As we drove into Ushuaia from the new airport, Skip Novak pointed out a small cruise liner moored in the commercial port. She’d recently had her bridge windows smashed in by big seas while negotiating the Drake Passage between Antarctica and Tierra del Fuego. Several people had been injured.

The ship’s bridge looked to be about 60ft above the waterline and the thought of how that happened sent a shiver down my spine. Yet here we were about to set off in search of heavy weather in the vicinity of Cape Horn aboard a 54ft yacht. Who in their right mind goes looking for such hostility?

The answer on this occasion was a team of four: me and Elaine Bunting from Yachting World, plus freelance cameraman Richard Langdon and marine surveyor Jonathan Reynolds representing Pantaenius Yacht Insurance, who were partnering us in our quest.

Our aim was to research, film and photograph a 12-part series about the sort of heavy weather seamanship most sane yachtsmen never want to put to the test, but knowledge of which is essential for anyone undertaking serious passagemaking.

To find all 12 parts of Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques series, click on the ‘Storm Sailing’ tag at the top of this page, or go to the end of the article for a list of topics.

In our experience, most sailors have a healthy appetite for authoritative advice on this subject, to say nothing of taking a vicarious interest in how others cope in extremis. It became our Storm Sailing Techniques series, written by Skip Novak and supported by video.

But this is the story of how we got the story.

We sail aboard Pelagic

The yacht we were using, Pelagic, is no ordinary yacht and Skip Novak, her owner and the man behind Pelagic Expeditions, no ordinary yachtsman. After a string of round the world races, including, at the age of 25, skippering King’s Legend to 2nd place in the 1977 Whitbread, then Simon Le Bon’s Drum in the punishing 1985/86 event followed by Fazisi, the Soviet entry in 1989, Skip combined his mountaineering and sailing skills to set up Pelagic Expeditions to take people on high-latitude adventures.

Skip Novak – high latitudes guru

He has spent 24 seasons leading such expeditions, has become an authority on sailing and mountaineering in Antarctica and serves on the executive committee of the influential International Association of Antarctic Tour Operators (IAATO).

He launched the Patrick Banfield-designed Pelagic in the UK in 1987. This steel-built cutter with her lifting keel and rudder is a no-nonsense 30-ton yacht able to cope with ice abrasion and beaching. Skip describes Pelagic’s retractable appendages as her greatest asset: “Interesting for convenience, but ultimately important for safety. In polar regions her ability to get behind barrier rocks and moor to the shoreline in shallow water, makes her safe from drift ice and secure against high winds and seas.”

Her austral summer home port is Ushuaia in Tierra del Fuego in southern Argentina and during the winter she is moored in Stanley in the Falkland Islands. Her success led to the launch in 2003 of the 74ft ketch Pelagic Australis, an equally powerful aluminium vessel.

Pelagic, Skip’s 54-footer designed especially for expeditions in high latitudes

We first set eyes on Pelagic as she lay alongside a rickety jetty extending from the simple yacht club in Ushuaia. At 54.8°S Ushuaia is touted as the world’s most southerly city – the much smaller military settlements at Puerto Williams and Puerto Toro in Chile are, in fact, more southerly – and is ‘base camp’ for those heading for the Antarctic Peninsula 550 miles to the south and Cape Horn just 100 miles away.

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Let’s put to one side my previous life as an ocean racer. As a pioneer of the high-latitude charter in Pelagic, I have been ‘cruising’ (excuse the oxymoron) offshore south of 50°S for the last 25 years. The Southern Ocean dishes out high winds and big seas, and passages there are followed by seat-of-the-pants inshore navigation, mainly in unsounded waters along hostile shorelines; the Antarctic Peninsula, Tierra del Fuego and the sub-Antarctic island of South Georgia.

Combine all this and you naturally develop tried and tested methods and approaches to storm sailing systems and equipment to stay safe and stay comfortable – in two words, to stay ‘down there’. There is no need for dramas and epics, although we’ve certainly had some, now filed as learning experiences the hard way. Over time, however, what began as conservative habits eventually evolves into something more than just procedures.

I call it the Pelagic philosophy.

From demanding to doable

This philosophy makes what appears to be a horrendously difficult, physically demanding and psychologically wearing lifestyle perfectly doable. And the years roll by, with the happy revelation that you never tire of it all. This is hard to imagine from an armchair. But if you seek out open space, true wilderness and a sense of accomplishment that sets you apart – and I admit to that indulgence – then high-latitude sailing is for you.

I have been accused of many things. A dissatisfied client once told his friends I was running a boot camp instead of a charter business – something to do with force-marching the guests up the nearest mountain before dinner in every anchorage.

Also, I know well that I have been considered a Luddite of sorts, who is immune to the gadget trade; possibly some kind of primitive throwback simply because I still enjoy wailing away on manual winches and pulling on ropes – exerting myself for the hell of it, when I could be pushing buttons like so many do these days.

The beauty of simplicity

However, there is method in my apparent madness. The Pelagic philosophy has always been one of simplicity of systems and a belt-and-braces approach to all things on board. OK, so it might be a little less so now, but it certainly was when it evolved two decades ago, when we were based from Ushuaia in Tierra del Fuego and lived and worked in an environment with no marine services let alone spares readily available.

The nearest yachting centre was Buenos Aires 1,000 miles away. Communication was by telex and a tenuous and expensive phone link to the mainland. I didn’t see the first fax machine in Ushuaia until 1993 (and that was owned by a predatory shipping agent who tried to charge US$100 a page). Courier services were unreliable and Customs in places like Argentina was so draconian that if any shipment did reach you, it was best to cross your chest as it was almost divine intervention. Basically, we were on our own.

Some crews call it Luddite, but gear on Pelagic is there for necessity not for convenience

Aside from the ability to communicate via email on- and offshore, this situation has not changed much today, so the following observations remain valid for anyone embarking on a remote cruise, at least in that southern South American sector. I would also add that some of these frustrations and inconveniences had their charming side too!

Every cruising sailor should ask themselves two things before they embark on a long-term voyage. Am I cruising to see places and have experiences? Or am I cruising to fiddle around with my over-elaborated boat? Be honest.

There’s no harm in the latter – it can be a hobby turned into lifestyle. But if you take this tack it’s best to sail close to the marine service centres of the world – unless, that is, you happen to be either an ex-Royal Navy engineer or a tech geek who is happy to remain dockside for extended periods in the middle of nowhere fixing things.

Of course, the genre of larger yachts of the superyacht category operate within entirely different circumstances. (Similarly, a distinction must be made between them and the couple on a 40- to 100-footer or those on professionally crewed family cruisers.) Because of their size and unwieldy sail plans, superyachts can only be managed by sophisticated systems supported by maintenance contracts.

The crunch question: are you cruising to see the world or to fiddle on the boat?

As an example, most captains and crews are not trusted (nor allowed) to tune their own rigs because they usually come under a maintenance contract with the mastmaker. Therefore, superyachts and their particular tribulations are not within the scope of this series.

A cruising ethos

But if seeing the world is your mission, with your boat merely a means to an end (and especially if you want to go remote, whether in the tropics or high latitudes), you need to think your modi operandi out clearly. The climber/surfer/entrepreneur Yvonne Chounaird, who founded and still owns Patagonia, has a great take on this: “Consider every piece of technology that comes your way. Take what is absolutely necessary and discard the rest.” He was talking about a certain quality of life, but the mindset can apply to any application.

It’s an attitude at once anathema to designers, builders, equipment suppliers – many of whom who have done little or no cruising – and most of the people who read and support this magazine. It is a brave editor even to publish the heresy in these pages. But there is a place for gadgets, innovation, experimentation and pushing the limits – it is the Mediterranean, northern Europe, US and the city centres of Australasia. Because this approach costs in money as much as lost cruising time.

Time and time again I witnessed yachts dock-bound, behind schedule or missing a window completely because the mainsail wouldn’t disappear into the boom or mast (or come back out). Or they were waiting for parts for a system that wasn’t fundamental to the cruise, more a convenience.

Boots and buckets

Naturally, if you have a garbage compacter or washing machine you expect it to work and it is frustrating when it doesn’t. Yet I am always incredulous when I see departures delayed or scrubbed when, to use the examples above, a booted foot in a plastic bag and a bucket will do the jobs nicely.

In this series my crew and I on Pelagic will demonstrate some manoeuvres that many of you have done ad infinitum. We will also look at some equipping issues. You may consider some of these comments and observations somewhat oversimplified and retro. So be it. I find at sea I am continually learning, but also continually unlearning what doesn’t work.

To get from A to B in one piece and be able to enjoy what B has to offer is the thing. Sticking to first principles works every time. My advice: simplify your boat, its systems and your mindset. It can be a liberating experience.

Part 2: expedition yacht design

Skip Novak gives us a tour of Pelagic and Pelagic Australis to show what makes them special for high-latitudes sailing.

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

You can subscribe to the whole series for the year.

The post Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques Part 1: the Pelagic Philosophy appeared first on Yachting World.

It doesn’t require a sailor’s tutored eye to realise that Pelagic and Pelagic Australis are vastly different platforms, both in size and sophistication. However, as storm sailing expedition vessels, they fulfill essentially the same function.

