A couple of years ago when my husband gave me a copy of Beth Leonard’s book, “Following Seas”, with the caveat that I probably shouldn’t read the first chapter, I might have known that sailing would have some adventures in store.  But our story started long before that; it really started 8 years ago on Long Island Sound.

After a mutual friend of our daughter’s decided we should meet, I was invited for a sail on Phil’s 28’ Shannon cutter, Inseparable.  Keep in mind that my sailing experience consisted of twice sitting in the cockpit of a friend’s 40’ boat on Lake Huron sipping wine and enjoying the sunshine.  I agreed to the date a bit reluctantly.

Phil

Following his thorough briefing on safety features and how to use the VHF’s automatic Mayday button (I hoped I’d never have to use that on a first date!), we left the security of his Noank, Connecticut slip in bright sun and light wind.  After a while, he let me take the tiller. 

A short time later, he lay down on a cockpit cushion.  It was now up to me to guide us through the sea of lobster buoys, aids to navigation and a plethora of boats of every description that occupy Fishers Island Sound on a summer weekend afternoon. 

At one point, I told him there was a buoy dead ahead to which he replied, “Just don’t hit it.”  He thought I meant a navigation buoy, not a lobster buoy.  What did I know about navigation buoys?  Nothing. 

In my ignorance, I glided right over the lobster buoy and promptly wedged the warp between our rudder and keel.  Oops….I told Phil I didn’t think we were moving.  He got up and to his dismay, saw a bright orange buoy bobbing under the boat. 

After much discussion I finally convinced him to let me jump over and free us of this irritation.  After all, I reasoned, I was a certified scuba diver, was in the best shape of my life thanks to six months of triathlon training plus I had no clue how to sail Inseparable back to pick him up if he’d successfully dislodged us.  So over I jumped in my shorts and tank top, but not before he secured me to the boat with a long line.  I was unsuccessful but eventually we were assisted by a passing lobster boat and that, in a clamshell, is when we fell in love. In fact, the lobster buoy now graces our mailbox.  Now to the real story.

That day lead to our marriage and years of sailing out of our home port, Portland, Maine.  With a variety of on-the-water experiences (one can have a lot of those in a 28’ boat with a 13 HP engine in the Maine waters) and his patient teaching I developed a lot of confidence on the boat.  I also learned to varnish the extensive woodwork, scrub everything that didn’t move, cook out of a miniature galley and distinguish a rope from a line and a bathroom from a head.  Most of all, I learned I loved sailing and our time at sea. 

We found our usual weekend and two-week explorations of the Maine coast were just not enough.  Phil wanted to cross the pond.  I wanted to cruise with friends and family.  Thus began our search for a larger vessel.  We researched the literature and internet, queried experienced cruisers and visited many boats for sale. We weighed the advantages of center versus aft cockpits and comfort versus heavy weather capability.  In my naiveté, I never thought for one minute we would need heavy weather capability.  My vision was being in a hammock strung between the mast and the forestay!  I admit I was tempted by those boats with large master cabins, ‘real’ beds, and modern galleys.  In the end, safety was the feature that made us settle on another Shannon built, cutter rigged, aft cockpit, bluewater boat.

We found the perfect specimen in northern Florida.  After a number of upgrades, we sailed her down the coast of Florida in late February and to the Bahamas for the balance of the winter.  Every day brought new experiences, lessons and discoveries.  I felt most intimidated when trying to dock her in various conditions.  It was a big change for me especially judging where the front of the boat actually was.  At 5’1”, I’m challenged a bit, especially when the dinghy is loaded on the front of the boat.  I have been promised a stool or seat one of these days.

STILL INSEPARABLE in Hopetown Harbor

We decided to sail directly back to New Hampshire on a straight line north from the Abacos in early May with two friends who both had extensive offshore experience.  This trip was to be my first true offshore voyage.  I seemed prepared and felt comfort knowing that I was in the company of three experienced sailors.  Our departure was set and even though the forecast was for 30-35 kt winds, it was nothing our boat couldn’t handle. We had contracted with a weather service via our SSB and had set a time to check in with friends back in the islands. We set out in bright sunshine.  Although I’m not prone to seasickness, I put on a scopolamine patch just in case.

Two hours into the voyage, the sea and wind started to kick up.  Sadly, I was the first to ‘chum’ overboard, totally embarrassing myself, or so I thought.  Visions of a planned shrimp scampi dinner our first night at sea rapidly disappeared.  The wind continued to build as did the waves and soon, even Phil and Charlie surrendered to seasickness. Of note here is that Phil has never been seasick since owning his own boat.  Charlie spent four years sailing the world back in the 70’s. 

Caro, our second crew member, sailed across the Atlantic in a hurricane.  Fortunately for us, she had a stomach of iron.  She was also an extremely able helmsperson, who as the storm continued to build and as the men got sicker, taught me how to steer up and down those gigantic waves. 

Crewmember Caro at helm		Waves at the beginning of the storm

I had no idea that the ‘feel’ of the boat was something that really can’t be taught.  One learns quickly to be responsible for the lives of the rest of the crew. As I steered up the 20’ waves that were hitting our port side, I felt the power of the sea and the ability of our boat to rise up and ease down safely.  You have no time to panic or retreat to the cabin with covers over your head and hope it all goes away (yes, I was tempted…..).  Under my hands, I could feel the water move the rudder and each time it did, I sensed the touch on the wheel that the boat needed.

We checked in frequently with friends in Hope Town.  After 36 hours we found the storm had increased in size and intensity.  At this point, both men could not even keep down water despite scopolamine patches, so Caro and I did most of the steering and navigating.  Cooking was out of the question, but no one had much of an appetite. 

The best place to sleep in astorm

Below decks became a place to ‘crash’ – our starboard sea berth held one of us and the other, usually Phil or I, made the floor our place of retreat as it was the most stable part of the boat; sleeping in the v-berth was not an option.  Somehow, Caro made the aft cabin her off-watch sanctuary.  

