Man Overboard (not a) Drill

Or… what we have decided to call an “unintentional man overboard drill”.
Somehow that description sounds less terrifying and life threatening, and really all done in the name of learning and skill-building.
That does not change the facts however, that what we had was very much a man overboard situation that was very much unplanned.

We left not long after sunrise for our crossing from St Vincent to St Lucia. Only about 40nm from departure to destination, but we were well aware that the weather forecast was going to make all 40nm “sporty” and keep us on our toes. The forecast called for 14-28knots of wind from the east, 6-8’ waves and passing squalls all day. “Only for the salty sailors” the forecast actually read, but we have found ourselves crossing in that same description before.

We wouldn’t ordinarily pick a day like this for a perfect sail… in fact the night before our crossing we found ourselves on a call with a friend back home, who pointed out that less than a year ago the same type of wind and waves were what we would have called a “storm” and during their visit we actually ran away to a marina to hide from very similar seas. Now, we feel more up to the challenge.

We didn’t leave amongst these conditions because we had to. There wasn’t a repair scheduled, a friend arriving into St Lucia’s only international airport, or some other rush we had to move north for. We had actually watched this day for a while and chose it because of (not in spite of) the weather! We have been finding ourselves in more and more discussions recently about the possibility of sailing beyond the caribbean… possibly to the south pacific (a destination that sounds simply idyllic, but a VERY long sail away especially for us rookie sailors). Every time those conversations arise we realize we don’t yet feel experienced enough for a longer crossing and need a bit more time in “less than perfect” conditions.

This day seemed like a good chance, under a fairly short day sail, to gain some experience and comfort with big winds and seas, and even with passing squalls… so we decided to make the crossing, prepped the boat in early morning and set off from St Vincent. The first couple hours were mild. The sea well protected by the height of St Vincent and its mountains, but as we neared the northern tip of the island the winds picked up quickly and swirled in multiple directions as we neared the volcano that sits at the northern end. The sea state and waves followed suit and became very confused very fast. Suddenly, we’re cruising along in over 20kts of wind and big waves while pointing about 45degrees off the wind. Not long after, our first squall of the day came ripping in from the east.

The beauty of a daytime sail is that at least you can see a squall coming. They don’t exactly sneak up on you as you can see the sky and clouds turn several shades darker from far way, and as you approach it (or it races toward you) you can see the flat darkness of shade and rain that blankets the sea and hides everything underneath/within it. As you get nearer you can make out the seas all around the edge of the gray abyss pick up and can watch the whitecaps as they break onto themselves. It’s a humbling event, but at least buys you time to decide a course of action (slow down in hopes it passes by in front of you, turn away and run, throw in another reef before passing into it, etc).

We had started our day with 2 reefs in the main, but after much time in the calmer winds we had shaken one out and since the winds had maintained a steady 18-22kts we simply had kept cruising along with only the single reef. The sight of the squall and watching another boat disappear into the darkness of it help us to decide to rapidly take a second reef. The rains pelted us well before the winds and we were drenched in seconds, much less by the time we got the reef cinched down, but well ready when the winds jumped rapidly to 30knots.

We both stared at the chartplotter, watching as the wind fluctuated above and below 30 and trying to decide whether to take a third reef. It stayed for the most part safely below and we opted to simply point a bit higher into the wind as the end of the squall passed overhead… mostly just trying to keep the boat pointed in the best direction to reduce speed in the big winds but still take on the waves in the most comfortable and safe manner. 10’ plus seas are one thing when they are 10, 20 or 30 seconds apart… but when they are breaking before and while slamming into the boat and only have bout a 2-3second period - its another experience all together.

A few minutes later, we took a deep breath as the back end of the squall passed over us, leaving only the breaking waves and water draining off our deck to remind us it was ever there at all. The seas would slowly “calm” back down to their previous state of wild/confused and we would continue on our way, easing back off to 45-50degrees off the wind. That same scenario would repeat itself with at least 3-5 squalls ranging from decent size to massive and we played the same roles each time as we tried to listen to the weather and the boat in terms of best decisions and course of action.

