Tag Archives: rescue

Thanksgiving Tragedy at Oxnard Beach

Posted on by
SAIL CHANNEL ISLANDS HOME
Share
[Facebook] [Google] [LinkedIn] [Twitter] [Windows Live] [Yahoo!] [Email] More »

deadly boat ride

All the king’s horse’s, all the king’s men and all of the county’s water rescue resources couldn’t save everyone in this (roughly) 15′ boat yesterday (11/25/08). At least one man died when their boat capsized in head-high surf at Oxnard Beach. All the king's horses

Though I’ve contacted several of the agencies involved, no one is clear on how these guys got in trouble. My guess is that they just got too close to shore due to inattention while fishing and/or their motor quit and they drifted in, not thinking (or not equipped) to drop an anchor or to paddle out of danger.

The salient point for all boaters is that all of their life jackets reached shore, but the victims were not in them. Ventura County Sheriff Helo At least one man was hauled from the scene in cardiac arrest, other bystanders said two of the three were receiving CPR as they were being transported to the ambulance.

They were tossed into water just a bit over their heads. But that water is getting chilly – somewhere in the low-60′s and they were dressed for cold air temps in layers and warm shoes. They certainly didn’t dive or jump in any controlled way; they were thrown in.

Picture it. Picture yourself there.

Soap Box
One of our safety catch phrases in Naval Aviation was Gravity Has Respect for Neither Rank nor Experience.

The sea is nearly as unforgiving as gravity. I don’t know if all of these guys would have survived if they’d been wearing their life jackets instead of sitting on them, but it certainly would have improved their survival odds.

Next time I see you (Sailtimers) at sea without a life jacket, you’ll know exactly what my grimace means. On the other hand, maybe I should smile, perhaps you’ll boost the Chaplain Dan side of my business.

Photos: Ed Saldana ©2008

For a follow-up story from the local paper, click Ventura Star

More Tales of the Southern California Santa Ana

Posted on by
SAIL CHANNEL ISLANDS HOME
Share
[Facebook] [Google] [LinkedIn] [Twitter] [Windows Live] [Yahoo!] [Email] More »

Sean

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Twenty years ago, Captain Sean Quine set out for the first overnighter on his new yacht. He sailed to Smugglers Cove on an idyllic afternoon.

Conditions changed.

Radically.

People – though not in Sean’s crew – died.

Log entry: 28 October 1988

Maiden overnight voyage on Down Under, a 54-foot Hunter cutter-rigged sloop.

Aboard: my girlfriend Nicki, my soon to be step-daughter Brittany, a friend of Brittany’s and me.

Weather: Skies clear, a steady 10 – 15 knot wind out of the NW.

Passage to Smugglers: Uneventful and entirely enjoyable. We arrived at Smugglers to join about 9 other boats. We chose to anchor approximately 200 feet from the point which separates Smugglers and Yellowbanks.

At anchor: The afternoon was glorious, an inflatable zoomed around the cove pulling a water skier; the cove was sunny and the water flat. That evening, as I swayed in the hammock I’d strung between the staysail and the mast, I remarked to my girlfriend on how bright the stars were that night.

We called it a night at around 10pm, and fell asleep.

Anchor watch: At 2am the wind started howling. Within an hour it was over 30 knots with gusts to 50 knots. A bit of the roller-furling staysail came loose, exposing it to the full force of the wind. This eventually caused the furling line to part and the sail unfurled explosively. I raced to the deck to lower the sail, however not before the sail was shredded.

Fortunately, we had set two anchors at approximately 45 degrees relative to port and starboard bow. One was a 44lb Bruce and the other a Northhill.

The wind was now heading directly towards the southern end of Smugglers; the boat had spun around and was no more that 10 feet from the rocky point at the southern edge of Smugglers.

Wind and sea continued to build over the early morning hours. Wind waves of more than 6 feet crashed into the anchorage. Pictures I took of the neighboring sport fisher show waves breaking over the bow of the anchored boat.

For now, my anchors held tight and kept me off the rocks. The boat was equipped with a dated manual windlass that we were not sure could handle the load. We realized that unless we were to cut the anchor lines we would be unable to move to a safer anchorage.

We decided to wait it out, as the anchors appeared to be holding fine. Right next door in Yellowbanks, drama was unfolding as a Coast Guard cutter had washed ashore in an attempt to rescue another boater. Later, I heard that another boat with a family aboard had died as their boat slammed into Anacapa.