Talk on the SSB became an effort.  I draped my head horizontally over the nav station to avoid being sick.  Changing clothes was unthinkable; survival became the mode of operation for all of us, except of course for Caro who cheerfully took the helm without a backward glance at those huge monster waves that loomed in the night.  Yes, she really did smile through a lot of this.  In fact, she really enjoyed herself.

After 48 hours and a short discussion between Caro, Phil and myself (Charlie was blissfully asleep.), the decision was made to turn back, restore ourselves, make the necessary boat repairs and start again.  Surprisingly, after another 24 hours heading south, the storm subsided and voila, the sun came out and all was right with the world.  Taking stock of the damage to the boat, we only had one extremely chafed reefing line, one broken bow nav light, and one lost outboard motor.  We laughed over that one….no one knew it was missing until the second day of the storm.  Our heavy dinghy motor now sits at the bottom of the Atlantic.

What did I learn from all this? 

• First, all the years of safety training paid off.   More importantly, I no longer have any doubt about how the boat will handle heavy weather.  Even though we found leaks here and there, she was a sturdy force against the storm.  That fact alone made the ordeal easier to face. 
• I feel if I have confidence in your boat, the crew and my own sailing ability, I am able to rise above my fear and carry out any necessary tasks.  I had no time to think about being afraid as loved ones needed me to be at my best. 
• Third, after surviving a gale, I’m much less afraid of weather at sea while, at the same time, I’m much more respectful of what it can be.   It was the best learning experience.  As Beth Leonard said, you get back on the boat because that 1% bad weather you experience won’t come around again anytime soon….you hope.

Of course, I kissed the ground when we arrived back in the Abacos.  Today we can laugh at some of our antics. 

The following passage taken from my journal is of our thwarted first attempt at going home described above.  It makes for amusing reading:

Day1 2100

Every crew member except Caro has puked at least once. 20-25 kt winds with 8-15′ swells or waves…at this stage nomenclature isn’t important. Raining intermittently. Too sick to write in log. Down from one reef main, staysail and Yankee to two reefed main. Shrimp scampi dinner postponed. Water and crackers are on the menu. And this is fun?

Day 2 0900

Diane and Jan are saviors….they repeatedly checked the weather and advised us to turn around.  Wind is consistently above 35, waves 20′ like big monsters in the night. Phil and Charlie can’t even keep down water; Caro and I manage.  Can’t be vertical below decks; floor is the place to sleep.  Haven’t changed clothes and really don’t care.

Day 3 1300

Turned around; now into the wind and waves are just as big.”

---

Top 10 hints I learned from Offshore Sailing

1. Dry clothes trumps clean anytime.
2. Any small object on the deck has a magnet for toes; expect to have a few broken ones before the trip is over.
3. Scopolamine patches are not over rated.
4. Baked potatoes for breakfast sound perfectly reasonable.
5. It is possible not to eat for 72 hours and feel good about it.
6. Anything that gets wet after Day 1 stays wet.
7. A soggy wet blanket is better than no blanket.
8. Ski goggles come in handy.
9. You can use a bathing suit and a down jacket one day apart.
10. You witness the power, majesty, and beauty of the sea firsthand.

About Susan Von Hemert

Susan and her husband live in Portsmouth NH where Phil is retired and Susan owns a consulting business servicing medical equipment companies.  They enjoy travels to visit their four married daughters and eight grandchildren and hope to spend much of the next several years sailing. Still Inseparable regularly sails the Maine coast in the summer. 

Susan’s first love on board is cooking; recipe books supply great nighttime reading.  Making yogurt and sprouts have now become regular additions to her galley routine.

Their website is www.sailingstillinseparable.com.

Prepare in advance by taking an emergency medicine course!

To learn more

• Go Red for Women
• Heart Attack: First Aid
• Offshore Emergency Medicine Courses

This is the second half of a 2-part article by Daria Blackwell,
first published in the Ocean Cruising Club publication Flying Fish.
You can read part 1 here.

Photo: James Dagmore

Bizarre whale tales

Who can forget the photos of the 40 ton southern right whale (Eubalaena australis) that breached onto a 33ft sloop in South Africa in 2010, breaking the mast before sliding into the water with an ‘eerie groan’? Amazingly, Ralph Mothes and Paloma Werner were not injured and returned to harbour on their own, and a nearby vessel managed to record the whole incident on video.

YouTube video: Whale Crashes on Boat – Published by CBSNewsOnline.

It seems this was simply a case of being in the wrong place when a whale came up for air.

There are several additional videos on YouTube that show whales ramming boats or breaching onto them. So it does happen.

In 2011, a breaching humpback whale off southwest Washington smashed the mast and rigging of a 38ft yacht taking part in the Oregon Offshore International Yacht Race to Victoria, BC ‘leaving bits of blubber behind’, as Ryan Barnes told the Coast Guard. Ironically, the boat was called L’Orca. Her crew were in the cockpit and were not injured during the encounter.

YouTube video: Oregon Offshore 2011- Whale vs. Boat!

YouTube video: Sailboat struck by breaching whale near Astoria

In June 2012, Max Young of Sacramento, California, on the last leg of a circumnavigation, had to be rescued after a breaching whale struck his 50ft yacht 40 miles off the coast of Mexico just after dark. He was only about ten feet from the 55ft whale as it jumped about twelve feet in the air and came down on the bow of boat, lifting the stern clear of the water. The collision disabled the steering system and holed the boat, but he used a mattress to plug a hole, and four bilge pumps to bail water, while waiting to be rescued 5.

CruisersForum – www.cruisersforum.com – has a report of a man who left harbour in his new 27ft Bayliner just before sunset with two friends. They were off Santa Barbara Point ‘when a 30ft grey whale suddenly breached and landed on top of the boat. The weight of the whale crushed the cabin before it rolled off the boat back into the water… the beast came around and took another run at the Bayliner and slammed the boat with its tail’. This damaged the boat’s rail and broke one of the owner’s ribs, cut his hand, and embedded barnacles in his back. The whale made a third run at the boat, but just rolled one of its eyes out of the water and stared at them.

