WE MADE IT THROUGH IVAN Here is Skip's view of going through his first hurricane: Friday, September 17: Well.....coulda been better, but coulda been worse. The good news is there's no severe structural damage to Nehalennia. The bad news is that there's plenty of cosmetic damage, mainly to the (formerly) very lovely caprails and bulwarks. The boat rode up and down on a piling, first on the starboard side, then on the port side when the wind backed around 90 degrees. It will provide me with loads of fun hours of woodworking. The marina is trashed. The docks are loose and about 40% washed away, as are about 25% of the pilings. They are going to have to rebuild the marina. For now there's enough secure pilings left to tie up the remaining boats (about 20 were total losses).....for a while. I figure that in a month or so we'll get asked to leave. I'm not sure where I'll take the boat. The marinas in the area, from Pensacola to here, were wiped out. Until things sort out a bit, I'm just going to lay low, probably in an apartment somewhere close by. I'm OK and in relatively good spirits. Thanks for all your good wishes and thoughts. Sunday September 19: Some additional thoughts and observations on "my first hurricane." First, I hope I never experience another one first-hand. Ivan rolled through Thursday morning at about 3 AM. I was snug in a friend's very sturdy brick house about a half mile from the marina. Even though the sound of the wind (estimated at 110 mph at the marina) was muffled somewhat by the thick brick walls and double-paned storm windows, it was impressive and frightening; a sort of howling roar. We could hear loud thumps every so often; tree branches bouncing off the roof. The windows were spared, just by the luck of not taking a direct hit from one of the branches. I was surprised at how long the violent winds lasted. I had assumed that a hurricane would come ripping through, blow like hell for a few hours, then subside. Actually, the storm surge started mid-day Wednesday, and the winds started gusting strongly around sundown, with intermittent rain. The protracted crescendo started somewhere about midnight to 1 AM, peaked at about 3 AM, then gradually diminished to about 60-70 mph by morning. We sat around Thursday morning sipping coffee, sharing our thoughts about the long night, and speculating about what we might find when we checked out the marina. At around 10 AM we ventured out for a walk down to the marina. Outside we were greeted by 50-60 mph winds, with gust of up to about 70 mph. The first thing that struck me was the strong aromatic scent of "christmas tree," like when you first bring it into the house and it just fills the house with that great pine scent. A look around revealed why. The ground was covered with pine needles and branches of varying sizes. Pine cones were everywhere. At the marina there was a car with the roof stove in by a large felled tree. I spotted a very frazzled looking squirrel hugging the base of a tree. As we approached the docks the first obvious bad sign was masts at all kinds of wrong angles, and the upright ones were gyrating wildly with the wind gusts. A few boats were on their sides, up on the docks, which were now submerged. The water was filled with loose pilings, dock planks and dock boxes. Someone's jib had unfurled and was snapping and flailing in the wind, in shreds. I spotted Nehalennia, mercifully still in her slip and doing OK so far. I could see that she was not out of the woods yet, however. Two of the six pilings she was tied to were floating free in the water, having snapped off or pulled out. The two forward pilings were submerged, and I feared that the lines might pull right over the tops and off. The boat was bucking around and bouncing off the other two pilings like an angry bronco in a pen, trying to bust out. I could see that the hull was intact, but her beautiful caprails and bulwarks were getting chewed up. At least she was faring better than some other craft, up on their sides or sinking in their slips. We made another check of the marina and our boats at around 4 PM. I was amazed that the wind was still so strong more than 12 hours after the main blow, about 40-50 mph with gusts to about 60. Our boats were doing about the same, OK overall, and we returned to the house. Everyone was quiet at dinner, with our own individual thoughts and feeling exhausted. We all turned in early. We awoke Friday to a dazzlingly gorgeous day; blue clear skies and just a little pleasant breeze, about 10 mph. At the marina, the water level had dropped a little, revealing the battered docks, or what was left of them. Our boats were OK, except for some cosmetic damage. Others weren't so lucky; about 10 were obviously total losses. We couldn't go out to the boats, so we passed around a pair of binocs to check things out. There were a lot of boat owners walking around shaking their heads. There was speculation about the boats that had ridden it out at anchor out on the bayou. We could see a few boats up on the lee shore. Back on land, at my friend's house, the neighborhood was abuzz with activity. People were hauling branches to a common pile. A group across the street were attacking a downed tree with a chain saw and pruning shears. People were up on their roofs, throwing off branches. Others were sweeping up broken glass and prying off the plywood panels. We helped my friend clean up his yard, which was ankle deep with leaves and debris. By sundown every yard was more or less tidy. A huge pile of tree parts and bagged leaves sat awaiting the haulers. I was struck with the strong human drive to get back to normalcy after a traumatic event such as a hurricane, and also by the common sense of camaraderie and helpfulness, both at the marina and on land. By Saturday noon, the boats on their sides had been re-floated and tied down. The loose pilings, dock planks and debris were stacked up on shore (awaiting the haulers). Boaters were up on the decks, taking down shredded sails and untangling lines. I got the feeling that the healing process was well underway, both on the docks and on land. As for me, I made some new close friends during the ordeal. We faced it together, helped each other, and I feel that we'll be good friends for a long time.
