Fwd: [kensblog] Update #20 (Or, Fubar Update #8)- The Fubar runs at night
Begin forwarded message:
Greetings all!
On Thursday night there was a huge dinner for the Fubar
participants. While standing in line waiting for food I started
talking to Scott Bulger of Alanui (Nordhavn 40). I mentioned that we
would be leaving at daybreak to head to Turtle Bay, and Scott
surprised me by saying he was leaving within the hour. Our plan,
aboard Sans Souci was based on running the 295 nautical miles to
Turtle Bay at 9 to 9.5 knots. With a 6am departure time on Friday
morning we would be arriving on Saturday around 3pm. I hadnt
really thought about how much different this math might look for a
slower boat. Scotts plan was to run at 7 knots. We were looking
ahead to a 32 hour run, whereas Scott would need 42 hours to
traverse the same distance.
Visible in the back of the marina is a giant pirate ship. Our cab
driver
claimed it was from the move Pirates of the Carribean.
We are becoming a well oiled machine. Everyone was up at 5am and by
5:30 we were ready to leave the dock. We lost a little time when we
discovered that one of our dock lines was tangled with a neighboring
boat. This didnt take long to untangle, but chatting with the
neighbor took a while. Also, when I estimated in my last update that
we had six lines out, because of the swell in the marina, I guessed
low. We were being held in place by twelve lines! It worked. We
hardly noticed the swell.
One of my goals for this trip has been to improve my docking skills.
Technically I am the captain on this run, but I have along as crew
Jeff Sanson, a 1600 ton master. Jeffs docking skills are superior
to my own, and he has been coaching me as I come in and out of port.
Over the years, Ive gotten in the habit of bypassing any slip that
looked hard to get into. Our slip in Ensenada was in that category,
but Jeff was confident that I could make it easily. My biggest
mistake has been over-reliance on my thrusters. My normal mode is to
not use the rudders, or even the twin engines, once I enter a
marina. I have developed a habit of being overly cautious. I tend to
put the boat into gear just enough to get moving forward, and then
use the thrusters for turns. This technique has served me well, but
if I can take my skills the next step Ill be able to get into port
even when the weather or location makes it a challenge.
It was still dark when we left port this morning. Bruce Kessler had
recommended at the captains meeting that we visually verify that
our running lights were functioning prior to leaving the dock. He
also recommended that once lit, we leave them going all day. His
rationale was that lights tend to fail while being turned on or off
and it is critical that everyones lights are working for tonights
run.
The seas today have been bumpier than what we experienced yesterday,
but remain relatively calm. Winds have stayed in the 10-16 knot
range, always behind us, which has caused a bit of zigzagging with
the autopilot. Were maintaining a straight course, but theres a
side to side sliding motion that seems to encourage seasickness. I
overheard a few boats talking about seasickness today, and my dad
spent a fair piece of the afternoon laying down. Ive avoided any
seasickness thus far this trip, and am hoping to keep it that way.
Another of Bruces strong recommendations was to not start fishing
until we get south of Turtle Bay. This passage was timed such that
the trickiest parts are during daylight hours. If someone were to
hook a marlin, and stop for hours to reel it in, they would arrive
after dark in Turtle Bay. This would leave them entering a strange
bay in darkness, and anchoring in the dark. This didnt stop poles
going in the water on some boats. I heard one boat reeling in ten
fish in a matter of minutes. Meanwhile, other boats (such as ours),
had no success. Im confident that will change.
Jeff and Jeremy
My dad watching Jeremy fishing on the back deck
One of the first things I usually work out before any overnight
passage is a watch schedule. Every captain has a different system,
and each is unshakably convinced that his (or, hers) is the right
system, and the only system that works. Following are some of the
rules aboard my boat:
-
Rule #1: There must always be two people on watch at all
times. There should never be one person alone in the pilot house.
The one exception is during dinner. If we have a seasoned skipper at
the helm, I dont mind rushing through dinner, and then relieving
them, so we can get as much of the group as possible together at the
dinner table.
-
Rule #2: One of the people in the pilot house is charged
with driving the boat. The other is the gopher. The job of the
gopher is to go-fer things. If the person driving needs coffee, the
other person goes fer it. This lets the driver focus on driving
while someone else does all the errands. The other important jobs of
the person not driving is to keep the person driving awake and to
relieve them when they need a brief break of the type that cannot be
delegated.
