerider oscillate or rotate. And best of all, this enabled the wind vane to steer the whole time.

We towed the Galerider without incident for 60 hours, with winds at 60+ knots (our "Swoffer" wind gauge was pegged at its limit). At approximately 0800 hrs on day 5 the wind had dropped to 18-20 knots. The low pressure system was east of the Kermadec Islands and moving away from us. The seas were still high, but we readily retrieved the Galerider, which was in almost new condition with no damage or excessive wear after a tough workout!

We should also mention that the New Zealand Air Force Orion aircraft searching the area [for other vessels in distress] made a low pass over us and we advised them by radio that we were OK and not in need of their assistance. Our sails were set and we spent the next week hard on the wind in light northerly winds with very lumpy, confused seas. We arrived safely in Suva, Fiji, where we exchanged tales of the "Queen's Birthday Storm" that claimed three lives and seven cruising yachts. Everyone involved was interested in what "worked" and what didn't.

Drogues on Monohulls

D/M-15 Monohull, Contest 40

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D/M-15

Monohull, Contest 40

40' x 8 Tons, Fin Keel

Series Drogue - 120 x 5" Dia. Cones 

Force 9-10 Conditions

LOCKHED2
A Jordan Series Drogue consists of dozens of small cones spliced into a long rode

 

File D/M-15, obtained from Robert J. Burns, Townsville, Australia - Vessel name Peter Sanne, hailing port Detroit, MI, monohull, Contest 40, center cockpit ketch designed by Conyplex, LOA 39' 9" x LWL 29' x Beam 12'6" x Draft 6' x 8 Tons - Fin keel - Drogue: Jordan series, 120 x 5" diameter cones on 300' x 3/4" nylon double braid rode, with bridle arms of 15' each and 35 lb. anchor at the end of the array - Deployed in a whole gale in the Gulf Stream with winds of 45-55 knots and seas of 20 ft. - Vessel's stern yawed 20° - Drift was about 12-15 nm during 6 hours of deployment, with a 3-4 knot current running.

 

Robert Burns made up his series drogue with the help of Professor Noël Dilly (previous file). En route to Newport from Bermuda he ran into a whole gale in the Gulf Stream and deployed it. Six hours later he lost the series drogue due to chafe. He then deployed a 2-ft. diameter conical parachute type drogue. This is an important file which provides an immediate comparison between the two different drogue concepts. The following are excerpts from Burns's article entitled Streaming A Drogue, appearing in the December 1993 edition of Yachting Monthly (reproduced by permission):

I've run before rising gales, but never with such menacing seas. There were three distinct inter-active wave patterns that combined to form massive pyramids which collapsed periodically in an immense surge of white water. As long as I could avoid the breaking portion of the waves there was little danger of sustaining damage from the mass of breaking seas colliding with the yacht.... We were truly surfing now, down wave faces that would break behind us, catching us as we increased speed, then engulfing the yacht in white water. Steering required intense concentration to keep the stern pointing in the direction of the breaking sea and present the minimum surface area, reducing risk of broaching. I was conscious of the forces of the rudder. The last thing we needed was to lose steerage.... If the storm was going to build for another four hours, it was time to try another tactic before it got too dark to see what we were doing.... The series drogue consisted of a 300ft length of 3/4" double braid nylon that had 120 5-inch diameter cones spliced onto the line through their axes. The drogue had an anchor attached to the outboard end for a weight and was attached to the stern with a bridle. The gusts were furious now. The seas were 25-30 feet with faces at 45 degrees and 50 degrees and breaking frequently. The shrieking of the wind in the rigging and the whip-like crackling of the ensign was making me most anxious. It was time to stop. We were above hull speed most of the time now, and it was hard to control the vessel. I sent Curley astern to kick the anchor over the side that would commence the deployment of the drogue.

The drogue had been rigged at the stern with anchor attached. As soon as the weight was released the drogue line paid itself out of its storage box. The tow line streaked out with dramatic speed and force. After less than a minute the drogue was deployed and the cones began to exert their resistive force on the bridle. The slowing effect was phenomenal. Deploying the drogue was like bungee jumping off a 30ft wave with a 40ft. yacht. The feeling of being elastically attached to the sea itself is hard to imagine. After a minute or so we had slowed from 8 knots to 1.5 knots. The stern was pointed aggressively into the wind and sea. It was as if we had entered a calm harbor of refuge. The yacht held her position near the top of the waves' crests. When a wave approached and threatened to break on board, the drogue would pull us up and over the top of the breaking waves. There was no possibility of a breaking wave hitting us broadside, as we were always above the majority of the white water.

