I was thinking about the most important suggestions I’d give someone going offshore the first time and near the top of the list was to make a two day passage before setting off on a long voyage. We hadn’t done this when we headed from Los Angeles to Hawaii the first time and never realized how much skill it took, or at least a different skill set, to keep the boat moving when conditions weren’t ideal.
When day-sailing off the California coast it just wasn’t an issue. If the wind went light or on the nose, we’d flip on the engine. No problem. On our 2,250 mile trip to Hawaii, we wouldn’t have had the fuel to use that strategy. We learned “on the job” how to use the gib pole and how to trim the sails in light air. It would have been nice to have these techniques mastered before we set off.
Then I was wondering why this hasn’t been an issue for us since reaching the Marquesas. Now, if the wind goes light, we just motor. The reason we can do this now, is that our passages are relatively short at only seven or eight days and around 1,000 nautical miles. With our fuel capacity, we can do almost that distance under power. On one passage from Fiji to New Zealand, with no wind, we motored 800 miles. It was lovely, if a bit noisy.
We have a 35 gallon (132 liter) main tank, a 20 gallon (75 liter) bladder tank and we carry six jugs of fuel in our aft quarter berth that hold 33 gallons (125 liters) making a total capacity of 88 gallons (333 liters). We also sometimes carry an additional jug in our cockpit that holds 7 gallons (26 liters). In ideal conditions, our engine burns about 0.5 gallons an hour and 5 knots. That’s a max range under power of 950 miles. In adverse conditions, we don’t do as well. If there’s a little wind helping, we do better.
We carry all this fuel below decks. Our walkways around the deck are narrow and Legacy has low freeboard, so there are some pretty violent waves that wash over our decks. I have fears that if our jugs are secured to the shrouds, a wave could take our rigging along with the jugs. I also don’t like the way jugs move the center of gravity higher with jugs on deck.
Six fuel jugs in our garage, ah, quarter berth. (See why we never have guests/crew?).
Adding the bladder tank under our port dinette seat was one of the best things we did on Legacy. We have a little electric transfer pump and valves to direct the fuel from the bladder tank to or from the main fuel tank (there’s no separate fill hose for the bladder tank). This means that if conditions are rough, we don’t need to be adding fuel from jugs out on deck.
The Tank Tender, with the third gauge we’ve installed, this time digital. Still not very good.
Keeping track of the fuel remaining on a passage has proved to be a challenge. A good gauge is essential and hard to find for boats. We had a Tank Tender and for a few years, it was spot-on accurate. We could tell how much fuel we had down the liter. Over pressurizing the gauge once due to a plugged air tube ruined that. We replaced the gauge and recalibrated but it was never the same. We installed Blue Sea’s gauge and ultrasonic sensors but they are total junk! We’re now using Blue Sea’s display unit but with an old fashioned, mechanical sensor. With all that, we’ve never had the kind of accuracy we had with our first Tank Tender.
The Blue Sea M2 tank gauge. Now we’re using an old fashioned mechanical sender for fuel.
I’ve considered flow meters, but at the low flow rates of our small diesel engine, along with the additional complication of the fuel return line, this solution is expensive and I don’t think the results will be any better than what we have. Maybe a good, old fashi0ned sight glass would be better, but it would be hard to use on Legacy. Maybe a dip stick?
A sight tube posted on Trawlerforum by Great Laker.
So, to bring this perhaps pointless conversation back around, our suggestion if you’re heading offshore for the first time on a passage that’s significantly further than your fuel range is to learn to keep the boat moving, no matter the conditions (exception for rough conditions – then learn to heave to). If the passages are “short,” augment your fuel capacity so that you can motor. It would be lovely to drift along at two knots in light wind and calm seas, but we’ve not had that luxury since our Hawaii trips as we’ve always been racing a weather system that wants to catch us and hurt us! -Rich
Note from Cyndi: Before our first trip to Hawaii, we had a neighbor, a very experienced cruiser, who was all excited about going on a sailing outing with a “light air specialist.” He invited us along, but we had something else to do and didn’t take him up on the offer, not seeing why this was so exciting. We came to regret that decision as we found, during our trips to and from Hawaii, that light wind can be every bit as challenging as heavy weather, especially when it’s combined with swells that dump the air out of the sails.
