What's Your Worst Sailing Experience ?

[Lajos]

Originally Posted by Lajos

Just came back from a one week charter on a 51 Dufour.... Boat was super nice, clean, well maintained, weather was nice..... Captain/owner was from hell!!!!!! We where 2 couples, the cap was my friends buddy from high school, thing went to hell the moment we set foot on the boat; don't touch this don't do that, condescending attitude, don't get up early in the morning, get out of my way when I'm in the galley, and on and on and on..... I would have gotten off the boat on the second day when he just dropped us off on Pinel for 2 hours and came back after 5 hours but since he was my friends buddy, I did not want to mess up there vacation... I just came back from breakfast with them and it turns out they felt the same way!!!! We should have made him walk the plank!!! Worst vacation ever!!!!.... I could go on and on for pages about all shitty things he did but bottom line: I just needed to vent a bit... The only thing I can figure is that he bought the boat with partners, they had a falling out, he bought them out but now he has to charter to meet the payments but bottom line; he hates it....

Thank you all for listening! :-)

(just sent an email to his girlfriend asking if we did something wrong, she was super nice to us and I just can't figure out why we got the attitude, maybe she will enlighten us...)

Update:
Went back to St-Martin on my friends catamaran and we anchored right next to him at Pinel, I went over to his boat with the dinghy and confronted him about his attitude, we both stayed very polite and professional, in the end all he said was that he was disappointed that I felt that way and that he had no clue what I was talking about... Poor guy seemed genuinely clueless about how big an A-Holl he is...
On a brighter note, the trip on the cat was incredible as always, Captain J-P and Tania where terrific hosts as always :-)
Check out my post on the new blog I started;
http://givingbackcatamaran.blogspot.ca/?m=1

[zeehag]

people who anchor on your tackle have no clue--happens a lot--also anchoring on top of ye...happened 3 times in zihuatenejo -- same guy with same trawler--third time i called him a stalker--he has no clue as to where to anchor--lol

for me---bad day sailing????? not happening----is like a GOOD day in the office-NOT HAPPENING---if there is a BAD day sailing, is a problem of the sailor not the sailing...every day on water is a good day and learning is a large part of this lifestyle.

i have had adventures, not bad days of sailing.....

every adventure is a break down cruise--is no such thing as shake down cruise--only break down cruising--stuff WILL break. the schools of thought are----
odamn we have to go back to repair...
keep going, we fix on way
omg boat is broken!
we will quit now while we are ahead...

the words i like hearing are:
just to get you up to speed---this broke but we fixed it and ......

[Kettlewell]

the words i like hearing are:
just to get you up to speed---this broke but we fixed it and ......

^^This^^ Set your boat up so that you can almost always do without things that break and you have the tools and parts onboard to fix most things. It is part of the adventure to search around foreign ports for substitute parts or a repair shop that can cobble together something. If everything has to be perfect onboard you will be frustrated. From talking to cruisers who are giving it up the #1 reason is the maintenance, repairs, and break downs. Keep it simple and there is less to break and repair.

[zeehag]

Originally Posted by Kettlewell

^^This^^ Set your boat up so that you can almost always do without things that break and you have the tools and parts on board to fix most things. It is part of the adventure to search around foreign ports for substitute parts or a repair shop that can cobble together something. If everything has to be perfect onboard you will be frustrated. From talking to cruisers who are giving it up the #1 reason is the maintenance, repairs, and break downs. Keep it simple and there is less to break and repair.

btw--there is a big difference between day sailing, coastal cruising and permanent cruising lifestyle. yes i have done all of that so is an easy comparison study.

i would love to have been able to do this prepping before a passage thing---each boat and each individual sailing boats has a different way of comfortably sailing that boat.

that method of knowing exactly what you want and where you need to have it only comes with time on board sailing the boat. some ties stuff enjoyed on short sailing passages isnt right or comfortable while on a longer passage.
sometimes situations happen which preclude ability to do alleged shake down sails that actually cause stuff to break later, rather than now--so you find the problems only after you go---even day sailing is different from actual cruising.
i don t do shakedown sails--i go for it--it WILL break out at sea, no matter whether you have a new or old , prepared or unprepared boat..lol
i have been sailing an unprepared, essentially, boat on my misadventures. i have experienced fewer mishaps than others who left port allegedly prepared for cruising.
there seems to be no difference between ready and unready in this lifestyle, as murphy/seagods/aliens/wtf do a good job of leveling the playing field.