Escape: The winds persisted for nearly 5 days as we sat aboard Down Under hoping for a break. On the fifth day the winds had decreased to 25-30 knots and we decided to take our chances. With Nicki at the helm, we motored at full throttle against the wind and waves. In the process of pulling up the first anchor, the line parted, leaving the anchor firmly secured to the seafloor. During this attempt the dinghy painter got wrapped around the prop and sucked the dinghy (a hard fiberglass with wood trim dink) under the boat and crunched it into many pieces.

Having now only a single anchor we contemplated our next move. Since our engine was out of commission we decided to attempt to pull the anchor and sail out of the anchorage. Fortunately the second anchor did come up with the manual windlass and we were able to reach out of the anchorage under sail.

Homeward bound: The passage home was windy and bumpy, however we made it to the Ventura harbor entrance just in time for the wind to die completely! We were towed back into our slip.

The Bill: Down Under had damage to the hull, sails, and lost the dinghy. Total damage – as they say – $15k. The insurance company was grateful; grateful that it wasn’t a total loss.

I learned a valuable lesson about sailing and carefully selecting an anchorage at this time of year. And to keep a watchful eye even if the weather seems perfect.

Sancerre crew aids vessel in distress

Posted on by
SAIL CHANNEL ISLANDS HOME
Share
[Facebook] [Google] [LinkedIn] [Twitter] [Windows Live] [Yahoo!] [Email] More »

It was a dark and stormy night …

Well, actually, it wasn’t quite sunset and it was a warm, dry spring evening. We were snuggly nestled between our bow and stern hooks in Fry’s anchorage at Santa Cruz and had just finished a big dinner. The sun was behind the mountains and we’d come on deck to see the last rays snuff out. Sailing Vessel Tutu

About a quarter mile out, well beyond where folks normally anchor, we spied a 45-50 foot sailboat attempting to settle in for the night.

We knew it was too deep out there to moor bow and stern – something on the order of 70′, but our friends were not deterred. Time now: 1915.

They mucked around in deep water for another hour, turning on all of their lights – as we did – to avoid collision.

The outside anchorage proved untenable, and they moved as if to take a spot directly abeam and upwind. Time now: 2100.

They’ve got a small flashlight on the bow, but it doesn’t do much to light up the cliffs they are approaching. We bring out our high-beam and illuminate the rocks for them.

They cross our anchor line a time or two and finally settle in next to us. Alas, they can’t set both anchors and drift perilously close to the rock walls, then towards us. They’re less than a boat length away and ask, “What are we doing wrong?” We ask what kind of anchor they’re trying to use, but the answer is lost in the sound of wind and waves.

Time now 2130.

We suggest they try Prisoners Harbor. They keep on trying to anchor. The picture does not improve.

Time 2200.

They’ve crossed our stern. And are now downwind of us and well inshore. Our stern anchor is in 15′. They’re headed into the shore and their bow anchor, which finally does set, must be nearly in the small surf.

They’ve got a dinghy out and we guess that they’ll row the stern anchor out to a point upwind.

Time 2230

They’re 150′ away, but we hear their voices rise with anxiety and they shout to us that they’ve fouled their prop in their stern anchor rode.

They are in big trouble. They probably won’t sink, but they will beat the hell out of their boat on the rocks.

They ask for advice and we say call the Coast Guard. Is that a “Pan, Pan or a Mayday?” they ask.

We say MAYDAY.

In the meantime, we ask them if they have a line long enough to reach our boat. They bend 3 or 4 sheets together with some unused rode and we tell them to dinghy it over.

We take the line and put it on our winch and crank them off the rocks. We’re taking something of a chance here, doubling our weight and sail area. But we’re in luck and the wind will remains\ gentle all night.

They kedge out an anchor abeam to help hold them off the rocks and we all turn in, each crew keeping an uneasy anchor watch.

Time 2315.

We awake to huzzahs (did I mention they’re flying the Union Jack?). They’ve managed to clear their prop and are ready to get underway. But before they leave the anchorage, they dinghy over to say farewell and to leave us with a bottle of Her Majesty’s finest gin.

The final irony: just before this flap started I had pronounced that I “never have and never will raft up.”