What we learned on our own is being able to pole out the jib is invaluable on very long passages such as those we made to and from Hawaii. We once met a new cruiser in San Diego headed for Hawaii, and I insisted that he needed to invest in a pole for his head sail. He later wrote us and thanked us as it came in very handy on his crossing.
For all that insisting back then, we almost never use our pole on our crossings to and from New Zealand as we’re always racing a weather system and have to keep the speed at maximum warp drive (“More power, Scotty, more power! The lives of 2 crew members depend on it!”) -Cyndi
Doesn’t every boat have a 3D printer in the forepeak? Maybe we should. We bought one for a project while we were staying in Hawaii and I brought it home to Legacy where it’s been getting pretty good use. Here’s the latest: a coolant reservoir holder for our Diesel heater…
It’s one of those things that I could buy at any auto parts store in the US. Here, not so much. A soda bottle and the 3D printer to the rescue.
And here’s the printer…
I also made a sink stopper for our friends on Kozmo…
I’ve also made electric, actuated watermaker valves (yet to be installed) and a cover for the back of our refrigerator thermostat. Let the good times roll!
I’ll disassemble the printer when we sail off, but for now, it lives in the v-berth. I think it’s going to be really handy to have aboard. It’s already been really handy! -Rich
Update: November 17, 2019 – Fuel Jug Cap
Replacement fuel jug cap printed to replace yet another broken original cap. With no hole for spout we never use. Old, broken one in my fingers – welded with my soldering iron several times before.
Update December 17, 2019
I think I’m just going to put all the stuff I print here so if nothing else, I can keep track of it for myself.
Here’s today’s project: A way to hold the 12 volt chargers (car chargers) in the plugs. I printed a piece that goes behind the 3 outlet receptical to attach rubber bands that keep the chargers from coming out on their own.
Here’s what it looks like without the chargers and rubber bands…
Below is a phone charger I did and posted about a few weeks ago.
My new phone holder/charger with the unused piece of equipment removed and sitting below.
Below is a bushing I printed for a friend. It goes on his Monitor Windvane wheel adaptor…
The black part is the bushing I printed. There’s also a small, front bushing not shown.
And below is one of the first things I printed. It’s a cover for our refrigerator thermostat. This electronic device isn’t very water-resistant and the last one died a wet death. This cover, with it’s o-ring seal, should prevent that in the future.
Refrigerator thermostat cover.
December 28, 2019 – Knife Sheath
This silly thing was one of the most troublesome things I’ve printed. It took me three tries to get it right. At least now we won’t cut ourselves on our new, razor-sharp bread knife.
March 8, 2020 – bathroom scale holder…
We’ve wanted a scale on Legacy for some time so I can watch my ever increasing weight, but where would we put such a thing? Cyndi came up with this place in the bow and I printed some little holders to keep it in place.
I also designed and printed motorized valves for our watermaker. No more reaching and stretching into the lazarette to turn on and off the fresh and salt water. I can’t show that yet as I’m trying to license the design.
Bedside Table for Cyndi – May 2020
We found the perfect tray at a local housewares store and I printed a bracket which slips over the rail on the sea berth across from Cyndi’s side of our bed.
A few days ago we heard that a yacht bound from Fiji to New Zealand was lost and there was one fatality (out of the crew of four). This isn’t something I intended to write about. I think Cyndi’s done a more-than-adequate job with the doom and gloom lately đ but then I read a comment about the situation on Cruising Anarchy that pushed me over the edge:
For those wondering what they were doing out there, I think it has been answered. The conditions were bad and forecast but how quick those systems develop and move is pretty hard to know in advance, most models contradict each other until 3 or 4 days out around here.