Then there’s the truly bizarre story from Australia of a humpback whale that grabbed a yacht’s anchor rode and swam off, towing the boat 1½ miles out to sea at night. It was joined by a second whale that helped along the way. The woman onboard managed to get a video of the encounter before they cut away the rode. The couple had called the Coast Guard and others for assistance but were not taken seriously.

Published studies of collisions

In 2001, researchers from the US and Europe conducted the first survey of reports of collisions between ships and whales (See Laist, DW, et al, Collisions between ships and whales. MARINE MAMMAL SCIENCE, 17(1): 35-75 (January 2001).)

They focused on motorised vessels, as collision reports first started appearing in the 1800s with the advent of steam power. They found that collisions increased as vessel speed increased.

A humpback whale lands in the water after breaching near Auke Bay, Alaska. Photo Aleria Jensen, Public domain NOAA/NMFS/AKFSC. NOAA Photo Library anim1037

Of eleven species known to be hit by ships, they reported that fin whales are struck most frequently and right whales, humpback whales, sperm whales and grey whales (Eschrichtius robustus) are hit commonly. The most lethal or severe injuries are caused by ships travelling at 14 knots or more, which eliminates many cruising yachts. Today, collisions occur most often with high speed ferries and racing yachts.

Since then other reports have been filed, including the 2009 report of an ExxonMobile tanker returning to port with a humpback whale draped over its bulbous bow. In Alaska, in 2010, an adult female humpback was found on the bow of a cruise ship owned by Princess Cruises – the third whale incident involving the company since 2001. Bizarrely, this same ship had had a similar encounter with a fin whale the year before outside Vancouver. Speed and visibility were considered factors in these events.

In 2011 Fabian Ritter, collaborating with noonsite.com, published a study which constitutes the first attempt to quantitatively assess collisions involving sailing vessels and whales on a global scale (Fabian Ritter. Collisions and near miss events between sailing vessels and cetaceans – MEER eV, Bundesallee 123, 12161 Berlin, Germany.)

A total of 108 collisions and 57 ‘near misses’ were identified between 1966 and 2010, the majority of which (75%) were reported between 2002 and 2010. He concluded that elevated vessel speed contributes to a higher risk of collisions, although it doesn’t correlate with likelihood of damage or injuries where other factors can prevail.

Ritter recommended three courses of action to protect ships and whales:

1. speed reduction,
2. dedicated observers, and
3. the shift of routes.

He also recommended publicising the International Whaling Commission (IWC) Ship Strike Data Base and encouraging sailors to report their encounters so the data can be collected and analysed.

In other studies, sound has been used to try to deter whales from crossing paths with boats. In one, it was documented that harmonics may actually attract rather than deter whales. So running your engine may not be a good way to ward them off.

In the Oyster magazine, Pantaenius Insurance reported research they carried out following the loss of a Formula 40 catamaran after it hit a dormant whale in 1991.

The advice their experts offered was for yachts to keep their depth sounders on during ocean passages, as a whale can hear the pulse emitted by the transducer.

What can you do?

Minimising risk of collision with whales is a goal of the International Maritime Organization (IMO). They are planning detailed guidance for all segments of the maritime industry, including cruising and racing yachts. In advance of the guidance, the Belgian Department of the Environment has released an information leaflet which includes advice about how to reduce the risk of collisions with whales and provides a link to the ship strikes database developed by the International Whaling Commission (IWC).

Their advice includes the following points:

• Plan passages to avoid high density areas
• Keep a close watch, reduce speed, and alter course for direct avoidance
• Report incidents to help improve knowledge
• Heed restrictions and seek advice from the IMO and national authorities
• Contribute to scientific research by reporting sightings and encounters

The IWC database contains 1076 collisions reported between 1877 and 2010. It includes the type of whale and the location of collision, though the IWC is quick to note that these reports are, for the most part, uncorroborated.

A humpback whale breaching near the Alaska Maritime National Wildlife Refuge. Photo Wanetta Ayers. Released into the public domain on Wikimedia Commons

The majority of whale fatalities occur off the East Coast of North America and in the Mediterranean. This is hardly surprising, as that is where shipping is most congested and where whales migrate. A recent study by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), however, has shown that whale populations are on the increase in California waters, adding to the risk of encounters. Multiple species of whale feed along the coast, including killer, grey, humpbacks and blue (Balaenoptera musculus – the world’s largest animal). NOAA has issued advisories to shipping to reduce speed along the migration paths.

What happens to the vessels involved in collisions with whales seems, in comparison, mild. Few ships have been reported holed, disabled or sunk. It has happened, but it seems – at least from our experience – that the benefits to cruising sailors of being out there outweigh the risks of collision – at least with whales.

Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street and methodically knocking people’s hats off – then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.

Herman Melville

About Daria Blackwell

Daria Blackwell is a USCG licensed Captain. She and her husband Alex, and cruising kitty Onyx, have crossed the Atlantic three times in three years aboard their Bowman 57 ketch Aleria, spending years cruising the Caribbean and Atlantic islands as well as the American and European coasts. They are now in Ireland planning their next adventure.

Daria is a proud member of the Ocean Cruising Club Committee, Seven Seas Cruising Association (cruising station for Ireland), American Yacht Club and Mayo Sailing Club.

The Blackwells are co-authors of Happy Hooking – The Art of Anchoringwhich has received excellent reviews in the sailing press. They periodically conduct their Happy Hooking webinar for Seven Seas University.

Their website is www.CoastalBoating.net, “the boaters’ resource for places to go and things to know”.