i think the major difference in cruisers is the quit factor---some folks quit when air conditioner breaks, many keep on going...some quit when the wifee cannot handle it any more---many keep on.....some quit when the engine quits and call a tow--others just fix it and keep on keeping on--that is the difference between cruisers--the ability to keep on keeping on while that stuff under your butt is not cooperating on the level which you WANT it to......we all get that which we NEED---lol..just like the song.
cant always get what ye want.....

lol..how much can you fix while underway, when it WILL break down????
what will make you cease travels and return, mebbe under tow with perfectly good sails covered...

how much is too much...lol

everything you are installing now will be re arranged after you are under way.

there is no such thing as a bad day sailing--

there is no such thing as a good day in an office.

[HarryEOD]

A year or so after I bought my first sailboat I decided to take a nice easy weekend trip to Victoria BC from Port Townsend, WA. I briefly checked the weather (mistake), there was a small craft advisor out but I decided to push on regardless.

When I was a couple hours from Victoria, the winds decided to kick it up a notch, the weather dudes knew this was going to happen, but since I didn't bother to check with them, I didn't know this was going to happen. So now since I had a really bad ass wind on the nose, along with some hefty wind waves, I decided to start the motor and bring down the sails. I brought down the sails, I tied up the headsail really good, or so I thought, and I motored on my way.

A little bit later I noticed my headsail about to be blown into the water, I put on my tiller pilot, double checked my tether and proceeded to unmanly like crawl up to the bow. I got so close, and then my tether snagged, or so I thought. So I'm on my belly, stretching way out to reach the headsail, pooossshhhh, my life jacket inflates, choking me. I did reach the headsail, pulled it back in, tied it off much better and starting back crawling to the cockpit. About half way back, Tania, my tiller pilot, decided she had had enough and quit. Of course the boat went broadside with the wind and waves, I was getting a really good ride and I started to laugh maniacally.

I made it back to the cockpit, put the boat in the right direction, but I need to pee really bad. So holding the tiller between my knees, I tried to hit the open end of an empty Gatorade bottle. I gave up, I just went in the cockpit, but mind you, the wind was honking, so most of my urine sprayed all over the front of me, including my face.

Made it into Victoria Harbor, things calmed down, I tied up at the Marina, secured the boat up, got dressed in sweats and flip flops, and proceeded to leave the boat to take a shower. I noticed one my lines was loose, bent over to tighten it, dropped my reading glasses in the water. No big deal, except for the fact that I have a combination lock on the hatchway. Not thinking, I went up and took a shower, came back to the boat, it was dark now, could not read the combination, not a soul around, like, deadsville. Walked a mile before I found a store with reading glasses, luckily I had my bag of shower quarters with me. I walked back to the boat, was able to get in, fixed the tiller pilot, and a day later, had a very nice uneventful sail home.

[Greasepower]

Mine too was close to Victoria /\

Was fresh out of university, and took a gig sailing a 1976 36' Ericson Sloop from Maui to Blaine WA.

We were at 21 days when we came into the Juan De Fucca, we were out of diesel as we did the trip in July and there was very little wind.

About 3am 15 miles from Port Angeles, the fog was so thick i couldn't see the bow, we were making a slow tack across to Canada.

I had been observing this large blob on the radar for a hour or so, getting closer and closer. "I knew it must be wrong...there are no islands in the channel"

Around 4am I'm getting spooked a bit as that blob is right on top of us, i get my mate up and have him go to the bow and look...."for what i don't know"

Atfer a few minutes he starts screening "turn right turn right" so I hard over, and as we change course my sail unveiled what appeared to be an Iron wall with lights atop.

Now remember, i cant see my buddy on the bow its so foggy, but I definitely could see the coal tanker that almost took our lives.

Needless to say, USCG came on the radio letting us know how stupid we were and that sailing vessels don't have right of way in shipping lanes...woops!

To add injury to insult the winds died off and we made no way for 7hours, without fuel and sitting in the channel with the bad fog, the coast guard finally came and towed us in...15miles @ 15kts under tow was pretty scary.

That was only 8 years ago

David

[armido]

Originally Posted by HarryEOD

A year or so after I bought my first sailboat I decided to take a nice easy weekend trip to Victoria BC from Port Townsend, WA. I briefly checked the weather (mistake), there was a small craft advisor out but I decided to push on regardless.