Weather and seas like that are not particularly unusual here and especially on the trip they were making. If your used to staying home if the forecast says over 25, don’t bother coming to NZ you will never leave your mooring.
Oh, were do I start! Pretty hard to know how quickly these systems move?!
Let me pontificate based on our now nine trips between the tropics and New Zealand (and an additional four trips between the tropics and Australia). I speak only 0f our experience and don’t claim that any of our techniques are right for anyone else.
Yes, the weather forecast files we get (GRIB files) aren’t 100% accurate, but they get more and more accurate as the forecast period shortens. Certainly a day or even two before the tragedy, the models would have accurately indicated the position and movement of the low. On Legacy, we get weather files every day while at sea and sometimes even twice a day. We also use a professional weather router (Bob McDavitt). Had we seen this coming, we would have hove-to or changed course to avoid the system – even if that meant heading back towards Fiji or Minerva.
Yes, the various weather models contradict each other at times, but that’s no cause to ignore all of them! That’s cause to be even more cautious when planning a passage. You can’t just hope for the most pleasant forecast model to be the accurate one. We always plan for the worst-case forecast to be the way events unfold.
The above blowhard states that weather like this isn’t unusual for this passage. While it’s true it isn’t “unusual,” there are ALWAYS periods of suitable weather. Sometimes you have to wait a long time for them. Three years ago, we waited a month for good weather for a passage before we gave up and sailed from Nelson to North Island, New Zealand instead of New Caledonia. Once in the Bay of Islands, we waited another month to get a weather window we considered reasonable. That’s just what it takes sometimes.
Waiting like that isn’t possible if you have a schedule and while I really know nothing about what actually went on during this ill-fated voyage, I suspect we’ll find out that a schedule was behind the sinking. This is really not the time of year to make this passage and good weather that lasts long enough is rare. Remember the old sailors poem about when to sail from the Islands to New Zealand (that Cyndi just made up):
If the month starts with an ‘O’, just don’t go. If it starts with an ‘N’, think again. If it starts with a ‘D’, it’s time to flee!
If you stay home if the forecast is for 25 knots, you’ll never leave the mooring! Hah. It wasn’t 25 knots that killed this man. It was gusts that may have reached 60 knots. It’s easy to look at weather models and see 25 knots when there might be much higher and very dangerous gusts. We always look at the gusts on the model as well as what might be fronts or troughs.
Example: below is a forecast for this coming Thursday on windy.com. It shows wind at 29Â knots as you approach NZ.
But if you look at windy with the gusts turned on (ECMWF Model), you see that the gusts are 41 knots in that same spot. Pretty bad.
And then we always look at the rain and thunder as this helps highlight fronts and troughs (I’ve marked what looks like a front to me in red):
The reason this is so important is that the weather models are notoriously bad at forecasting conditions around these local disturbances. Gusts might be much higher than the forecast value and if so, now we’re probably talking about 60+ knots.
And don’t forget the seas! Here’s the wave prediction for this same area:
That’s 12-foot waves every seven seconds. Easily the kind of seas that can fatally damage a yacht!
It was easy to find an example of weather like this to illustrate my point. This is what it has looked like all month! This is what it looks like in October. So no, in 25 knots – that might have 40 knot gusts – or 60+ knot gusts in a front, don’t even leave your mooring if you see a forecast like this, even if it’s not on all of the models! -Rich
P.S. The comment that made me so angry was on Sailing Anarchy. I find that almost every time I accidentally look at that site, I get angry. To me, it seems like a bunch of old guys who have no experience telling other old guys with no experience exactly how everything must be.
Human beings are highly affected by group behavior, which becomes most apparent during any given cruiser migration season (May/June and October/November are the peak times for making the big passage between New Zealand and the tropics) but can happen any time cruisers are waiting to make a passage that involves any sort of difficulty.
