Friday, April 29, 2011

68) Delivery: day 9

We went into the gibe doing 8-9 kts attempting to reef the main.
Ah yes, the magic of GPS and hindsight.  The picture above graphically displays our track and the precise moment when the gibe occurred.   Start at the lower left and work to the upper right; the hard 90 degree right turn is the gibe.  The boat did a complete 360 and when it was back on the northeastern heading it gibed back and released me.  And then for some reason the boat headed southwest only to make a 180 and go northeast again. 

For clarification, while the boat was on the lower left it was heading northeast with the wind coming over the port side forward of the beam (the boom was off the starboard side of the boat).  After the 360 the boat apparently headed downwind, or southwest.  Just in this small snap-shot there are multiple turns and in opposite directions and it appears to be out of control.

Oh, but it gets worse. Apparently, we went downwind for quite a distance.  And, made several more 360's.  This is a boat that is out of control.  Bill was at the helm the entire time during the attempted reefing, dropping the main and getting back on a northeasterly course.  To show how disorienting this situation can be I have no recollection of the boat changing direction.  I only know that the boom traveled its extreme range back and forth possibly multiple times.  The noise was deafening and combined with the darkness, rain and the movement of the boat in the rough water it was impossible to focus on anything but what was right in front of you.  But, this in no way excuses the person at the helm from maintaining control of the vessel.  At the very least he should have brought it head to wind and stopped the boat.

This incident started just after midnight and lasted until 12:23am at which time the vessel got back on a NE course after the mainsail was brought down and secured to the boom.
We heaved-to at 7:11am PST until 10:47am PST.  We were still on HI time and it was actually about 4:11am for us and still dark.  The picture directly above shows the track where we exited the reefing event at the far left, traveled for many hours, repaired the mainsail and then hove-to and drifted SW.  I simply remember that the conditions were so rough and everyone was extremely tired.  Then we turned NE and I think the short right-left turn is when we raised the repaired main.   
Sometime in the very early morning I wanted to lay down.  But, it was so rough that I moved to the back.  I could not deal with the lee cloths dropping and I figured the berth in back would be more comfortable.  Bill utilized the aft pipe berth on port and I now took over the larger cushion berth on starboard aft.  

The noise is very loud on these boats while offshore and back here it was even louder.  The noise of the water and bubbles against the hull created from the waves seemed to echo back here.  

I was really uncomfortable worrying about my head injury and the new sounds added to the problem.  I do remember that out of the darkness Clive regularly would peek into this after cabin and ask if I was alright.  I think I joked with him and said, not dead yet. 

And now, how can it get worse?

There have been many studies performed mainly focused on pilots researching the effects of fatigue on the circadian rhythm.  Fatigue is fatigue but I think it is exacerbated in the sailing environment.  For us, we had been about 8 days into a regular schedule of 4 hours on and 4 hours off watch.  It is obvious there was no stretch of time wherein substantial sleep could be attained.  It usually takes me about a week to catch up on sleep in that schedule.  An enormous issue on-board is making sure no one gets so fatigued that they can not function.  While the sailing conditions are calm it is not as critical but when things get rough and for sustained periods, such as days, then it can be dangerous.  

We do not have just one daily cycle.  The liver has a cycle separate from the brain's and scientists are realizing that other organs and tissues in our bodies have their own individual cycles.  The problem is that these cycles are not all affected by the same stimuli and they do not all adjust to a new schedule at the same time.  Some can take up to two weeks to adjust to a new schedule.  This leads to a kind of internal chaos with different parts of the body that should be working together being totally out of sync and working at cross purposes.  The net result of this internal chaos is typically referred to as 'jet-lag'.  Everything from sleeping, eating and even going to the bathroom can be thrown off by the disruption of our circadian rhythm.

Many suggestions can be made to remedy fatigue but in certain situations, such as long-distance passage-making, there really is no way to stop the fatigue.  We all know that the goal is to make it to point B and that's that.

As uncomfortable as it is to talk about it is still an issue; constipation.  I have done several of these passages and know that I might not take notes for about 3-5 days.  I was on one boat where one guy was up to 7 days.  That became pretty serious.  We all eat and piss but don't, uhm, drop the kids in the pool.  One guy recently told me that he went 13 days.  That's an emergency.

Why this now?  Of course, the night I hit my head, when the boat was pitching violently, when it was raining, the boat was heeling (even under just a jib alone), the windows were leaking, the floors were wet with water washing up the sides, after I had been laying down for about an hour, the call of nature knocked on my door (actually, kicked the door down and kicked ass and took names).


Literally, I was not going to the transom in the dark.  I could not wait.  I slowly made my way to the forward head.  The boat is dark but I know my way around and knew where the hand-holds were.  Prior to passing through the forward bulkhead I paused and shined a light forward.  The light was on a string around my neck so that way I always had light.  The boat would launch off a wave and slam down with such force that it sounded like we hit concrete.  The pile of sails on the floor would elevate a couple inches as a uniform pile.  I paused because you can not stand up forward of the bulkhead as the ceiling height reduces towards the bow.  The shock of the boat slamming down against the water is transferred through your body to your neck and you can feel the violence of the boat hitting concrete.

Bow.
It is required that you sit because of that aiming and missing thing and now more so because of the threat of a broken neck from hitting the ceiling.  It really was this rough.  Just building up the effort to disassemble the foulies and clothing to sit on a wet ice cold tiny throne in a violently pitching dark closet was monumental.  I would not have done it if I could have waited until sunrise. 