To call them yachts in the classic sense would stretch the use of the word. I prefer to think of them as vehicles – a means to voyage in remote areas rather than objects in themselves. Once you accept this philosophy, things like style for style’s sake, an innovative appearance, maintenance to resolve wear and tear issues that are purely cosmestic – all of these things become somewhat irrelevant.

The Pelagics are workboats, pure and simple; built robustly for storm sailing and with complicated systems kept to a minimum. This is as much about our philosophy as it is about sailing integrity. I am continually amazed by cruisers who say they want to get away from it all, then load up the boat with the same (or more) conveniences as they would have at home.

Pelagic

I like to describe the original Pelagic as a boat with a history. Three partners, Phil Wade, Chuck Gates and me, all crew members from the maxi Drum in the 1985-86 Whitbread Race, hatched the idea of building an expedition cruising boat for what was essentially a time-share schedule year on year. Patrick Banfield, also on Drum, sketched his ideas in a notebook on the last leg coming up the Atlantic and agreed to design the boat gratis.

After a painful, underfunded DIY construction and a somewhat traumatic maiden delivery south for her first Antarctic expedition in autumn 1987, she was put into service and to this day remains the tried and tested junior member of the two-strong Pelagic Expeditions fleet.

Quarter century of service

She has never failed us in over 25 years of high latitude sailing. The cast of characters that have sailed with us is legion, well documented in print and in dozens of expedition films for broadcast from many countries around the world – some watchable, many embarrassing.

The fundamentals of Pelagic are her steel construction, a swing, lifting-ballast keel, swing rudder and a cutter rig. The inspiration was a string of French boats of the 1980s with swing keels, but with an unbalanced fixed rudder on a full skeg.

Jerome Poncet, who opened up the concept of habitual voyaging as a lifestyle in high southern latitudes, made these Michel Joubert designs famous with his schooner Damien II. A Damien became a generic term for any lifting-keel metal yacht around the 55ft mark.

For Pelagic we designed a more efficient hull shape with a sloop rig and a deeper balanced rudder that swung to skeg depth, always important when going shallow to escape volatile winds in anchorages and avoid drift ice in the Antarctic, not to mention to let you dry out on the tide.

Fuel is always an issue for extended projects, so we maximised the capacity by filling the bilge with fuel (in tanks, mind you). We carry 2,800lt. A crude doghouse in glassfibre was added just before launching (an afterthought, admittedly) and this was extended in Cape Town in 1992.

Flush deck with spools of polypropylene ropes for tying to shore

This was in the era well before the present trend to design a proper deckhouse first as the main living area, then plan the rest of the boat underneath it.

Up close and personal

The interior was dictated by the substantial slice of boat taken out amidships by the lifting keel, which forces the main saloon/day area/galley aft to the transom. Two double cabins are located either side of the keel case, with two singles to port forward.

Circulation is a loop around the keel case – if there is a traffic jam to port, make for the starboard side. Two sea-going pilot berths are outboard of the saloon area. She can take eight people all-up, nice and cosy, five to six in more comfort.

To be frank, this layout is in the old style of cruising where privacy is an illusion and noises and smells from the galley (and more to the point from the single head) are evident. I’ll never forget the American lady who took the walk-through tour before her trip to Tierra del Fuego. “Whaddya mean, you’ve only got one toilet?!” she demanded.

The saloon and two pilotberths are in the stern, owing to the lifting keelbox forward

From the start we knew accommodation space would be compromised by expedition equipment. In any case, the tendency to push cabins well forward to increase the numbers aboard for extra income was not in our interests. It certainly wouldn’t have been in the interests of the unlucky sod who would have had to sleep there at sea. Consequently, a spacious walk-in forepeak begins just forward of the mast base and easily accommodates a workbench, our two inflatable boats, two outboards, spare ground tackle, expedition gear (dive or mountaineering equipment), plus room for fruit and veg in heavy-duty plastic boxes.

When I look at most modern yacht designs with virtually no forepeak and an excuse for a lazarette, I imagine hours of struggle, bruised fingers and endless frustration when trying to fit in all the equipment required for high latitudes. Consigning gear to the deck while passagemaking, however well lashed, is a no-no. At least it is where we sail.

Pelagic Australis at anchor in the Beagle Channel

Pelagic Australis

Created after 14 years of expeditions on Pelagic and with an established charter business based out of the Beagle Channel, Pelagic Australis was the culmination of all that we had learned. I came up with the concept, but she was designed by Tony Castro and I have to give him huge credit as a professional of client/designer relations; he designed what I wanted in spite of several conflicts about aesthetic considerations.

Built in a commercial shipyard in Durban, South Africa, in 2002-03, she is certified by DNV (Det Norske Veritas), is CE-marked and licensed to carry passengers for all oceans, Category 0. No expense was spared in getting the paperwork correct, as painful as it was. She is aluminium rather than steel, largely unpainted purely for cost reasons.

The main requirement to grow the charter business was more volume, but without a significant increase in numbers aboard. We can take eight charter guests in comfort plus three crew, which can be stretched under her MCA 24m rule to 12 guests and three crew, which we have had on occasion while providing logistical support. Two heads were deemed adequate.

State-of-the-art satellite communications were a must, especially for media projects. Just as important is a powerful propulsion system: a 250hp Cummins with a four-bladed fixed prop that we freewheel under sail. Getting from A to B efficiently is what the game is all about down south, not least to be able to dodge the weather. We seldom sail below six knots, so have sacrificed a substantial amount of light-air performance with a shorter rig and minimally cut sails.

Raise the temperature

Only by being bolshy and knowing exactly the boat I wanted in order to achieve the same Pelagic-style of expedition cruising was I able to mitigate the added complications that go with a bigger vessel and are always encouraged by suppliers – no surprise there. When you have sorted out your propulsion unit, drive train, steering system, rig and reliable instruments (ours are from Raymarine) you can cast off – everything else is superfluous to the voyage.

An exception for high latitudes is a good heating system. We run a Danish Refleks fishing boat diesel heater that runs 24/7 and doubles as a hob. Most people are surprised that we have no watermaker. We prefer to take it from the waterfalls of Tierra del Fuego and the run-off from the glaciers of Antarctica. The former is better for your whisky, the latter is everywhere, so why not?

Though at the limits for a sloop rig on a 74-footer, we are still fully manual for winches and furlers and they’ve worked for ten years. I wanted a relatively flat working deck with minimum camber throughout and no sunken cockpits. This concept begins when you step out of the watertight door and continues aft, then forward to include the areas around the mast and for reefing.

A safe working area near the mast protected by coamings, also gives room to stow a 4m Zodiac on deck

Both the mast area and cockpit are enclosed inside open-ended raised fingers that give one a sense of security. The cockpit is exceptional from a working point of view; it is uncluttered and safe when handling the winches at a comfortable waist height. A sliding hatch spans the pilothouse roof aft, so people can sit outside under cover without having to get fully kitted up. It was a consideration for queasy guests – pass them a bucket and let them get on with it.

The interior follows the same concepts as Pelagic in view of the ballast keel layout, with three double cabins either side of the keel case and the saloon area aft, which can seat 12 around the table, backed by a full beam-width library (facing forward, so the books don’t fall out). The floor level is the same from stem to stern barring a lift to the pilothouse level, with more than adequate headroom throughout – no ducking and diving except when passing through three watertight bulkheads. The massive walk-in forepeak takes all the heavy gear.

Room with a view

The heart of the boat, though, is the pilothouse. Under way or at anchor it is a focal point with a 360˚ view from settees. While crossing the Drake Passage, it is a popular gathering point to watch the sea and weather conditions in perfect comfort.

The heart of the ship – a Refleks diesel stove and a calorifier supply all the cabin radiators forward

The idea of a cruising boat where you are either below and visually unaware of conditions outside, or are outside on a flush deck facing the weather now seems absurd. But I only realised this when I reached 50.

Bragging rights? Well, I once crossed the Drake Passage (granted, while reaching in a steady 30-35 knots) without ever putting on foulweather gear nor seaboots; furling and unfurling headsails and tweaking mainsheet trim dressed only in my mid-layer and slippers. Well, at least we did on my watch!

Part 3: storm sails

Skip Novak demonstrates storm sail configurations, plus we test a trysail against a mainsail with a fourth reef in some very windy conditions and show why the latter is the best solution.

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

The post Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques Part 2: expedition yacht design appeared first on Yachting World.

I have to admit to being highly amused when I hear what pundits have to say about storm jibs and storm trysails. In my IOR racing days (I go back to the days before headfoils!), we often used the No 5 – in effect, a storm jib, hanked onto the headstay by a crew of heavyweights while half-underwater.

Trysails? Well, I used one once on the last leg of the 1981-82 Whitbread Round the World Race. We were in a blow off the Azores and had damaged the mainsail. But we wouldn’t have bothered if we weren’t racing.

So-called storm sails that spend 99.9 per cent of their time stowed below decks gathering mould are all very good in theory. But believe me, they are a nightmare to deploy in practice unless you are so conservative that you are content to fly almost nothing in near-calm conditions before the gale to storm force winds and seas that you anticipate some time in the future. This hypothetical ‘wait and see’ approach can be dispiriting.

We are talking about cruising here which is, by definition, short-handed; often double-handed and sometimes single-handed. To my way of thinking, your storm sails should be rigged and ready to go, deployed early but at the right time, set easily and without fuss or risk.