What often happens is when one boat makes the decision to head off, other boats just assume that person has some superior knowledge, or that thereâs a magical power and safety in numbers. Thus when we ask someone about a questionable decision theyâre making, we often hear, âThereâs another boat going,â as though thatâs justification for the rightness of the choice. This brings to mind my mother asking, âIf your friends jump off a bridge, would you?â
The extreme end of this scenario happens when thereâs a group of boats waiting for a weather window to make a big passage. One boat decides to go, then another, and then more boats proceed to jump on the bandwagon at a rapidly increasing rate that can border on a frenzy. Frankly, this scenario reminds us of a herd of buffaloâone starts to run and soon theyâre all running, even if it means running over the edge of a cliff. The more people who are heading off, the more ârightâ the decision seems to those still wavering, and joining the growing group feels like the safest thing to do.
One problem here is that while the decision to leave might be right for the boats who initially make the decision to head out, itâs often not a good decision for many of the joiners. People lose sight of the fact that boat speeds vary greatly, and larger boats and catamarans can outrun weather systems that smaller boats cannot. Less obvious but a huge difference is any given boatâs engine power and speed.
I tell the story below not as an example of the Sheep Mentality but as an illustration of how âsafety in numbersâ is often an illusion, one that can get people into trouble. This happened to us in 2016, and itâs a lesson I havenât forgotten because the outcome was so surprising to me.
We had set out from Napier (a city on New Zealandâs north island) for the Marlborough Sounds on the South Island, a trip which would include crossing the notorious Cook Strait between the two islands. This trip would take us about 30-some-odd hours, requiring an overnight trip. If everything went as planned, weâd start out motoring in light air, get some wind during the night to help us along, make a turn west under the North Island, and cross the cook strait to arrive in the Sounds before dark the following evening, about which time the wind was due to pick up.
We headed out on a beautiful sunny and calm day, making our way out of Napierâs harbor before heading south. About a half hour or so after we left, we were surprised to see another sailboat appear behind us. We hailed them and they, too, had left Napier and were headed for the Sounds. We were both motoring down the coast, but they were much closer to shore which seemed to be giving them an advantage as far as current. It was also apparent they had a powerful engine, surprising in that their boat wasnât much bigger than ours.
They were making such good time under power that it wasnât long before they passed inside of us and ended up in the lead, then out of sight completely and out of radio contact. They were so far ahead of us that they had much stronger winds during the night than we did, and they continued to pull further ahead. By the following evening they had rounded the bottom of the North Island, crossed the Cook Strait, made it in through the Tory Channel (the closest entrance into the Marlborough Sounds), and were anchored in a peaceful bay by nightfall.
A peaceful anchorage inside the Tory Channel
Meanwhile, having fallen far behind, we hit a counter current which slowed us down even more as we neared the south tip of the North Island. We donât have a big engine so this cost us a fair amount of time. The wind was picking up as predicted, and we realized that our weather window was closing and we wouldnât make it across the Cook Strait that night. Instead, we decided to head for the city of Wellington, on the south side of the North Island, and had to do some beating as we headed into that harbor. Since weâd expected to make it to the Sounds, we hadnât sufficiently planned for Wellington, but the port control officer was helpful and told us where we could anchor for the night, a lovely place called Somes Island.
The wonderfully-protected anchorage where we took refuge at Somes Island in Welllingtonâs Harbor.
The next morning, we managed to get a slip at a marina and spent a few days in Wellington before getting another weather window during which we could cross the Cook Strait. We never did see the other boat again as they ended up days ahead of us in cruising the Sounds.
Our really nice marina in Wellington.
This actually worked out well in that we had a terrific time in Wellington, but it was also a good lesson in seeing just how much difference a bigger engine can make in a boatâs overall progress. Again, that other boat wasnât much bigger than ours, but it had a lot more horsepower! They went from leaving well after we did to being many miles ahead of us in less than 24 hours, miles that made a difference in our outcomes. Below, a map which shows our initial plan (the green line), actually achieved by the other boat, and our surprise second plan (the yellow line) where we ended up in Wellington.
The moral of this story: Never figure you know what another boat is capable of and assume youâll have safety in numbers by leaving when they do. If theyâre out of radio range (which pretty much happens when a boat moves out of the line of sight), they wonât be coming to your aid if something goes wrong. In our experience, boats often separate very quickly once they head out on a passage.
