Breakdown at Sea
21 July 2012 | 60 Miles off the north end of New Caledonia
Above: French Coast Guard.
We were on the verge of leaving New Caledonia. Check out with customs was complete, Gromit was fuelled and the water tanks were filled, the fridge was full and most everything was stowed. We were getting to the last few items on the list, one of which was to check our electronic charts to see if the Torres Straits were on one of them. Oh, no! No charts of the challenging Torres Straits. Two days later, charts in hand, we headed towards the Dumbea Pass that leads out of the lagoon onto the ocean.
We were feeling ready to go and pressed for time, as we need to be in Kupang, Indonesia to join the Sail Indonesia Rally, by the end of July.
Leaving on this passage, we were feeling we were in great shape with lots of confidence in the boat. The winds were brisk - 20-25 knots - and we sailed through the first night with a reefed main and full jib, seeing speeds of between 7-9 knots. We were quite exhilarated with our progress; 180 miles in 24 hours. Wow! That's was a first. The progress continued into the next day. The wind shifted from abeam (the side) to more from the aft (rear) and then we changed our sails to 'wing on wing' - main sail out to starboard and the jib poled out to port.
Just after dark, we had an accidental gybe. That means, the wind got behind the main sail and pulled it across the boat. We always have at least one preventer line on the main boom (a line that holds the boom out and in place). This time, though, we had two preventers. Over the next few hours, we had two more gybes and then when the 4th one happened, around 11 pm, I couldn't turn the boat back on course - the wheel wouldn't turn to starboard. We had lost our steering. Michael dashed below to check the steering chain and found no problem. He then went to the aft cabin, where the girls were sleeping and the three of them evacuated the centre portion of their bed. There they discovered the hydraulic cylinder torque arm on the rudder post (35 year old bronze part from Edson), was broken. This meant that any turning of the wheel in the cockpit was not being translated to the rudder. Fortunately, the boat went into a semi heave-to position - that's when the boat is not moving forward fast and slides sideways gradually. This was very good, as it gave us a chance to organize ourselves.
The next step was to install the emergency tiller. This is a pipe, with a 90 degree angle, that fits through the aft deck and attaches to the rudder post. It allows for manual steering from the back deck of the boat. Michael instructed the girls to pack all their stuff and carry it into the main cabin, so nothing would get wet and possibly damaged, as we now would have a pipe going through the deck into their cabin. Next, Michael and I carried our 90lb generator from the back deck to the cockpit - no small feat. We removed the close out plate from the deck, and lowered the tiller. It took some tweaking and hammering and, about an hour later, it was in place.
We needed to reduce sail so Dennis, the 'new guy' (our friend from Toronto who joined us to help with this long passage), helped me to furl the jib, with a few pauses to empty his stomach overboard, while Michael manned the tiller on the aft deck. He then lashed the tiller to one side to slow our progress even more.
While installing the emergency tiller, Michael noticed that, although newly repainted in New Zealand, it had paint flaking off it at the 90 degree elbow, its highest stress point. He remembered experimental stress analysis methods he learned at university, using brittle coatings. After seeing the cracking paint on the elbow, he went in search of the 2 inch Princess Auto pipe wrench that was in deep storage in the bilge, just in case. If something happened to the tiller, the pipe wrench would be used directly on the rudder post in the aft cabin.
With the tiller in and the boat's forward motion minimized, we went to the wind vane to set it up as an alternate rudder to steer us to the pass. We found one of the control cables broken and the vane's rudder hard over to the port side. So, with the vane out of commission, we were left with our last option, which was to motor the last 60 miles to shore.
We started the engine, but had to turn it off because the raw water alarm wouldn't turn off. This alarm tells us that there isn't any/enough water being pumped through the engine to cool it. Michael went to check the engine and found an air lock. He got the water flowing and we began motoring towards shore. We were motoring into the waves and wind, which meant having to run the engine fairly hard, so that we could make enough headway to arrive at the pass in daylight. During an engine check, Michael noticed about a quart of oil beside the engine and while he was searching for the source of that leak he saw a bigger, uglier issue; water gushing out of the bottom of the exhaust muffler. Engine OFF! When he told me that half of the weld had failed on the bottom of the exhaust muffler, I could see the exhaustion and disbelief on his face. How could this be? Steering failure and now, no engine.
The puddle of oil had to be ignored. The muffler problem had to be addressed. The muffler is positioned down behind the engine, adjacent to the hull, meaning that Michael had to lie on his chest across the engine, head and arms down.
Attempt #1: applied never-before-used "exhaust epoxy". The water that was still inside the muffler softened the epoxy before it could cure, so Michael had to remove it and clean the area.