Overall, we felt great about our managing the boat, our smooth transition between reefs as needed and shaking them out when they weren’t, and taking it all with a good deal of comfort. Were the conditions big? Yes, without question! Was almost the entire day riddled with high adrenaline and a few breathtaking moments, yes… but we knew that going in and it was well within our comfort level to deal with all of it. Jen has had a new mantra for quite a while now while trying to “find the beauty in the big”, specifically when it comes to big wind and waves… and i certainly heard her sweet talking and calling a few dozen waves “reaaaally big and beautiful” as they passed the boat.

But at one point, while im trying to film the waves during a break in the action (truly not possible as waves somehow never show up on camera… the boat can literally be taking flight off the crest of a huge wave, and when you go back and look at the footage you’d swear you were sailing on a lake with no waves whatsoever), i hear jen actually say the words '“its big, and my heart is racing… but im having fun”.
In hindsight, that might have been our undoing actually… famous last words and all.

As we had a period in between squalls we starting trying to focus more on getting maximum speed out of our sail. We were pointing quite high to the wind, but with these winds were hoping we could get more out of her in speed than we’d been seeing most of the day. We tightened the sheets even more, tried a few things and eventually decided to tack and see how the boat liked the wind on the opposite side. Possibly a poor decision. Not only were we struggling to get much in the way of speed, but as we turned into our tack the boat stalled almost completely as we pointed into the high winds and took on a few big waves.

We completed the tack, but the stall meant that the fishing lines got wrapped underneath the boat. Our hearts sank… if you’ve been following along for a while you remember the hardships we’ve already had due to line in our props and having to haul out a second time to deal with the resulting seal replacement. I grabbed the gopro and laid down on the sugarscoop for a bit of a bronco ride while putting the camera underwater to see what had happened. Luckily the lines weren’t in the prop, but were all hooked on the starboard rudder.

No doubt there were several mistakes made in the minutes to follow, but our first was probably being so terrified of the potential for lines in our prop that we decided to deal with the situation immediately rather than risking another tack, or worse yet waiting until we were closer to shore where we might need the props as the winds died in the lee of St Lucia.
We talked through all options but eventually decided to stop the boat by heaving to so i could get in the water to clear the lines off the rudder. To be clear, we’ve never heaved to before and weren’t exactly certain of the process but did understand the concept. Ironically, only days earlier we had discussed the need to do a heave to drill before we needed it. Doh! =/

We would still love a few more tries to practice so we can dial in the best possible heave to position for the boat, but we did manage to get the boat stopped (slowed down to only a 1.5knot drift) before securing a few safety lines for me to hold while I jumped in.

No, we didn’t think twice about me jumping off the back of the boat without a floatation device in the middle of the ocean. We had several lines tied from all directions and if I had a PFD on I wouldn’t have been able to get underwater to remove the fishing line.
Yes, I was a bit surprised at how strong 1.5kts of current felt while dragging along the side and underneath the boat and how rough those waves suddenly felt when they’re slamming you into the side and bottom of said boat.
No, we didn’t consider aborting the whole process and figuring out something else… but in hindsight at some point we probably should have.

I fairly quickly was able to get a loop tied at the correct position in the line and time dives in between waves, which allowed me to grab the fishing lines and toss them underneath the rudder and free them (or so i thought). Sadly, when I looked back down i realized that in the lack of visibility (both from the whitewash of waves crashing into the boat and the fact that the strength of the current was literally ripping the goggles off my face) that one of the lines was apparently crossed from the opposite direction, meaning i had just looped it around rather than freeing it from the rudder [insert expletives here]!