-
Rule #3: Someone skilled must be in the pilot house at
all times. This rule is particularly difficult on Sans Souci because
we have only two skilled boaters on the boat. There are five people,
but mentally I think of them as two captains (Jeff and I), two
newbies (Jeremy and my son Chris) and a passenger (my dad). Theres
a Nordhavn that bounced off a freighter a few years back. I dont
know the details, but in the version of the story I heard, the
captain was making dinner while his dad stood watch. Upon returning
to the pilot house his dad asked what the big growing blob was on
the radar. The rest of the story is history (they collided with the
freighter. Fortunately, Nordhavn builds great boats and they escaped
with relatively minor damage, but no injuries).
-
Rule #4: Nothing can be ambiguous. It must be clear at
all times who is driving. It must be clear when shifts starts and end.
-
Rule #5: Engine room checks are hourly, and they are
thorough.
-
Rule #6: If you dont know, ask. There is no such thing
as a dumb question.
Following is a brief description of some of our navigation
equipment. Many of the people reading this blog are families of
persons on the Fubar, and I need to give a very brief background on
marine electronics so that what follows will make sense.
-
Radar. When running at night, radar gives you a view of
the world around you. Its the primary tool when visibility is
restricted, such as running at night or in fog. Splotches on the
radar give you the location of land and other boats.
-
Arpa. This is a feature on high-end radars which helps
the captain interpret radar results. By tagging dots on the radar
screen, that you believe to be other boats, the radar can study
the dot with a built-in computer and analyze its motion. Within a
few seconds, you are able to see the speed of the object, and its
direction. This is displayed and updated in real-time so that you
can always know what the other boats around you are doing.
-
AIS. Radar, combined with Arpa, gives you the direction
and speed of other boats. AIS takes this concept further by enabling
a boat to constantly transmit its position, name, size, destination
and more. AIS is required on commercial vessels, and is dropping in
price to the level where it can be popular on private boats. There
are two kinds of AIS; receive only, which costs around $1,000 and
AIS which has full transmit and receive capability, which costs
around $5,000. If a boat has the receive-only AIS they can see
information for AIS boats, but do not transmit their own info. On
the rally, only a hand-full of boats have AIS transmitters, but many
have the ability to see AIS data.
-
VHF. This refers to the radios on boats. -
Starboard/Port: Right/Left respectively.
Sans Souci was not the only boat that wanted to get rolling at dawn.
From the moment we left the marina in Ensenada, until we dropped
anchor in Turtle Bay, we were running with a group of other boats.
The slower boats had left the night before, so that they could
arrive in daylight. The bulk of the remaining boats left at dawn. We
were provided a series of way points (locations on a map) which
would provide a safe route from Ensenada to Turtle Bay. Although
everyone was free to establish their own route, most of the group
stuck fairly closely to the waypoints we were given. I suspect that
on many boats, the waypoints were plugged into the computer
navigation system, and the route was run exactly. To understand what
this means, imagine fifty-three trains all running on a single
track. Because the bulk of the boats left at the same time, and
because the majority were running on the same track, there was more
crowding than really needed to occur. Normally, I would have swung
several miles away from the group, but in this case, it felt safer
to run the suggested route. I dont trust the charts in Mexico, and
knowing that I was on a track that had been run before inspired
confidence.
During the day, running close to other boats is fine, but at night,
it is important to spread out. This is easier said than done. On the
Atlantic Rally we ran as close as 100 yards from each other during
the day, but spread to a minimum one mile separation at night. A
problem with radar is that you cant really see boats that are too
close to you. Your own boat interferes with the radar signal, and
other boats within as much as a quarter mile may not show on radar.
If it is night, and a boat is only a hundred yards away, you may not
know they are there. Even a one mile separation between boats means
that someone can converge with you, at 10 knots, in six minutes or
less. There are other reasons for maintaining good separation.
Squalls are regular occurrences in some parts of the world. These
are extreme storms which are usually short, but can contain strong
winds and rain. During these, the radar often becomes useless. Ive
had low clouds cause the radar to become virtually useless. In these
situations, you are running blind. If other boats are too close,
both of you can have a bad day.
When dusk arrived and everyone was still running close, I got onto
the radio and asked the group to spread out. Our radar showed 18
boats within a four mile radius. I was boxed in on every side by
other boats and feeling severely limited in my ability to maneuver.
Other boats also got on the radio to ask everyone to spread out.