The trysail dilemma

The dilemma over whether to reef or set a trysail is no dilemma at all once you convince your sailmaker to put a fourth reef in your mainsail. They don’t like it as a rule and will argue on points such as the weight penalty aloft. And for some there are aesthetic considerations.

Remember, though, that we are considering world cruising, not performance cruising, which can quickly become a misnomer in anything above about 25 knots of wind. Yes, a fourth reef is more costly, but it is well worth it.

The only way to convince yourself of this concept is to take the time in a blow offshore and deploy your storm trysail as an exercise, which is what we did to show you in the video that goes with this feature.

With four reefs in the main, it effectively becomes a trysail

Many serious cruisers worth their salt permanently stow their trysail along the boom, loaded onto a secondary track, and even have a secondary main halyard all ready to go. But there is still a lot of work to do – properly securing the mainsail and primary halyard for a start. Starting the manoeuvre by locating the trysail where you thought it was below is more testing.

Hoisting a trysail in storm conditions can be problematic. By that stage you are usually running before the wind and the sail will plaster itself against the rig, creating enormous friction. A slack halyard – it always goes slack at some point during this manoeuvre – can easily swing forward of the spreaders, and all kinds of handling errors can occur, things that are never practised enough. And when it is blowing 40-plus knots, flogging trysail sheets can get dramatic, able to crack open your head.

So why not do a manoeuvre that you do all the time instead: taking in a reef? There is no difference between this and taking in the first, second or third reef. In fact, taking in a fourth is even easier as there is not much sail left. What remains will be about trysail size, defined as something less than 0.175 x P (luff length) x E (foot length).

The first, slightly precarious step of getting a trysail up is lowering the main and wrangling it down the luff track

It is a matter of a few minutes to shorten down to storm configuration. The clew height of all the reefs should rise slightly as you shorten down, to be significant for the third and fourth reef. The seas will be big by this stage and a roll with the boom end in the water could end in tears. Admittedly, a trysail would not suffer this risk.

The fact is, unless things become very dire, such as the classic scenario of having to claw off a lee shore, few people would bother to use a trysail once the main has come down from three reefs, which happens often as the third reef usually leaves a massive amount of sail. Sailing under a partially rolled up jib alone is fine if you are content corkscrewing your way off the wind and rolling around underpowered.

The trysail is set up, sheets reeved and hoisted above the stacked main

If you have to reach, even with the wind at, say, 60-80° apparent in big seas, you will go nowhere.

With a fourth reef and a properly shaped storm jib, you should be able to carry on in well over 40 knots, roughly in the direction you want to go, in balance and in some modicum of comfort.

It must be pointed out that if you did blow the head off the mainsail or suffer any significant damage above the fourth reef, this whole argument becomes moot. Therefore, as the various regulations stipulate, carry a trysail in case and as the name suggests, ‘try’ to learn how to use it.

Storm jibs

There seems to be a plethora of solutions for setting storm jibs. Hanked on to a bare stay or foil is the traditional and simplest solution. This means first dropping a sail and stowing it below – a gymnastic feat in itself.

In any case, few people have anything but roller-furling these days, which presents problems at the outset. I’ve seen various slipover, wrap-around-furled-sail inventions, which can be discarded forthwith (read the forums on it). There are storm sails hoisted on stays, but these are cumbersome to stow and awkward to hoist.

Given that we are talking about sailing in the open ocean where there will be big waves and swell, being on the foredeck manipulating any variation of this gear is a risky business, with stories legion of things (even people) going over the side or tangled up in gear.

Ideally, every cruising boat should have three roller-furling sails up front, a common configuration for single- and double-handers on the round the world IMOCA 60s. One would be a big yankee on the headstay, say 140 per cent for light to moderate winds, which is either rolled up or all the way out and used primarily for reaching.

The second is a working jib on a forestay close behind the headstay of around 90 per cent for mid-range to fresh conditions upwind and reaching. This sail should be cut to furl partially and, again like the yankee, cut high-clewed for good visibility below the foot, but also to avoid having continually to change the lead when rolling in and out.

This combination takes you through most conditions up to the time you fully roll up the jib. Next, simply roll out your third sail, the staysail and, hey presto, you are under storm jib. (For more on this, don’t miss a feature on sail design later in this series.)

Accepting that there is a performance margin in light to moderate air that will be lost in not having a large staysail, it makes sense to make the staysail the true storm jib. This should be a bulletproof sail, cut flat, high-clewed and roughly the same area as a moderate-sized storm jib. This sail should also be able to be rolled up to ‘Oh my God’ conditions – which is basically a clew patch. Because this sail is so small, it takes little time to roll it up and if it is on a self-tacking traveller, so much the better.

By the way, one of the biggest advantages of having readily available storm sails that can be deployed at will is when heaving to – and there’ll be much more on that in the next feature in this series.

Part 4: heaving to

Skip Novak demonstrates this simple and often overlooked technique, a safe and comfortable way for any crew to ride out heavy weather, let a system pass or allow crew to rest up

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

The post Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques Part 3: storm sails appeared first on Yachting World.

Heaving to in light to moderate wind is easily achieved by gybing or tacking and leaving the headsail aback. A lashed helm and maybe an adjustment on the mainsheet puts on the brakes and the boat lies off the wind, virtually dead in the water. Whether to take a break to make repairs and cook a meal or to wait for a rendezvous, perhaps, this is an easy way to stabilise the boat, so that you can do whatever you need to in comfort.

Doing it when storm sailing is another story, however. You will be under reduced sail to begin with, and more options of trim come into play.

There comes a time when thrashing to windward in high winds and big seas while going nowhere becomes a useless exercise, not to mention a potentially dramatic experience. Not only is crashing off waves bad for the boat, sails and gear, it is also tiring for the crew – full attention is required even if you are on autopilot. So, it might be prudent just to stop the boat until the weather passes, even if you are only reaching or sailing downwind. Approaching a lee shore is a good example.

Out of control

The art of heaving to in heavy weather is complicated by the sea condition. Get it wrong and the boat can go wildly out of control for a time. The trick is to stop the boat’s forward progress, balance a very reduced sailplan with the angle of the rudder to windward and attempt to lie around 45˚ into the wind and sea.

When you achieve the correct balance, the boat is alternatively scalloping into the wind and paying off to leeward. When we say ‘rudder to windward’ that means a tiller would be pushed to leeward and a wheel would be pulled to windward, in effect trying to steer the boat into the wind.

The only downside of this technique is that the boat, depending on how well it heaves to, will make leeway downwind, which can be several knots. Therefore, if inshore, utmost caution must be used and you must not let your guard down while on a lee shore. If there is a threat, it might be better to soldier on for a time until you have ample sea room, taking into account the weather forecast and prevailing current.

If heaving to is executed correctly, though, the crew can go below, cook a meal in relative comfort and stand a watch from the pilothouse (if you are lucky enough to have one).

The reality is that if you are not making any substantial VMG in the direction of the wind in fresh to gale conditions, it is best to heave to, take the loss in leeway on the nose and wait for the weather to change. Odds on you will be a winner.

The dilemma is that every boat heaves to in different ways and some designs don’t heave to at all. Older, traditional designs with a bigger keel surface are generally more responsive, whereas more modern designs struggle to get any bite into the wind and tend to lay off, making an unacceptable amount of leeway. There is also a risk of damaging a high-aspect spade rudder when ‘back pedalling’ with a big wave, so beware all of you with performance cruisers.

So, the message is to get out there and practise. Heave to in increasing winds and sea states to see which system and configuration works for you. Below is how I do it on Pelagic, assuming by this stage we are down to a third or fourth reef and storm jib on the staysail stay (see Part 3 of this series).

How Skip heaves to

1  Back the staysail to windward by trimming the windward sheet. Don’t gybe because the boat might fly down a wave and tacking might be impossible. Beware of chafe issues on the windward rigging. Long shroud rollers come in handy on the lower shrouds. If you have a big staysail, it’s best to roll it up to handkerchief size.

The first move is to sheet the headsail to weather

2  Ease the reduced mainsail until the boat stops all forward motion.

3  Put your rudder over hard to windward (ie with the wheel lashed to windward or the tiller lashed to leeward), taking care that the boat does not go head to wind. Lash the helm well, so it can’t ‘work’.

Lash the wheel to weather to counteract the effects of the sheeted headsail

4  Play with the mainsail trim until a balance is struck at a good angle to wind and waves. The ride should be comfortable.

5  If there is still too much tendency to climb to windward, drop the mainsail. This would probably be the case if you had a third reef, which would be too much sail. A fourth reef (storm trysail size) might work.

6   Keep a close eye on the boat for some time to make sure it stays in balance during various cycles of wave and swell patterns.

7   Crew can go below. One watchkeeper is sufficient, booted and suited to go on deck to make any changes.

Of course, this is only the configuration on Pelagic – you need to get a feel for what is possible on your boat. It’s all about a balance between what is below the waterline (keel and rudder) and windage above (sails and rig). Even with the main down, a simple manoeuvre like easing the boom against a solid boom vang can change the tendency to climb into the wind. Ketch and modern schooner rigs have more possibilities still.