I tried a few more dives but couldn’t reach the line on the opposite side of the rudder. I came up for air and had jen move one of the lines to the opposite side (inside) of the sugarscoop while I drug along behind the boat to catch my breath. Once she got things in place, i pulled myself back up, swapped grip from one line to the other in some twisted form of an underwater dragging trapeeze act and then pulled myself up next to the sugarscoop to try from the inside. A few more dives got the line half way free, but i was tiring rapidly, pretty well exhausted and beat up and simply couldn’t reach to free it the rest of the way. “I didn’t go through all this for nothing” I thought to myself, and decided to give it one more solid dive as a last chance before giving up.

I fought again to get my head above water to take a deep breath among the waves (slightly better in here than on the outside) and dove down while lunging forward in one thrust. I grabbed onto the front of the rudder and was pleased to find myself exactly where i needed to be to free the line… IF one can consider themselves pleased to be clutching onto a rudder and dragging along beneath a boat in the middle of the ocean. I got prepped, pulled one hand off the rudder and freed the final line. Exuberance!!
Sadly, that was short lived as I realized that in the process of doing so i had also allowed the safety line to fall out of my hand (insert mild panic here).

I make sure my left hand is firmly gripped onto the rudder and reached back with my right hand, stuck it out of the water and slapped the back of the boat loudly and repetitively trying to get jen’s attention and show her that I no longer have the line in hand. I try again to no avail, and Im rapidly running out of air. I try one last time. Nothing.
Now I have the unenviable choice of hanging onto the bottom of our boat and drowning (not an option) or letting go and watching the boat drift away. Yes, I chose the right option. No, I wasnt happy about it.

I let go of the rudder and grabbed frantically to try and find the lines dragging behind the boat but without success. I came up for a massive breath and saw jen, only about 6-8’ away but with the distance increasing rapidly and knowing there’s no way i can catch up. She grabs a line to throw it to me, but its tangled and falls just short of my reach, and there’s no other longer line near to hand. Its funny how rapidly all of the things that we could have done differently and/or better jumped immediately into mind just as soon as I had no attachment to the boat.

Let’s be clear. I am extremely comfortable in the water. Im not really afraid of the vastness of the ocean nor swimming/treading water without a PFD. That all being said… I can now say with 100% confidence that with any amount of comfort in the sea or of your own ability/strength… one thing that you never want to see is your boat sailing away without you on it. That holds even more true while you tread water (without a PFD) in 6-9000feet of water beneath you and 8-10’ waves tossing you around. Not even close.

No surprise to me whatsoever… Jen absolutely crushed the man overboard maneuvers despite the fact that we’ve never really done or practiced these drills. There remains no other person of any experience level I would rather trust at the helm to rescue me from the sea. It took a couple passes for me to get on the boat, but not for lack of her being able to turn the boat around and sail literally within arms reach of me every single time. We simply didn’t have the equipment or lines onboard that we should have for this scenario (but will soon). On the second pass she tossed me a PFD and on the third I was able to pass under the boat, between the two hulls (a decision I questioned almost as soon as I made it) but was able to grab onto the dingy outboard and then quickly got hands on one of the lines and heaved myself up onto the sugar scoop before we continued on our way. Luckily the seas had remained about the same and no squalls decided to pass during the time it took for these maneuvers to happen.

All in… a VERY humbling and sobering experience. We have never taken any of this lifestyle lightly, maintain enormous respect for the the sea and have always been fully aware of its ability to have its way with us at a moments notice. But now, we had an experience that taught us more than any other could have, and did so without damage or catastrophe.

I could have never imagined learning about what is truly needed by a person in the water trying to be rescued in big wind and seas, and now we know exactly from the only possible way to possibly see it first hand. I wouldn’t have chosen to jump in the water for a man overboard drill in those seas, but i don’t doubt that we are and will be better sailors for having experienced it. Ive said it before and ill say it again… “non-catastrophic failure” is how humans learn. In this case we learned and are still learning a ton.

Our list of safety items to purchase is already lengthy. Our list of drills and maneuvers to practice in the coming days is still growing rapidly as we continue to discuss and debrief about the events during our passage. But more than all else, our list of things to be thankful for is enormous, and more than anything else, we are elated that we’re all on the boat to have and continue that discussion.