Stormy Sailing!

[pwd72s]

Any blue water sailors here? I recently got this email from Stan Mott, a friend for decades. He and his wife Ise were liveaboard yachties for a period of time. Mostly in the Med. What's the car connection here? Some of you may connect Stan to his artwork in R&T..he drew the adventures of Cyclops. He and Ise have left the sea, now live in Germany. I think Stan writes as well as he does art. And yes, cartooning is very much an art form. Anyway, to the email:



Paul,




Don't know if I mentioned our adventure in '76 crossing the Gulf de Fos, France. So I wrote it out. No, I did not submit the story to a yachting magazine. The tale does not promote yachting, and might even scare a sailor or two out there. Besides, yachting magazines don't pay money for submissions...mostly from folks who are happy enough to let everyone know about their summer on the water. So...






The Gulf de Fos




Few people know that the beautiful blue Mediterranean is the world’s second most deadly sea. The first is the Red Sea. But the Mediterranean has over millennia sent by far more seafarers down to inhabit Davy Jones Locker. This is due to the vast number of seafarers from countries lining the coastlines, and two disparate weather systems; cool to icy European along the northern coast, and hot to boiling African along the southern coast. The confluence of these extreme weather systems can whip up ferocious storms in a matter of hours; Tramontanas, Levanters, Mistrals, Gregales, Siroccos, to name a few. This means huge seas and short troughs that sink boats.




Ancient Mediterranean ships had mostly small square sails on a single foremast, and lots of oars. The sail allowed them to run with the wind in storms, and the oars to power them in dead calms. These travel aids give great insight to the two basic Mediterranean weather conditions; long periods of dead calm and flat seas interspersed by sudden killer gales.




We novice sailors, of course, didn’t know any this back in 1975. My wife, Ise, and I blithely motor-sailed our newly bought Turkish caique gaff ketch, “Deniz Agaci”, into Spanish waters. We spent a calm and sumptuous summer in the Balearic Islands. But it was September, and time to sail north to enjoy the French Riviera. We didn’t know then that the winter temperatures in Cannes gets down to freezing. And we didn’t know the French weather reports, on radio France Inter, were sometimes, let’s say, casual.




We sailed north hugging the Spanish and French coasts most of the way to avoid Tramontana winds. When we arrived near the mouth of the French Rhone River, a northeast Mistral force 8 gale was blowing. A Mistral is a wind that races down from cold mountains through the Rhone Valley like a angry river. But it was good sailing, for us, as long as we hugged the coast and engaged in no large seas.




We sheltered overnight off Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer. Next morning, France Inter announced another force 8 gale. Good. We only had to cross the Gulf de Fos, a seven mile stretch, exposed to a ten mile fetch, where seas could build. But we had great faith in our Turkish caique gaff ketch; she has a double ender hull, a Mediterranean design built for short nasty seas.




We set out early, running south with the wind. It quickly increased. By the time we reached the mouth of the Rhone, it was howling. We headed into it and sheltered behind a spit land. We couldn’t return into the wind. We looked across the gulf. A large cargo ship was steaming out to sea. We figured it can’t be too bad if they’re giving it a go. And we couldn’t stay where we were. If the anchor let go we’d be whisked out to sea in a killer storm.




We set out across the gulf. The seas built up fast, getting so huge I had to turn the bow into them, to pause, let the largest seas pass, before cranking the wheel back to head towards our destination. Within minutes, we saw the freighter heading back to land. They were flashing a light at us, indicating no doubt we should follow them to safety.




Instead, I set about cranking the wheel, getting the bow into the now monstrous seas, pitching up so violently we saw over the bow only the bright blue Mediterranean sky one second, and in the next the bow pitching down into a dark sinister green base of the following sea. I quickly learned seas run in series of nine. They build up to the biggest, then moderate back down, at which time I whipped the wheel to starboard and opened the throttle to make head way, before the next big ones built up, and I had to cut her into the wind again.