This brings me back to the issue I mentioned earlier, how the actions of one boat can affect others. This isnât at all the fault of the âinstigatingâ boat but instead is the fault of those who fall under the spell of the Sheep Mentality. The story below, which also happened in 2016, is a perfect example of how this thinking can lead people to make terrible decisions.
It was late in the season in New Zealand and weather windows to the tropics had been particularly scarce that year. Cruisers had gotten increasingly desperate as time marched on, and many ended up making rough passages to the tropics. It was now well into winter, but thankfully this was the year Rich and I had traveled out of the country and managed to extend our visas. Between our extra visa time and the particularly mild and lovely winter in Opua, we were in no hurry to leave. We couldnât, however, say the same for the remaining cruisers in Opua and Whangarei, who were incredibly anxious (to put it mildly) to get to the tropics. Weâd been watching Marine Traffic and YIT (Yachts in Transit) to see who would be leaving during various times.
There was one weather window that wasnât very good at all. Any boat leaving New Zealand would have a couple of days of beating into northerly winds, but if they could make it to a certain latitude within that time, they could get above a nasty weather system due to hit the area and have nice weather in which to continue on to Fiji or Tonga. We knew one boat in Whangarei was planning to take the window, a big yacht who likely had a good and powerful engine with which he could power into opposing wind and seas.
After this boat announced its intentions, another boat popped up and opted to take the same window. This boat was a fair amount smaller and while Iâm no expert, I knew there was no way this sort of boat could have the engine capacity or sail power to beat into the wind for two days and keep up the speed required to outrun the coming weather system. I also didnât have to be a psychic to see what was going on: The smaller boat had fallen under the spell of âThereâs another boat goingâ and wasnât thinking clearly enough to realize that the bigger boat would beat them by a long shot.
Monitoring Marine Traffic, we watched the inevitable scenario play out over the following days. Both boats left as planned, but the bigger boat used its engine to make good headway in spite of beating into northerly winds gusting to 20 knots. Around 48 hours later, that boat barely managed to squeak above the weather system that came in just below it, relieved and very happy as they reported on YIT that theyâd made it and now had good weather to continue to the tropics.
The second boat, naturally, did not even come close to making it and now, after two days of beating into northerly winds, was caught in a nasty low which theyâd have to ride out. The boat they felt theyâd âbe withâ (who probably wasnât even aware of their existence) would be checked in at their destination, enjoying happy hour drinks in a tropical bar while the second boat would still be in the middle of a long and difficult passage.
Below, an image of a typical weather system hitting New Zealand from the northwest, reminiscent of the one we watched in 2016. Weâve added icons of the approximate positions of the two boats when the system like this hit, two boats that left at the same time but had far different passages.
The icons in the image above, of a weather system bearing down on New Zealand from the northwest, approximately demonstrates how one boat squeaked above it while the lower boat got caught in the worst of it. Two boats left at the same time but had very different passages.
Rich and I have seen this scenario happen repeatedly, and the lesson here is that no matter how many boats are leaving, sail as though youâre on your own because you probably will be. Donât fall under the illusion of safety in numbers! There are so many factors that create rapid distance between boats leaving a place, and itâs not just engine power or boat size. Just a few miles of distance can completely change the current and even the strength of the wind! And one thing weâve seen over and over is boats forgetting just how much opposing conditions can slow them down. They count on a 5-knot average only to discover they can only make about 1 or 2 knots, especially if theyâre beating into rough water.
The Sheep Mentality can work differently depending on the situation and the number of boats involved. In the type of scenario I mentioned above, the leading boat isnât concerned with, or even aware of, the boats following their lead. But in the first example I mentioned, the âgathering of the herd,â a sort of magical thinking sets in: if enough boats go, then somehow everything will be OK. The fates might conspire to wreak havoc with one or two boats, but surely they wouldnât dare do such a thing to a group!