When I was a couple hours from Victoria, the winds decided to kick it up a notch, the weather dudes knew this was going to happen, but since I didn't bother to check with them, I didn't know this was going to happen. So now since I had a really bad ass wind on the nose, along with some hefty wind waves, I decided to start the motor and bring down the sails. I brought down the sails, I tied up the headsail really good, or so I thought, and I motored on my way.

A little bit later I noticed my headsail about to be blown into the water, I put on my tiller pilot, double checked my tether and proceeded to unmanly like crawl up to the bow. I got so close, and then my tether snagged, or so I thought. So I'm on my belly, stretching way out to reach the headsail, pooossshhhh, my life jacket inflates, choking me. I did reach the headsail, pulled it back in, tied it off much better and starting back crawling to the cockpit. About half way back, Tania, my tiller pilot, decided she had had enough and quit. Of course the boat went broadside with the wind and waves, I was getting a really good ride and I started to laugh maniacally.

I made it back to the cockpit, put the boat in the right direction, but I need to pee really bad. So holding the tiller between my knees, I tried to hit the open end of an empty Gatorade bottle. I gave up, I just went in the cockpit, but mind you, the wind was honking, so most of my urine sprayed all over the front of me, including my face.

Made it into Victoria Harbor, things calmed down, I tied up at the Marina, secured the boat up, got dressed in sweats and flip flops, and proceeded to leave the boat to take a shower. I noticed one my lines was loose, bent over to tighten it, dropped my reading glasses in the water. No big deal, except for the fact that I have a combination lock on the hatchway. Not thinking, I went up and took a shower, came back to the boat, it was dark now, could not read the combination, not a soul around, like, deadsville. Walked a mile before I found a store with reading glasses, luckily I had my bag of shower quarters with me. I walked back to the boat, was able to get in, fixed the tiller pilot, and a day later, had a very nice uneventful sail home.

All I've read in this thread so far is this post. In nearly 20 years of living aboard, two near global circumnavigations and more near misses than I care to admit - this convinces me there is nothing I have to contribute that will even come close to this and the other contributions I have yet to read! Wonderful!

Happy you pulled through!

armido

[Capt Phil]

Very good point, Armido... some of the posters just have a way with words and are hilarious in their descriptions. Occasionally someone like Zee comes along and tells it like it is without any BS. Very enjoyable reading and one of the reasons I'm a regular visitor to CF... cheers, Phil

[AbaftAndBaffled]

I don't think I've had a 'bad' sailing experience (knock on wood), but I've had some miserable ones. When I was a youngster in sailing school, I weighed about 65-70 lbs soaking wet and I was paired up with a very petite girl. Turns out we weren't nearly enough weight to right a turtled Laser II in weather. I learned a lot about hypothermia that day!

[Mary Flower]

My new bride and I, along with our Labrador Retriever, had taken delivery of our new Shannon 28 in May of 1980 at Bristol, RI and, after a two week shakedown on Narragansett Bay, had embarked on a five month honeymoon cruise back towards our home in Chicago. I had sailed on and off for thirty some years but had never owned a boat. My wife was what would be kindly described as a “novice” sailor. We had spent months preparing for our adventure and, between the boat, the gear and as much book knowledge as one could absorb over the span of more than a year, we felt reasonably confident that we could manage a safe, enjoyable passage.

Our journey from Rhode Island to New York City, up the Hudson and across the Erie Canal into the Great Lakes was filled with many wonderful but sometimes tension producing moments as we gained greater experience in the sailing, navigation and seamanship required on a small boat. But we continually developed greater skills in the process.

Because our cruise was mostly during the summer months, the only severe weather we encountered was in some thunderstorms. Although the approach of the first one - a wicked line squall on Lake Erie - caused some nervous anticipation, we had enough time to prepare the boat and ourselves to handle it like old pros. There were a few more as we continued our voyage through Lake St. Clair and up Lake Huron to Mackinaw City but each succeeding storm only served to build greater confidence in our ability to handle nasty weather. We were to learn that sometimes confidence isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

Because ours was the first Shannon 28 on the Great Lakes, in July, the folks at Shannon had asked if we would be willing to bring it to the Mt. Clemens, Michigan boat show in early October. Even though that would mean that we would not reach Chicago that season and would have to winter the boat somewhere near Detroit, our sense of pride in our new “baby” took over and we agreed to their request.

In early September, our good friend Lenny, who knew absolutely nothing about sailing but was a great companion, flew to Mackinaw City to join us for the trip south to Mt. Clemens on the northern end of Lake St. Clair. The first leg of the journey was a five day visit to Mackinac Island from which we departed about September 15th.

