Tales of a Storm

Day: 57 — Position: N17 41’ W169 19’
Odometer since Waikiki: about 1,922M
Distance to Northern Marianas: 1,375M
Sea surface temperature: 83.3F - 28.5C

OCEAN ROWING RECORDS AS RUNNING TOTALS
Solo career total in days by Waikiki: 925 now 982 (New World Record)
Overall career total in days by Waikiki: 1,009 now 1,066 (New World Record)
Solo career total in miles by Waikiki: 22,173M now about 24,044M (New World Record)
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Overall career total in miles by Waikiki: 25,153M now about 27,024M
** Ralph Tuijn (NL) leads this with 35,635M

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As I elaborated in my Nov 28 update, in anticipation of an extra tropical low which formed to my east then was pressed due WSW toward my location, I diverted my route from 20N latitude due SW to about 17.5N. This allowed me to avoid the worst of the winds in the  NW sector of said low. It later turned out that commercial vessels as well descended a few degrees from their normal courses for storm avoidance, which meant that should it have been necessary, there were more vessels nearby to assist.

Tropical zone is defined as the band of latitudes on either side of the Equator between the Tropic of Cancer and the Tropic of Capricorn, each located at about N23 25’ and S23 25’ respectively. This latitude is defined as the last latitude where at least one day out of the year, the sun will be directly overhead at noontime. Further away from the equator in either direction, noon sightings will be less than 90-degrees. The direct sun feeds a great deal of energy to the atmosphere and the oceans in the tropics, driving the weather systems. Extra tropical simply means the system originated above or below the two tropics.

As I descended SW, the forecast for the storm changed: its intensity diminished, its course tracked a bit further north. This meant that I could turn west at 17.5N instead of descending all the way down to 16N. As such, I stayed in the eye with calmer winds longer.

I had a comfortable day yesterday while preparing the boat for the storm. I pulled in my oars, tied them on the deck. I made extra water to rinse the salt off my shirt and myself. I either found a place to stow away loose items or tied them down. The cabin needed some organizing where I left out the essentials, put things in holds and tucked excess bags by my feet. Last item was to set up my “harness.” 

I had cannibalized my climbing harness cutting away  all excess, bringing just the waist belt. I have four eyes around the cabin: two by my shoulders on the bulkhead and two on either side by my waist. So I made a cross brace tight enough to just crawl under on my back, then tied from my waist harness to either side. This crawling business required some Houdini move but simplified the process, requiring one tie down at the end. 

It was important to keep myself on the mattress in case the boat rolled. If I were thrown at the ceiling and stayed there in an upturned rowboat, that “shifted ballast” would anchor the vessel upside down, negating any buoyancy that the cabin offered. My rowboat is designed to be self-righting as long as the cabin is not flooded. There is 150kg ballast under my rowing station, comprising of 50kg lead and 100lt water in jugs. All of my supplies and items like the water maker are positioned low on vessel to bring its center of mass lower. My life raft is in a valise tied at the base of the footwell as additional ballast.

If I am tied down on the mattress, then the boat will either knockdown then come back to upright, or make a complete roll. In either scenario, my weight on the ceiling would catch the vessel upside down and keep it there. The only way out of that pickle is to get out onto my life raft and initiate a rescue.

It is not a trivial process. I would wear my personal flotation device (PFD), tie my tether to my ankle, strap my emergency beacon (EPIRB) to an arm, take essentials like passport, wallet, Explorers Club Flag #97 trusted to me, the data drive for Dr. Jay Barlow, the SD cards with recordings… (mind you this would be done in an upturned vessel!!!) then crack open the hatch flooding the cabin. Once the cabin is flooded, open the hatch fully, clip the end of tether to an eye by the hatch, and surface to catch a breath. Then I’d grab the knife outside the bulkhead, dive to cut free the life raft valise. I have a strap on the valise handle attached to the boat. The lanyard for inflating the life raft is also attached at the handle. So with some convincing, the life raft should inflate. Next, I take my grab bag off the deck, and transition to life raft completely. EPIRB does the calling and I wait…

I foolishly did not deploy a drogue or a para-anchor. The evening was comfortable with the boat running with the waves. The SE winds superposing orthogonal wind waves on top of an established long fetch NNE swell did not initially seem too threatening. At 3am, I woke up rested with my boat still tracking well. Then, an hour before sunrise, a port side wave crashed broadside against my rowboat. It tipped over perhaps to 150 degrees, then sat back down listing to starboard with a deck full of water. Everything loose in the cabin piled up on the starboard side. I stayed on the mattress as intended, then shifted my weight to the port side, leveling the boat. She was sluggish at first then became her bouncy self again once the scuppers drained the deck. My bilge pump kept whining until the footwell was dry.

Early morning is when the wind began to shift to ESE and strengthened. I was on port tack sitting at about 50 degrees off the wind. The boat adjusted its heading with the wind but the swells put in motion by the previous SE winds were still there. As I had overlooked the effect the wind shift would have, I was oblivious to the SE swells arriving abeam. One of those probably kicked higher and steeper by the NE swells and the newly arriving ESE swells, crashed my peace.

I had to assess the situation. I listened as I waited. There was a knocking sound on my starboard side. Something was either broken or loose. I had to find out. I felt the waves settle momentarily, I opened the hatch and looked. The spare oars on my starboard side were gone. One was hanging overboard tied by a cord near its handle. I tried pulling it in, levering it onboard, but neither worked. I was taking a huge chance without my PFD or tether and cabin fully exposed. Short of getting outside in these conditions with similar size waves lurking in the dark was not appealing. I pulled the knife from outside the bulkhead and cut the oar loose, gifting it to Poseidon at the bottom.

A quick survey mid morning when the squalls stopped and once the sun heated the cloud tops, revealed that the cords I used to tie my spare oars on the starboard side, simply snapped. The base of my port side oar stand was crushed revealing the height and force of the wave. This should not impact my crossing other than having to tie the remaining oars elsewhere. I still had one good set of spare oars. 

I am alive, I am okay and the boat is still intact. The mission will continue. I let my guard down slightly, lulled by the ease that I was granted yesterday.

Lesson learned.

Erden