Thursday,
September 15: The trip started out like most deliveries; lots
of sniggling last minute details needing attention…the ones often
missed by the first-time owner of a cruising boat, but the ones always
noticed by sailors who sail OPB's. For example, Morganna didn't have a
radar reflector…a big deal when she, like most boats of her kind,
didn't have radar either. But generally speaking, the crew's inspection
of the boat found her to be in good shape. The Perkins 4-cyl. +40hp. Engine,
with 1,000 hours on it, checked out fine. No past or present issues were
detected. The boat had plenty of battery power, with a reserve if needed.
The bilge was clean and all the through-hulls were sound. Except for the
mast, the standing and running rigging were relatively new. Our only real
concern was the head sail. We had a total of one; a 150 genoa on the furler.
There was one other thing lurking in the back of our minds. The skipper
had sailed the boat in SF Bay a few times, but never really put Morganna
through her paces. It wasn't until later that we got curious about the
size and shape of the prop
We
left Emeryville at 16:00 with the first reef in the main and the engine
set at 2100 rpm. Conditions in the Bay were OK for that time of day. We
averaged about 4.5 knots as we dodged ferries and kept clear of 4 huge
cruise liners and 3 freighters all leaving SF Bay with us. Following the
Bonita Channel, by midnight we had reached Pt. Reyes. So far so good.
Friday,
September 16: We expected the winds to build and they did. By
Pt. Arena we had 20 kts. OTS. We kept the boat off the wind just enough
to keep the main filled. As the wind waves started to build, our speed
over ground started to drop. Soon we would be averaging less than 4 kts,
and our VMG would drop below 3 kts. More vexing than that was our fuel
consumption. It was closer 1 gallon an hour than the half gallon we used
for reckoning. Long before reaching Cape Mendocino, it was obvious we'd
have to pull into Humbolt Bay for fuel. Problem is, that wouldn't be until
Sunday…not the best day to find a fuel dock open.
Saturday,
September 17: As the dawn broke, so did other things. First to
go was the main topping lift. We're not sure about the sequence of events;
parts fell off the boom and the topping lift went zig and wrapping around
the port shroud. With no tension on the topping lift, we were pretty sure
the boom fitting must have given way to start things off. Funny, after
stuff came apart, none of us could remember exactly how the topping lift
was rigged to the back of the boom to begin with. We were able to secure
everything. In hindsight, we should have tried to re-rig the topping lift
even in heavy seas. Why? Because the next thing to go was the reefing
line. Something inside the boom chaffed through the dang thing. With no
topping lift, the boom dropped and landed on the port edge of the dodger.
Fortunately the sail stayed reefed at the mast. Thinking quickly and in
typical fashion, Tiger knew right away what had happened. He raised the
boom and wrapped all of the remaining reefing line around the clew of
the main so the reef stayed in place without harming the sail. Good thing,
too.
It
was about 13:00 when the engine suddenly revved, then quit. For those
who have had the same experience, you know what that usually means…problems
with the fuel system. Before we started trouble shooting, we unfurled
the genoa. We tried pay out just enough furler line to give us a sail
the size of a working-jib, but for a bunch of reasons the sail was accidentally
let out all the way. So, with winds blowing around 20 kts. and wind waves
averaging at least 3 feet or more, Tiger started trouble-shooting the
fuel system while the rest of the crew worked to get the boat trimmed.
With regard to the engine problem, our guess is it had been a long time
since Morganna had been tossed around. Resting junk in the fuel system
suddenly came to life and sort of accumulated in the filter and the fuel
separator. After cleaning things out and bleeding the injectors, the engine
fired right up. At this point, we figured that running the engine at top
speed was not a good idea, so we backed off from 2100 to 1800 rpm. Of
course, this made a lousy VMG look even uglier, but the engine ran just
fine.
Sunday,
September 18: Conditions had eased considerably during the early
morning hours. In fact, with only light, patchy fog here and there and
a full moon up above, conditions were down right pleasant. Our boat speed
and VMG were both above 5 kts. But by then our timetable was well out
the window and we were already tapping into our safety factor on fuel
as Morganna rounded Cape Mendocino on her way to Humbolt Bay. However,
with business commitments looming for both Tiger and B2S2, Eureka was
going to have to be the end of the line for these two experienced crew
persons. They had to be in Portland by Monday afternoon.
We
reached the public marina in Eureka around noon. Of course, both Englund
Marine and the fuel dock are closed on Sunday. But, as is often the case,
we found a local boater who offered to make 2 trips to a service station
where we filled and refilled our jerry cans until we had a full load of
diesel on board Morganna.
Fortunate
too was the fact that we had a good supply of spare parts on the boat
so we were able to reattach the topping lift to the back of the boom.