This had little, if any, impact. In our group, only three boats had
AIS. Thus when you would see a boat that was too close to you, you
werent sure how to tell them to give you space. Radar would give
you the latitude and longitude of the boat that was too close, but
not its name (unless they had AIS). Radio calls would go out like:
Would the boat at 24 50.123N by 115 55.111W please identify
themselves. This never seemed to work. Other techniques seemed to
accomplish even less. For instance, I heard more than once Would
the boat on my port side beam please give me some space! This just
seemed to add to the confusion. Sometimes, boats would be confused
about the identity of surrounding boats. I received a few calls from
other boats saying Sans Souci were right behind you. Id respond,
Great, what is your position? Sometimes it was me they were
following, but other times it wasnt. This lead to some creative
methods of identifying other boats. I heard a few boats calling
other boats saying things like Mystic Moon, would you blink your
deck lights?
All boats are supposed to monitor VHF channel 16 at all times. It
was not clear that all Fubar boats were adhering to this standard.
Even with all of the discussion on the radio some boats just didnt
get the message. At one time I noted three different sets of boats
that were running so close to each other (in the dark) that I
decided it was some sort of strange radar echo. On my radar, it
looked like the boats were close enough together to mate. One of the
teams was a Nordhavn with AIS, so I was able to call them directly
on the radio. Senjero, this is Sans Souci. Im checking on what I
believe could be a problem with my radar. Is there another boat very
close to you? The response: Sans Souci. This is Senjero. You radar
is correct. There is a boat which will not give us space. If we
speed up, they speed up. If we move to the side, they move to the
side. We cant seem to shake them. Weve tried to call them, but
they dont seem to be listening. My theory is that for some of the
boats, this was their first major passage. For them, the whole
reason for a rally was to run in the company of other boats. I cant
account for why they werent paying attention to the radio. Perhaps
they did hear the calls, but felt safer running along side another
boat. I dont know, beyond that I know it made the night much more
dangerous than it needed to be.
Over time, I was able to open some space around me. I could see on
the radar that other boats were still struggling to clear the space
around them, but we were able to open up a one mile radius to the
nearest other boat. Even this didnt make us safe. At about four in
the morning, while I was driving, I noticed a boat, a mile ahead of
me, and to my starboard side, that had suddenly turned to be
directly in front of me. They had also slowed and alarms started
going off on Sans Souci reporting that we were on a collision path.
I put out a call on the radio to try to identify the boat, and ask
them their intentions, but couldnt figure out who it was. Out the
window, all we could see was a white light (their mast light) and
the red glow of their port side running light. I really didnt want
to stop, or alter course. This would cause the boats behind me to
alter course to avoid me, and start a chain reaction. All of the
boats were going exactly the same direction, so I figured it would
be easy for the boat in front of me to know I was talking about
them: Would the boat who is zigzagging in front of me please
identify themselves? A few other boats kicked into the conversation
and were helping me identify the boat, but within a few minutes I
had no choice. I slowed nearly to a stop, turned to starboard, and
sped back up. Had I not been paying attention it could have been
ugly. All I can guess is that the boat was fishing, and had
something on the hook that was distracting them.
About 75 miles prior north of Turtle Bay, there is a large island
called Cedrus. Jeff has fished this area extensively and knew that
if we were to run close to the shore on Cedrus we would be
approached by pangas offering to sell us lobsters. Prior to leaving
Ensenada we had purchased beer for the purposes of trading for
lobster. Jeff thought a couple cases of beer might get us more
lobster than I could imagine. About an hour prior to arriving at the
north end of Cedrus I started making my move. I had to get out of
the center of the pack, and work my way to the west side, so that I
could run the east shore of Cedrus. This strategy worked and we had
an incredible view of Cedrus, but unfortunately the pangas never
appeared.
Approaching Cedrus
As we approached the south end of Cedrus, a call came on the radio
Fubar Fleet, Unreel is proud to announce that we are the first boat
to successfully capture a lobster pot. We captured it with our
starboard prop, and will leave it there until we get to Turtle Bay,
where we shall retrieve it. This was said humorously, but its a
serious issue. Lobster and crab pots are a major hazard. These are
small cages, sitting on the bottom, with a line rising to the
surface where there is a floating buoy. These buoys are sometimes
large enough to show on radar, but usually not. If you are running
at night, it is easy to run one over. Once your prop snags a crab
pot, the line is spooled onto your prop and you have no choice but
to go beneath the water and cut it off. I cant imagine how this is
handled in cold water, such as Alaska. Luckily I havent yet had to
find out. During daylight, you can sometimes see the buoys and avoid
them, but not always. If there is any chop in the water, they hide
beneath the waves, and by the time you see them, it is too late.