We made an uneventful 24 hour sail south to Harrisville, about half way to Port Huron at the southern end of Lake Huron, where we planned to spend the night. But as night fell, the weather took an un-forecast turn for the worse. The updated forecast was now for more of the same for the next several days. Because of the orientation of the Harrisville breakwater entrance, the 20 - 25 knot northeast winds created a nasty surge in the harbor which had the boat jumping and straining uncomfortably at its mooring lines. After a mostly sleepless night, we decided to leave and sail the thirty or so miles south to Saginaw Bay and a more protected harbor at East Tawas on the northern shore of the bay.

The weather stayed crummy for the next three days and we were rapidly developing port fever. Getting the hell out of East Tawas became an obsession. I had been tracking the system that was producing the lousy weather using the NWS and MAFOR forecasts. Remember, this was in 1980 in the days before satellite weather services were available. Having found MAFOR to be the most reliable of the two services, I followed that the most closely.

MAFOR reported that there was an intense low passing just to our north to be followed by a fairly strong high in its wake. Every six hours for three days, I plotted the position and movement of the system with each new forecast. I felt quite confident in both MAFOR and my ability to correctly interpret the information and, in my great wisdom, decided that the cold front would pass at about midnight. If we left harbor at 6pm, we would have southwest winds of 20 or so knots for a lively broad reach on a 30 mile southeasterly course past Pointe Aux Barques, the rocky and dangerous point that forms the south and east boundary of Saginaw Bay. With the passage of the cold front, the wind was forecast to shift to 20-25k out of the northwest and as our course changed from southeasterly to southerly, we would continue on a broad reach all the way to an afternoon arrival at Port Huron.

We left East Tawas in the middle of a thunderstorm with my wife and dog safe and warm below and Lenny and I tucked up under the dodger in our foulies and harnesses while our Tiller Master “Doris” worked her magic. Lenny, with his dry sense of humor, was humming the tune of the Gordon Lightfoot song “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” as we set a course to the open waters of Lake Huron. We were all in high spirits and looking forward to a rollicking voyage.

Initially, the seas were running about four feet on our starboard quarter and the motion was quite tolerable as Mary Flower, with a double reefed main and Yankee flying, ran along at hull speed. But the further we got away from the northwest shore of Saginaw Bay, the higher the seas became and soon were running at six feet or so which turned out to be my wife’s upper limit for keeping her dinner down. At about 8pm, it was blowing over 20, rain from astern blowing up under the dodger, my wife with a distinctly green tint to her complexion was completely out of commission on the lee bunk with a bucket by her side, my dog with a wild eyed look of panic in his eyes and his tongue hanging out nearly a foot, and Lenny, who had neglected to bring sea boots, was beginning to get chilled.

Then, at about 10pm, the front, which had up until now continued its slow methodical passage eastward decided to stop. It just plain stopped just to the west of our position. All of a sudden, the wind changed direction and increased velocity. It had been about 20 knots from the southwest and now it had kicked up to more than 30 knots out of the northeast which meant it was now blowing down the long axis of Lake Huron with a hundred mile fetch. Not content with just that, the system also decided it was time to increase the rain and decrease the temperature to about forty degrees. Terrific! When the wind shifted, we changed over to a port tack and were now sailing as close to the wind as we could so that we wouldn’t be driven down on the rocks off Pointe Aux Barques. The last thing I wanted to have to worry about that miserable night was getting our bottom ripped out more than a mile from shore. We were getting pelted with a cold rain coming at us almost horizontally, we were taking green water over the bow as the seas built to eight feet and Lenny, who refused to go below because the motion made him sick, was beginning to show signs of hypothermia.

Suddenly, a wave picked us up and threw us backward into the trough with such force that the stern went completely under and the cockpit filled with water almost to our chests. Although we were hooked on to the boat and the hatches and ports were all battened down, Lenny got a panicky look on his face so I quickly grabbed his arm and said, “Don’t go anywhere!” Fortunately, if he had given a thought to jumping overboard and trying to swim two miles to shore, the thought passed quickly and he settled down as the cockpit scuppers did their job.

We pounded close hauled for nearly four hours before we were able to make the turn southward. Finally we were going to be on a broad reach and, even though it was still raining and cold, the conditions would make for more comfortable sailing.