Attempt #2: applied "Water Weld", an underwater epoxy, and went to bed. The next morning, we started the engine and still had a leak. I suggested that we try to tie something around the muffler like a big hose clamp and this made Michael think of the 30" C-clamp we have in deep storage in the bilge.
Attempt #3: attach the C-clamp to compress the crack in the muffler. This reduced the leak to a slow trickle. Now we could run the engine again, albeit gently. Distance from the pass dictated that we should sail hove-to for the night to not arrive at the pass too early.
Michael then dealt with the oil leak he had discovered earlier. The hose was too stiff and had loosened off its fitting. Luckily, he had a softer hose and the necessary fittings. It was one those little things that had been let go before we left Canada. He had sent me with the old hose to a hydraulic shop to have a new hose made that was more flexible. When I picked it up, the shop had made an equivalent hose. Michael suspected it might become a problem, but we were so behind and there was no time to go back and have it remade, so he let it go. Sometimes, the little things come back to bite you and this one did.
Our situation was tricky. We needed to get back to New Caledonia and this meant going through a pass in the coral reef. Our steering was difficult but manageable with the emergency tiller and our engine was usable. Going through a pass can be risky when all systems are 100% and here we were with systems not even close to 100%. We decided to hail the Coast Guard to request an escort through Yande Pass the next day. It was early evening and we hailed and hailed, but got no answer. What now?
A few hours later we saw a light on the horizon, so we looked at our AIS (Automatic Identification System - this is a system that shows what ships/boats are nearby, giving statistics including name and size of vessel - we love our AIS!). The light we saw was from a 600 foot freighter. We hailed it and explained our steering situation and asked that they contact the Coast Guard for us to request an escort to go through the pass for the next morning. They said they would do this as they continued their north bound journey past us. Soon their lights were nearly out of sight, but they did radio us to say that they had contacted the Coast Guard. Then within about ½ an hour, we saw lights coming back towards us and we got a radio call from the freighter saying that the Coast Guard had commanded them to rescue us. We reiterated that we were in no immediate danger, didn't need to be rescued, but needed the message to be relayed that we required an escort through Yande Pass in the morning. The captain of the freighter asked us to stand-by as he again phoned the Coast Guard. Within 10 minutes, he radioed us again saying that a military airplane would check our position at daybreak, and then a Navy ship would meet us at the pass around noon. We thanked the ship's captain very much and for the first time in many, many hours, felt a little relief. We never felt the need to abandon ship. Our situation was under control (or so we thought) and we just needed assistance with negotiating the pass.
The plan was to sail throughout the night towards the pass and then motor in with an escort. Michael did his midnight to 6 am watch while reading about towing procedures - just in case. We were still moving along slowly despite the continuing 20-25 knot winds and by morning, we are about 10 miles from the pass. The wind vane rudder was still hard over to port and the boat's rudder was still tied off to starboard. At daylight, still thinking everything was pretty much under control, we hoisted our stay sail and then heard the sound that a pipe makes when it falls and hits a hard surface (the emergency tiller is made from 2 pieces of carbon steel pipe, welded with and elbow). My head snapped to the aft deck, knowing what I was about to see. With my fear confirmed, I yell to Michael, "OMG, the emergency tiller just broke!!" It broke right at the spot where Michael had seen the peeling paint. Everything under control?
We lowered the stay sail that we had just hoisted, started the engine and Michael went below to try steering with the pipe wrench attached to the rudder post. It was quite a struggle.
Michael and Dennis, who now had his sea-legs and no longer needed to empty his stomach into the sea, shared the exhausting task of steering the boat with a pipe wrench. After a few hours, Michael was able to neutralize the wind vane which helped ease the steering somewhat, but the pipe wrench continued to slip off the rudder post quite often.
While Dennis was steering, Michael went to check the engine and found that the C-clamp had slipped off. He reinstalled it with a bit more torque and it stayed in place, with minimal leakage, for the 14 hours of engine time it took us to get to safety.
So, here's the visual: Michael and alternately, Dennis, is lying on his side across the centre of the steerage area where the rudder post sticks up in aft cabin, steering with a pipe wrench, with a head-set with microphone on, watching the boat's direction on our Ipad, while I'm at the helm controlling the engine and providing visuals, "to port.....to starboard......" We motored this way for 8 hours with Dennis and Michael spelling each other off every 20-30 minutes. For them, it was exhausting work. The forces on the tiller which were translated into the pipe wrench were enormous, even when only a small correction in direction was necessary.
At about 10 am a military plane did a low pass over Gromit and asked if everyone on board was OK. They told us that Navy Ship 'La Glorieuse' would be arriving at the pass just after 2 pm to assist us. Perfect! We would be arriving around the same time.