We furled the remaining portion of the jib, tied off the helm, checked to make sure everything on deck was secured, and then went below. Inside the main cabin the noise of the gale was much less. With the reduction in the yacht's motion, our situation seemed not too bad. We were all exhausted and took the opportunity to try to get some sleep. The time was 2130. I got up several times to check the situation. Despite the roar of breaking seas as we were pulled over the tops of breaking waves, I slept surprisingly well....

At about 0230 the sound of waves falling on deck seemed to increase and the motion of the yacht changed. Gone was the elastic "bungee effect." I was about to climb out of my bunk and put on harness to inspect the rig, when the boat heeled sharply to port under the force of a wave striking the starboard quarter. The sound of flowing water was everywhere. In the next instant the companionway doors shattered, and an angry stream of water rushed into the saloon.... I reached for the nearest overhead light... it came on to reveal the main saloon with 2-3ft of seawater sloshing above the cabin sole. Debris of the splintered hatch floated with charts, books, wet blankets and sleeping bags. The cockpit was full to the top of the coamings with frothing sea water. The night was dark, but I could still make out the towering peaks of white water around and above us. I glanced at the wind instruments; we were lying with the wind just aft of the beam, we had no headway. "So," I thought, "this is what it is like to lie a-hull." The priorities were to clear the boat of water, and try to repair the shattered companionway in case we were boarded by another sea. And to check what had happened to the drogue. The crew were in favor of launching the life raft. I recalled previous conversations about abandoning a damaged yacht. In the 1979 Fastnet Race it had been a major contributor to loss of life. We were still very much afloat. The thought of taking to a life raft was not at all appealing to me.... My priority was to reset the drogue.

I found the bridle dangling over the transom, severed on both sides. The 3/4" nylon bridle had been abraded by the self-steering mounting brackets. There was damage to the stern pulpit and deck fittings, evidence of the forces and motion exerted on the hull by the drogue before it parted the bridle. It was imperative to get the stern facing the seas again. I pulled several lengths of anchor rode and mooring lines out of the aft lazarette, tied them together, and streamed them over the transom. This had little effect as the line was mostly polypropylene and skipped along the surface. Every moment we continued to lie a-hull we were at risk of being struck by another breaking monster. I recalled that I also had a small hand-made parachute-type sea anchor stowed below. My wife had constructed it some years ago for our coastal cruising around Tasmania and it had never been used.

The parachute sea anchor was a 2ft diameter cone made of synthetic canvas with ¼" polypropylene lines braided together to form the shrouds. It looked frail in comparison to what it had to stand up against. I tied the parachute to the longest length of line and let it slip over the side. Nothing happened at first. When all 300ft of line was out and the chute was subject to some forward motion the line came taut. There was no bridle now, so the tow line was only attached to the starboard stern cleat. The yacht yawed to port, aligning the stern almost into the wind and sea. Our forward velocity was about 2 knots. Big waves would cause us to surge forward and down the waves faces, as the chute didn't have sufficient surface area to slow us down against the push of big seas. We were much better off now. If the chute held we would be safe.

Gone was the feeling of "bungee jumping" [associated with the series drogue]. The forces exerted by the chute were sharper [jerkier] and nowhere near as powerful. However, the strategy of lying stern-to was still the most comfortable and safe. The little chute did well. We had no serious broadside wave strikes, even though there were still a lot of breaking seas around us. The chute was not able to pull us up and over the breaking waves, so the occasional wave dumped on the stern. As the yacht had a center cockpit, there was less danger of it being filled.... Dawn came slowly. The fury was fading from the wind and it seemed like the little chute would see us through the gale.... We cranked out a tiny bit of jib from the furling gear. The yacht pointed directly downwind, similar to riding with the series drogue. I wondered why I had not thought of using a bit of jib earlier.... By noon 6 June we had crossed the Gulf Stream axis into the cold water of the US continental shelf.