Nuh uh. Forget about it. That damn front moved just enough so that the wind, instead of shifting northwest, just flat died as the front stalled yet again. In less than an hour, the seas went from eight feet to no feet as we sat in a dead calm at 2am in the rain on a pitch black night trying desperately to get a DR fix so we would know for sure just where the hell we were.

Finally, the rain let up enough so that we were able to get a fix off Pointe Aux Barques light and the light at Harbor Beach. We were 10 miles ENE of Harbor Beach and still 100 miles from Port Huron and smack in the middle of two of the busiest shipping lanes on the Great Lakes.

I decided that sometimes a wise man knows when to throw in the towel. Although the boat was in fine fettle, my crew, dog included, were not. Two of us were cold and wet, one of us was hypothermic, three of us were green with seasickness and one of us had his tongue hanging almost half his body length out of his mouth. Time to call the whole thing off. Port Sanilac, a lovely harbor town where we had stopped on our northbound trip, lay about 50 miles south. There was a wonderful little diner about two blocks up from the marina with a laundromat next door. I fired up the iron genny, set Doris on a course for the harbor and Lenny and I went below to change into dry clothes, warm up and make a cup of hot soup. As the motion subsided, the mood of my crew rapidly improved and before long, My wife, Lenny and the dog quickly fell fast asleep as I returned to the cockpit to stand watch.

The rain stopped, the seas were flat and there wasn’t even a whisper of wind as we motored south. I woke my gang as we approached the harbor just before noon and when we were snuggly tied up to our dock, we got the boat back in shape after the thorough thrashing of the previous night. Then, with Mary Flower all shipshape and Bristol and looking her loveliest, we all set out for the diner and had the best breakfast any of us could remember while our wet clothes ran through the dryer next door.

As we lingered over coffee in the diner, Lenny looked at me kind of funny and said, “Do you remember when we got swamped by that wave and the cockpit was under water and you said don’t go anywhere?” “Yes”, I replied. “Well, just where in the hell did you think I was going to go?” I explained that I thought he might not have known that the boat was in no danger of sinking and that he might panic and think he should try to swim for it and that I wanted to make sure he didn’t do such a foolish thing.

“To tell you the truth”, he said, “I really didn’t know if we were going to sink or not but I looked at you and decided that if you jumped, I would follow you but because you looked calm and made no move to abandon ship I just figured you either knew what you were doing or else you were the best faker of all time.”

[Rhapsody-NS27]

Originally Posted by Mary Flower

I decided that sometimes a wise man knows when to throw in the towel. Although the boat was in fine fettle, my crew, dog included, were not. Two of us were cold and wet, one of us was hypothermic, three of us were green with seasickness and one of us had his tongue hanging almost half his body length out of his mouth. Time to call the whole thing off. Port Sanilac, a lovely harbor town where we had stopped on our northbound trip, lay about 50 miles south.

Welcome to CF.

Nice story. Good that you called it quits so everyone can get well deserved rest.

[Mary Flower]

It's amazing the difference some dry clothes, solid ground underneath one's feet and a hot breakfast can make. Within two hours of hitting port, it was as if the previous night had never happened.

When we got the wind shift that suddenly made Pointe Aux Bargues a lee shore and with 30+ knots of wind and eight foot seas pushing us that way, I'll admit I got a few knots in my stomach. We only had a mile of sea room and not enough visibility to allow for a fix. Today, with GPS, that situation wouldn't have been nearly so daunting.

[Sandero]

Great sea story there Mary Flower.

[pbiJim]

Whenever I'm having a tough day sailing, I think of the 1979 Fastnet race & the fate of the yacht Grimalkin. That usually puts things back into perspective for me. Upwind in a gale in a sunfish, that was a pleasant afternoon. Washed overboard while setting a chute & ripped the inflatable on the way over the rail, that was a minor inconvenience. Turtle'd a Merc & stuck the mast in the mud during PBIR trials, OK so there will be a little grief about that. Fog so thick you can't see your own bow lights from the cockpit & the Loran says that we are smack dab in the middle of Fisher's Island, na, we've got water under us & the guy on the bow has a sounding line. Those are all good days on the water.

1979 Fastnet race - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Fastnet Yacht Race Tragedy of 1979 - YouTube

[pbiJim]

Originally Posted by noelex 77

In defence of Ex-Calif there is great benefit in having a waypoint over your anchor. If the wind shifts direction it's easy to see when you are simply swinging around your anchor, or moving backwards.

It also makes anchor recovery easier when you break a rode, which reminds me, there's one that I need to go pick up when I get the chance.