Thereâs actually no truth to this, but magical thinking tells us that itâs so. Thus, the more boats that go, the safer it will be for everyone because Nature would never take out an entire group. Thereâs also the subconscious idea that some boats must be fated to have a good passage; thus everyone around them can benefit. I donât think people are even aware that they might have such beliefs, but it becomes evident when, during times of what we on Legacy call âweather hysteria,â a group decides to take a weather window and on finding that Rich and I are opting out, actually get offended and upsetâwhy is their window not good enough for us? Itâs like weâve personally insulted them.
My feeling isnât that they so much worry about us getting left behind; itâs that our decision to pass on a window throws doubt on their decision to leave, and that makes them uncomfortable and thus pretty unhappy with us.
This is so pervasive that Rich and I sometimes resort to telling white lies about some broken part we need to fix before we can leave (actually this is often true as things have a habit of breaking at the last minute). This doesnât always deter the people pressuring us in that they sometimes offer to lend us a replacement part (often not quite right but maybe it would work) or the name of a person who can fix it quickly even if weâve already ordered replacements and are on top of taking care of it! With safety in numbers thinking, each and every boat contributes to the magical umbrella of protection, and each boat who opts out takes away a piece of that umbrella. Again, I donât think people are consciously aware that theyâre thinking this way, but it becomes evident with how weird and pushy some people can get when it comes to these passage window decisions.
One particularly annoying example of this happened during that difficult winter season in 2016 when we were sitting in Opua waiting for a weather window to get to New Caledonia. It was now July and there were still a few boats waiting to make the jump. A window of sorts had arrived and a handful of boats opted to take it. Meanwhile, we saw a window that might be better a few days later; so while people were in the customs office checking out, we went there to make a tentative appointment to check out the following week.
A man checking out asked if we were leaving that day, too, and we said no, we were waiting until the next weekend. He proceeded to give us a real dressing down, citing the latest report from Gulf Harbour Radio and pretty much telling us we were being stupid, that their passage would be great while our window was going to get delayed. It was all given with that stern undertone of scolding a naughty child. It didn’t help that the customs agent stared at us as though she agreed with him that we being negligent. We didn’t argue (not having listened to the latest report from Gulf Harbour Radio), but by the we got back to our boat to recheck the weather, I was in tears. I felt like we’d been made to look like fools in front of the customs agents, people who’s job it is to make sure cruisers don’t overstay their welcome.
Rich checked the weather again and saw that while our possible window wasn’t looking good; the one today still looked bad and wasn’t one we’d ever consider. The group of boats departed that afternoon as planned, but the next morning we heard from a friend that those cruisers were in for some bad weather. This prompted us to tune into Gulf Harbour Radio just in time to hear David advising this group they were going to go through a pretty bad trough. He added, “You guys knew this was going to happen (as in don’t complain to me), and now you need to be ready for it. Tie everything down, don’t go out on deck as we’ve had two deaths already this season, and know that tomorrow is just going to suck!”
I was flabbergasted! Did the stern lecturer from yesterday not know about this? I took the liberty of looking at his YIT (Yachts in Transit) post from the day before he left. He expressed concern about the daunting weather and wave forecast and felt “unsure of what to do.” This was followed by his post the day he left saying they were “being brave” and heading out. So this guy who was telling us how great their window was, that David was telling them to head out now, and how stupid we were being to wait was basically telling us bald-faced lies. The question is why? What in god’s name reason could this man have had for trying to convince us we needed to leave when he knew it was bad window.
I believe I may know some possible reasons: hope that another boat leaving might somehow bring some luck to the group, being unable to conceive of the idea that it’s better to remain in Opua than get your butt kicked on a passage, or maybe just that misery loves company. In any case, I was pretty taken aback by all of this. And I have to admit to some schadenfreude upon hearing they hit some bad northerlies even before the nasty trough clobbered them. As they say, karma’s a bitch!