(It's worth noting, we also used one of our North Sails sail ties.) After
the topping lift was made well again, we raised the main to see how it
looked. The sail was fine but the head board wasn't. The top webbing attachment
to the lug in the sail track had come apart. The webbing attachment to
the next lug down was frayed as were 2 or 3 farther down the luff. We
used 5/16" spectra to repair and reinforce the attachments. Then
we flaked and tied down the sail and pretty much planned not to use it
again unless a real need arose. While a couple of us were going over the
boat with a fine-tooth comb, one crew was making calls to arrange for
Tiger and B2S2 to get back to Portland, while the other crew was getting
the latest information about the conditions between Humbolt Bay and Coos
Bay…a distance of about 150 nautical miles.
We
knew there was a trough coming down from the north with accompanying winds
and waves that would be progressively unpleasant the farther up the northern
Oregon/southern Washington coast. For us farther south, conditions looked
pretty good for moderate seas and moderate winds for maybe 24-30 hours.
If things got snotty it would be about the time we rounded Cape Blanco,
making Coos Bay a reachable safe harbor or if need be we could turn around
and make for Gold Beach or Brookings.
After
talking about things for probably not long enough, the skipper and I agreed
to motor our way to Coos Bay. At 15:30 we crossed the bar at Humbolt Bay.
Our winds were light and our ocean was flat. Keeping the engine at 1800
rpm, we were making 6 knots VMG. The fog got heavy at times but the layer
was thin and the moon lit things up like a stadium light. We had great
conditions all night and well into the next morning.
Monday,
September 19: As dawn broke we had a moon set on port and sunrise on starboard.
The morning was crystal clear as the wind started to fill in and the first
swells started to roll our way. The build up was gradual, but by 10:30
the auto pilot couldn't handle the load. Because the skipper was not yet
experienced with driving in such conditions, it was hard for him to maintain
a general heading while steering by the compass. I took over the helm
and we were doing pretty good, considering. Our speed sucked but we were
rocking and rolling and making headway toward Coos Bay. While we were
tempted to go throttle up on the engine, we didn't. And we opted not to
use the main in favor of maintaining an optimum heading with the wind
OTS. Besides, with so much freeboard any attempt to sail off the wind
made driving the boat that much tougher.
At
13:45 the engine revved, settled down, revved again, then quit. This is
where Haji would probably say, "DRAT!" Almost immediately, the
wind caught the freeboard of the boat and turned us perpendicular to whatever
wave came first. With no steerage, swells would point us northeast, wind
waves would slap us due east. When the swells and chop came together,
the water would break on our beam. Luckily, most of that action was amidships.
What was most troubling was our speed. After all the time we spent trying
to coax as many knots as we could out of Morganna, now we wanted her to
slow down. Why? Because with stick only we were making almost 3 knots
in the general direction of Rogue River Reef. At such a rate, we'd find
a hard landing in less than 3 hours.
The
first task was to get some steerage. My first choice was to get the main
up. But the quickest thing was to easy out the genoa a wee bit. I talked
over the drill with the skipper. Cleat the sheet. Get 4 wraps of the furler
line around the winch. Make sure everything was clear of the furler line
so she ran clean. Ease the sail out to the size of a storm jib. Then BAM,
we're rolled on our ear. I don't exactly know what happened except that
the genoa went out all the way with a Gordian knot in the furler line.
The sheet got uncleated and the stopper knot blew the fairlead. Now we
have a headsail flogging like crazy with one sheet whipping around until
it found the lazy sheet to wrap itself around, and around, and around.
Now we had to get the main up, pronto.
With
the boat perpendicular to the wind, I hollered at the skipper "EASE,
I mean EASE!!! out the boom. GOOD! HOLD IT THERE!!!!" Now to untie
the main. Oh yeah, remember that sail tie we used to fix the topping lift?
Well, to take it's place as a sail tie, somebody used a length of 5/16"
spectra. Hell of a sail tie under a load. After cutting that bugger away
the main was now loose. With the strength you get when the going gets
really rough and with the boom out just enough, the main went up about
90%. It would have been good if I could have put in the second reef, but
there was no way. We had steerage and that was good, but as hard as we
tried we didn't have enough oomph to tack or gybe. And when we tried to
bring the boat up to bring boom in, our heading changed very little but
our speed reached almost 6 knots. Not good. We had to get the main in
so we could point as high as we could without adding speed. That would
keep us on a heading slightly above the one that had us pointed at the
rocks, now about 4 nautical miles to the east.
Figuring
we had the main about as good as it was going to get, the next task was
to get the fricking genoa furled. By now it had taken a pretty good beating.
The leach line cleat was ripped out and the stitching along the sunbrella
covering was coming undone in a few places, but the sail hadn't torn.
We had to get the knot out of the furler line so we could get enough wraps
around the winch. Despite getting bounced around aplenty, the skipper
stuck with it and eventually got the furler line unknotted and together
we were able to get the sail furled, knotted sheets and all.