Further readings

• John S. Marshall: Calif. man tells of sailboat collision with whale
• Laist, DW, et al, Collisions between ships and whales. MARINE MAMMAL SCIENCE, 17(1): 35-75 (January 2001)
• Fabian Ritter. Collisions and near miss events between sailing vessels and cetaceans – MEER eV, Bundesallee 123, 12161 Berlin, Germany
• International Whaling Commission (IWC) Ship Strike Data Base
• NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration)- National Marine Sanctuaries: Reducing Ship Strike Risk to Whales
• Belgian Department of the Environment: Reducing risk of collisions with whales (PDF)

Also on this website

• Chance encounters between ships and whales – Part 1
• All posts about Nature
• More posts by Daria Blackwell:
  - Dancing in the Harbour
  - What I like best about cruising? Passages and anchorages: a world of your own

A fin whale preparing to dive beneath ALERIA’s bow. Photo Alex Blackwell.

Most sailors setting off on a passage dream of encountering wildlife at sea.

Yet ask blue water sailors about their biggest fears, and near the top of the list is likely to be ‘striking a whale’. It’s one of the events most likely to be catastrophic at sea. Today, we can usually avoid really bad weather, but can we avoid a sleeping whale at night?

And what is the likelihood of a chance encounter with a whale? It may not be as rare (or as common) as one might think, depending on location. The likelihood appears to be increasing as protected whale species increase in numbers, and like many cruisers Alex and I have had a few very happy encounters.

Fortunately, several lessons can be applied to reduce the risk and enhance the experience.

Magic at sea – the friendly encounter

First encounter with whales

Whale spy hopping on Stellwagon Bank.

Our first encounter with whales came while crossing Stellwagen Bank, a vast marine sanctuary off Cape Cod. We came upon a pod of northern right whales (Eubalaena glacialis), which started us off with a magical experience that would be difficult to top. We first sighted a mother and calf feeding near tour boats – she was ignoring the humans intruding on her brunch.

About an hour later we noted a rock where there should have been deep water.

After frantically checking the charts and keeping a close eye through  binoculars, we realised it was a whale with callosities, spy hopping and being  groomed by a flock of birds. Then the whale rolled and dived to show off his  fluke.

Soon afterwards a second whale appeared, much closer, then two more, and five more, until we were surrounded by scores of these leviathans.

As they came closer to get a better look at  us with those all-knowing eyes, our first thoughts drifted to the infamous line from Jaws, “we’re gonna need a bigger boat”. They were  about the same length as Aleria.

As soon as we realised they were just curious and respectful we  ghosted along beside them as we checked each other out. We were under full sail  in light winds with no engines running, and worried about them surfacing beneath  us after their dives. We kept a close watch, steered cautiously away from any ahead  of us, and avoided coming between mothers and their calves.

Whereas the experience was initially silent, suddenly the air filled with whale song. Not just one but a cacophony of voices, which seemed to be amplified by Aleria’s hull acting like a stethoscope. There were  long wails, short burps, moans, groans, and high pitched squeals of varied  duration and emphasis. We were taken aback, perplexed. We looked at each other to  make sure we were both hearing this. It sounded surreal. Then, we succumbed to the sheer joy of it. We sang back, jumping up and down, cheering and clapping like children. I don’t recall ever having had such a joyous experience in my  life. We were speaking whale! All fear was gone, replaced with sheer wonder. It  seemed to go on forever.

Then, suddenly, they were gone. The whale song receded and the whales disappeared from view. We mourned their passing but  felt blessed to have met them. Alex described the experience as ‘prehistoric,  otherworldly’. We had been so dumbfounded that we forgot to take pictures. We  have only a few that Alex took as he sighted that first ‘rock’.

Occasional glimpses

As we left Nova Scotia to cross the Atlantic  to Ireland, we were followed out of St Margaret’s Bay by a lone killer whale (Orcinus orca). She swam along peacefully and we wondered if her reputation was deserved.  We didn’t see any more whales all the way to Ireland, but we sailed through thick fog followed by six gales. We know now that whales are sighted more often on calm,  clear days – if the surface of the sea is smooth, you’ll spot an unusual disturbance more readily.

We were next rewarded with a visit by a pod  of pilot whales (Globicephala macrorhynchus) while in transit from Tenerife to La Gomera in the Canary Islands. They are known to be resident there, so we kept a close watch.  Not much bigger than dolphins but black in colour, the pilot whales swam gently along  in company for some time.

A pilot whale off La Gomera in the Canary IslandsPhoto Martina Nolte / Lizenz Creative Commons CC-by-sa-3.0 de

During six months of cruising the Caribbean, where whales come to calve, we saw only one, breaching off the west coast of Antigua. From the shape and acrobatics it appeared to be a humpback (Megaptera  novaeangliae). In  certain islands, the Grenadines for example, fishermen are permitted to take  their annual quota of whale meat in the traditional way, and as we passed St  Vincent we saw a boat with a bow-mounted harpoon coming in with a cetacean strapped to  the side of the hull.

Whales galore

Crossing the Atlantic from the Caribbean to  the Azores, we encountered very light wind conditions. In fact, the Azores high overtook us until we were smack in the middle. It was on this leg that we learned the value of a flat sea for whale sightings and learned just how many of these creatures are en route through the area at any given time. No wonder the Azores were so prominent  on the whaling scene. Plentiful food, good weather – what’s not to like?

We had numerous sightings on one day – sperm  whales (Physeter catodon) and fin whales (Balaenoptera physalus), mothers with calves, juveniles and  elderly, in the distance and REALLY close by. In fact, one pod swam along in our bow wave like dolphins, except they were 60ft long fin  whales. They dove underneath and we wondered where they’d come back up. They  blew air which carried the scent of bountiful fisheries right beside us and  stared at us with those penetrating gazes. It happened to be my birthday – one I will never forget!

In all these encounters, we have never truly felt threatened – concerned about proximity, but not threatened. We rarely use the engine even in very light air, and we always keep a close watch. We are  respectful of the distance between us. We are respectful of their environment. We are  respectful of their intelligence and their place on this oceanic earth. I think they knew all  that.