Mate Bertie Whitley adjusts the staysail

Other tips

• Always check your sea room and probable drift rate in view of the weather forecast.

• Heave to earlier rather than later – it is much easier to set up in a controlled situation. If the wind is rising, there is no point waiting– not much distance will be lost.

• Prepare the interior well because big rolls are inevitable.

• Make sure that all furling sails cannot unfurl by themselves.

• Make sure all running rigging is well stowed – a line overboard when heaving to invariably finds its way around the propeller.

• When the wind drops or shifts with a front, beware! Start out softly. Sea conditions will remain on the up for a time and are likely to be confused. So, don’t let down your guard and remain harnessed on when making sail.

Part 5 reefing

Putting in a reef in heavy weather needs to be done in good time and requires careful planning. In the next episode of this year-long series, Skip Novak takes us through the process step by step

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

The post Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques Part 4: Heaving to appeared first on Yachting World.

Sail handling exclusively from the cockpit without having to go forward is highly desirable on any cruising boat, especially when storm sailing. Reliable headsail furling systems have certainly achieved that goal, but reefing the mainsail still presents a dilemma.

In-mast and in-boom furling systems deserve a mention here. In-mast mainsail furlers have persisted in spite of an increased mast weight package and a mechanism buried inside the mast profile. When it works, great, although it means a mainsail undercut on the leech owing to a lack of battens and therefore a less than optimal sail shape.

When it doesn’t work – in the worse case a jam-up with a flogging sail that won’t roll up – it can become an unforgettable experience. It must be said, though, that the system is a nice idea for inshore sailing in benign conditions.

In-boom furlers appear to be purely a style item, especially in the superyacht range. A flaked mainsail on the boom, even under a neatly cut cover, is now considered untidy by some designers and owners. But these systems suffer the same problems, compounded by the necessity for an exacting control system that lowers the sail and rolls it up at the same rate, with the boom at a hyper-critical angle.

It may work a treat at the dock, but as any superyacht captain worth his salt will admit it is a nerve-racking experience offshore. Result: fear and loathing about using the mainsail at all. The adage now goes that it is cheaper to pay for fuel and motor than risk damage to the sail or the mechanism. Again, not my recommendation for a world cruising configuration.

Slab reefing

Slab reefing is the only seamanlike system, full stop, as there is not much that can go dramatically wrong. As with so many aspects of voyaging offshore, we are back to basics here: a slab reefing system with a fixed tack and clew lines. The prime advantages are that all moving parts are exposed and easily repairable – for example, mast track, cars and sliders, blocks and rigging – you have the ability to cast off the halyard and drop the mainsail in a crisis, and a better-shaped sail is achievable as you drop down through the reefs.

A side debate exists between a single-line system and a tack line with hook or shackle. There is no doubt that to be able to reef the sail without leaving the cockpit is a good thing, especially if the crew is not agile for any reason. This can only be achieved in the slab system by a single-line arrangement.

Easing the main and controlling the reefing lines

However, there are several downsides. Single-line systems, where a continuous line is threaded through both the tack and the clew to bring each reef home, requires an enormous amount of line. If you have three reefs as a minimum and four as recommended the cockpit will become a bowl of multicoloured spaghetti and pretty unmanageable.

Secondly, the friction in the system is also an issue as the line runs through so many turning points, plus there is more chance for line and sail chafe along the way. Lastly, it is difficult to set the tack and the clew in the right position and impossible to make any adjustment to either independently.

Going forward is necessary

Slab reefing can be managed from the cockpit by having the halyard, a tack line and clew lines led aft. However, to make the tack fast and create a solid connection of the tack to the gooseneck without chafe, going forward at some point in the exercise is necessary. This is not a bad idea in itself as it forces you out of the cockpit to have a look at all things forward!

A tack line to help the luff of the sail come down might be necessary depending on the friction of the track and car system. In any case, a shackle on a strop is clipped into to each successive tack ring; the deeper the reef, the longer the strop must be to allow for the stacked sail. If using a tack line it must then be clipped into the next reef tack ring aloft, which might require a few steps to safely go up the mast. Acrobatics? Yes, but then you know you are properly set for the long haul.

An extended tackline makes connecting to the bullhorn easier

Drawbacks? Other than the need to get off your butt and go forward, the only one I see is the issue of the stowage of the bunt of the mainsail on the boom, especially for long runs under reefed sail, as this can lead to chafe issues. Having some sort of platform on top of the boom (a poor man’s Park Avenue or hayrack) helps as it supports the bunt, but it is also necessary to prevent the bunt from creeping over the edge if there is slack in the sail, creating a bag that can fill with water.

Lashing the sail through reef points can work, but it can also cause chafe with the whole bundle working, and laminated sail fabric doesn’t like to be creased.

One system that keeps the bunt under tension aft and helps solve the problem is a cringle halfway between successive reefs, where the fall of the reef line passes through before it is made fast to the boom.

Spreader angle

Radically swept-back spreaders are now a feature of most modern rigs, but I would not advocate this configuration for a world cruiser. You will quickly find out why when having to reef downwind (when it is not advisable to head up and put the wind forward because of strong winds and big sea conditions). The mainsail will be plastered against a very sticky, irregular surface and will be a mission to lower away, not to mention leading to continuous chafe issues when underway downwind. I believe a cutter rig is essential for world cruising and this means having running backstays so that you won’t require radically swept-back spreaders.

Taking a slab reef

If it becomes a drama you have left it too late. Cruising should be a conservative affair. There is little difference in boat speed with, say, a single reef at the top end of its range and the second reef near the bottom of its range. So think ahead. If the wind is on the rise, reef deeply, go slow for a while and take time to check all else on board.

Even if you have done it before, talk through the manoeuvre with your crew in a step-by-step cookbook approach.

Tightening and jamming the reefing line

The beauty of this procedure, especially with a fully battened mainsail, is that the sail will feather when the sheet is eased and will not flog, so you can take you time. Also when taking more than one reef in one go, take the reefs in one by one so there is no slack in the lazy clew lines.

Step by step

Here is the step-by-step procedure, which is also shown in our video:

• Make sure your main halyard is flaked out, won’t foul and can’t get washed overboard.
• Ease the mainsail to take all load off the sail.
• Take in the slack of the boom preventer in any kind of seaway where the boom might flog – this is necessary when short-handed. If enough crew is available, one should man the sheet during the entire manoeuvre, playing the sail, taking in slack and easing when needed and being aware of clew and halyard tension.
• Pre-tension the active clew line to give some leech tension.
• Lower the halyard only as fast as you bring in the tack line (if used) and the clew line so the sail comes down in control like a window blind. Avoid letting the leech flog. If sailing solo or short-handed this might have to be done in alternate stages.
• As you bring down the sail, take in the slack on the other clew lines to avoid them fouling on the boom end.
• When the reef tack is down, attach the shackle or put the ring on the bullhorn.
• Rehoist the halyard for proper tension.
• Take in the remaining clew line, easing the mainsheet to so the boom rises up to the new clew. Check that the loose sail cloth is not drawn into the clew block or that there is line chafe on the sail.
• Trim the main sheet back on.
• Reattach the tack line to the next reef ring aloft.
• Adjust leech line if need be.
• Secure all clew lines and the halyard tail.

Taking a reef out is pretty much the reverse procedure. By the time the wind has dropped making more sail should be a very relaxed manoeuvre. In all things, be meticulous!

Part 6: preparing the deck

Making sure everything is absolutely secure in heavy weather needs exhaustive preparation including stowing the dinghy below deck and double-checking safety equipment

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

The post Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques Part 5: reefing appeared first on Yachting World.

For serious world cruising, where encountering storm sailing at some point is a given, robustness of equipment is paramount. Choice of material is the main consideration, but the devil is in the detail.

The parameters are sail shape, weight, longevity, repairability and cost.

With modern laminated fabrics, and in extreme cases seamless fabric, the sail shape will be spot on. That optimises performance and means less weight aloft as well. Classic polyester fabrics such as Dacron will stretch over time, and although this is less of a problem with a fully battened mainsail, jibs and genoas can look pretty baggy after many miles.

If you can afford around twice the price for laminated high-tech sails in lieu of polyester, fine, but you should take account of the drawbacks.

Although modern fabrics with improved laminating techniques last longer, there is no doubt a good suit of polyester sails will do a longer distance over a multi-year span. By nature of a more supple woven fabric, folding, creasing and, more to the point, flogging will have a less detrimental effect than on laminated sails where all the activities mentioned tend to break the laminated bond.

Fully battened mainsail

No matter which fabric you choose, a fully battened mainsail is a must not only for better shape, but also to prevent flogging during reefing when the sail simply feathers with the wind when eased. Jibs and genoas are more prone to abuse, though, and on the Pelagics we have a rule that no matter what the conditions, we put the wind on the quarter when rolling up or rolling out headsails to take the load off, quiet the sail and then roll under full control.

To give you a yardstick of that treatment, our first suit of sails on Pelagic Australis lasted for 150,000 miles over six or seven years; we changed them only when the material started to break down from UV degradation.

Fit cars rather than a boltrope to the mainsail luff and foot to make hoisting the sail easier

If you understand the comparison so far, some sacrifice in performance might be worth it when cruising in remote areas over long periods of time. A big advantage is ease of repair. All sails, both polyester and hybrid laminated fabrics, need attention owing to chafe and simple wear and tear. Both can suffer from catastrophic failure when mishandled or when you are caught out with too much sail.