As for us, our hoped-for window did fall apart, but we didn’t mind. We ended up waiting nearly another month for an appropriate window, but having decided to skip Vanuatu that year we were in no hurry to leave and frankly were enjoying taking a break and Opua’s surprisingly pleasant weather that winter. When we did leave for New Caledonia in August, we had one of the best passages we’ve ever experienced. In this case, it was all’s well that ends well.
In all, our advice here is to beware of the Sheep Mentality. Don’t assume you’ll have safety in numbers because that’s an illusion. Don’t assume your boat will perform as others do. Don’t take people’s word for things: double check the weather situation for yourself. Don’t let people pressure you into taking a passage that makes you uncomfortable as they may well not have your best interest at heart. Always act as though you will be on your own out there and plan accordingly; don’t for a minute assume that by following another boat that you are traveling in tandem with them. Unless you’re actually friends with that boat and have a schedule to keep in touch, they will be worried about their own voyage, not yours.
Beware the Sheep Mentality; it might be one of the greatest dangers out here.–Cyndi
Being a sheep doesn’t mean you have to blindly follow the herd.
Of course every boater is a beginner at some point, and everyone has to go through the process of learning the necessary skills. There are so many ways to do this, including taking sailing courses or having a friend teach you, studying books and U Tube demonstrations, and finding some wide open space in which to practice.
Like learning any new skill, one of the most valuable qualities one can have is the willingness to ask for help or guidance when itâs needed. But there are those whoâd rather skip over that step, who want to buy a boat and just go for it, often assuming that joining a rally will magically make up for any skills they lack. These people can be highly entertaining to watch when theyâre not endangering other boats, but the humor dies off quickly when they suddenly become a problem.
We had a potentially deadly encounter with a new boat owner in Nelson. We were tied up in our slip, Rich working in the cockpit and me below. I could hear someone throttling an engine up and down outside, but that happens sometimes as boaters back out of a slip and have to deal with currents in the water, no biggie. Rich would later tell me this boater was doing OK having backed out of his slip and down the channel, but suddenly he got spooked and decided to head back towards his slip, maybe thinking heâd rather be turned around and heading forward. Whatever the issue was, this guy ended up losing control; then slamming the gear shift between forward and reverse without throttling down, going back and forth at high speeds and getting deeper into trouble by the second.
I looked outside just in time to see this boat backing towards us at high speed, Rich yelling at him to stop. My inclination was to run out and try to fend off, but it was too late. The boat slammed into us, badly damaging our wind vane and taking out a chunk of our fiberglass. In the process this man had also hit another boat and brushed our friend, Suzanneâs, boat. Having slowed after bouncing off us, he regained control and headed down the slipway with no intention of stopping. Rich ran down the dock and made him pull over at the dockâs end and give us his information.
We were lucky; had our paddle not been up, our windvane would have been crushed and may have been driven into the back of our boat. As it was weâd have to buy a new paddle and sacrificial arm plus get our fiberglass repaired, some expense but not as bad as it could have been. Below, photos of our damaged windvane and fiberglass.
Whatâs scary is to think what would have happened had it been me in the cockpit as I might have been dumb enough to try to stick a cushion between the boats (a trick I use when I feel thereâs any danger of having our boat come in contact with another). The impact probably would have knocked me over hard and most likely I would have been injured. Rich was smart, he yelled but didnât try to physically intervene to save our boat. Boat parts can be replaced; people parts not so much.
In the end it turned out in spite of giving us information; this guy had just bought the boat and was not, in fact, insured. He had a schedule (no surprise here) and wanted to get his newly purchased boat to Auckland in spite of a terrible weather forecast. The harbor officials had already been informed of his radically unsafe voyage plan, but there was nothing they could legally do to stop him.
After giving us his info (in retrospect, weâre lucky he gave us his real phone number as he didnât intend to compensate us) and looking at our damage, he headed off again. Meanwhile we looked at the other boat heâd hit and couldnât tell how bad its damage was, but the marina was informing that boatâs owner and advising him to come down and take a look. Our friend only had minor damage, not enough to bother chasing after the guy.