It was one of those times if one little thing went wrong, if our Ford 6E diesel quit, if a steering cable broke, if a mast broke, I wouldn’t be sitting here writing these words. We would have been carried out to sea, with little or no control over the boat as seas became mountainous. And devilishly “squared up”, i.e., short distance between high seas, waves, which sink boats quickly. (This happens when storms are whipped up quickly, with no time for seas to stretch out, as in the Atlantic or Pacific, to allow boats to more easily ride over them.) So when night fell, we’d be so far out it would be only a question of time before the wrong monster sea caught us the wrong way and rolled the boat. We would then be the latest additions to the thousands of Mediterranean sailors over millennia sent to Davy Jones Locker.




But nothing broke. With our now beloved Ford 6E diesel roaring, wind screaming, my frantic cranking the boat into monster seas, then back, and racing to make way, and back again, for an eternity (2¼ hours), we crossed the gulf.




We ran with the wind to point Carry-de-Rouet and whipped around it...into calm water. We hugged the coast to the small commercial port of Les Riaux, and anchored safely.




France Inter later reported that we had endured not a force 8 gale, but a severe force 11 storm.




I can assure you the adrenaline pumped during such genuine life and death situations does not vanish immediately. The tea we sipped while calming down was almost--dare I say it?--a psychedelic experience. We were alive. And what an incredibly beautiful once-upon-a-time experience it was.




We were more careful next time we listened to France Inter.




(Stan Mott. Copyright 2017)

[Deschodt]

Fun read, that's where I grew up. My parents still live in Carry le Rouet... When the mistral blows, it's no joke...

[manbridge 74]

Intense.

[LWJ]

Don't let my wife read that. Really.

[gatotom]

thanks for the read, the med is on the radar for next yr.

I am still a novice in the art of sailing, 13 yrs and counting, never lose respect for the sea, always expect the worse and if it doesn't come, sweet.

Our vessel is a Sabre 38 Mk 2 which stays in the PNW, a perfect sailboat for these waters.

To cross the atlantic to go to the med will be on a Amel 48 ketch, a strong stout vessel designed to cross oceans and as its name states in is a Jewel of the Sea.

[T77911S]

use to have an 18ft cat, a SOL CAT
I would go out when others were coming in due to rough water, white caps.
I would get knots in my stomach getting ready to go out but once out I was fine.

to quote capt RON, if its gonna happen, its gonna happen at sea.
great movie.

BTW, only turned it over 3 times. once was end over end.

[Cajundaddy]

Sail often enough and you are certain to meet a storm that will test you to the limit.

We sailed in a few 60kt plus storms that added some early grey hair to my head. The first was a December storm off Pt. Furman in the middle of a Catamaran race. Several boats were lost onto the rocks or breakwater but we managed to keep ours upright through monstrous wind and seas, often finding ourselves completely airborne over the wave tops. When we got back to the beach we had a storm survivor party with the other lucky ones.

The second was also a cat race off Pt San Luis. Half the fleet capsized with some sailors becoming tangled in the rigging and risk drowning. Fortunately no one was killed but many injuries as a cold front moved through while we were on the water. Again we were lucky and stayed upright while airborne wave hopping to get back to sheltered water.

The third was of all places, Lake Mead on Memorial weekend. We had planned to sail our 24' cruising cat to Catalina but heard the weather report looked rough, and with 2 small kids on board we trailered to "safe" inland waters instead. The front hit Catalina with 60 kt winds capsizing a dozen boats and damaging the moorings at Avalon and Isthmus.

I was pinned to the weather radio and heard that this storm was heading our way. We tucked tightly into a narrow canyon, set the main anchor on a bridle into the wind and ran a line from each stern to a stake on shore for a very solid 3 point triangular mooring. When the storm hit we heard report of dozens of small craft being swamped or capsized. A few battered power boats came into our little canyon and we helped as we could with extra food, water, and extra blankets as we all waited out this storm. 60kt gusts howled in our rigging for 2 days and finally on Monday the wind died down. Once the weather radio gave the all clear we hauled anchor and headed back to the marina.

Callville marina was severely damaged with the entire outer docks torn out and loose boats strewn all over the place like a hurricane hit. Nearly 50 boats were capsized or sunk on their moorings in this nasty storm. We slid our cruising cat onto her trailer, packed her up for traveling and headed home after a quick "thank you" to our maker for keeping us vigilant throughout this wild weekend.