At sea there is little that can be done with substantially damaged laminated sails. The material is extremely stiff, so a downed sail on the deck becomes immediately unwieldly to handle. Glued repairs in a wet environment are also tricky where flat space for a glueing surface is an issue. Polyester, on the other hand, being reliant on stitching, is fixable in a small space, whether wet or dry.

Repairs

When on a foreign shore (and I mean foreign, not France or Italy) with major damage, you are more likely to find, if not a sailmaker of sorts, then at least some business with an industrial sewing machine. Under your direction an acceptable job of a major blow-out can be achieved.

Lacking that, a 100mm wide roll of heavy-duty sail cloth, a few litres of contact cement, throwaway brushes and hand stitching can get any polyester sail, no matter how badly damaged, back up in the air and be reliable. Remember, they used to make sails while underway on sailing ships.

Trying this with a damaged laminated sail is trickier as the loads on the individual fibres will be all askew with patching. The only solution is DHL (if there is such a service) back to the sail loft, wherever that may be.

If your sailmaker recommends a certain weight of fabric, choose the next heaviest. He will be happy in the end as there is more margin for him! Whichever fabric you choose, the construction detail will make or break the success of the fabric.

SOME PELAGIC SPECIFICATIONS

– in some cases assuming you have polyester sails

General points

• Choose heavier than recommended weight of fabric

• Have rows of stitching on all seams

• Cut flat, as sails will only grow fuller

Mainsail

• Get four reef pendants made in the mainsail (see Part 3: trysail v fourth reef)

• Cut with moderate or little roach

• Get proper sliders or cars on the mast track. Don’t even consider a luff tape in a groove (owners with in-boom fuller, take this on board)

• Get sliders on the foot of the sail as well. A loose fit does not have great shape advantages and plenty of disadvantages, such as a slacker bunt on the first reef and lack of a foothold if you have to walk out on the boom for any reason

• Stitch UV strip on all horizontal seams on both sides of the mainsail

• Have double leech lines on the mainsail so you can adjust the leech line from either side
  

  Reefing cheek blocks can be fitted for reefs one, two and three to ensure a fair lead and less friction

• Fit reef blocks on the leech at reefs one, two and three; the fourth can be a pressed ring

• Get a back-up pressed ring below each reef in case the reef block fails
  

  A pressed ring fitted below each clew point for the reefing line to pass through, will help control the bunt of the sail

• Fit extra heavy duty webbing and reinforcement patches in way of reef clews and tacks

• Fit extra heavy duty chafe strips where batten pockets might touch rigging

• If a bullhorn or a shackle is used to make fast the tacks for the reefs, use a double stainless steel ring either side of the sail, joined by a heavy-duty sewn webbing. On each successive tack point this webbing must be longer to clear the stack of mainsail from the previous reefs

• Fit a bungee system to take up the slack on this tack system so the tack pendants don’t flog
  

  Hand-sized webbing handles, just above each reef tack, used to help pull the luff down during reefing

• Get hand-sized webbing handles put in just above each reef tack, both port and starboard, to help pull the luff down during reefing

• Fit a large pressed ring vertically below each reef clew point for the fall of the reef line to pass through. This will keep the bunt of the sail on the boom for each reef, falling in accordion fashion. This ring must be big enough to offer to resistance to the reef line when rehoisting the sail

Headsail

• The best system is three headsails all on roller furling: a big yankee about 130 to 140 per cent for reaching; a 90 per cent working yankee; a staysail/storm sail, and a small, bombproof blade

• All foresails should high clewed for visibility, to avoid scooping big seas, and to pole out downwind
  

  A minimum of two permanent headsails, preferably three, are the ideal set up for an offshore cruising yacht, all on furlers

• Leech lines well aft along foot so can be adjusted with partially rolled up sail

• Cut sails with extremely hollow leeches to avoid flogging the leech

• Fit a safety lashing near the head and tack of sail around the foil to avoid the luff tape being stripped for any reason

• On the 90 per cent yankee, get sewn taped loops either side of the sail at hank points, and a store of traditional hanks in case of total foil failure. If you are in Timbuktu when that happens, you can dismantle the foil (by force), seize on the hanks and be away again, at no cost

• One word of warning: your sailmaker will pooh-pooh many of these ideas as they add weight aloft. Be firm and tell him to get on with it!

Part 8: drogues and sea anchors

When tactics like heaving to and sailing on are not an option, the approach is to either deploy a sea anchor to try and hold position, or to run with the wind trailing tackle astern to slow the boat down

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

The post Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques Part 7: sail design appeared first on Yachting World.

Ask about a controversial subject within the cruising community and, if not immediately, surely soon after you will get a heated debate about the pros and cons of drogues and sea anchors.

If you Google the subject, prepare to get comfortable for a few hours as you follow the debate online. The most amazing thing, you soon realise, is that so many people have an opinion about a piece of heavy weather gear that they have never actually used in anger.

This is all about storm survival when tactics such as lying ahull, heaving to and sailing on cannot be considered. The approach is either to deploy a sea anchor to try to keep the bow into the sea and hold position, or to run with the wind trailing tackle astern to slow the boat down.

The variables in the discussion are complex: which type of sea anchor and drogue (both homemade and proprietary), when to deploy it, the type of boat itself and how it would react, the sea conditions and attachment points on board, and deployment and retrieval methods.

But before I get carried away with this lecture, I have to admit to something: I have never tried a sea anchor nor a drogue. If I have to stop the boat for any reason in heavy weather (and I often have), I would heave to or even lie ahull, or simply run before the storm and hang in there given enough sea room.

I have been in some pretty ferocious seas running downwind, but mainly while racing at speed with a crew, and on bigger rather than smaller craft. My expedition vessels Pelagic and Pelagic Australis are heavy boats and in all these years I have never felt threatened enough to resort to methods that involve deploying gear over the side.

One storm I remember particularly well (there have been so many) occured while en route back from South Georgia on Pelagic in 2002. Only 100 miles out of Port Stanley in the Falklands we got hit by a violent Force 10 westerly that lasted for 20 hours.

Heaving to

We simply hove to and rode it out. Sure, we were rolled onto our beam ends now and then, but we were fairly comfortable. If we had been going downwind, I would have turned the boat around and done the same. The thought of deploying tackle over the side while running at speed in those conditions makes my hair stand on end.

For smaller boats and those sailing single- or short-handed, however, using a sea anchor or drogue might be an interesting, possibly lifesaving procedure. But it is one that must be practised, so that when you do it for real everything is spot on. In my case, on medium to larger craft (say, above the 50ft range), I consider the idea not worth the risk – and the risk can be high.

If you were sailing short-handed in heavy weather, setting out a drogue could be very dangerous

Sea anchors or drogues require you to deploy a substantial amount of tackle overboard at the height of a gale or storm. Anyone who has lost a sheet or piece of running rigging overboard knows the alarming rate at which it is sucked over the side. The force on a single line immediately becomes enormous and usually requires a winch to retrieve it. Now imagine the forces involved in a more complex tackle with harness, cones and weights – it becomes a potentially lethal piece of equipment.

Most yachts are ill-equipped to make this gear fast and less so to retrieve it, even when the weather softens to the point where you can sail on. Cleats are usually inadequate in strength and size, so it would be better to go straight to cockpit winches.

But beware a bad lead because the line can easily lay waste to stanchions, pushpits and more. A tangle is always possible and any human limb or appendage in the mix could spell disaster. Have a knife to hand!

The US Coast Guard has made an exhaustive study of the merits of two popular systems, the parachute anchor and the series drogue. It is published online and is worth reading: see here. The striking thing about its recommendations is the amount of tackle required to make it effective. I rest my case about why I don’t use them.

Instead, I will leave the first-hand reports to those sailors who have used drogues or planned to use them (see our stories by Jeanne Socrates and Roger Taylor on using a Jordan Series Drogue).

Using drogues – do they work?

Skip Novak’s view is clear: although drogues could be a lifesaver on small boats of, say, less than 50ft, he would feel nervous about deploying the gear on bigger, heavier vessels. For smaller yachts, however, there is anecdotal evidence that series drogues, in particular, are valuable. Drogues might also have value on light-displacement boats that won’t heave to or are running downwind under bare poles near wave-speed.

The detailed independent report by the US Coast Guard that Skip mentions above sought to address the pros and cons, and concluded that the best possible option may be the series drogue, in which a series of small drogues are streamed astern through several wavetrains.

The report notes ‘that most storms, even severe storms, do not create dangerous breaking waves. Sailors who survive such storms may conclude that the tactics they employ, such as heaving to, lying ahull or running off, are adequate to prevent capsize.

‘This is a serious mistake. There is very compelling evidence to show that while a well-found boat will survive a storm in non-breaking waves, none of the above tactics will prevent capsize in a breaking wave strike.’

Types of drogues

by Elaine Bunting

Parachute anchors help a yacht hold station, but produce hazards of their own

Parachute anchors

The US Coast Guard report raises some serious issues about these types of drogues streamed from the bow. It ‘questions the veracity’ of claims that they offer bulletproof protection in storm survival conditions.