Sans Souci has line cutters ahead of the props which are designed to
cut the lines of any crab pots we run over, but these do not always
work.
Arriving at Turtle Bay
On arrival at Turtle Bay, we dropped anchor, did some cleaning, and
took a panga ashore for a Fubar Party. My dad stayed behind. He
was tired and wanted a quiet evening. Jeff stayed with him. Jeff
wasnt giving up on finding some lobster for us, and had worked out
a deal 40 lobsters for $100 US dollars with a panga guy who came
by. He was waiting for his lobsters (that never showed up). The
party was fun, and it was a chance to talk with the other boats. I
asked around for interesting stories from other boats, but mostly
struck out. Big Mama had inverter and water tank problems. Fish
and Game was desperately seeking Racor 2000 filters (and, still
is). Paloma had an interesting problem, with a creative solution:
Their shaft seal was overheating. They tried loosening it but this
didnt help. For those not familiar, there is a seal on the
propeller shaft, where it passes through the hull, that is
purposefully left slightly loose, so that it can be cooled by a
steady drip of sea water. There is nothing but some packing material
(it looks like rope packed in wax) that sits between the shaft and
the hull. If the shaft seal is overheating, it can mean that the
packing is in too tight, or that it has failed. Paloma needed to get
the temperature down, so that they could reach Turtle Bay, and
replace the shaft seal. Scott, aboard Alanui gave them the advice of
using a fresh water hose, with a light stream of water, to cool the
shaft. This got them to the anchorage, where they were working this
morning on replacing the packing material.
A few items of interest from the party: Above the tents where we
were enjoying ourselves, we were being watched by Mexican military
with very serious looking rifles. This seemed highly unusual, so I
asked what was happening. Apparently there are two different fuel
suppliers in Turtle Bay; Enriques and Anabels. The Fubar negotiated
a deal for fuel with Anabels, leaving Enriques without customers.
The Fubar probably represented more power boats in one day than
normally stop in Turtle Bay during a year. Enriques fuel guys were
going boat to boat trying to peddle fuel, and being rebuffed. After
a bit, tempers flared, and somehow the military arrived to ensure
that there wouldnt be a problem. Im not much of a partier, so I
left early to head back to the boat. Several others had the same
idea, and there was a group standing on the beach waiting for a
panga to take us to our boats. The panga driver brought his boat up
onto the sand, let about 10 of us in, and then discovered he
couldnt drag the panga into the water. A few of us jumped out and
tried to help push. It took a bit, but we succeeded. Then began a
search for our boats. There was no moon, and all anyone could see
was an endless stream of white anchor lights. The panga was
overloaded, and the driver advised us that he had no reverse. This
made the search from boat to boat interesting. Apparently the
party became quite fun at some point. The running gag on the VHF
this morning was that one person had incriminating video from the
party, and the other boaters were bidding to keep it off the market.
When we woke this morning, our plan, and the schedule, was for a
relaxing day at Turtle Bay. I was surprised when I noticed Samurai,
a Nordhavn 64, pull anchor. I called them to ask if they were
leaving. Yes, they responded. I noticed Senjero follow a few minutes
later. Then another boat, and then another, until about 15 or so
boats had rolled out. As we proceed south the weather and the water
is getting warmer. This means blue skies and great fishing. Given
the choice of another day in Turtle Bay or heading further south to
the warm air and water, many boats were opting for an extra day of
fishing. On our way south we have spoken with several northbound
boats who have raved about the marlin fishing. One boat said that he
had never seen so many marlin in one spot. I can see why the other
boats are in a hurry. This led us to thinking about our own
departure, and if we should leave a day early or not. We studied the
charts and Jeff came up with a good idea. We would leave at 2pm,
which would place us at the ridge a popular fishing ground, 150
miles south, around 6am tomorrow morning. This would also put us
into our next stop, another 70 miles further south, just in time to
anchor before dark. I asked around to see if any other boats wanted
to accompany us, but given our experience with crowding the night
before, I didnt try as hard as I might of otherwise.
So .. as I type this, we are running south, alone. The wind is calm,
the boat is running great, and Jeremy is cooking up some spaghetti
for dinner for us.
Im including a few pictures with this email, but not too many, and
with minimal quality. There is no internet or cell service here. Im
stuck using my satellite connection which is slow, and expensive.
Ill send along more pictures when I can.
Ken Williams
Sans Souci, Nordhavn68.com