| How do we define "heavy weather?"
For example, a small family cruiser sailing upwind
in open water might have a tough time of it in a
25-knot wind even though the same blow is perfect
for a boat twice her size. And what about a vessel
crewed by a retired couple who don't spend much
time in the gym, compared to the same craft manned
by the local firefighters' tug-of-war team? With
the obvious exception of extreme storms, heavy
weather along the coast is best not classified by
wind force. A better description might be "conditions that make a skipper consider changing
the passage plan." Modern weather forecasting is so comprehensive
that, in theory, it's possible to always avoid
really poor conditions on modest passages. The
trouble is in today's hectic world, most of us can
only hang around for a day or two before commitments
oblige us to go to sea. Typically, when we're
running out of time at the end of a cruise, we try
to grab what looks like a "window." This almost
inevitably slams shut just when we reach the point
of no return, and that's when we come unstuck. How
we cope will depend on a number of factors.
WEATHERLINESS
Any boat will blow downwind. It's when the wind
is forward of abeam that she shows her true mettle.
Every boat has a limit beyond which she can no
longer work upwind under sail, power or even both.
Just where this boundary lies is mercifully unknown
to most of us, but larger boats generally perform
better than smaller ones. A long waterline deals
with waves better. Additional displacement makes a
heftier boat more stable, with more power to deliver
the all-important upwind punch. Regardless of size,
it also helps if a boat's sails and engine are
doing the best job they can.
SAILS AND ENGINES
 |
| In 30kts of wind,
with motors upwind, 36kts apparent on the
foredeck, and the bowman is beaten to a
pulp. But with the sails downwind, 24kts
apparent, the headsail shadowed, and the
bowman is happy. |
Shortening sail downwind: It is perfectly
possible to reef most modern designs while sailing
downwind. Rounding up in a near-gale to put in a
third reef is a dramatic business that is best left
alone. If you have to go forward, clip on and take
your time. Keep the vang on, ease the halyard slowly
and haul down the luff while a mate heaves on the
clew pennant to keep the battens from blowing into
the shrouds. This works well.
Shortening sail upwind: It never pays to reef or
roll some mainsail into the mast while a boat is
bashing to windward. Instead, try steering on a
close reach until the true wind is at about 65
degrees. Ease sheets enough to spill a little wind
without flogging. Now steer a bit higher upwind to
take off as much way as possible without losing
control. Most boats can jog along in relative safety
on just the half-lifting headsail while the crew are
on deck. Once everyone is back in the cockpit, sheet
in, hang on and let her go!
Genoas: Most large reefing genoas take on a
flour-bag shape and become a waste of air-space with
10 or more rolls in the luff. A tall, thin blade jib,
on the other hand, is an excellent sail that a
36-footer can carry upwind in 30 knots with around
four rolls. Even a 110 percent genoa makes a
dramatic difference. The only reasons for not having
a smaller headsail on hand are cost and stowage
space. Dig deep, make room for one more bag under
the bunk and be sure to bend on the smaller sail
before starting out on a rough passage.
Mainsails: Any serious cruising yacht must have a
mainsail with three reefs. Two reefs, unless they
are very deep, are simply not enough. In-mast
reefing solves this problem, of course, and if you
have a conventional slab-reefing mainsail you can
often have a third reef point added. Boats with
"production" single-line reefing systems,
however, can be left in the lurch. Two reefs are all
that most of these systems can handle, and if the
ropes are not Spectra, Dyneema or some other hi-tech
fiber, this stretch will beat the system every time.
If this is your wretched lot, have a sailmaker
and rigger set you up with a third reef that can be
used conventionally. You'll have to go to the mast
to handle the tack, but when it really matters
you'll be grateful. Any deep reef should leave the
sail very flat indeed, both to depower it for
sailing and make it closer-winded for motorsailing.