Robert Burns constructed another series drogue for his next boat, the 50-ft. aluminum Holman & Pye ketch, Eclipse, which he and his wife Kathryn sailed to Australia.

 

Sea Anchors on Trimarans

S/T-11 Trimaran, Simpson

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SIMPSONS/T-11

Trimaran, Simpson

43' x 27' x 5.5 Tons

18-Ft. Dia. Sea Anchor

Force 9 Conditions

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!

 

Sea Anchors on Trimarans

S/T-9 Trimaran, Condor

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triple_shockS/T-9

Trimaran, Condor

40' x 28' x 3 Tons

18-Ft. Dia. Sea Anchor

Force 10 Conditions

 

File S/T-9, obtained from Phil Herting, Coconut Grove, FL. - Vessel name Triple Shock, hailing port Norfolk VA, trimaran designed by Condor Ltd., LOA 40' x Beam 28' x Draft 8' (20" board up) x 3 Tons - Sea anchor: 18-ft. Diameter Para-Tech on 400' x 5/8" nylon braid tether (no bridle) with 5/8" stainless steel swivel - Full trip line - Deployed in a gale in deep water about 120 miles west of Miami with winds of 50 knots and seas of 15-20 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 45° (without bridle) - Drift was estimated to be 15 n.m. during 7 hours of deployment.

Triple Shock was on her way back to Miami from Jamaica, after participating in the Miami-Montego Race. The wind had been building for some time when the aluminum rudder cage split, leading to complete loss of steering control. The para-anchor was deployed to stabilize an emergency situation. No bridle was used, just a single rode leading off the main hull, as a result of which the bow would yaw considerably off the wind. With the weather deteriorating, a nearby Coast Guard vessel was asked to render assistance. Delivery skipper Phil Herting said that the seas were so large that the 110' CG cutter, Madagorda, would periodically disappear from view in the troughs. Transcript:

 We were NNE of Great Issacs in deteriorating conditions when the aluminum fabricated rudder cage split. Upon breaking, the boat rounded up and then stalled. We immediately dropped the main and rolled up the balance of the jib. At that point we deployed the para-anchor. This device was utilized to stabilize an emergency situation and was deployed to ride out some bad weather. Because of the immediacy created out of the breakage we had to deploy it as fast as we could and with what line we had immediately available. For this reason the first line tied to the para-anchor was a 1/2" pre-stretched Dacron backup spinnaker halyard.

This immediately proved to be a mistake. The shock load transmitted back through the line was unbelievable. Realizing our mistake we then attached 250' of 3/4" three strand nylon. Though the nylon reduced the shock loading, it created another problem. I elected not to attach the second rode to a bridle because I wanted to save that for the tow from the CG cutter. So we led the rode through the bow chock to a primary winch. This enabled us to adjust the line when replacing chafing gear. And the chafe was the problem. Because the distance from the winch to the chock was so great, it created a longer spring and chafe area on the line. In retrospect, I should have deployed the nylon rode first and then had a Dacron tail. This would have minimized the chafe at the chock.

The Madagorda, the 110' cutter that came to our assistance, said that our rescue was done in the worst weather in which they had ever attempted one. They did a phenomenal job, though it did take 3 hours to get us a heaving line. One reason for this was the fact that the parachute was sitting right where they wanted to position themselves when getting us the towline.

What are you going to do? I hate to think of the situation if we had not had the para-anchor with us. It should be considered a vital piece of gear when making any substantial offshore passage.

Sea Anchors on Trimarans

S/T-8 Trimaran, Cross

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CROSS42S/T-8

Trimaran, Cross

42' x 23' x 7 Tons

18-Ft. Dia. Sea Anchor

Force 9-10 Conditions

 

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.

