Stub stuck - on the Reef
Tuesday, 30. June 2009, 12:00:00
Close encounters of the reef kind
We have had our moments, first hitting a sand bank where our one stub keel was stuck solid in the sand, the other hull floating free in a few feet of water. Fortunately the tide had just turned and was rising; we pushed the boat off sideways, standing in waist deep water after about 40 minutes. It is so hard to pick up the reefs as the visibility with sun reflecting makes it very difficult to see. Our charts give a good indication of where the dangers are but the positions are not exact. One minute you are sailing in 50’ of water and the next you can be on a reef. The cruisers that are familiar with Fiji say there are 2 types of sailors out here, “those who have hit a reef and those that have yet to hit a reef”.
My version is, “those who admit hitting a reef and those who lie”. We came so close on 2 occasions, once due to a misunderstanding between Lorna and me. We just missed this reef with inches to spare under our keels but I am sure a layer of anti fouling paint has gone. If it was not scraped off it was frightened off.
The other occasion was a few nights ago, we had just experienced our roughest 24 hours out here. We were anchored in a divine spot, sheltered by a reefs and a small mountain. The wind and waves could not possibly get to us. The 20 knots of wind raised barely a ripple. That was until late afternoon when the crew of Different Drummer and another cat were aboard Mind the Gap. The wind picked up to over 40 knots and we were all convinced that we were experiencing the worst of it.
What a night that was, hardly any sleep, Lorna and I did anchor watch. If anything went wrong we could deal with it right away. Just as it got dark one half of our bridle that secured the anchor chain, snapped with a bang and we felt the boat lurch. I started the engines and gingerly motored forward into the darkness and lashing rain. Lorna took in chain, unclipped the bridle and tied another piece of rope to the snapped bridle rope then reset the bridle. Unsurprisingly these events never occur at a good time but Lorna dealt with the situation very competently. It was a rough night with gusts regularly well over 40 knots. I dread to think what it would have been like without the protection as the ripples at 20 knots became waves at 40. How could they build up like that with so little water surface between us and the land and reefs? During the daylight hours we could see the wind lift the top layer of water and turn it into spray blowing it into a cloud along the water surface. When it calmed down to the mid 30s it felt like a lull.
The next day things calmed down a bit and Drummer left to head south, we decided to stay another day as did the other cat. That night at about midnight we were awoken by the anchor alarm. We always set this alarm as soon as we have anchored. This alarm is part of the GPS system, it monitors the boats position to within a few feet and if it moves out of that range the alarm goes off until it is reset or it goes back within the range setup. It was pitch black outside, no moon or stars with low cloud and a bit of rain. The only thing that was visible at the time was the lights of the other cat, now in front of us. We knew that we had swung due to a change in the wind direction.
All our observations and instruments over the next few minutes confirmed that the wind had shifted about 180 degrees. Our transoms were getting dangerously close to the reefs, about half a boat length away. The wind strength was not a concern as it was windy but not wild, in the 20 knot range.
The other cat was in a similar position but when they went to bed before the wind had shifted they were behind us. With the wind shifting they were just in front of us. We were concerned as they appeared to be getting closer to us all the time. I called them on the VHF and asked them to check if they are dragging as they were getting very close to us. As soon as they started moving forward so did we and we shortened our chain a bit so that we were a boat length or 2 clear of the reef. We did not realise that they were completely disorientated. To make matters worse they panicked. They did not have any instruments on, no depth, no wind direction, could not see their compass or land or reefs, only our lights and we were now not in front of them but behind them. They did not ask for any information but upped anchor and headed straight towards us and the reef. They were intent on getting behind us again and re anchoring near our transoms – on the reef!
Encounters of the reef kind
Lorna was desperately waving a very powerful torch about trying to point out the sand bank which lay just beyond the reef and shouting. I was shouting into the Vhf, “GO BACK, STOP, YOU ARE HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THE REEF!” To no avail, they turned close to our transom and crunched and shuddered onto the reef. The crew was frantic on the VHF – “Please help us we are on the reef” As I prepared to launch the dinghy they managed to break free as they still had their engines going. Having hit the reef once, it seemed like they were intent on coming back for more. Lorna and I launched our dinghy and with torch light guided them to a spot where it would be safe for them to anchor.
It was fortunate that the tide was rising and they were not locked hard onto the reef and subsequently suffered no more physical damage than a few scratches and minor chips to the one stub keel. More damage was done psychologically but thankfully lessons can be learnt without it being too costly. It can happen so easily and these were experienced sailors that have sailed more than halfway around the world.
Despite all the anguish there was the lighter side too. During this incident there were divers, snorkellers on the reef from the local village hunting lobsters. They were swimming along the reef just behind our boats with their torches glowing clearly under water. One or two were standing waist deep in water watching the turmoil unfold aboard the cat as they crashed into the reef. With the crew stressed and frantic, they hear this voice from one of the locals a few feet from their boat call a friendly “Bula”. What reply was he expecting? “We just wondering if you have any lobsters for sale”
Anyway we had good experience sailing to Fiji from New Zealand, others did not have it so good. Some disasters I have already written about, but there were also some scary moments as experienced by Slapdash. See their account after a few days out from New Zealand.
