Moment Near Disaster

I'm sure you've heard the expression, "My life is measured by hours of boredom punctuated by moments of terror." The expression may be a bit overstated but it is essentially true. A life's memories consist primarily of a few choice moments. When we approached retirement, Libby and I thought back on life's choice moments and we realized that very many of them were moments on sailboats. This is the story of one of those moments.

One fine fall day in the mid 1970s we decided to go sailing on Champlain. At the time, Libby and I owned a 19 foot O'Day Mariner. Our friends John and Mary Ann owned an International 14. The Mariner was a day sailor, while the 14 was a classic wooden racing dinghy. We couldn't decide which boat to sail so we brought both of them up to Chazy where Libby's aunt and uncle owned a lovely place on the lake. My sister Nancy also came along for the day trip.

It was a long drive up, more than 3.5 hours en route, but the day was sunny and it was windy. Very windy. At the time I had no sailing experience on Lake Champlain so I didn't fully respect the dangers.

We decided that first out, we would take the 14. It was meant for a crew of two, so John and I hopped in and set out. I believe that we were wearing life jackets, but I don't remember for sure. At first, the ride was exhilarating. The 14 came out of the water and planed right away and we zoomed along. I loved it. It was my first (and last) time sailing on her. However, the further we got away from shore, the stronger the winds. I believe that the winds were in excess of 30 knots. Very soon we were fully engaged in trying to keep her upright. We hooked our feet under the hiking straps and leaned way back to windward. Then John headed her high in to the wind to control the heeling forces.

The 14 was equipped with a trapeze. I always wanted to try out a trapeze. To this day I still haven't done that. A trapeze is a rig that leads a line from high up on the mast down to a hook at chest height. To use it, you wear a harness with a ring on your chest. You hook the ring on to the trapeze hook and then you can let go with both hands, set your feet on the side of the hull and lean back until your head is just above the water, thus maximizing the righting moment of your body. On this day, I couldn't let go or move my body enough to use the trapeze without risking a capsize.

We began taking on water over the leeward rail because of excessive heel. However, the 14 had a self bailer that efficiently sucked the water right back out. When we were about 1 mile out from shore we decided that we must come about. Coming about on such a little boat is difficult. You have to get very low to get your body under the boom, then crawl up to the rail on the other side. At the same time, these motions of two crew persons must be coordinated with the changing heading of the boat to counterbalance the wind forces. Remarkably, we accomplished that maneuver without a hitch. Feeling in peril, we decided to head back in to the camp.

Heading back in meant that we were more on a broad reach than a close reach. The sails had to be eased, and we could not head in to the wind to ease heeling forces. It didn't work. In less than 30 seconds, the heeling forces overpowered us and we capsized. Fortunately, the water was not too cold. The next job was to get her righted and sail again.

We climbed up on the inverted hull and grabbed hold of the center board. Like magic, the boat turned over and righted herself. Also like magic, we climbed on board, grabbed the tiller and the sheets, and soon we were sailing again, but this time with a boat full of water.

With so much water in the boat she was very unstable. Still we miraculously held her upright and as we picked up speed, that neat little self bailer began to suck away all the water. I was impressed. However, before she was dry another gust came along and over we went again.

This time, righting the boat did not work well at all. Every time we grabbed the center board and rolled her over, the wind would catch the sail as she came up right and roll her over again the other way. We righted her three times and three times the wind knocked her down again before we could climb in. The mast had filled with water making the boat top heavy. There is supposed to be a foam ball at the top of the mast to provide buoyancy and to prevent water from filling the mast when capsized. We had no such ball. The third knockdown was the bad one. That time, the sails and the rig came down on top of John. Worse, the hook on the trapeze caught in John's clothes or his harness and it pulled him under water.

I was hanging on to the stern and I saw John's face being pulled under water. I held the boat with one hand and stretched out the other one to grab John's hand. When I had him, I pulled back in. His face came back above water but he was stuck. What to do next? I couldn't let go or try another approach without him being pulled under water again. Therefore, we both just continued to pull with our outstretched arms. Thankfully, after a minute or so, something snapped and released John. I think it was a bungee cord on the trapeze that snapped.

We were too cold and too tired to try to right the dinghy again, so we just hung on to the overturned hull. Eventually, Libby cousin Wendell saw our predicament and came out with a motor boat and rescued us. We towed the 14 back to shore upside down.

Well, like a bunch of fools, what do you think we did next after drying off? We launched the Mariner to go sailing of course. This time it was John and Nancy and I. We wanted to sail her up to the Little Chazy River where there was a boat ramp. Our experience on the Mariner was entirely different. The wind was still blowing at 30 plus knots and the chop was 4-5 feet. Yet the Mariner is a very seaworthy vessel and she handled the conditions very well. We sailed about 3 miles up wind to the river feeling perfectly secure and perfectly under control the whole way. The only excitement came when I tried to lower the jib.

The Mariner had no lifelines and a very small foredeck. I went up to the bow to lower the sail, but when I got there we were hit by a number of extra big waves. Up went the bow 6-8 feet, then down it crashed in to the trough. When it came down, my feet lifted off the deck and soon I was hanging horizontally in the air, four feet above the deck. Fortunately, I had a strong grip on the fore stay. I didn't let go. This happened three times before things settled down.

It wasn't until some days or weeks later when we reflected on what danger we were really in that day and how close John came to drowning. It is a memory I'm not fond of recalling.

So what was the lesson learned that day? Stay on shore you fools when the weather is too much for your vessel. What in the world were we thinking?