When the ship arrived, we discussed the logistics of going through the pass. La Glorieuse would go through, anchor, deploy a dingy that would then come back through the pass and escort us in. The Navy ship proceeded into the lagoon and we turned off the motor and drifted around outside. By this time, we were in the lee of the islands and reefs, so the swell and waves were much less. We did however, have to turn on the motor a couple of times because we began drifting away from the pass and towards the reef. It was taking quite a while for the Navy to get organized and we couldn't figure out what they were doing. The Navy ship then radioed us to tell us that they had been in communication with the local branch of the Coast Guard (Les Sauveteurs en Mer) in Koumac and that the Sauveteurs would be arriving in about 20 minutes to escort us through. Twenty minutes passed. Again La Glorieuse radioed us, sincerely apologizing for the delay, to say that the Sauveteurs were still too far off (Koumac is about 45 nautical miles from the pass we were at) and that they, the Navy, would be launching their dingy and be out shortly. Another 20 minutes passed and we saw a dingy appear that hadn't come from the Navy ship. It was the Sauveteurs. They wanted to know if we wanted to be towed and we told them that we did not. We were asking them to stand by and step in only if we radioed them for help.
As it was getting late in the afternoon, we had to come up with a plan for the night. The Sauveteur offered to escort us to the nearest town called Poum (15 nautical miles) or to next town called Koumac (45 nautical miles). We were exhausted and didn't want to steer all night through the reefs within the lagoon, even with the assistance of the Sauveteurs. The Lieutenant on La Glorieuse, had told us that there would be better services and repair possibilities at Koumac. We decided to anchor in the lee of an island only 6 miles from the pass and then continue on to Koumac the following day.
We were so looking forward to being inside the lagoon, which, with our past experience in Huahine and other reef-fringed islands, promised calm water. Once inside, we found out that conditions were better outside on the ocean! The wind had picked up and was blowing between 25-35 knots. Coming through the pass, steep waves between 3-5 feet, very close together, were hitting us on our starboard side. Then, to get to the island where we were planning to anchor, we had to head directly into the wind. Our boat speed, which had been around 4 knots, slowed to 1-2 knots, so I had to throttle up to keep our boat speed, so that Michael/Dennis could steer us. Of course, there was still the concern about the C-clamp jerry-rig on the engine's muffler when I increased the revs, but Michael checked it and it was holding.
Michael and Dennis struggled to stay on course. Gromit's bow would point in the right direction for mere seconds before the wind would catch it and turn us 90 degrees to the wind. Our 'Pipe Wrench Steering Team' would struggle for minutes to get us back on course, only for the wind to catch us on the other side and again turn us 90 degrees, but to the other side. We zigzagged along like this for over an hour when finally, the wind eased a little and we were able to recover from the wind's pull after turning only about 45 degrees. Finally, 3 hours later at around 7 pm, having covered the 6 miles, we anchored in the dark, beside Neba Island. Our Sauveteurs said that they'd be back around 7 am the next morning to accompany us to Koumac.
What a relief to be at anchor. We were in the lee of an island, the engine off, Gromit hardly rocking, protected from the wind and in silence. The guys had a beer. De-stress.
We went to bed, but Michael didn't sleep long. His mind was working. How could he improve on the pipe-wrench steering system? He got up a 3 am and made a plan. He got scrap metal plates, 2-4" C-clamps, 2 small C-clamps, 30" 2X2 hardwood, and a diagonal stabilizer plate. Ninety minutes later, there was a working tiller in the aft cabin. It was much, much better than version #1!
Just after 7 the next morning, the Sauveteurs joined us from Poum and we motored for 9 hours; the guys below and me up top directing, with the wind primarily on the nose at 15-20 knots. The new steering system was "much easier", commented the poor 'Aft Cabin Steering Team'. The Coast Guard lead us to a peaceful, shallow bay in Koumac, a town of about 3000 people, where we currently still anchored.
Michael says that he is puzzled by the fact that 2 key, unrelated components failed after 35 years, within hours of each other.
Michael's words:
"During the drama I was ready to sell, but now I just want to get Gromit going again and get to Indonesia. We have to wait 'till the adrenaline settles before a rational conclusion can be made. The kids were real troopers and helped out wherever they could. They all slept in the main cabin for 2 nights and finished Season 5 of Chuck. We surveyed the crew and all want to get out of the Pacific and into Asia."
"Sometimes ya just think someone up there just wants to keep on testing you."
"In the end we didn't need the Coast Guard, but it was nice to have them alongside."
(Please don't mention any of these details to Baba. She will only worry - more than she already does.)