They may help a boat hold station in moderate weather, it says, but when a wave hits the bow the boat can be shunted astern, potentially causing damage to the rudder, breaking the line, rolling the boat or forcing water through the exhaust system and into the engine.

The report also notes that ‘in the trough of a wave/swell [when] the para anchor rode goes slack, the yacht will commence to yaw, wanting to lie ahull, thereby leaving it partially or totally beam to the sea with the possibility of being knocked flat or rolled.’

Series drogues

This is the type of drogue that the report found the most effective. Though not named specifically in the report, the best known of these types is the Jordan Series Drogue.

It comprises a series of small drogues connected into a long series and deployed astern. The number of these will depend on the displacement of the yacht – typically, as many as 90 or 100 cones may be needed in series – and ideally the drogue needs to be made up and coiled ready to deploy from points at the stern that are strong enough for the very considerable loads. Additional chainplates may be needed.

The report concludes that ‘a series-type drogue provides significant advantages over a cone or parachute type drogue/sea anchor… Since some of the cones are near the boat where towline stretch is low, [the drogue] will build up load faster than a conventional cone or chute at the end of the towline/bowline.

The series drogue got the nod in a US Coast Guard report

‘A computer study shows that two seconds after wave strike, the series drogue will develop 40 per cent more load than an equivalent cone or chute.’

It notes that another advantage is that if one or even several cones are damaged, the whole drogue is not rendered totally ineffective.

If and when a drogue is working effectively, no action is required of the crew, who can simply go below, put the companionway boards in, make all items secure and try to get some rest.

However, it should be pointed out that even proponents of the series drogue, such as small-boat solo sailor Roger Taylor, who has used a Jordan Series Drogue on several occasions while voyaging in his 21-footer Mingming, say sufficiently strong attachment points are necessary and that the drogue must be conveniently stowed and arranged for immediate deployment.

But one of the main points of this report, which Skip Novak also makes, is that you need the right equipment, attachments and anti-chafe gear all set up and ready to go reasonably quickly and easily, and ideally you need to have practised using the drogue well in advance.

Part 9: sounding an uncharted bay

Going off soundings to uncharted areas is a desirable part of cruising and enables you to gain shelter on a hostile coastline, possibly saving vessel and crew. Skip explains the techniques

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

The post Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques Part 8: drogues and sea anchors appeared first on Yachting World.

Going off soundings and having the ability to boldly go where no boat has gone before (or at least feel that way) is not only a desirable feature of cruising in remote areas, it also underpins a safety issue. In extremis, gaining shelter on a hostile coastline could mean saving the vessel and the crew. Even if not, it can often be safer than toughing it out on the outside with a risk of heavy weather, especially if caught on a lee shore.

Coming in from offshore is the critical part, as the risk of a grounding can, of course, be catastrophic. Counterintuitive though this is, if the coastline is unsounded or poorly sounded and there is a seaway running, that is all for the better. You can read the water with a swell far easier than in flat conditions. If the swell is not breaking, any swirling motion of the sea surface that is inconsistent with the normal swell will indicate a dangerous depth.

Assuming your depth sounder is working, it should be easy to determine a channel and follow it through the obvious dangers. Although it can appear calm and flat, a body of water open to the ocean is rarely so; if you do go aground, you will immediately realise the height of the swell as you bounce up and down on the bottom.

As an aside, when approaching an anchorage, keep some sail up as long as possible in case you have to sail yourself out of there – if you were to suffer engine failure, for example.

Nosing around blind

Although getting inside a bay that affords sea protection is ultimately safer, it is still tricky and the more so if the clarity of the water is poor, as is common in high latitudes, or if the light is low or shining in your eyes. On a boat of, say, 3-4m draught, I would quite happily nose around blind with 8-10m on the sounder.

Spotting a potential safe spot in an anchorage is next. If the bay is open and access is straightforward with an offshore wind, you can normally pilot yourself in with the sounder. Studying the coastal features and how the land along the shore meets the water can give clues to what’s coming. Sheer cliff faces and steep ground usually indicate a safe approach, but they could also mean there is insufficient bottom (ie, that it is too deep) to anchor.

Skip would be happy to nose in blind with 4-6m beneath the keel

A gently sloping shoreline means the bottom will rise roughly at the same rate in most cases, indicating a good depth at some point and reasonable holding depending on the composition of the bottom. Anomalies to these observations abound, so beware!

If access to an anchorage is complicated because of a narrow entrance or bends in the channel, a channel that is kelp-bound or a channel running with current, then probing with the boat at this point even with a depth sounder starts to be risky. If you start sweeping onto rocks or shoal water it might be difficult or impossible to turn the boat around or back out of it with impunity.

Take to the dinghy

At this point it pays to take the time and effort to launch the dinghy and sound out a clear passage into the anchorage. If single- or short-handed, this might mean anchoring in deeper water and leaving the boat unattended.

While the boat stays safe and on station on the outside, a crew in the dinghy goes in and runs a line into the anchorage taking soundings. For years on Pelagic (decades, actually) we used my original leadline made from 3mm cord rolled onto a piece of plywood with a handle. Weighted with a half dozen 16mm nuts, the cord is knotted once for one metre, two for two metres and so on. It couldn’t be simpler.

Swinging the lead

As the dinghy travels slowly forward, you spin the line in a vertical circle (being careful not to hit the driver on the head) and let it fly forward with plenty of slack paying out. If done correctly, this should enable you to read the bottom by lifting the lead clear when the dinghy is directly above it, then counting the knots at the waterline, all without changing the speed of the dinghy. It is rhythmic.

Although we now have a simple electronic handheld sounder that does the job – you hold it overboard and press a button – I still enjoy swinging the lead.

Skip still enjoys swinging the lead

Once you have swept a clear path in with, say, a metre to spare under the keel, you can take the boat in with relative confidence along that route. If doglegs are necessary, it is of course more complicated, so a handbearing compass is necessary to fix some points to follow, or some transits on land features.

It hardly needs saying that you can do the same with a GPS and a trackback feature, but getting back to the basics will stand you in good stead on the day when you run out of power or the electronic handheld sounder doesn’t work.

A simple electronic sounder

I would also stress that while manoeuvring on this micro scale, staring down into instruments can be a negative thing, in spite of their pinpoint accuracy. There remains no instrument equal to the human brain, continuously calculating the myriad variables, using simple visual observations to take in the big picture – judgement, it is called.

Having sounded the general depths on the way in, sending a crewmember aloft to con you in, if you can spare someone, is well worth it to be on the safe side; there is no guarantee you have discovered every rock and high spot along the route in.

With someone on the first spreaders (harnessed on just in case you do go bang) and an agreed system of hand signals to use rather than just relying on shouting back and forth, it will be easier to work round any surprising obstacles.

If you plan on swinging to a single anchor, once the hook is down it pays to take more time in the dinghy to make some circular passes around the anchorage gauging the lay of the bottom. This is less important if you also tie to shore to fix your position.

Do’s and don’ts

Do

• Take the time to figure things out before committing

• Observe the clarity of the water, the direction of the light, current and tidal situation on shore

• Approach an anchorage with light overhead or behind you if possible

• If entering via a channel, approach an anchorage against the current and on a slack or rising tide

Don’t

• Take down and stow the mainsail early – you need to be ready to make sail if things go wrong

• Forget to have an old-fashioned leadline to hand in case the electronic handheld sounder fails

• Let down your guard after anchoring. Sound the anchorage around the boat and prepare an escape plan just in case

Part 10: Anchoring in heavy weather

In the next part Skip turns his attention to the techniques and equipment required for anchoring securely in high winds and remote places.

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

The post Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques Part 9: Sounding an uncharted bay ready for anchoring appeared first on Yachting World.

Anchoring equipment and anchoring techniques are some of the most fundamental aspects of successful and safe cruising. There are many anchor types, some more suited to certain types of bottom than others. In any event, you must assume you will encounter all types of bottom during an extended cruise so success in holding cannot by guaranteed.

One thing is for sure, though: heavier than recommended ground tackle can do no harm. An extra 10-15kg on the bow of a 55-footer, for example, is neither here nor there as regards performance.

Chain or nylon rode? For me, chain every time and, again, two sizes heavier than might be recommended. When it is blowing 50 knots plus in an anchorage, all your cable is out and there are shallows precariously close astern, this choice might put your mind at ease.

We demonstrate the whole procedure of dropping, setting, snubbing and recovering the anchor in the accompanying video (above) – and incidentally after setting the anchor in this location it held us overnight in winds over 55 knots.

The reader will gather I am a fan of heavy gear, dropped once and that’s it. I have no truck with methods of dropping two anchors, or the French system of a lighter anchor attached in series to the main anchor. It all sounds like it will lead to bruised knuckles to me.

Have a bail-out plan

The procedure of approaching an anchorage – we cover how to enter an uncharted bay in Part 9 – especially in high winds, should begin with a bail-out plan. That is, if you can’t position well or if the anchor doesn’t hold or if the engine quits before you are ready to drop, how will you extricate yourself? This may mean sailing yourself out of it.

The mistake many people make, and it appears to be proportionally inverse to the experience of the crew, is to take sail down too early. Sometimes I have even seen crews put on the sail cover and coil up sheets!