James
We have had our moments, first hitting a sand bank where our one stub keel was stuck solid in the sand, the other hull floating free in a few feet of water. Fortunately the tide had just turned and was rising; we pushed the boat off sideways, standing in waist deep water after about 40 minutes. It is so hard to pick up the reefs as the visibility with sun reflecting makes it very difficult to see. Our charts give a good indication of where the dangers are but the positions are not exact. One minute you are sailing in 50’ of water and the next you can be on a reef. The cruisers that are familiar with Fiji say there are 2 types of sailors out here, “those who have hit a reef and those that have yet to hit a reef”.
My version is, “those who admit hitting a reef and those who lie”. We came so close on 2 occasions, once due to a misunderstanding between Lorna and me. We just missed this reef with inches to spare under our keels but I am sure a layer of anti fouling paint has gone. If it was not scraped off it was frightened off.
The other occasion was a few nights ago, we had just experienced our roughest 24 hours out here. We were anchored in a divine spot, sheltered by a reefs and a small mountain. The wind and waves could not possibly get to us. The 20 knots of wind raised barely a ripple. That was until late afternoon when the crew of Different Drummer and another cat were aboard Mind the Gap. The wind picked up to over 40 knots and we were all convinced that we were experiencing the worst of it.
What a night that was, hardly any sleep, Lorna and I did anchor watch. If anything went wrong we could deal with it right away. Just as it got dark one half of our bridle that secured the anchor chain, snapped with a bang and we felt the boat lurch. I started the engines and gingerly motored forward into the darkness and lashing rain. Lorna took in chain, unclipped the bridle and tied another piece of rope to the snapped bridle rope then reset the bridle. Unsurprisingly these events never occur at a good time but Lorna dealt with the situation very competently. It was a rough night with gusts regularly well over 40 knots. I dread to think what it would have been like without the protection as the ripples at 20 knots became waves at 40. How could they build up like that with so little water surface between us and the land and reefs? During the daylight hours we could see the wind lift the top layer of water and turn it into spray blowing it into a cloud along the water surface. When it calmed down to the mid 30s it felt like a lull.
The next day things calmed down a bit and Drummer left to head south, we decided to stay another day as did the other cat. That night at about midnight we were awoken by the anchor alarm. We always set this alarm as soon as we have anchored. This alarm is part of the GPS system, it monitors the boats position to within a few feet and if it moves out of that range the alarm goes off until it is reset or it goes back within the range setup. It was pitch black outside, no moon or stars with low cloud and a bit of rain. The only thing that was visible at the time was the lights of the other cat, now in front of us. We knew that we had swung due to a change in the wind direction.
All our observations and instruments over the next few minutes confirmed that the wind had shifted about 180 degrees. Our transoms were getting dangerously close to the reefs, about half a boat length away. The wind strength was not a concern as it was windy but not wild, in the 20 knot range.
The other cat was in a similar position but when they went to bed before the wind had shifted they were behind us. With the wind shifting they were just in front of us. We were concerned as they appeared to be getting closer to us all the time. I called them on the VHF and asked them to check if they are dragging as they were getting very close to us. As soon as they started moving forward so did we and we shortened our chain a bit so that we were a boat length or 2 clear of the reef. We did not realise that they were completely disorientated. To make matters worse they panicked. They did not have any instruments on, no depth, no wind direction, could not see their compass or land or reefs, only our lights and we were now not in front of them but behind them. They did not ask for any information but upped anchor and headed straight towards us and the reef. They were intent on getting behind us again and re anchoring near our transoms – on the reef!
Encounters of the reef kind
Lorna was desperately waving a very powerful torch about trying to point out the sand bank which lay just beyond the reef and shouting. I was shouting into the Vhf, “GO BACK, STOP, YOU ARE HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THE REEF!” To no avail, they turned close to our transom and crunched and shuddered onto the reef. The crew was frantic on the VHF – “Please help us we are on the reef” As I prepared to launch the dinghy they managed to break free as they still had their engines going. Having hit the reef once, it seemed like they were intent on coming back for more. Lorna and I launched our dinghy and with torch light guided them to a spot where it would be safe for them to anchor.
It was fortunate that the tide was rising and they were not locked hard onto the reef and subsequently suffered no more physical damage than a few scratches and minor chips to the one stub keel. More damage was done psychologically but thankfully lessons can be learnt without it being too costly. It can happen so easily and these were experienced sailors that have sailed more than halfway around the world.
Despite all the anguish there was the lighter side too. During this incident there were divers, snorkellers on the reef from the local village hunting lobsters. They were swimming along the reef just behind our boats with their torches glowing clearly under water. One or two were standing waist deep in water watching the turmoil unfold aboard the cat as they crashed into the reef. With the crew stressed and frantic, they hear this voice from one of the locals a few feet from their boat call a friendly “Bula”. What reply was he expecting? “We just wondering if you have any lobsters for sale”
Anyway we had good experience sailing to Fiji from New Zealand, others did not have it so good. Some disasters I have already written about, but there were also some scary moments as experienced by Slapdash. See their account after a few days out from New Zealand.
James
WIDGETIZE
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