When I was cruising in Mexico I learned not to depend on my inboard as much as I had in the states. Two particular incidents using the familiar use of an auxiliary was taught to me during conditions of duress of a moment when other equipment failed. First, I would motor out to the breakwater of a marina saving me time for sailing the crowded course out to sea. That was and is a good reason, for during the time I motored out several things could occur. Motoring out to the breakwater allowed me to partially charge my batteries and with the autopilot set to the breakwater exit, I had the time to set all lines and rigging, listen intently to the NOAH weather report, not losing time spent endless tacking back and forth in the channel instead. In Mexico, over the fourteen years spent cruising in the Sea of Cortez, I taught myself to set my anchor under sail without reversing my motor after dropping it as I had in the past. Instead I would sail into an anchorage with a full jib driving me to shore, playing out the chain as I slowed down while walking aft to furl the jib in tight. Many times I received a round of applause or a horn blast from anchored neighbors. It felt like a Captain Ron moment, honestly. If anyone would ask why I set my anchor that way, I would tell them "from necessity" as my engine had blown its head gasket and took many months for a new one to arrive. I would walk to the bow and cleat off a line to the rope capstan, with a marking set at one hundred and thirty feet of chain which when taunt would tighten to the tone or a low Eb as it grabbed the bottom yanking hard on the capstan where it ended turning my boat to face aft in two seconds. Only a few times my anchor bounced along the bottom along tall ell grass or a hard bottom or fouled with debris, I slowed down, almost to a stop as I realized the anchor was not setting, I pulled up the chain to try again to attempt another try another run at it. The experience taught me to become a better sailor and I am glad for it. I did own an unusually designed boat once, a Coronado 32 CC which had a huge barn door for a rudder. I would have to back out of a very tight space in a marina, so by standing behind the usual location of the helmsman using a wheel I could steer to point the boat in reverse as if I were on course heading out. She had a sweet spot in revolutions and taught me where I needed to be to steer her like a Cadillac. I learned my motor came in handy when I was dragging anchor during a stormy night. I learned to time the motor's revolutions while watching my bow pitch up to ride over the storm's surging swells, taking the strain off of the chain leading down to the anchor. Or I could pull ahead of my chain riding the surf, but it mostly was like playing dodge ball and you were the ball! Most of us, me included, do not use their engine as purposeful as it can be used. Necessity is the mother of invention and there are clever ways to use the auxiliary on passages than just allowing it to become an iron Genny.
When I see footage from Tasmania, I'm always impressed with the boat speed and the liberal use of reefs in the sails, and I'm envious! In the Pacific Northwest, in prime boating season our windy days are just about as common as deep powder days in the mountains. Drifting in a "tide gate" without propulsion makes some of us much more willing to tolerate internal combustion. The Salish Sea covers a vast area, and, though sailing is my preferred propulsion, a small quiet motor is a logical piece of safety equipment that almost everyone here has.
Only one major reason I've ever thought of, to have a motor, on a sailboat, and that is, to get to some particular specific place, fast. Yes, sometimes, it's for a medical emergency. But other than that, when it's for the reason cited first, above, I realize then that I've lost sight of the reasons for being out there in a sailboat in the first place.
As you say, even good seamanship does not guarantee safety. That said, when I teach seamanship, rowing, sailing or paddling makes me and my students have more situational awareness and they are more likely to stay out of trouble. Power does not substitute for brains. Once, when I was crewing on a safety boat for an offshore powerboat race, one of the contestants lost his Arneson drives to some submerged flotsam. The boat went straight up in the air, tossed its crew and immediately took water through the large holes in its transom. we rescued the crew and watched as a Coast Guard Auxiliary boat attached a tow line to the bow. As soon as they were fastened on, the Aux boys hit the throttles and accelerated at about 60 degrees to the centerline of the crippled boat. She immediately rolled her rail under and began to sink. Someone had the presence of mind to cut the tow line to avoid losing their transom. Half a million dollars went to the bottom right there. I am not sure whether the remains were ever salvaged.