"Nuts & Boats" Current Issue
NUTS & BOATS
The twice monthly newsletter for to-be and already-are cruisers Volume 2, Issue #19 - October, 2004
Publisher: Trish Lambert
www.takehersailing.com
(C) P. Lambert 2004
Welcome to our new subscribers! IN THIS ISSUE
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SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT!! THS BECOMES NAVPAK PRO RESELLER Pete Palmer, the author of the NavPak line of electronic charting software packages (and the articles for this issue of Nuts & Boats), created his product in the field ... literally. Much of the program development was done during a 7-year circumnavigation. For the propeller heads among you, the first half of the circumnavigation was done using NavPak on a Timex Sinclair, and the second half was done with NavPak running on various graphic calculators. To make Pete’s story even more interesting, for me at least, the circumnavigation was aboard Pelican, a 24-foot gaff-rigged sailboat. These days, when nothing under 40 feet seems acceptable to most cruisers, this achievement is a great demonstration that size doesn’t necessarily matter. Here are pictures of Pelican in action. I am very pleased to announce that Take Her Sailing is now a reseller of the NavPak Pro charting software package. It is my great pleasure to partner with Pete, Karen (who doubles as “Kaz,” a mainstay on the THS Virtual Anchorage bulletin board), Kevin, and Jay at Global Navigation Software.
NAVIGATION NOTES #1
Little Island, Big Sea, Fast Current, Slow Boat: Making a Successful Landfall
by Pete Palmer How do you find a small island in a 4-knot current with a boat that goes about 4 knots? One way is to use a GPS, but if you don't have one available, a sextant will do. In either case, it is important, and most elegant, to descend on the island from upwind and upcurrent. If you ever find yourself in this situation with the wind going against the current, it is probably best to forget about the island and go somewhere else. One of the best things about having your own boat is that you can change your mind whenever you want.
The trick is to be far enough away from the island during the night previous to the landfall, but still be close enough to get there before the next nightfall. Normally for celestial sights, we are limited to a 15-minute window of opportunity during morning and evening twilights. That's about 12 hours between fixes. During that time the drift is 48 miles in a 4-knot current, so you should be about 60 miles away from the island during the beginning of the nightfall previous to the landfall. If, during the night, the current is not the expected set and drift, then you are probably too far away from the island to make it during the following daylight window. Your first thought is probably that it would be a good idea to figure the current set and drift during the day before the beginning of the nightfall previous to the landfall. The problem here is that normally we can't get fixes all day because there is only one visible celestial body -- the sun. Sometimes the moon is visible in conjunction with the sun in the morning, and this is always a bonus for the navigator, but normally only the sun is visible. We can get running fixes all day from the sun, but these are not accurate enough to figure current set and drift, due (ironically) to the current set and drift.