The
time had come to make the call…Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, this is the
sailing vessel Morganna, over. Right away the Coast Guard answered. We
informed them of our situation, gave our position, stated that there were
2 crew on board in good condition, both wearing life vests. We advised
the Coast Guard that the boat was not taking on water and was not in danger
of sinking. We were then asked to switch to 22-alpha. In less than 10
minutes the Coast Guard had fashioned a rescue plan involving three boats.
The immediate need to was to make sure that assistance arrived before
we found Rogue River Reef. While the larger and very fast CG boat made
its way from Gold Beach, I think a small boat was dispatched to stand
off the reef in case we needed a nudge or the crew had to be removed from
Morganna. The primary rescue boat reached us in a little more than an
hour. (Watch through the binos I could see times when the Coast Guard
boat was all the way out of the water as she blasted her way toward us.)
Once
on the scene, the Coasties operated like the skilled, well-oiled machine
that they are. First, they radioed us to make sure we were still ok and
no new problems were developing. Next they wanted to know if we had a
hand-held VHF for use as a secondary means of communication. Once that
was all taken care of, they radioed information about what we were all
going to be doing next. First, they tossed a heaving line to our stern.
Attached to it was a mesh-bag containing a drogue and about a million
feet of tow line (ok, 200 feet). Hauling that baby on board was a chore.
Remember, even though the wind was blocked somewhat by the Coast Guard
boat being upwind of Morganna's port side, we still had 12 foot swells
rolling us. So each time both boats dropped between waves the heaving
line and the mesh bag dipped into the water. Once on board, the drogue
could not get deployed until towing harness was attached to the bow. So
another heaving line was tossed up at the pointy end of Morganna. Hooked
to it was a towing harness (and another million feet of tow line) that
had to be secured to the boat in such a way that the pull was centered.
Not a problem. Morganna sports one of those giant industrial strength
cleats just aft of the stem fitting for securing the anchor chain. So
once the tow line was secured, it was time to run back to the stern to
deploy the drogue. Problem is, there no big cleat in the middle of the
cockpit and the drogue has to be centered off the ass end of the boat.
Fortunately, the heaving line was attached to short length of tow line
that was tied to the mesh bag. That line was passed through the bowline
end of the drogue line and then tied off on the port and starboard stern
cleats on the boat to form a bridle.
Before
the tow got under way, we had one more chore to do. Get the main down.
To do that, the Coasties turned us upwind and the main dropped to the
deck where we gathered it up tied it down and we were good to go. All
this work took about an hour. By about 18:30 and less than 3 nautical
miles from Rogue River Reef, the Coast Guard began towing us to Brookings.
At 20:30, we released the tow line hooked to the CG boat from Gold Beach
so we could do the tow line drill again with a CG boat dispatched from
Brookings. The second boat towed us for five and half hours. At Brookings,
the Chetco River Bar was calm. Once in the river, the Coasties prepared
to snub the two boats together, port-to-port. But first we needed to get
ALL of our fenders and dock lines out of the lazaret. That meant diving
into a rather deep compartment. With my foulies and PFD on I reached down
deep and with most of me in the lazaret, I was able to fetch the things
we needed. When it was time to get my own self out of the lazaret, I couldn't.
I was stuck. With my butt and legs sticking out of the compartment, I
could hear the skipper yelling to the Coasties…"Wait a minute,
he's stuck in the lazaret!" as I'm yelling, "pull me outta here."
Once we were all standing upright, with precision and an unbelievable
touch on the helm the Coast Guard skipper maneuvered Morganna into position
parallel to the dock and eased her into place.
Tuesday,
September 20: At 01:30, Morganna was safely moored at the public
marina in Brookings, Oregon. And like the Lone Ranger riding off with
little fanfare and only a silver bullet left behind as a reminder of his
good deed, the Coasties on the boat gathered up their equipment, shook
our hands and they were off. And after the enforcement officers, who were
waiting for us dockside, performed their safety inspection of our boat,
they too shook our hands leaving behind only a piece of paper to commemorate
the adventure that had just ended.
Post
Script: It was about 10:30 when the f/v Finn pulled into port. She had
gone out 150 nautical miles fishing for albacore. The skipper knew all
about the fishing boat that crashed near Winchester Bay, and he knew all
about Morganna's adventure, too. Ours being the new faces on the dock,
it was easy to tell we were the guys off of the s/v Morganna. As the Finn's
skipper and crew were posting signs advertising "Fresh Bled Tuna
For Sale" the captain let us know that 150 miles out he was caught
in the same stuff we found ourselves in. As the Finn booked it home, ships
still out were reporting wind gusts to 50 knots. Conditions didn't ease
for the f/v Finn until the boat was about 3 nautical miles off the coast.
And then came the classic quote from one of the crew off the Finn. "Yep,
unlike sailboats, when we get caught in it, we don't stay in it."
Thanks
to the United States Coast Guard, neither did we.