Collisions between ships and whales

Struck by a whale off Grand Banks

The first time I heard about a sailing boat ‘encountering’ a whale mid-ocean was when a yacht, the 49ft  sloop Peningo, collided with a whale about 700 miles from the Azores while en  route from the US to the America’s Cup Jubilee in England in 2001.

The skipper wrote  about their ordeal afterwards, providing insight into the experience1. Although the story is entitled Struck by a Whale, from his description of the encounter it is more  likely that it was the vessel that struck the whale. The whale was severely injured and the yacht was rendered helpless with serious rudder damage. Luckily for those  aboard, the yacht remained afloat with no major water intrusion until a rescue ship  arrived to tow them back to Newfoundland.

The whale probably didn’t do so well.

The sinking of the Essex

This illustration from the Russel Purrington Panorama – a series of paintings intended to describe the workings of the whale fishery – shows the attack of the whale on the Essex

A most famous encounter is that of the  Nantucket whaling ship Essex, which was sunk by a sperm whale in the South Pacific2 in 1820. Herman Melville’s novel Moby Dickis based on this true story, told by the few  crew who survived. The whale struck the Essex with its head just behind the bow while the light boats were out hunting.

‘The ship brought up as suddenly and  violently as if she had struck a rock,’ recalled Owen Chase, the first mate. The whale had smashed through the bulkhead and water was streaming in. Chase set the crew to work  on the pumps and signalled the other boats to return immediately.

The whale,  meanwhile, was apparently badly injured and was leaping and twisting in convulsions  some distance away. Then suddenly the animal raced toward the ship again, its head  high above the water like a battering ram.

It stove in the port side of the ship and the Essex sank, leaving the crew thousands of miles from land in three light boats. (See Nathaniel Philbrick: In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex Penguin, 2001.)

In a scientific paper on whale behaviour by Carrier published in 2002, the authors note, ‘Head-butting during aggressive behaviour is common and widespread among cetaceans, suggesting that it may be a basal behaviour for the group. Although data is not available for most species, head-butting has been observed in species in each of the four major cetacean lineages’. They put forth a hypothesis that the spermaceti organ has evolved in whales as a weapon used in male-to-male  aggression and was used as a battering ram capable of sinking the Essex. (See Carrier, DR et al: The face that sank the Essex: potential function of the spermaceti organ in aggression. J Exp Biol 205: 1755-1763, 2002.)

Even without this, the sperm whale is the  largest-toothed animal alive today with some growing to more than 60ft in length and weighing 50 tons.

A mother sperm whale and her calf dive together near the Azores. Photo: Daria Blackwell

Whale attack! Yachts colliding with whales

During a passage from the Canaries to the  Caribbean we heard one of the boats in our SSB net report an attack by a whale.

She was a vessel in the 35ft range, heading back to Boston from Europe with two people  aboard. While under sail in light wind they sighted several whales, one of which  turned towards their boat and rammed it head on. It circled, and came back at them  repeatedly. They were terrified that the whale was going to keep battering until they were holed and sunk, then suddenly it swam away. They had the presence of mind to  take photos and were able to identify it as a false killer whale (Pseudorca crassidens). The net controller  asked what colour their hull was, as a crew member suggested  that whales tend to attack boats with red bottoms. Interestingly, they had just had their bottom repainted – and the colour they had chosen was red. Aleria’s bottom is green and her hull is white.

There are multiple reports of yachts colliding with whales, including two in the 1970s when British yachts were lost.

• Maurice and Maralyn Bailey were on their way from Panama to the Galapagos Islands when, at dawn  on 4 March 1973, their 31ft Auralyn was struck by a whale and holed. The Baileys  survived for 117 days and drifted 1500 miles on an inflatable liferaft before being rescued. They wrote an account of their ordeal entitled 117 Days Adrift(Staying Alive! in the US).

• Dougal Robertson left England in 1971 aboard Lucette, a 43ft wooden schooner, with his wife and four children. On 15 June 1972 Lucette was holed by a pod of killer whales and sank approximately 200 miles west  of the Galapagos Islands. The six people on board took to an inflatable liferaft and a solid hull dinghy, which they used as a tow-boat with a jury-rigged sail. They were rescued after 38 days by a fishing trawler.

Robertson wrote two books, Survive the Savage Seaand Sea Survival: A Manual.

• More recently there’s the 1989 account of a  pod of pilot whales sinking the yacht Siboney, after which owners Bill and Simone Butler awaited rescue in a liferaft. He documented their story in the book, 66 Days Adrift: A True Story of Disaster and Survival on the Open Sea.

• In October 2011 Yachting Monthly reported on a boat which had been attacked by a whale mid-ocean in the mid 1990s. The animal made three glancing blows before swimming away, and scientists whom the author spoke to afterwards suggested that she must have had a calf and was chasing them  off. They did not report the colour of their bottom paint, but noted that sections of  paint had been scraped clean in the collision. The vessel, an Oyster Lightwave, did not suffer any significant damage.

• Anecdotal reports on blogs include one by Paul J who reported being attacked by what may have been a sperm whale about 150 miles off the Great Barrier Reef. He posted a photo (right) on ybw.com of the bottom of his steel boat dented by the whale’s head – the bottom of his boat was painted red.

In the same thread, two other cruisers noted encounters with pilot whales around their redbottomed boats, but no attacks.

Can whales see colour?

It has long been advised not to paint a boat’s bottom white because it looks like the belly of a killer whale. Other people advise not to paint it black, grey or blue because it might appear to be a competing whale or a  predator. Then the red question came about.

Yet scientists have long professed that  whales cannot see colour as they do not have the short wavelength cones in their eyes. That to me is short sighted (excuse the pun) as it assumes the human way is the only way to see colour. A study published in 2002 by Griebel suggests that cetaceans do indeed discern  colour, but in a different way than we do (See Griebel, U, Color vision in marine mammals. A review. Bright, M,Dworschak, PC, and Stachowitsch, M (Eds.) 2002: The Vienna School of Marine Biology: A Tribute to Jörg Ott. Facultas Universitätsverlag, Wien: 73-87.)

