Feb 21, 2011 Monday
"The best noise in all the world is the rattle of the anchor chain when one comes into harbour at last and lets the anchor go over the bows.” Hilaire Belloc
A gentle rolling rocky night
“Batteries 84%
Engine 369 hrs
ODO 870 GPS Kn miles since Brunswick, GA
6:25AM Anchor up
51 kn miles to go to Provo, Turks and Caicos
Breeze NE light from 120°
Seas light roll since 3AM from 180°
8AM wind 18-22kn
Seas building from 120°” from the Journal of Ed Close
The mainsail rose skyward as a farewell to the tip of Mayaguana and in an attempt to calm the rolling waves. The course was set. The auto pilot was engaged. We settled in for a wavering ride, not pleasant but passable. Without warning the most harrowing experience of our lives commenced. The SV Ariel seemed to be favouring her port side. The problem was she was heading to shore, into the wind, in the direction of the terrifying jagged black coral reef. This was not a planned destination. Ed added the number two jib sail to instruct Ariel that we had no intention of returning to shore. We were heading to sea. The sails did nothing to help us steer. Shore loomed into our site. The boat drove straight for shore. Ed ran the decks hauling in sails while I yanked the wheel as far right as it would manoeuvre and held on for dear life. No change in the sail plan was apparent. We were destined to crash into the coral reef and tear gapping holes into Ariel. We were doomed. The air was full of desperate commands as we shouted ideas to prevent the collision.
As I bartered with Neptune and the sea gods, a vision of all the safety equipment stored aboard Ariel flashed through my mind. An eight person life raft strapped to the deck, a man overboard bag, life ring, life sling, the dinghy, an eperb alert signal system, a Single Side Band radio, a VHF radio, a flare gun, and inflatable life jackets. In the end our fate would be to walk to shore in shallow water and watch our well loved sailboat be racked and ruined by Mayaguan coral.
Ed yelled from the bow to engage the switch for the anchor and the 60lb Manson dug into the shallow twenty feet of water. The depth had dropped from 3500 ft to 20ft. The chart plotter warned that the next depth would be the bottom of the coral reef submerged under the water destroying Ariel. The anchor held. The main sail was secured back into place. The jib sail was partially left out. The engine was engaged into reverse position and the boat began backing away from shore. The windlass foot switches failed. Ed hollered to me, at the helm, to begin raising the anchor from the switches in the cockpit.
At a safe distance from land, the small jib directed Ariel to come about and return to sea. Ed and I allowed her to command the course to safety. I released my death grip from the wheel and stared blankly at Ed. Screams of fear and panic had been pushed down my throat. Tears held back made my eyes ache. Ed’s colour matched the sails. His ripped cargo shorts told of all his valiant efforts to save Ariel. We knew that whatever was wrong with Ariel had not been resolved. I feared for Ed, for Ariel and for myself. The engine idled in neutral and the SV Ariel sailed herself into deep water. I spoke with a voice I did not recognize. “I believe there is something wrong with her steering. Something is broken. She can not turn right. It’s her steering!”
Ed was willing to investigate any idea because Ariel’s behaviour was baffling. He checked under the cockpit and the steering cables were tight. The verdict was the steering was not comprised. I would not abandon my feeling. “The steering is broken. Check some other parts, any parts, all parts. The steering is broken!!” I implored.
Captain Ed tore apart the lazarette locker, pulled all manner of stored supplies, extra rope, oil for the engine, until one side of the cockpit was heaped with a muddle of essential and nonessential objects. He leaned into the locker under the helm’s seat while I turned the wheel. The rudder post was not turning to the starboard side. Simultaneously we recalled hearing a clunking sound but no cause resulted from our investigation. The sound now had a label – a broken steering mechanism. Ed hauled out the emergency tiller and the SV Ariel transformed into a tiller driven boat. The auto pilot was called to action. We hobbled back to shore under the power of the engine to inspect the steering to determine the extent of repairs required. Ed hoped the water closer to the island would eradicate the up and down motion of the waves. We had travelled 12.8kn and were returning to our morning anchorage. The mechanical unknown loomed like a shroud over Ariel. We were laced with an overdose of adrenaline from the shock of impending doom. Ed never panicked for a moment. His efforts were devoted to trying to save Ariel. A sail to Turks and Caicos was possible as a tiller driven sailboat. We just needed a breathing space to recoup our drained energy. Complete helplessness was not an enjoyable feeling.
11:06AM anchor down in 40ft of water
12 ½ kn travelled in an easterly direction
8kn travelled back to a protective shore
Investigations of steering problem commenced.