I like to keep sail up as long as is practical, which might mean shortening down by taking an extra reef and rolling up the jib, but keeping the staysail up right until the last minute. When lowering the main, keep the halyard on and get everything ready to rehoist. If something does go wrong I know I can make sail and I have a mental plan (now automatic) of how to sail myself out.

For example, on Pelagic I might use a backed staysail and an eased main, which would give me a pretty tight turning circle. By the same token, practise sailing off your anchor – you might have to do it for real.

Dropping the anchor

When the desired position and depth is reached, and the skipper decides how much chain to put out, it is important that everything goes smoothly because in high winds any hesitation or foul up in the drop will mean the anchor position will be way off the mark.

Once forward motion stops, a strong wind will immediately catch one side of the bow or the other and the boat will take off beam to the wind. There is little point in going astern with the engine. The anchor needs to hit the bottom at the point desired and then the chain paid out and laid on the bottom in sync with the motion of the boat being blown downwind. Do not dump vast quantities of chain on top of the anchor as it will foul, trip and hold nothing.

Whoever is paying out the chain needs to play the boat, veering it out in stages so that the bow of the boat is kept into the wind

Whoever is paying out the chain must now play the boat like a trout, snubbing the chain at the right moment to keep the bow more or less into the wind, then releasing to pay out enough chain so the anchor doesn’t drag. When the desired amount of chain is out (at least 5:1 or more in windy conditions) it is best to lock off the chain with a stopper and take the load off the windlass. Then check for dragging.

Once you are confident that the anchor is well set, rig a snubber on the chain to take the shock off the system when the chain snatches tight, which can be bar-tight in strong winds. We use a large-diameter nylon line attaching to the chain that features an industrial chain claw and a spliced loop to go around a bombproof bollard.

Now set your depth and/or GPS alarm, take some visual bearings and make a cup of tea. If you have a pilot or doghouse take your tea there and observe all things with your own eyes.

Weighing anchor

If it is blowing when picking up the anchor, be completely ready to make sail if there is a hiccup. Have the halyard of the mainsail attached and a bight brought down to the side of the mast so it can be released quickly and hoisted. Have minimum sail ties secured with slip knots and take the others off. At least a staysail should be ready to roll out or hoist, with sheets on the winches and furling line clear.

You will definitely have to motor up to the anchor, taking the load off the windlass, in effect lifting slack chain. Hand signals between the bowman and helmsman are essential to tell the helmsman how many metres of chain are up (paint marks on your chain) and the direction of the chain so he or she can steer along it. Forget about cleaning the chain if it brings up mud; it is best to sort that out later.

Helmsman and crew at the bow communicate by hand signals

If anchored in a blow, it is quite likely that the anchor will be very well dug in and the windlass will struggle to raise it. This is evident when the bow of the boat dips slightly when the chain is vertical; you will also hear the windlass struggling. If you wait for a few seconds the rebound of the bow might be enough to snatch it off the bottom. If not, put the chain back into the chain stopper to prevent damage to the windlass for the following manoeuvre.

With the chain well secured and standing well clear of the chain, signal to the helsmsman to motor ahead slowly over the chain to wrench the anchor out of the bottom. Once it is free you will feel and see the bow rise up, and then you can signal the helmsman to put the engine in neutral. Now, take the chain out of the stopper and continue to lift what is left, which will be about the depth of water.

Chain marks are essential as a guide to how much you have veered. On Pelagic the colour marks are shown on a plate on the foredeck

By the time the anchor breaks the surface the bow will have been blown off the wind line and you can signal the helmsman to proceed. (He/she might be getting anxious by this time.)

If the windlass fails

Assume that one day, at the most inopportune moment, the windlass will fail. It could happen as a result of a sheared key on the windlass drum from shock loading, or an electrical or hydraulic failure of the system. Manual overrides on most windlasses are either too slow or not powerful enough – similar to manual overrides on electric/hydraulic furlers.

What you need to recover it manually is two proprietary chain hooks with line leaders, long enough to go from the bow roller back to the primary cockpit winches. Why two? Because the new lead from the roller will most likely have to bypass the chain brake, so you can use use them alternately, sweeping lengths of chain along the side deck.

Quick and efficient

There may come a time when the excrement hits the fan for one reason or another and to save the boat you have to let the chain go and leave it. If you see this coming, have the presence of mind and a big fender to hand. You can tie this to a light line (as least as long as the depth of water) and the other end to somewhere near the end of the chain in the hope of coming back for a recovery.

You let it out under control and throw the buoy over the side. If this becomes a panic operation, letting the chain run can be dramatic and dangerous, taking the pulpit or the headstay with it. Stand clear!

Preventing potential damage

To prevent damage, every chain should be attached to the bottom of the chain locker with a length of nylon line, spliced into the end of the chain. The line should be strong enough to hold the boat for a time, and long enough so the end of the chain goes well over the bow roller. You simply then cut the nylon line with a knife, and no harm is done. A chain fixed to the boat by a hard shackle is a potential disaster waiting to happen.

Useful equipment

• A nylon snubber with a chain claw, the longer the better to give more spring and to allow plenty of slack in the chain so it doesn’t chafe on the bow when the boat swings. Ours is 5m
• Two chain hooks with line leaders
• Stranded galvanised seizing wire to mouse all shackles connecting the chain to the anchor. Don’t use the cheap monofilament kind
  

  Kelp chopper – the longer the handle the better to chop kelp easily. Notice the wrist loop

• Kelp chopper. This need only be a simple garden centre purchase to chop through the roots of bushes. It must be long enough to reach the anchor just on the surface. A full load of kelp will stop any windlass.

Part 11: Tying to shore

In the next part Skip turns his attention to securing the yacht to the shore. In high latitudes, it is desirable to get into shallow water to find shelter and this generally can only be done by setting out warps to the shore

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

The post Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques Part 10: Anchoring in heavy weather appeared first on Yachting World.

Most cruisers have tied to shore at one time or another, but in places like Tierra del Fuego, the Antarctic Peninsula and parts of the Arctic it is more or less de rigueur. These far-flung places are more in the nature of archipelagos than simple coastlines, so the ability to secure your boat close in has advantages.

Swinging to a single anchor, especially surrounded by high ground, which implies variable and unpredictable wind direction, can be an unpleasant experience requiring an anchor watch. That is never desirable.

A change in direction of the boat could snatch the anchor and drag. It is better to be in a fixed position in a somewhat confined space with an anchor down in the direction of the exit and mooring lines tied ashore to trees and boulders or any other immovable object. By definition, getting close to shore behind islands, peninsulas and other features usually means less wind.

In the Antarctic or the Arctic, it is desirable to get into shallow water and that can usually only be achieved by tying to shore. Finding a bolthole with minimum water depth for your draught is ideal for the simple reason that any drift ice, such as large growlers, bergy bits (starter home size) and bergs (mansions and up) will ground out before colliding with the boat.

If anchored in deep water in these ‘ice with everything’ regions you are continually at risk from this danger. At the very least it will be a nerve-racking experience continually fending off ice with little respite.

There is another attraction though: creativity in navigation. It’s work, but also satisfying and sometimes amusing to take the time to rig all this up, not to mention that when you are close in you can smell the flowers (or penguins) and possibly get closer to the ‘natives’, if there are any. The sense here is of exploring rather than visiting.

Bowlines lines to rocks ashore. This photo shows the anti-chafe gear (fire hoses) used to protect lines as they go through the panamas

The system of how to do this efficiently is critical and will require practice. The equipment needed can be bought cost-effectively at a ship chandler that caters to the fishing industry.

The right gear

Lines must be of floating polypropylene. If you have ever run a nylon anchor rode out with the dinghy you will appreciate this – it immediately sinks to the bottom and will quickly overtake the power of the outboard if you’re running it out a long way. Retrieval is a winching-in job.

Floating line skims the surface so is easy to pay out and easy to retrieve. I recommend four lines – two bow and two stern – each at least five to six times the length of the boat. That’s a lot of line to stow, so read below.

Skip takes the port bowline out to a big boulder ashore situated well ahead

Attaching to the shore requires strops. We use long loops (4m) of galvanised wire, bulldog-gripped together. Some use a long wire with a thimble eye in each end, which has the advantage of threading through a keyhole. Galvanised wire is supple, easy to handle and doesn’t break strands easily like stainless steel, which will quickly ‘meat hook’ and be impossible to handle without heavy leather gloves. After ten years of tying to shore on  Pelagic Australis  we are using the same galvanised wire loops.

A pair or two of waders are also necessary. Getting the dinghy close enough to shore to stay dry in sea boots is wishful thinking. Heavy-duty rubber gloves are also appreciated when handling the lines and strops in water that is 0°C.

We also carry steel angles to use as pitons or ice anchors, but these are rarely used. However, they are definitely more useful in the Arctic and certainly in Scandinavia, where the rocks are more slabby, with fissures. Of course, you also need a sledgehammer to drive these home.

On board it is the system of paying out and retrieving that is the key. Ideally, one person in the dinghy should be able to run a line out and secure it. This will mean carefully flaking the line on deck, but as we all know it will most likely jam somewhere. Spools are the answer. They must be placed on deck where the lines will run straight to the fairleads, or direct through the pushpit and pulpit and then later placed through a fairlead.