 

Sea Anchors on Trimarans

S/T-7 Trimaran, “Rose-Noëlle”

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GLENNIES/T-7

Trimaran, "Rose-Noëlle"

41' x 26' x 6.5 Tons

24-Ft. Dia. Parachute Sea Anchor

Force 8-10 Conditions

File S/T-7, obtained from John Glennie, New Zealand - Vessel name Rose-Noëlle, hailing port Nelson, New Zealand, trimaran designed and built by John Glennie, LOA 41' x Beam 26' x Draft 3' x 6.5 Tons - Sea anchor: 24-ft. Diameter military chest reserve parachute on 300' x 3/4" 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 150 miles southeast of the East Cape of New Zealand with winds of 40-60 knots and seas of 20 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Fouled trip line collapsed the parachute after 10 hours, allowing the trimaran to lie a-hull and be capsized by a rogue wave - Crew survived 118 days adrift inside the inverted hull.

 

On 4 June 1989 the trimaran Rose-Noëlle capsized some 140 miles east of the Wairapa coast of New Zealand. The crew of four spent 118 days adrift inside the upturned hull. The incident subsequently became a source of some controversy, leading to an investigation by the New Zealand Ministry of Transport. John Glennie's exclusive story was first published in the November 1989 issue of New Zealand Yachting. Later, John wrote a book about the ordeal called Spirit of Rose-Noëlle.

John Glennie is an institution in the land of Down Under. New Zealand and Australian magazines have referred to him as Free Spirit of the Pacific. John and his brother David started out by building a 35' Piver Lodestar trimaran in their Father's Marlborough farm shed in America. They named it Highlight and sailed away. After spending eight years roaming all over the Pacific, John and David wound up in Australia, where they worked on and delivered many famous boats, including Mike Kane's Spirit Of America, a Kraken 55 trimaran of Lock Crowther design.

Glennie's own boat, Rose-Noëlle, took nineteen years of intermittent work to build and launch. John sailed it to the Great Barrier Reef, then across the Tasman Sea to New Zealand, where he gained boat-building work at Paremata, working with the brother of New Zealand's America's Cup helmsman, David Barnes. Every cent that he earned went into equipping Rose-Noëlle for self-sufficiency on high seas. Innovative rigging, water still, solar panels, radios, radar, etc., and a 24-ft. diameter parachute sea anchor.

Rose-Noëlle set sail from Picton New Zealand on June 1st (winter Down Under), headed for warm waters and Tonga. The crew consisted of John Glennie, Philip Hoffman, Rich Hellriegel and Jim Napelka. On the third day out they ran into a southerly gale and for a while used a Sea Squid (bullet-shaped Australian plastic drogue) to slow the boat down. Later they stopped the boat and deployed the parachute sea anchor. It pulled the three bows of Rose-Noëlle into 20-ft. seas and kept them there for the next ten hours.

The full trip line, probably left hanging loose in the sea, must have fouled with the parachute because sometime after those ten hours the trimaran began to yaw increasingly from side to side, until finally she was lying a-hull. It was night and little could be done. An hour or so later, the crew heard the approach of a great roaring noise, much like that of a huge - Hawaiian - surf wave. The rogue wave hit the boat broadsides and rolled her over very quickly. In the article that appeared in New Zealand Yachting Glennie stated that just before the capsize the wind had eased and he was concerned that without the wind "regulating" the seas, two or three waves might "ring hands and turn into rogues."

After the capsize it took the crew a while to settle down to the business of survival. Wrote Glennie, "I had to keep their hopes up and get them over the shock of the first stage. If people give up, they die." Eventually they all adapted, surviving the next 118 days adrift inside the inverted hull of the trimaran. There was plenty of food left inside, and the problem of fresh water was solved when John devised a system for collecting and storing rain water. From then on it was patience and perseverance, despite numerous gales, saltwater sores, and the occasional brawl that one might expect in such dire and cramped circumstances.

The inverted trimaran drifted "all over the place." It is estimated that she covered, ignominiously, a journey of nearly 2,000 miles, during which the cramped crew experienced somewhere between 17-20 gales - an average of one every week! And astonishingly enough, four months after the Royal New Zealand Air Force planes had given up the search for Rose-Noëlle she washed back up unto Great Barrier Island, at the edge of the Hauraki Gulf, the well-populated sailing area of New Zealand. Transcript of hand-written notes that accompanied John Glennie's feedback:

The para-anchor worked well and I was most impressed till it fouled.... The trip line fouled the chute and with the chute partially collapsed we lay a-hull.... The wave was so big that it would have rolled the Cutty Sark! They [rogue waves] are out there. I think three waves got together, so it was probably 60 feet high. I saw a similar 60-ft. vertical wall of water in 1968, mid-winter, 43° south, below Tahiti. Water was running down its face and I remember the noise it made as it came towards us.... Next time I won't use a trip line. I could have got the chute back in with the electric capstan in the calm after the storm.

