December 23, 2024
I could see a hole in the back of the boat and water was flooding in every time a wave broke on the boat.
by Conrad
Perhaps it was the Pacific Ocean's final test.
My boat, Hellomoto, was already pretty tired. After replacing the rudder in Cape Town at the start of the Southern Ocean, I'd been beset with problems.
I could no longer hand steer the boat on starboard tack and I'd lost the use of my generator on Christmas Day, so was now conserving fuel. I didn't have enough fuel to charge the batteries all the way to the finish. With limited power, no heater and downloading the weather forecast less frequently, I'd missed the warnings. Not that it would make much difference. I had no where to go.
The wind was forecast for 55 knots from the north west, as a low pressure passed to my south. My only option was to slow down and let the storm pass by. I took the mainsail down and hoisted the storm jib. I was prepared for the worst. Cape Horn was due east, just 280 miles away, I had enough runway - just. I didn't want to be rounding Cape Horn in 50 knots and 10m waves.
As the wind built, so did the wave height and with only a tiny storm jib, I was really at the mercy of the waves. Hellomoto was suddenly picked up by an enormous wave, which broke over the back of the deck. I felt the acceleration, 15..17..20...22 knots under storm jib alone, this was not good, I needed to slow down. The autopilot suddenly lost control, and I could feel the boat rounding up towards the wind.
The second wave hit me side on and I instantly knew I was in trouble. I grabbed the chart table as Hellomoto slid sideways down the wave. I prayed the autopilot would pull us back, but its error message was blinking on the screen. The next moment, I was thrown out of my bunk seat, the boat was going over. 90 degrees, perhaps more, the floorboards came up and water started flooding in through the hatch. We are going to capsize!
Hellomoto lay on her side for a few seconds and then began to right herself. All of the wind instruments had gone and I could see that the wind wand had been torn off the top of the mast. I was in the shit. With no wind gear, the autopilot would have to steer using the compass only. I was at the mercy of the elements.
I grabbed my wet weather gear and went up on deck, it was carnage. My staysail was over the side, ropes streamed out of the cockpit and one of the lazyjacks holding the mainsail had snapped. I was a sitting duck and I knew if another wave came, I was in danger of being washed overboard.
I lashed the mainsail to the boom and recovered the staysail. The water was smoking as I looked downwind, I could see the spindrift. In the light, it looked beautiful. I finished tidying the ropes and then dived back down below. It was getting dark and I needed some calories. I heated some water and chucked some pasta in the jetboil. That was all I could manage, before crawling into my bunk..
An hour later, I sat up. It sounded like there was more water inside the boat than outside. I was so tired, I let the thought go and tried to sleep again. I sat up again. Something was not right. I pulled on my salopettes and boots, grabbed my headtorch and made my way through the boat checking all the watertight compartments.
I reached the stern and opened the aft rudder hatch....fuck! I was engulfed by a wave of icy black water, that now flooded the main compartment. I tried to close the hatch, but the force of the water was too much. I left it and went to switch on the emergency bilge pump.
Returning, I shone my torch into the aft rudder compartment. I could see a hole in the back of the boat and water was flooding in every time a wave broke on the boat. A small inspection hatch had been forced in by the power of the waves. We were at risk of sinking!
Another alarm was sounding, I could smell burning and wondered if the batteries were now under water. Was the pump working? It turns out the bilge pump hose had become dislodged and the impeller had run dry. The pump had burnt out and was now not working. I needed to fix the hole urgently.
I grabbed some tools, spare battens and a flare box, plus a bucket to bail out the rudder compartment. I climbed back through the hatch and into the icy water which surged so powerfully, that I was washed from one side of the compartment to the other.
I had to find the inspection hatch, so I could block up the hole to stop the water coming in. I looked around with my headtorch, it must be in here, or did it wash through when I opened the hatch and allowed the water into the main cabin?
I literally swam over to the rudder stock and felt around in the icy black water. Nothing! I then surged to the other rudder. I saw it! There it was floating at the very back of the boat...
I shoved it back in the hole and braced my foot against it. Opening the aft deck hatch, I began bailing for my life. For every bucket I managed to lift above my head and empty out of the hatch, a wave brought another one in. I was only just winning.
After nearly 2 hours of bailing, the aft compartment was dry and I could set about making a repair to hold the hatch in place. Two battens, a flare box and a deck pole held it in place. We were out of the frying pan....but outside the waves were still breaking over the stern, the wind had moderated and I needed to get Hellomoto sailing faster to avoid another “pooping” of water over the deck...
As daybreak arrived, I unfurled the jib and raised the mainsail. I had survived the storm, but with no wind gear, I would be hampered up the Atlantic. I jury rigged a wind wand onto the stern of the boat...another mast climb would have to wait until after Cape Horn, which was now only 40 miles away. At this rate, I would arrive in time to see the Horn during daylight. It would be my third time rounding and my first time witnessing its splendour.
Surviving the Storm before rounding Cape Horn. Video: Conrad Humphreys Against the Odds
To see more about this story, visit this Project
https://www.conradhumphreys.com/projects/vendee-globe-with-motorola
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