There are four of these spools of floating polypropylene line on Pelagic’s deck for tying ashore

We have custom-made permanent installations of four spools, but an ad hoc arrangement (how we started) can be made with a homemade spool of hollow pipe as the mandril, plywood ends and another pipe through the mandril to support it, the ends lashed to the rigging or pulpits/pushpits.

Chafe gear is also necessary not only for the fairleads, but also occasionally on the standing part of the line near the shore if it doesn’t have a clean lead over the rocks. Reinforced hose or floppy fire hose can also be used, both cut long with strings (3mm cord) at both ends to secure the chafe gear to the boat, or to the line ashore with rolling hitches so it doesn’t creep.

Whatever chafe gear you use, it is important that the inner diameter is substantial to allow the line to run through easily.

The manoeuvre

Making a recce in the dinghy is always a good idea if attempting a tricky anchorage for the first time. This would include taking soundings and checking out various attachment points on shore (trees and rocks) and possibly rigging the strops beforehand.

On board you want to prepare the shorelines so they are through the fairleads and chafe gear hanging over the sides and grabbable and of course the spools ready to run freely. You are now ready to bring the boat in. The dinghy should be deployed and hovering around, with someone ready to grab the first stern shoreline, selected with respect to wind or current so it will balance the boat more or less in the place you want to be.

The galvanised wire loops have to be long to fit easily around boulders big enough to carry the load safely

Immediately after the anchor is dropped, that critical stern shoreline should be grabbed at the fairlead and run to the shore, with the wire sling ready to drop over a suitable boulder or the line simply tied to a tree (make sure it isn’t rotten!). As soon as you have tied in, signal the crew on board to take in the slack and ideally run the line to a winch.

Now you can repeat the process with the other three lines or all four if needed.

Do’s and don’ts

• Do make sure the boulders are big enough. In a gale a 60-footer can exert tremendous force on a shore system.
• Do use round turns and two half hitches to tie to the wire slings or around trees. These are easier to untie than bowlines, particularly under load.
• Do note the level of tide. If you tie to a boulder below high tide that is fine, but untying could be tricky!
• Don’t worry about chafe gear where the line is tied around the slings as it is a turn through 180°.
• Don’t put the wire slings in cracks where boulders are freestanding – they might be impossible to extract.
• Don’t forget about the effect of drift ice if it is gathering in the anchorage: you can put a snatch block on the shoreline and hoist it up above the water with a spinnaker or main halyard, allowing the ice to escape with wind or tide.

Part 12: Dinghy handling in heavy weather

In the final part of the series, Skip examines your dinghy, tender, inflatable. Whatever you choose to call it, it’s your lifeline to shore

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

The post Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques Part 11: Tying to shore appeared first on Yachting World.

A dinghy, tender, inflatable – call it what you will – is your lifeline to the shore. Its type, size and equipment become critical when sailing in remote areas, especially those with high winds. Equally, procedures in using it are key.

When in a popular anchorage in warm climates, you can paddle in to the beach safely on a crate of beer. In places like Antarctica, South Georgia and the Arctic, getting things wrong could mean an unpleasant stranding ashore or worse.

The argument about whether to have a solid dinghy or an inflatable is more or less moot; the inflatable wins the argument on most points. However, it is still very true, especially if short- or single-handed, that the ability to row into a headwind is important and, in that case, a narrow classic dinghy is a good option, but the stowage of the dinghy on deck might be an issue in big seas or a knockdown.

For cruisers with a crew, there are many more advantages with an inflatable: notably they are difficult to swamp and capsize, they can be stowed below (provided they don’t have a hard bottom) and are light enough to be pulled ashore easily and out of harm’s way.

This is particularly relevant in the case of ice fronts, where calving glaciers can throw up immense breaking waves on the shoreline. When leaving a dinghy unattended in these situations you need to make the effort to carry the dinghy a long way up the beach and gain some height.

I learned this on our first trip through the Beagle Channel – the dinghy came to rest upside-down on a 2m boulder well above the shoreline while we all ran for high ground.

Hard-bottom inflatables are a rather undesirable halfway solution. Yes, they have a more efficient hull, but they cannot be packed up and stowed for passages, they are heavy to carry up onto the shore and offer absolutely no advantages in brash ice.

Soft-bottoms best

Cruise ships on high-latitude ‘expedition cruising’ exclusively use soft-bottom inflatables, military style, for up to 16 people. Contrary to perception, pieces of brash ice merely bounce off the bow and sides of an inflatable when threading your way slowly through. It is rare to puncture a good-quality boat with ice, but of course it is possible.

Always secure a bowline to the boat when launching the tender off the foredeck in high winds

Size matters. I mean, the smaller the better. There is no point in having a 5m inflatable on a 55-60-footer. It will be difficult to stow on deck and impossibly huge for packing up below. Davits are a solution for inshore work, but there is a temptation to be lazy and leave the boat inflated when going on passage – watch out! It is better to make two trips ashore for the complement of crew and have a boat that is easy to handle on board and on shore rather than a monster that can take a full load.

The same goes for outboard horsepower. It’s great to be able to plane the dinghy with two or three people, but if you have, say, six in a 4m inflatable, it just won’t happen – not, that is, if you have an outboard sized so it is not wildly dangerous at other times. You do need one powerful enough to drive the boat ahead efficiently with a full load against a strong headwind and chop.

As an example, we have two 3.8m Bombard C3s on Pelagic with 15hp Yamahas. On Pelagic Australis we have Bombard C4s that are 4m with 25hp Yamahas. They are a compromise between reasonable power and safety.

Two of everything

Note that I was speaking in the plural in the above paragraph. That’s right, like almost everything essential for remote cruising you need redundancy and this certainly applies to dinghies and outboards. If one fails – a leopard seal punctured both rear cones of one of our dinghies two years ago – or for any other reason is rendered inoperable, you need to be up and running pretty quickly with another. We have identical sets of gear, but it is acceptable to have a second dinghy and smaller (read cheaper) outboard to get by.

We always carry a flashlight, with the batteries removed

A dinghy with no equipment is a badly prepared dinghy. Here is what we carry, all of it in a yellow waterproof emergency canister attached to the transom:

• Red rockets and orange smoke flares
• VHF handheld radio in a waterproof case
• Knife
• Dinghy repair kit (glue and material)
• Flashlight (with batteries taken out)
• Spare spark plugs and plug puller
• Small tool kit

In a soft bag attached to a strong point in the bow:

• Small anchor (grapnel) and line
• Bellows pump and hose
• Spare set of paddles (the short plastic type)

Note that everything loose in the dinghy, which includes the main paddles, the fuel tank, those two emergency bags and the outboard itself, must have secure safety lines, ideally with stainless steel clips attached to the boat. Then if the dinghy does flip in surf or for any other reason, you won’t lose the kit.

I learned that lesson the hard way (on that same trip in the Beagle Channel) when our 4m inflatable, tied with a single bowline to the rail and left alongside overnight, was thrown upside-down by a vertical wind coming down off a cliff face and landed in the cockpit, bending the steering wheel, while the items listed above spilled out and floated away in a pitch black night.

Which brings me to the subject of bailing out. In any surf landing you will also need a bucket or two, as to relaunch usually means a soaking. We have also installed Whale hand bilge pumps on the transoms of our boats, which are very useful and practical for emptying out rainwater or water from leaks before setting out.

It is much easier than bailing every time or running out the water while planing, which might be impossible if you’re heavily loaded. The intake hose reaches the aft section of the bilge via a hole cut in the metal floor.

Emergency shore barrel

Preparations are not over. We have made it a standing protocol that if we are making a landing in a remote area we land a 60lt wide-mouth sealable barrel filled with emergency supplies in case a shore party cannot get back to the vessel for some reason.

This could be as a result of dinghy failure, a change in weather making it impossible get off the beach or maybe the boat is late in picking you up, the crew having gone off on a jolly of their own.

The emergency shore barrel – just in case

More often than not we drop people ashore and the dinghy returns to the boat. When stepping ashore in these places, think self-sufficiency for at least a day or two. The contents will vary according to the environment, but the prime considerations are shelter, hot food and communication.

This barrel always returns to the boat with the last load.

 In our barrel we carry:

• Group shelter (not a tent, but a rectangular loose shelter to throw over people and get them out of the wind)
• Gas stove, pot, mugs and spoons
• Food, eg soups, tea, coffee, biscuits, pasta, whisky (might as well enjoy it!)
• VHF radio or satphone
• Flares
• Flashlight (with batteries taken out)
• TPA (thermal protective aids)
• Small first aid kit

12-part series in association with Pantaenius

//

The post Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques Part 12: Dinghy handling in heavy weather appeared first on Yachting World.

Watch this taste of the wind and waves that Yachting World experienced when we teamed up with expedition sailor Skip Novak to sail round Cape Horn.

The new 12-part magazine series is packed with practical tips and real-life experience of sailing in notoriously difficult conditions plus every month we will publish hair-raising footage taken onboard the Pelagic as the crew battle against all kinds of heavy weather.

Follow Skip Novak’s Storm Sailing Techniques series from the October 2013 issue, on sale 13th September.

Subscribe to Yachting World and save up to 61% or download the digital edition

The post Sailing round Cape Horn with Skip Novak: An introduction appeared first on Yachting World.