Are you prepared for a hole in your hull?

Have you ever wondered what you would do if you were flying along and heard a giant THUD as debris in the water put a hole in your hull?  If not, you should.  Part of proper seamanship is preparedness, and to me that means a lot of playing the "what if" game.

These two videos were fascinating to me.  In the first video we see what kind of strength it takes to put a hole in the hull in the first place - good to know.  We also see what it looks like when a big hole is below the waterline.  I'm glad that I haven't seen this in real life thus far in my sailing career.

What really surprised me was that the best tool for stemming a leak was a small tarp held in place with light lines.  I still really like the idea of the Forespar plugs, but what an easy trick that tarp is.  I never would have guessed it to be more effective than a sail used for the same purpose.

Watch the videos below, and spend a little time pondering what your plan is if this should happen to you...

Hugging the Furler

One of the many things I enjoy about sailing is the constant opportunity it provides to evolve by facing new challenges.  Sometimes the challenges are as simple as learning a new knot.  Other times those challenges test your skill, and courage.

I headed out one evening singlehanded for a quick spin.  There wasn't much time to spare, but I was determined to get a little time on the water.  I motored out the channel uneventfully, and entered the open lake.  The wind was blowing around 10 to 15 knots - mostly on the lower end of that range, and there were moderate waves.  Nice.

I cut the motor after raising the main, and entered a close reach.  Wanting a bit more excitement I then unfurled the 150% genoa and hit the gas.  Ravat healed over to a nice 15 degrees, put a bone in her teeth and took off.  I was enjoying the heck out of this run, and knew turning around was going to be a tough pill to swallow.

The wind continued to build as I put distance between myself and shore.  This is common due to the land formation off Rochester.  After a while I decided I needed to bring the genoa back to around 100% to reduce heal a bit and rebalance the boat.   I headed up a bit to relieve some strain on the furling line.  After uncleating the line I pulled, and nothing happened.  The furler was stuck tight, and no amount of jiggling or course changes were letting it go.  Looks like I was going to stay out longer than planned despite my intentions.

This was one of those moments sailing throws at me which put me in my place, and force my evolution.  It is not so much that a stuck genoa put me in peril, but rather that it knocked me out of my comfort zone and out of the comfort of "plan-A".  I began considering my options.

The wind dies down as you enter the channel, so I could probably motor into my marina with the genoa out and loose-sheeted.  Getting docked would be exciting in a cross-wind with the genoa out, but certainly possible.  Clearly, this didn't seem like the ideal circumstance.  Next I started thinking about trying to take the genoa down from the furler.  Again, this was probably possible, but would be very challenging single-handed.  That's a lot of sail to be flogging around.

The last thing I thought of was, why not go up there and fix it?  And so I spent some time working on balancing the sail plan so Ravat would stay on a course.  I watched the compass for a minute and saw very little change in course.  I made my way up to the bow, nestled into the pulpit, and hugged that furler.  After some investigation I discovered that the line had somehow jumped the drum and gotten wedged between the "fingers" and the drum itself.  Back to the cockpit...

A quick verification showed that Ravat was still holding her course happily.  I went below to unfurl my tool roll and grab a pair of channel locks, then back to the bow.   The waves were breaking on my feet and legs as Ravat pressed onward.  (The picture is a re-creation which unfortunately took place on a day with flat seas).  With a subtle bend I was able to get the line back where it belonged.

After inching back to the cockpit I came about and headed back to port.  Another small victory in my journey, and a short but sweet sail.

Don't Forget to Check for Cooling Water!

My boat was in the maintenance slip a few days last week for some stress crack repairs which exceeded my skill levels.  The yard did a great job on the fiberglass and gelcoat work, but they did not do a very good job in transporting my boat between slips.  They have a habit of leaving my seacock open when they move it, which I consider unsafe.

I closed the seacock while I was working once night, and it seems they didn't bother to open it when they brought the boat back to my slip.  Some of my dock friends noticed no water was coming out, and yelled to the guy driving, but by that point it was really too late.  The next two times I have started the engine it has been putting some pretty nasty black stuff into the water.  Not oil sheen, more like black dust in the water.

I started the engine again before I left last night, and the flow was almost normal.  I'm hoping that what I'm seeing is impellor residue working its way out of the engine.  I have ordered a bunch of replacement engine parts to keep on hand (belts, impellors, etc.) so I will do a proactive replacement when that order arrives.  In the mean time, the impellor is still moving water effectively and without any visible change in exhaust burping.

Ugh, it really irritates me when someone doesn't take the same care of my boat that I do.  Well, at least to such a significant degree...