So it is possible that colour does make a difference to whales – we just don’t know for sure.

Speed is a factor

One certain trend is that more collisions are  being recorded as boats get faster (especially racing boats). A British sailing journalist’s blog looked back at some of the better-known collisions with whales, and  we have now added to the list. There are four reports of collisions during the  OSTAR (one in 1964, two in 1988 and one in 1996) the latter including one with Ellen  MacArthur’s Kingfisher in which the whale was killed and found wrapped around the  vessel’s keel. David Selling’s Hyccup sank as a result of a collision in 1988.

There were two reports during Whitbread Round the World Races, in 1989 and 1998; of  the second, Knut Frostad said, ‘It was like being in a car crash’. Delta Lloyd and Ericsson 3 both hit whales during the 2008/09 Volvo Ocean Race, with minor damage.

There were four other reports during races between 2001 and 2005 in which  boats were damaged, with rudders being particularly vulnerable.

That’s a total of twelve high-profile  collisions reported since the 1960s, but only one vessel (Hyccup) was catastrophically damaged.

And in the  2011/12 Volvo Ocean Race, Camper’s helmsman Roberto Bermudez managed to avoid  collision with a whale on Leg 7 from Miami to Lisbon –  all caught on amazing video footage

YouTube video: CAMPER Avoids Whale Collision – Volvo Ocean Race 2011-12

Next:
Part 2 of this article is here. 

About Daria Blackwell

Daria Blackwell is a USCG licensed Captain. She and her husband Alex, and cruising kitty Onyx, have crossed the Atlantic three times in three years aboard their Bowman 57 ketch Aleria, spending years cruising the Caribbean and Atlantic islands as well as the American and European coasts. They are now in Ireland planning their next adventure.

Daria is a proud member of the Ocean Cruising Club Committee, Seven Seas Cruising Association (cruising station for Ireland), American Yacht Club and Mayo Sailing Club.

The Blackwells are co-authors of Happy Hooking – The Art of Anchoringwhich has received excellent reviews in the sailing press. They periodically conduct their Happy Hooking webinar for Seven Seas University.

Their website is www.CoastalBoating.net, “the boaters’ resource for places to go and things to know”.

Further readings

• Dod A Fraser: Struck by a whale off Grand Banks
• Wikipedia: Essex (whaleship)
• Herman Melville: Moby Dick
• Nathaniel Philbrick: In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex Penguin, 2001
• Carrier, DR et al: The face that sank the Essex: potential function of the spermaceti organ in aggression. J Exp Biol 205: 1755-1763, 2002
• Maurice and Maralyn Bailey: 117 Days Adrift
• Dougal Robertson: Survive the Savage Sea& Sea Survival: A Manual
• Bill Butler: 66 Days Adrift: A True Story of Disaster and Survival on the Open Sea
• Yachting Monthly, October 2011: Whale attack! When a 6-ton boat met 12 tonnes of blubber
• ybw. com forum thread: Pilot whale attacks
• Griebel, U, Color vision in marine mammals. A review.Bright, M,Dworschak, PC, and Stachowitsch, M (Eds.) 2002: The Vienna School of Marine Biology: A Tribute to Jörg Ott. Facultas Universitätsverlag, Wien: 73-87.
• YachtingMonthly.com: Whale collisions a perennial risk, by Elaine Bunting

Also on this website

• Chance encounters between ships and whales – Part 2
• All posts about Nature
• More posts by Daria Blackwell:
  - Dancing in the Harbour
  - What I like best about cruising? Passages and anchorages: a world of your own

A year ago, I went to a girl’s night out with some women at a local marina. Over dinner and a glass of wine, one of the gals confessed, “I really wanted to be a good boat wife this summer when I wasn’t in school. You know, like pack his lunch and make him coffee. All the things he does for me during the school year. But I just can’t get it together!”

We had a good laugh, but I knew deep inside how she felt. Even though I was relatively new to the boating world, I already had a picture in my mind of what a perfect boat wife is.

The perfect boat wife

• The perfect boat wife is a strong sailor, a first mate who can support the captain or even be the captain.
• She can roll up her sleeves and help with the engine or service the winches.
• She takes care of the kids, births them on the boat, potty trains them by 18 months, does all the laundry by hand, and cooks yummy food while the boat heels.
• She bakes bread, makes Playdough, and homeschools, all while helping the captain with navigation.
• And she radiates positive energy while doing all this.

The truth is, I’m of no use with the diesel engine, my seamanship and navigation skills needs improvement, I don’t cook enough or do meal planning, and the pressure cooker intimidates me.

I have been known to talk back to the captain. I’m also prone to the grumps, and I’m not particularly tough.

Many times, I’ve had to abandon cooking a meal while my toddler’s whines escalates into ear-shattering screams. On a good day I can squeeze in a load of laundry or wash a sinkful of the dishes. My days sailing are spent getting snacks, reading stories, pottying the kids, and refilling drinks. I’m a flight attendant to two demanding first class passengers! By the time evening comes I’m dismayed at how little I get done, and yet I feel so tired!

(Lest you decry, “Pink and blue!”—before cruising, I was the primary breadwinner and my husband was the stay-at-home dad and homemaker.)

Parenting: The kids “potty” their dolls overboard while sailing

…or tuck them into their “carriers”/tethers.

No, I am no model boat wife.

But how many of us can truly do it all? Isn’t it the same Superwoman complex carried over from our go-go days?

It became clear to me that no matter where we are in life, we as women seem to be haunted by the “perfect” (fill in the blank). For the stay at home mom, it’s the homebirthing, homesteading, book writing, crafty mama of six. For working moms, it’s the successful executive who manages to juggle three kids, a successful career and finds the time to go telemark skiiing. No matter who we are, there’s always someone out there, real or imagined, who seems to have it more together than us.