When the sun came up I went into the cockpit and took the wheel from Bill while he assessed the mainsail damage.  He came back to tell me that it was not repairable and that he was unable to stitch the sail by himself.  I gave him the wheel and went forward to make my own inspection.  I came back and said that I had a needle and heavy waxed thread and that it could be repaired so he went below and woke up Mark to take the helm.  


For at least an hour and most likely more, Bill and I stitched an 8’ horizontal tear from the leech to the luff about 8'-10’ feet down from the head.  It appears the accidental gibe caused the mainsail to strike the upper swept back spreader and cleanly split the seam.  We both pinched the sail material together and then I used my fid to create a hole.  The material was too hard to push just a needle through it.  Then Bill would feed the needle through the hole on one side and I would pull it through and go over the top and hand it back.  Eight feet is daunting when you consider that it is cold, the wind is blowing, the boat is rocking, we're all exhausted and more than 1,000 miles from land.  We were on our own.


The sail was temporarily repaired and much later in the day we raised it when the wind was calmer to test it.  We only raised it high enough to get a reef in it.  The repair seemed to hold and we miraculously made it the next 1,100+ miles to Long Beach with it in that condition.



I remained below for the rest of the day and tried to get rest.  The headache had settled in with left shoulder pain, neck pain and collarbone pain on both shoulders.  I got Tylenol from Clive.  We discussed not using aspirin as it was a blood thinner and I had an open bleeding head wound.  (He applied Neosporin on the wound very soon after the incident while we were down below).  There are numerous blood stains on my pillow and I was unable to wash or shower due to the conditions so the dried caked blood remained until I was able to get a land-based shower in Long Beach on 5/7/11.


It took several days for the low-grade headache to go away but the lack of appetite, slight dizziness and slight nausea did not abate until reaching land.


On 5/9/11 a consultation was made with Kaiser.  They stated that medical attention should have been made immediately and that it was too late to do anything now.  It is being left with the advice to monitor my condition and notify them if headaches or nausea returns.














The repaired seam is just above the red stripe and the partial batten.
All the windows were leaking and you can just see the drops at the lower edge of the wood trim piece in the center of the picture.  My gear was stored below this drip.  Lots of stuff got wet.  I got a small sauce pot from the galley and put it below this drip.  The waves were breaking over the bow and washing down the sides of the boat and getting all the windows wet.  This was the source of the water that we saw on the rat-holes before departure.   When the boat was in port at Oahu and it rained the windows leaked and some of the drips landed on the rat hole berths as well as everywhere else.




It turns out the new windows were installed with what looks like a bitumen gasket instead of being embedded in a liquid sealant.
(Long Beach) Teak plug in the cockpit drain with a pink string attached so not to lose the plug.  My hat is off to Mark for hanging off the back of the boat in rough seas having put the plug in the hole and hammered it in.

It's odd how things work out and while laying on the aft berth just looking around I discovered the primary source of all the water in the bilge.  We had been on a regular schedule to pump the water out of the bilge and still did not know the source.

I heard water dripping and started looking aft and discovered it dripping from the PVC plumbing.  The cockpit drains are plumbed through this back area and exit the sugar-scoop.  I surmised that when the rudder was removed and re-installed prior to our departure someone sat on the starboard PVC and upset the compression coupling.  After discovering this leak I immediately went above and said we needed to plug the drain at the transom.  The following seas would fill the pipe and it would enter the bilge.  

We still had breaking waves that would send water in the cockpit and I also said we needed to plug the starboard cockpit drain.  We did and then the water would collect until we heeled back, as the boat heeled back and forth, and then the water would rush to the port side and drain.

This was the most economical way to keep the water out of the bilge and I thought that was pretty important.  Somewhere along the way Bill decided he didn't want water in the cockpit and removed the plug.  Now the water in the cockpit was allowed to enter the drain, go down the PVC pipe and having been stopped at the transom plug would then flow out the compression coupling and into the bilge.  He thought it was no big deal to allow water in the bilge and then just pump it out.  To this day I will never understand or agree with that thought process.  He was relying on always having an engine to produce electricity to charge the batteries that were needed to power the bilge pump.  I never rely on the engine if I can avoid it.

During the time that I was laying on the aft berth just looking around I realized my favorite small Canon camera was missing.  Sadly, I found it resting in the bilge between the fuel tank and engine in a comfortable pool of water.  Just enough to completely cover it and make it obsolete.  

This was not the first camera to give up the ghost while I have been sailing.  Unfortunately, there have been many.  One time while racing in the SF bay south of the bay bridge I had just completed a spinnaker set after rounding a mark (as the fore-deck crew) and lost an expensive HD camera.  It was on a loop around my neck and worked its way down my foulies and out the end at my right foot.  I saw it hit the deck and bounce overboard.  Ah, the memories.

Paint chips on the floorboard aft of the forward bulkhead washed up from the bilge as the boat heeled and water sloshed up the sides.




Subject: 29 Apr Update
Sent: Apr 29, 2011 2:51 PM

Conditions are a little better.  Winds are down and we are able to hold our course to Long Beach going 5-6 knots.  Still using the #4 and double-reefed main.  Seas are starting to get smaller.  We hove to for several hours and the wind moderated by 12pm and veered.  So we're able to hold our course now instead of sailing for San Fran.

Just download the latest weather charts and forecasts, so hoping for the best.

Bill


(Bill's first e/m after the incident and for the record, no mention of the unplanned gibe or the torn mainsail or the water leak, etc).
12am 4/29/11 to 12am 4/30/11 (124nm/1,385nm)

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