 

Full trip lines should be kept FAIRLY TAUT so they do not hang down in the sea and foul the rode and parachute.
Full trip lines should be kept FAIRLY TAUT so they do not hang down in the sea and foul the rode and parachute.

A reminder that the Casanovas used full trip lines for eighteen years with seldom a foul-up. According to John Casanova, the trick is to have a small swivel at the float, and keep the trip line fairly taut - no excess slack hanging loose in the sea to foul with the parachute or rode. Bear in mind, also, that if the wind force increases the main rode will elongate, requiring that the full trip line be slackened off accordingly (otherwise it may trip the canopy). By checking the trip line tension on a regular basis, one can tell if it is too loose, or too tight. One should also use the binoculars to keep an eye on the big red float itself. If it is behaving awkwardly - as though it had hooked onto a big fish - it may mean the trip line is too tight and needs to be slackened off a little.

Sea Anchors on Trimarans

S/T-4 Trimaran, Condor

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CONDORS/T-4

Trimaran, Condor

40' x 28' x 3 Tons

18-Ft. Dia. Sea Anchor

Force 7-8 Conditions


File S/T-4, obtained from Jack Hunt, Apollo Beach, FL. - Vessel name Crystal Catfish IV, hailing port Apollo Beach - Trimaran, designed by Condor Ltd., LOA 40' x Beam 28' x Draft 8' (20" board up) x 3 Tons - Sea anchor: 18-ft. Diameter Para-Tech on 400' x 1/2" nylon three strand tether and bridle arms of 80' each, with 5/8" galvanized swivel - No trip line - Deployed during passage of low system in deep water in the Gulf of Mexico about 125 miles WNW of Tampa with winds of 30-40 knots and seas of 15 ft. - Vessel's bow yawed 10° - Drift was estimated to be about 2 n.m. during 12 hours at sea anchor.

 

Jack Hunt is a veteran of the 1980 and 1984 OSTARs (Observer Singlehanded Trans-Atlantic Race) in which he sailed a 31-ft. monohull named Crystal Catfish III. After making the switch to a lightweight, fast multihull, Jack ended up using a Para-Tech sea anchor during the 500-mile single-handed qualifying run, in preparation for the 1988 OSTAR. In a related article which appeared in the January/February issue of Multihulls, Jack describes conditions in the Gulf of Mexico in the winter as "a battleground of warm and cold fronts, locked in fifteen-round bare-knuckled battles for supremacy, much like the English Channel in June, except the waves in the Channel have the decency to come from the same direction as the wind." Here is a transcript of the DDDB feedback your author obtained from Jack:

 

Two things caught me by surprise in the twelve hour winter ride [at sea anchor] in the Gulf. First, how much stretch there is in nylon rode. Chafe protection is a must. Second, the "G-forces" which result from the boat being lifted up on a wave top (increased G-force) and then let down into a trough (reduced G-force), much as one would feel on a roller coaster. These forces are a characteristic, I suspect, of the lightweight multihull configuration, having nothing to do with the para-anchor and not at all a problem, just surprise. Because I am alone I do not use a trip line; not enough hands. Instead, I winch the rode in until the para-anchor is within reach with a boat hook and then pick up a shroud line. All of which nets me quite a mess hurriedly stuffed into a bag on a trampoline, so I can get back to tending the suddenly underway boat. Re-folding the chute for its next use presents me with the "one-legged sailor at an ass-kicking contest" scenario. Consequently I have acquired a parachute for use in between the time I haul out the para-anchor and can get it re-folded, if something should develop. The [aerial] parachute is not nearly as rugged as the para-anchor, however, so I remain motivated to work out a more reliable re-folding routine.

The only question remaining for me is, "why didn't I use a para-anchor all those years I had a monohull?" Probably had to do with the false heroism of getting the hell kicked out of me and my boat while hove-to. I should have had this para-anchor years ago.