One wise woman observed that all this comparison simply distracts us from our own work, our own journey.

Cruising has taught me about letting go.

Letting go of the unnecessary. The things that hold me back.

And it was only when I let go of the perfect boat wife that I was able to enjoy cruising more. Here are some of the lessons I learned along the way:

Prioritize. Someone once said that cruising life is 9x less efficient: 3x because of the kids and 3x because of the boat. You learn to do what’s important and let go of the rest. We cruise to be close to our children. While they are tiny, we decided to accommodate them as much as possible. It means going painfully slow and waiting for the right wind and seas. It means finding crew if necessary. It means spending the time to comfort them if they are clingy.

Intra-Coastal Waterway Lock. Some days the kids need a bit more attention.

Decide when to step up. My partner and I decided ahead of time when the kids’ needs take second place for safety reasons. Usually it’s when we are entering and leaving a harbor and changing sails. I buckle them into their seats and let them know that it is quiet time.

Remember the big picture. I remind myself that in the past, I have been that ideal partner. Together, my partner and I have gutted and remodeled part of our house. I tiled and painted and helped with wiring. The time will come when I can help more. This season with tiny children is short.

I focus on what I can do. I try to give the kids a secure base of support. I can sew canvas and paint. I can be a sounding board for my spouse. I can mine our network for information and resources. And I am the safety officer to the captain when he gets carried away.

Cutting slack. I try to cut the captain some slack when he’s tired and cranky from planning, navigating, cooking, schlepping fresh water, driving the dinghy, etc.

Cruising isn’t about attempting to do it all or bringing the super woman mindset on board. It’s the paring down to the essentials, about doing your best, and growing into your potential.

Outer Banks, NC. Happy days on the water.

Four months into cruising, things have gradually improved. I’m able to orchestrate a daily rhythm for the kids, plan a menu, make snacks, and cook lunch. Some days I’m even organized enough to toss out a surprise treat or activity right as we are about to anchor.

I think to myself, someday I might have a shot at this “good boat wife” gig.

Someday.

About Serena Li

My husband and I, along with our two young children, shortened our “five-to-ten year cruising plan” to one and a half years.

We left Boston in June 2012 and began cruising down the east coast of the U.S. aboard WILDEST DREAM, a Contest 32CS ketch.

We are headed for the turquoise waters of the Bahamas. Come aboard and follow our family cruising adventures at tigandserena.com

Read also on this website

• Boat jobs: Pink or Blue? …Violet, Meri says, by Meri Faulkner
• Joint Effort, by Gwen Hamlin (Admiral’s Angle column #5):
  Cruising chores are less a matter of divided responsibilities than they
  are a matter of joint effort.

At first, being the only woman on a boat is no fun. You have to change in a teeny head or cabin, hide certain bathroom products from sneaky boys, and deal with a larger hygienic adjustment than most men. However, being the only woman on a boat happens more often than not nowadays. There has been an improvement, for sure, but the fact remains that women are the minority in sailing, and even more of the minority in offshore racing. What I learned last summer is that there is absolutely no reason for this to be the case.

I’m not a racing nut. I have no plans to compete in the Volvo around the world race or to single hand the TransPac. This is why the Marion Bermuda race was a perfect fit for me- the race is a competition between cruising boats, not racing sleds, and most of the folks who enter the race are your average sailors looking to do something a little more interesting with their summer. Additionally, my father was entering his own Hinckley Sou’wester 50’ in the race, so I had the chance to sail on a boat I knew with the man who taught me how to sail.

I had the chance to sail on a boat I knew with the man who taught me how to sail.

The rest of the crew was assembled by my dad; the navigator was an engineer from MIT, two seasoned sailors as watch captains, a six-time race veteran as a tactician, the skipper was my father, and then me.

The race wasn’t easy, but in hindsight it was fun

The race wasn’t easy, but in hindsight it was fun. We battled gale-force winds at the start, dead calm in the Gulf Stream, seasickness for days, heat, cold, and boredom. Equipment broke, fingers bled, and none of us were getting enough sleep. One guy even unintentionally overdosed on scopolamine and spent a lot of time singing to himself in a corner of the cockpit (he was fine, and still was a great contributor to the crew despite his loopiness). At first glance, it was miserable.

S/V Lyra – Hinckley Sou’wester 50’

But, what I took away from this race was a sense of accomplishment, confidence in myself as a sailor particularly when paralleled with men sailing twice as long as I had been alive, and the loss of my attitude about gender roles in sailing.

My mother is a sailor, but nowhere near the level of my father. He taught her in her 20’s, and though she understands the parts and the ideas, she still does not measure up to my dad.

Instead, on the Marion Bermuda race I saw not only could I steer the boat as well as the next man, but I could also trim sails, navigate, and even wrestle the elements just as well. The 2011 race even featured an all-woman boat that, despite a number of equipment failures and issues, had a strong finish in the fleet.

At one point in the Gulf Stream, our spinnaker halyard spontaneously gave way, and without thinking I, the smallest on the boat, scampered up to the foredeck to grab the foot of the sail. At almost 9 knots, a 50’ cruising boat does not like to slow down, and as the spinnaker snuffer filled with water I was left wallowing and flailing on deck with a sail in my hands. Even so, with a little team work, we brought the sail back aboard that without my sharp eyes and quick movements, we would have had to cut lose from the rigging as it slowed us down.

My mother and the wives of the crew were waiting on the dock for us

When I arrived in Bermuda, my mother and the wives of the crew were waiting on the dock for us. All of the support land crew were women, all of the racers the men. Except for me.

Later that week at the awards banquet, as I stood in my bright pink dress surrounded by my crewmates in their Bermuda shorts and high socks, I definitely stood out. I’m okay with that for now, but I hope in the future more women have the chance to show the sailing world that anything they can do, we can do just as well.