[Jim Richards]

The best storms are the ones you're not sailing in. Mind the weather. Don't count on good luck.

[arcsine]

I raced sailboats in Puget Sound for 15 years or so. Being prepared, aware and running the boat with care, I had respect for but never was in fear of the weather.
That is until we did a Southern Straights race out of Vancouver.
It was a long (100+ mile) overnight race that started out in beautiful conditions with 15-20 knots of breeze and nicely rolling water. The wind built all afternoon and evening until we were in 30 knots of wind, very choppy seas and the blackest of skies. The wind continued to build until we were in 40+ knots with gusts well beyond that (we were guessing 60-70). By this time, most of the crew were seasick, we had to drop the main sail and put up a #4 blade storm jib for some control. When a big puff tore the jib sheet (a line that was close to 1" in diameter) in half, we finally gave up and called it a night. The problem was motoring to the next closest port in Nanimo took a couple of hours. We eventually arrived and tied up in a marina and those who were not already crashed on the boat walked across the street in full foul weather gear to a hotel (at 5AM) and got a room. We all just grabbed a horizontal surface (bed, couch, floor) and passed out for a couple of hours.
All totaled we tore a few sails, destroyed one sheet, had lots of vomit to wash off the deck but no one was seriously hurt.
Even now years later I can still remember that night like it was yesterday.

[T77911S]

I never dealt with anything like that.
it was a storm that flipped me end over end.
one of those florida 4pm storms. 30 winds and very low chop. sailing down wind and the leeward hull dipped under water. with the wind kind of behind me all I could do was go alone for the ride. then the storm was gone. partly my fault as I should not have been on that tack since I new the hull did that.

I forget the race name but the solo around the world race were here years ago. amazing boats and people. I could only image doing that.


another 4pm storm, 5 other cats out, they all turned over except me.

[Wetwork]

Is this a blow boat only thread? Wouldn't want to impose..-WW (Surfman #295 ret.)

[VincentVega]

Originally Posted by Wetwork

Is this a blow boat only thread? Wouldn't want to impose..-WW (Surfman #295 ret.)

good stuff!

let me start. The noisemakers were pinned...

I love sea stories. After a night race a few weeks ago a bunch of us were at the clubhouse drinking and eating and drinking... More than a few stories started something like, it was blowing like stink....

I love it!

[Jim Richards]

I didn't know you're a racer, V^2. My better half & I spent a few years "trying" to race a J/22 on the Chesapeake.

[gatotom]

Never get tired of sea stories, always learning is my motto.

Our current boat sails wonderful up to 40K wind, mind you I only have a sliver of main out, we have a furling main and IMHO is worth its weight in gold.

Over 40K and its all motor, not worth the tear up of sails and depending where you are, hanging out in irons is a good idea or throw that drogue out and believe in that vessel you are in.

[gatotom]

9.4k sail, nice sail

[gatotom]

opps, how do I correct this pic to be right side up

[VincentVega]

Originally Posted by Jim Richards

I didn't know you're a racer, V^2. My better half & I spent a few years "trying" to race a J/22 on the Chesapeake.

I'm just a wannabe. I learned to sail on a j/80 and we had fun races all the time but nothing like the real thing. I trimmed the chute for a few hours in the last race, my neck is still sore. Kidding, sort of.

I got a ride a j/32 a few weeks ago for a wed night race. Wow, quite a change from my boat. Any day on the water, or even talking about it, is a good one!

[Jim Richards]

My better half captured a few dolphins playing near our boat a few weeks back...
https://www.amazon.com/photos/share/m63azvKButSB16UjbhLm2Nuzkp3x9mpUCumwfKOUdBQ

Note: the video loads slowly.

[VincentVega]

Cool video! The first time I saw a few off the bow off Cape May it almost mesmerizing, I felt like a little kid.

[Jim Richards]

Come out next spring and maybe we can see some whales doing their annual migration from Mexico up to Alaska.