Trysails: Most of us don't carry one. They're
rarely used, cost money and take up space. Unless
you're bound across an ocean, a deep third reef is
all you're likely to need. However, if your boat
has only two reefs, however, a trysail can be
important. The problem with trysails is that you
always have to rig them when you don't feel like
it. Once you've set the thing though, there's an
unexpected bonus. Because they spend most of their
lives in the bag, trysails almost never blow out.
Storm jibs: A storm jib works best when working
upwind in 30 knots or more. It needs a stay to hank
to, because it is a stand-alone sail that is used
only for special occasions. This is easy enough to
arrange. The top of the stay is permanently rigged
near the masthead and lives in the shrouds somewhere.
When its day dawns, it is secured to a lug on the
foredeck and set up with a Highfield lever, a
turnbuckle or, best of all, a tackle. A storm jib
must be cut so its sheet lead works with existing
gear. Once in place, it will drive a good boat to
windward long after all else has failed. Like a
trysail, it carries the extra benefit of always
being "fresh out of the bag."
Motorsailing: Although we'd probably all like
to carry storm jibs and trysails, most of us are
constrained by our pockets. Since we spend less than
one percent of our time in survival weather, we
understandably opt not to go down that road. For us,
then, when the genoa is rolled in so far that it
develops an unproductive flour-bag shape, the only
answer is to motorsail. Crank the third reef into
the main good and tight, heave the clew out flat,
vang the boom down, sheet in hard, roll up the genoa
and motor as close to the wind as the sail and the
seas allow.
HAZARDS
Lee shore: It isn't usually the sea that causes
the real trouble, it's the land. The most serious
threat is being blown onto a lee shore. In heavy
weather, keeping clear of any potential lee shore is
priority number one. A lee shore may not look too
bad when your boat is in good order, but if she were
to be disabled - typically by an engine failure - a
lee shore can take on a horribly different aspect.
Perhaps it's because I spent my youth disappointed
by unreliable engines, but whenever I'm motoring
to windward of a nasty obstruction, I'm never
happy until I'm well clear. I'm also constantly
working out contingency plans just in case
everything were to suddenly go quiet below.
Apparent wind: Six knots of boatspeed downwind
turns a 30-knot near-gale into a 24-knot stiff
breeze. Six knots of speed upwind ratchets up the
same blow to 36 knots - a whole gale, with pressure
on the sails virtually doubled. Bear this in mind
before making a major course change in hard winds.
Even when your plan is to plow straight downwind, an
emergency can still find you out, so the best advice
is to never be caught over-canvassed. Reef early.
Along these same lines, because everything is so
much quieter when you run off, it's great for
dealing with minor crises. Let's say your roller
headsail gear snags. Anyone trained in dinghies
would turn automatically into the wind and let
everything flap. This is because the dinghy's
first priority is to not capsize. But a keelboat
won't tip over and a flogging sail is a major
hazard; luffing up can make a disaster out of a
nuisance. By contrast, running off - if you have sea
room - immediately defuses the situation. As an
added benefit, the main will blanket the foredeck,
which can make working up there a relative pleasure.
STRATEGY
 |
| Heaving To: Sheet
small headsail, trim main in either to a
closehauled or close reaching profile (try
both to find proper balance) and turn the
rudder hard to the wind. |
The most obvious advice if a bad blow seems
likely is to stay in port. If you have to go anyway,
at least make sure your passage plan includes some
ports of refuge.
Being caught out at sea is a different matter.
Any decision out there will be governed by the wind
direction relative to where you'd like to go. The
state of your crew, the amount of sea room and the
proximity of dangerous areas such as tide rips will
also be factors. Here are some typical choices.
Carry on regardless: If you reckon you, the boat
and the crew can do it, it's often best to batten
down the hatches, tell the crew it won't be fun
and then slug it out.
Go into survival mode: Unless a knock-down seems
likely, the boat isn't in any immediate danger
from the water, but a lee shore could finish her off.