If the weather conditions are just right, you can get star and planet fixes all night. This occurs when the horizon is clear and illuminated by the moon. I was fortunate to have just such a night previous to the landfall on Fanning Island in the Line Island group. The moon was nearly full and the trade wind was brisk. The horizon wasn't perfect, but if I could process and plot sights fast enough, then the averages would be accurate enough to figure current set and drift. This is where the computer comes in. I was using the first
version of NavPak running on a Timex Sinclair computer plugged into a TV set. This version would process sights given the sextant angle, time, and info from a Nautical Almanac, and then it would provide an azimuth and intercept that you could plot with pencil and paper. It was an awesome celestial sight machine, and it could also calculate the great circle distance between two points, so it was perfect for figuring current set and drift. During the night before the landfall on Fanning Island, I was able to shoot, calculate and plot an 8-point planet and star fix about every 20 minutes. Wow, a fix every 20 minutes, this is super high tech navigation using a supermarket computer. I was getting very excited. I was able to determine that the current was running at 4 knots with the wind, and it was all going my way towards the island. My own boat speed of 4 knots combined with a 4-knot current makes a whopping Speed Over the Ground (SOG) of 8 knots! Now I feel like I'm dancing across a ballroom. This sailing stuff can be exciting at times. To top it off, I got a fix using a meridian passage of the moon. It's too much ... you would have had to be there to feel the excitement. So, one way to find a small island in a 4-knot current in a boat that goes about 4 knots, is to try and plan your landfalls when the moon is big, and hope for a clear horizon and not too much cloud cover.
TAKE HER SAILING CELEBRATION SPECIAL To celebrate our partnership with Global Navigation Software,
we are offering a limited time discount on NavPak Pro. For the month of October only, receive a 15% discount NavPak Pro is a package with remarkable features at a very reasonable price. Initially developed during a seven-year circumnavigation, it is the least expensive program on the market to offer autopilot and ARPA radar interfaces. It is compatible with commercially available digital charts, and USGS Topographical maps, or scan your own charts and maps. Take advantage of this one-time discount! Purchase NavPak Pro for $191.25. or click here if you want rush shipping (total price $197), go to:
NAVIGATION NOTES #2
We The WESTERN Navigators
by Pete Palmer During my travels, I mostly used the methods of navigation developed by European navigators. I always had the Nautical Almanac, and I also had a copy of "We The Navigators" by Dr. David Lewis, which is something of a legend among cruisers planning to include the South Pacific in their plans. It is fortunate that someone took the time to document techniques used by the Polynesian and Micronesian navigators before this knowledge is lost. These techniques had been passed through many generations, but in modern times the generations are becoming less patient, and patience is one of the cornerstones of Polynesian and Micronesian navigation. There are, however, techniques of Polynesian navigation that even the western navigator can use, without learning the ancient star paths contained in songs and stick charts.
Clouds can be very useful to indicate land, even if the land isn’t high in elevation. They tend to “stick” to islands. This is understandable for high islands, but they also seem to be influenced by coral atolls which are only about 10 feet above sea level. I noticed that a coral atoll can have a lee, where you would expect to find the full force of the unobstructed trade wind. I don't know the reason for this. Maybe it is because the lagoon in the atoll is warmer than the surrounding ocean, so it causes a column of warm air to rise from the lagoon and that causes a lee. Whatever the reason, coral atolls frequently trap or modify clouds which can be noticed from far away through patient observation. The green reflection of an atoll lagoon on the underside of the clouds is pretty obvious. This can be frequently seen through the middle of the day and sometimes shows the exact extent of the lagoon. One of the Polynesian navigators that Dr. Lewis sailed with stated that the green reflection on the clouds was so obvious that even a western navigator would notice it.
Another useful navigation tool is sea birds. Some species stay at sea most of the time, so they don't indicate the presence of land, but many types tend to roost on an island at night and fish at sea during the day. They can be seen coming from a general direction in the morning and going back in the evening. There is another type of bird that is so curious that it will fly out from the island day or night to inspect something passing by miles away.
Wave and swell refraction is frequently obvious when approaching land but it is less obvious which way the land is.
A completely different technique used by the Polynesians is navigation by zenith stars. Through their patient data gathering, the Polynesian and Micronesian navigators knew which stars were above various destinations at different times of the night and during different seasons. This information is contained in the Nautical Almanac in a form that you can easily determine which stars and planets pass over your destination, and when they are at their zenith over the destination. I have not tried this, but it looks like it would be a good indicator of which way to steer. Also I have thought of computerizing it so that you could click a point on your destination and then get a list of stars and planets with a ground
position near by.
Don't get rid of NavPak or the GPS yet! It is an ancient tradition of navigation that the navigator is obligated to use all means available to determine his or her position.
Note from Trish: I highly recommend “We The Navigators” even if the South Pacific isn’t on your cruising itinerary. If you can’t find it in your local book store, it is available online at amazon.com |
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