A sting in the tail ...
Rhiann Marie - Round the World
Stewart Graham
Thu 23 Jun 2011 07:05
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Thursday 23rd June 2011 0742 Local 0542 UTC ( I
have just put the clocks back two hours to South African time )
28:17.012S 036:29.697E
Yesterday towards the end of the day the seas
started to calm a bit and we could gradually increase the boat speed without the
slamming.
The clanking coming from up the mast is driving me mad not knowing what it is. My worst
concern is that with the pitching and slamming of the boat and no mainsail
to help stablilise the mast in the fore and aft plane that the mast splice had
suffered damage. As far as I can see so far, this is not the case and looking
out this morning all of Rhiann Marie's 28.5 metre mast is still there!
My next greatest concern and more likely
possibility is that it is one of the starboard spreaders, possibly the second
one that has loosened slightly at the mast fixing. I cannot detect any movement
with the binoculars and up until last night the pitching has been too
violent to risk going up the mast, unless critically neccessary. The clanking
noise only comes when we are pitching heavily and therefor in the calmer waters
has mostly disappeared for now. It is however disconcertingly loud and
solid when it is doing it's dinger.... First thing yesterday morning I emailed
the boat builder with the full details of the issue and my
diagnosis, ruling out of the equation some of the likely causes to that
point. They were quickly on to it and got drawings together to analise the
possibilities and the only one that so far I consider as a potential cause is
that the conduit inside the mast could have come adrift at some point up the
mast as the dramatic change in loads occured when the mainsail clew let go.
During the night due to the fast progress we set a
waypoint half way between Richards Bay and Durban figuring that if progress kept
up we could make to inshore waters before Friday's gale set in and bash our way
along the shore out of the worst of the weather and possibly make Durban on
Friday by nightfall. From where we were at that time Durban was 60 odd miles
further to go than Richards Bay so about an additional 7 or 8 hours by which
time the gale would be fully upon us, but we could be inshore hopefully finding
some measure of protection and certainly inshore of the dangerous overfalls of
the Agulhas current.
Today the seas are calm, with only five knots of
variable wind and we can make 9.5 knots by gunning the engine a little and
full blade jib set to stabilise the rolling. Though the seas are calm they
definitely appear to be brooding with a large heaving swell - the slow breathing
in, breathing out of the slumbering monster. There is a definite latent potency
to the sea conditions and the long swell, some hundreds of metres in pitch
is showing us - the flea on the elephants ass, insignificant in the
enormous scale of things - just how much respect it deserves. The scale is
enormous and one minute we are atop the hill looking down over the distant
glens the ocean is forming and next we are down in the shady glen looking up the
gentle hillsides to either side. There is no doubt this is the calm before
the storm.
Knocking off watch at 0400 this morning I was able
to get some sleep as I had been very anxious for the previous 36 hours since the
clew broke and had managed very little sleep at all despite getting the lying
down time. The fact that the mast situation had not deteriorated, the slamming
and pitching had stopped and sea conditions allowed us now to have a fair
chance of reaching the mid Durban - Richards Bay waypoint before the worst of
the gale was forecast helped a lot. Also as this was now the case I knew that
the fall back and more likely scenario of heading to Richards Bay ahead of the
gale was now more in reach. On the upside there was now a very slim possibility,
especially if there was any slowing or moderating of the forecast intense
depression, of carrying onto Durban to make a nighttime landfall.
That was then.
However this morning I crash landed from
my heavenly slumber onto the hard tarmac of the sudden rumbling
and metallic crunching noise coming from right behind my head. Such are the
senses I was up and on it before Craig who was on watch even realised anything
was amiss. Right in the tail of the boat and behind my bed headboard live
all the autopliot, steering and rudder mechanisms. Last time I looked they all
lived together in harmonious order. All nicely joined together and separately
intact. The autopilot drive motor had been out and had its loose bolts
tightened and the rudder headstock bearing mount was regularly tightened
down.
What the hell was up now? We showed to be
heading dramatically off course and a loud metallic rumbling was the only
response to the wayward Rhiann Marie. Back with the throttle, away with
jib, up with mattress, off with headboard, out with screws and off with panels
all in a few minutes. With my head and shoulders hovering inside the compartment
Craig took the wheel and set autopilot to standby - it would operate in one
direction only and would not turn to starboard. Rhiann Marie started performing
a graceful ballet, pirouetting around and around. I could see that the auto
pilot motor was operating and was able to turn the boat in one direction
but when the signal arrived to turn the other way there was nothing but
a whirring and crunching of rumbling gears having fallen out with each
other.
Within another few minutes we had out the emergency
tiller, had it fitted and a jury rig set up with a dyneema line running through
aft cleats either side and led back to the genoa winches. The loads to move the
emergency tiller manually were very heavy and the short lived thoughts
crossed my mind that, to be on your knees for the next 36 hours - 48 hours
into the forecast severe gale would be one hell of a job for
............... Craig. (Lol I think they say!)
After performing a waltz around the
giant ballroom floor of the Indian Ocean that would not have been out of
place in Vienna we managed to stabilise a course broadly heading at Africa.
Craig then (spurred to inspiration by the thought of the alternative ) had the
brain wave of trying the wheel again manually. The steering is good in one
direction and can only take a small load in the other direction but on a
steady course and manually helmed we can take the wheel for now. We tried the
autopilot again but due to the heavy loads it just spins through the porridge
that was one side of the gearbox. So manually helming it is. Craig first
for two hours till I work out whether I should disassemble the gearbox at sea or
not. If it is a stripped gear then the whole exercise will be pointless and we
will have wasted several hours which we need to get in front of the
weather. If however it is a loose gear pinion or such like that would
be easy to repair. I will think on it a little and see if the
manufacturers can cast any light on the likely failure first.
To mix or conjoin my metaphors; only a few hours
ago I though I was swinging the world by the tail and now the tail is certainly
wagging the dog. Somewhat optimistically we are for now still tentatively
pointing our head at the midway point but it all depends what the tail is going
to do. When the wind returns it is forecast to set first from the
north and that combined with the south flowing current, and the exact onset
of the gale will determine (along with the steering hanging in there) where
we head. Heads and tails. Heads and tails. You just have to laugh, but hey its
only 36 hours or so and ther are two of us so you will not hear another word
about it from me. Its two hours on the helm and two off till we get wherever we
are going. Days are now ten hours and darkness is fourteen hours. Its
getting quite cool at nights now and the heating had its first ever test drive
last night. The sky is blue the sun is starting to warm the crisp air and it is
not even snowing though it is winter, Craig is with me and has been absolutely
excellent so we have to be thankful for for a half full
glass.............
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