Thanks so much for sharing your excellent stories and experiences. I'm look forward to your future postings. Enjoyed your recent comment about unstayed masts are growing like trees. Ark, ark,,
Your video series of SE Alaskan sailing trip was my first exposure to your work. Beautiful photography, fun music, positive and calm narration by you and Anke plus boat design and construction. Thanks
When I was cruising in Mexico I learned not to depend on my inboard as much as I had in the states. Two particular incidents using the familiar use of an auxiliary was taught to me during conditions of duress of a moment when other equipment failed. First, I would motor out to the breakwater of a marina saving me time for sailing the crowded course out to sea. That was and is a good reason, for during the time I motored out several things could occur. Motoring out to the breakwater allowed me to partially charge my batteries and with the autopilot set to the breakwater exit, I had the time to set all lines and rigging, listen intently to the NOAH weather report, not losing time spent endless tacking back and forth in the channel instead. In Mexico, over the fourteen years spent cruising in the Sea of Cortez, I taught myself to set my anchor under sail without reversing my motor after dropping it as I had in the past. Instead I would sail into an anchorage with a full jib driving me to shore, playing out the chain as I slowed down while walking aft to furl the jib in tight. Many times I received a round of applause or a horn blast from anchored neighbors. It felt like a Captain Ron moment, honestly. If anyone would ask why I set my anchor that way, I would tell them "from necessity" as my engine had blown its head gasket and took many months for a new one to arrive. I would walk to the bow and cleat off a line to the rope capstan, with a marking set at one hundred and thirty feet of chain which when taunt would tighten to the tone or a low Eb as it grabbed the bottom yanking hard on the capstan where it ended turning my boat to face aft in two seconds. Only a few times my anchor bounced along the bottom along tall ell grass or a hard bottom or fouled with debris, I slowed down, almost to a stop as I realized the anchor was not setting, I pulled up the chain to try again to attempt another try another run at it. The experience taught me to become a better sailor and I am glad for it. I did own an unusually designed boat once, a Coronado 32 CC which had a huge barn door for a rudder. I would have to back out of a very tight space in a marina, so by standing behind the usual location of the helmsman using a wheel I could steer to point the boat in reverse as if I were on course heading out. She had a sweet spot in revolutions and taught me where I needed to be to steer her like a Cadillac. I learned my motor came in handy when I was dragging anchor during a stormy night. I learned to time the motor's revolutions while watching my bow pitch up to ride over the storm's surging swells, taking the strain off of the chain leading down to the anchor. Or I could pull ahead of my chain riding the surf, but it mostly was like playing dodge ball and you were the ball! Most of us, me included, do not use their engine as purposeful as it can be used. Necessity is the mother of invention and there are clever ways to use the auxiliary on passages than just allowing it to become an iron Genny.
Good thoughts. Good presentation. Learn your seamanship and make wise choices.
When I see footage from Tasmania, I'm always impressed with the boat speed and the liberal use of reefs in the sails, and I'm envious! In the Pacific Northwest, in prime boating season our windy days are just about as common as deep powder days in the mountains. Drifting in a "tide gate" without propulsion makes some of us much more willing to tolerate internal combustion. The Salish Sea covers a vast area, and, though sailing is my preferred propulsion, a small quiet motor is a logical piece of safety equipment that almost everyone here has.
Only one major reason I've ever thought of, to have a motor, on a sailboat, and that is, to get to some particular specific place, fast. Yes, sometimes, it's for a medical emergency. But other than that, when it's for the reason cited first, above, I realize then that I've lost sight of the reasons for being out there in a sailboat in the first place.
As you say, even good seamanship does not guarantee safety. That said, when I teach seamanship, rowing, sailing or paddling makes me and my students have more situational awareness and they are more likely to stay out of trouble. Power does not substitute for brains. Once, when I was crewing on a safety boat for an offshore powerboat race, one of the contestants lost his Arneson drives to some submerged flotsam. The boat went straight up in the air, tossed its crew and immediately took water through the large holes in its transom. we rescued the crew and watched as a Coast Guard Auxiliary boat attached a tow line to the bow. As soon as they were fastened on, the Aux boys hit the throttles and accelerated at about 60 degrees to the centerline of the crippled boat. She immediately rolled her rail under and began to sink. Someone had the presence of mind to cut the tow line to avoid losing their transom. Half a million dollars went to the bottom right there. I am not sure whether the remains were ever salvaged.
Hi Dave,
Thanks so much for sharing your excellent stories and experiences. I'm look forward to your future postings. Enjoyed your recent comment about unstayed masts are growing like trees. Ark, ark,,
Your video series of SE Alaskan sailing trip was my first exposure to your work. Beautiful photography, fun music, positive and calm narration by you and Anke plus boat design and construction. Thanks