About Lisa Gabrielson

Lisa Gabrielson is a 22 year old college student in Washington DC. She spends the summers sailing with her family and friends in the Boston area, and is currently an editorial intern for Sail Magazine. She is also the outgoing president/commodore of the American University Sailing Team, and plans to continue her near shore and off shore racing career well after college. Her Marion-Bermuda race experience is documented on her blog, http://lyrabermuda.wordpress.com/

How have you developed confidence and experience?

Let us know.

Email kathy@forcruisers.com or leave a comment below.

All cruisers are trying to find the sweet spot of “exactly enough” — exactly enough spares, exactly enough gear, exactly enough provisions, exactly enough planning — but we all know, even as we strive, that our careful attempts at finding “exactly enough” are made in changing conditions based on incomplete knowledge and are bound to miss the mark regularly.

With the knowledge that I am going to make mistakes, I have come to the state of mind where I choose, in advance, which type of mistakes I am going to make. In most scenarios there is one type of mistake that will drive me crazy more than another type of mistake. When I come across a dilemma, in which I would normally be trying to figure out exactly the correct solution, I play out the worst case scenarios.

Which will drive me bananas faster: locating, buying and stowing spare parts for my fridge, or turning it off if it breaks? Will I be more irritated if I run out of food, or if I have too much and some goes to waste? Will I be more angry at the world if I carefully plan out all of the documents I need to clear into a country and find that everything has changed or if I arrive without what I need and have to run around searching for a copy machine?

Choosing your mistakes may sound negative, but I find it freeing. If I chose the mistake of buying too much food because I knew that running out would drive me more crazy, then I feel better about having to throw out some food.

Instead of feeling as if I made an error in buying “exactly enough”, I know I made a conscious choice of the lesser of two evils.

I make the same number of mistakes but I make the kind of mistakes I can live with. Know thyself.

About Livia Gilstrap

Livia found the transition from full time work as a professor to full time work preparing a boat to cruise frighteningly easy but sorely misses having minions.

She and her husband Carol have been cruising for more than 600 days aboard their 35′ Wauquiez Pretorien Estrellita and will be heading into the South Pacific from Mexico in a few weeks. You can read more about that unfolding adventure on their cruising blog (thegiddyupplan.blogspot.com).

Read also on this website

• I am not an Admiral! by Livia Gilstrap
• All posts in “Lessons Learned“

More information (external links)

• The Interview With A Cruiser Project: Livia Gilstrap interviewes dozens of cruisers who are out there on the water.
• Livia’s cruising blog: thegiddyupplan.blogspot.com

What have you learned lately?

Let us know.

Email kathy@forcruisers.com or leave a comment below.

We sailed into our home port of Belfast, Maine, after two weeks of cruising just days before Hurricane Irene made land fall in North Carolina. We spent the winter refitting and living aboard our Bristol 24, Mama Tried, but the previous two weeks were the first cruising either of us had done.

We hadn’t intended to return to Belfast, but our engine was overheating and a chainplate had wiggled its way along the hull and created a nasty gash in the deck, not to mention tickling our nerves a little. We had decided to delay our lives as transient boat hippies just a little longer to make the repairs, when caught wind of Hurricane Irene stewing far to the south of us. Just as well, we thought, as we pointed Mama Tried for home.

Upon arriving in Belfast, we were a little surprised to find the harbor, which is a small but busy one in Maine’s Penobscot Bay, was sparsely populated.

Over the next three days, we saw more and more empty moorings and the town’s public parking lots and two boatyards became overrun with boats being pulled out of the water in anticipation of Irene. They were lining them up on the hard, masts, sails, and all. Most of the boats would be launched again the following week, so people could still have their Labor Day weekend sails.

Boats hauled for Irene: One of many parking lots filled with boats on the hard the day before Irene met New England.

We’re new to this, but that two week cruise taught us a lot.

Mostly, that everyone has advice, and some of it is good, and some of it is not.

Robin furls the mainsail of MAMA TRIED

Our sloop, MAMA TRIED, ready to ride out the storm at Thompson’s Wharf in Belfast, Maine.

It took us twenty brutal hours being tossed around on a mooring in an inhospitable harbor to realize that our informed decisions, based on listening to the weather and scrutinizing our charts, were just as valuable as the advice of others, regardless of their experience or how much we liked them.

So we listened to reports of Irene, we carefully considered our harbor, and we decided to stay in the water. Everyone we ran into on the waterfront wanted to know what we’d be doing for the storm. We told them we’d tie on extra lines, put on some larger fenders, and keep an eye on her.

Irene reached us, that’s exactly what we did. We unplugged the VHF antenna, stowed our solar panels, closed the seacocks, made plans to spend the night ashore, and checked on the boat, which we moved to a public dock, every few hours.

In the end, Irene wasn’t much along the Maine coast. We had a mighty high tide, some stiff wind and a whole lot of rain, but I was never overly concerned about the boat.

Hurricane Irene reiterated that most important of lessons; trust your own decisions.

I’m doing something new, but I’m not unprepared for it. I am well-armed with information to make good choices. In the case of Irene, experience backed me up.

Most of those boats are back in the harbor now. We repaired our deck and the chainplate looks good. We finished up repairing the outboard’s raw water cooling system yesterday.

We’ll be off again soon for another few weeks of sailing, stockpiling as many lessons and mistakes as we can before winter rolls into Maine again.

About Robin Mc Carthy

Robin McCarthy lives and writes aboard Mama Tried, the 1968 24′ Bristol Corsair that she and her boyfriend rescued and refit in Belfast, Maine, in 2010. She writes about sailing and living aboard at womanenough.net.

Read also on this website

• Oh, no, not another hurricane!, by Pam Wall
• Weather Resources: Lots of links to useful websites on hurricane preparation and weather forecasts.

Have you prepared for a hurricane aboard? What did you learn? Would you do anything different next time?

Let us know.

Email kathy@forcruisers.com or leave a comment below.