The weather that night was bad, and as we listened to the wind howl, we could not imagine this boater was faring well as he headed through the treacherous waters off the North Island’s west coast. The next morning we heard an amazing story from our neighbor. During the night heâd been on the phone with a buddy who happened to work for New Zealandâs rescue service. While they were talking, his friend got a call that a boat was in distress and needed rescue. Our neighbor said, âThe boat wouldnât happen to be named Mr. X*, would it?â His friend was shockedâhow could our neighbor possibly know that? That must have been an amusing conversation!
(*Mr. X is a made-up name since he eventually, albeit with reluctance, compensated us. Thus, I’ll keep the boat’s name anonymous.)
To make a long story short, Mr. X’s engine had cut out and since he was unable to sail the boat, he needed to be towed back to safety and ended up in an anchorage not far from Nelson. Later, he was towed back into our marina and now had to face the damage he’d done to the other boats. He promised our friend a bottle of whiskey for her trouble, and Rich presented him with a demand letter which gave him an estimate of our damages.
After quickly getting his engine repaired, this guy headed north again and never did buy our friend her whiskey nor, I’m sure, compensated the other boat he’d hit. He had no intention of reimbursing us, either, and the amount fell under the deductible on our own insurance. Thankfully, we have the world’s best insurance agent who tracked this guy down and got him to pay for our damages. (Our amazing insurance agent is Bill from The Marina Shop in Opua. He’s been very, very good to us and the rest of the cruising community.)
So, for all the dangers we’ve faced while cruising, this one, which took place in a marina slip, was probably the most dangerous, or at least right up there with the night we had to anchor out in a lightning storm. We were lucky in many ways that it wasn’t worse.
We had another encounter with incompetent boaters in Vanuatu, but thankfully they were far enough away that they provided more of a show than a real worry. First off, this big catamaran (not surprisingly part of a rally) came into the anchorage we shared with a few other boats. He ended up running up onto a reef and getting stuck. Another boater rushed over in his dinghy, and someone actually went into the water to help. Meanwhile, we had another boat arrive who proceeded to circle round and round the anchorage, even, for mysterious reasons, circling around backwards. He was unable to find a spot it seemed, and acting very strangely about it.
The big cat, meanwhile, managed to get off the reef and then anchored in front of the friend who’d come to his aid. He then backed right down on his friend’s boat, and from what we could see, even hit him! His friend was yelling and waving his arms in a “WTF?” motion. The big cat re-anchored, still too close and once again backed right at his friend. The friend, in self defense, actually gave up his spot and anchored elsewhere (probably now a former friend). The strangely-acting boat was still circling when we went below to shower; so we don’t know what became of them. In all, this was an example of why rallies get a bad name with non-rally cruisers. They crowd into anchorages all at once, and inevitably some of them have no clue what they’re doing, a particularly bad thing in a busy anchorage.
So while the general public perceives storms and pirates as being the biggest danger in the cruising lifestyle, it’s generally the ordinary-looking neighbor who poses the biggest threat. Often this is because of bad anchoring, bad decisions, or general incompetence, but there is one more category that causes trouble which often isn’t the fault of the instigating boat. This will be the subject of my next post. For now, I’ll wrap this post up with the three photos below.–Cyndi
Where Does the Most Danger Lie?
Of the scenarios below, only the ocean photo looks menacing, but in fact the first two scenarios have proven to be the most dangerous for us so far.
The above photo was taken from our boat in Nelson’s marina. Across from us you can see a boat with For Sale signs. This was the boat that ended up slamming into us.
This peaceful anchorage at Surunda Bay, Vanuatu, is where a group of rally boats arrived and created havoc. Thankfully we were anchored near shore and out of harm’s way, but friends of ours had trouble with a boat anchoring on top of them (a scenario I didn’t mention in the story above).
A stormy ocean; a source of much discomfort but not a lot of danger as of yet–knock on wood. (This beautiful photo, taken by Barth Bailey, is available on the internet. Thank you Barth Bailey, whoever you are.)