A summer gale probably won't blow for more than 24
hours at the most, so if you can't reach shelter,
employing survival tactics in the open sea may be
the safest option. The crew won't like it, but it
might keep you off the statistics list.
Hide somewhere: If you don't fancy carrying on
and shelter can safely be reached, this is an
obvious answer. However, a harbor entrance that's
safe one day may be a death trap in different
conditions. Running downwind for shelter is
generally less stressful than beating to weather;
It's also easier on the boat. But don't forget
that the coast you're approaching is a lee shore.
In even a near-gale, it can be tough smashing
your way to shelter upwind. But as the coast
approaches, the waves will smooth out and the going
will get easier. The bottom line is that almost any
refuge lying to windward with a sheltering shoreline
behind it can be entered safely. The problem is
getting "up" there in the first place.
When assessing a harbor, remember that one on a
lee shore must have an unambiguous entrance that is
broad enough to allay fears you might have about
controlling the boat as you run in. If a narrow
entrance is tidal, will the stream be slack,
flooding or ebbing? If it's ripping out over a bar
against a gale, the seas may become dangerous,
especially if they're whipped up by wave
reflections from piers or walls. Any sudden shoaling
will also pile up the seas.
And how about any turns to be made inside? I once
ran for shelter into a river that swung immediately
to windward inside the entrance. I came in easily
enough, but when I turned the boat up into the
breeze inside, she wasn't powerful enough to face
it, and I was left running back out to sea with my
tail between my legs. The factors to consider go on
and on. The trick is to be coldly objective and not
create fantasies that may prove to be at odds with
reality.
TACTICS
 |
| Tactics: In high
winds, motorsailing upwind, running
downwind and heaving-to can be beneficial
maneuvers, but never sail beam-on to large
seas. That's the cause of most knockdowns. |
The volume of literature on open-water storm
survival is so vast that anyone sailing across an
ocean has no excuse for not being thoroughly
informed. For sailors caught out in a summer gale
along the coast or between islands, things are
usually less extreme and there are fewer choices.
The key to surviving dangerous waves is never to be
caught beam-on by a breaking sea.
Heaving to: Skippers of boats with a deep
forefoot are fortunate in having this ultimate
option available. Boats with no draft forward are
unlikely to be able to heave-to in heavy going,
because their bows will be too readily blown off the
wind. This includes many modern designs, so be sure
to try it before you need it.
The principle of heaving-to is that the boat is
set up with its jib aback, driving its bow to
leeward, while the main is filling conventionally,
shoving the stern downwind and balancing out the
headsail. The rudder serves as a kind of fine tune,
leaving the boat in a state of equilibrium lying
about 45 degrees off the wind and waves.
You can achieve this state by hauling the jib
across to weather and waiting for the boat to slow
down, but it's a lot easier to just tack and leave
the jib sheet cleated off. Once the boat is through
the wind, shove the helm hard to leeward (wheel hard
to weather) until she stops. Lash the steering, and
that's it. If the boat is suitable, she'll lie
there making a knot or two of leeway, asking no more
from you than to keep a good lookout.
Running: I've already noted that running off
makes the world go quiet. It's a great survival
option, so long as you've enough sea room and can
keep the speed down. Too fast and you may end up
broaching. Bad news. Maintaining control may involve
taking in all sail and letting her blow along under
bare pole(s), which works well in as little as 25
knots for many modern boats. When it breezes up
seriously and too much speed makes steering tricky,
it's time to trail warps astern. But then you're
into a serious read of Adlard Coles's Heavy
Weather Sailing...
Motorsailing: The third option, and often the
best one for most unmodified production cruisers, is
to roll up the genoa, deep-reef the main, start the
engine and motor slowly upwind. You'll make little
progress over the ground but you won't get rolled
over. So long as the engine keeps turning (did you
clean the filters this year, and do you carry a
spare or two?) and you have fuel in the tank,
you're in with a good chance of sitting it out
without problems until the front blows through, the
kettle's singing and you're on your way once
more.
|