Gripping Account Of S/v Aquarelle While Crossing To Australia From Nz

[Trim50]

Diane & Ken Kay on S/V Aquarelle started their circumnavigation from Long Beach Shoreline Marina via the Baja Ha Ha in 2005. This is a recent update and account of their experience trying to make the crossing to Australia from New Zealand last week.

================================================== =========

Aquarelle is a MT-42 cutter rig. Built in 1985 in Taiwan and designed by Ted Brewer. We installed a brand new rig (mast, leisure furl and two new furlers) before we left LA in 2005. Apparently, it was money well spent as the rig is fine and still tight. We may have one spreader pushed up slightly but that is all. The two by fours we had running between the stanchions holding fuel cans were however crushed and only splinters remain.

We lost all our fenders, which were just tied to the radar arch, our dinghy fuel tank, also tied on but that is all the deck damage.

Inside the boat is another story which we are still reading.

Diane

================================================== ============

Dear Friends and Family:

We are back in Nelson after departing for Australia and running into considerable trouble. Here's what happened.

Ken, Graeme our crew, and I finished with NZ Customs at about 9:00 am on Thursday, April 12 and headed out toward Farewell Spit headed to Sydney, Australia in calm conditions. The predicted forecast was for a 15 kt winds building throughout the day until Friday afternoon when 30kts and 3 meter swells were expected to peak and then ease late that night with westerlies to15 kts on Saturday.

We passed Farewell Spit about 6:00 p.m. Thursday evening and joking commented that perhaps we should pull into Torrent Bay for a good nights rest and start out again in the morning. Naturally, all aboard rejected that idea.

The 30kt winds arrived early evening on my 7:00 p.m. to11:00 p.m.

watch. A decision was made to triple reef our mainsail and furl the staysail. Our main was little more than a hankerchief at this time.

The seas continued to build and by midnight we were rocking and rolling in 4 meter swell with gusting wind to 40 kts. Ken took over from me at 11:00 pm and throughout his watch seas continued to build and the wind increased to 55 kts. At about 1:00 a.m. Ken became violently ill and was vomiting every few minutes until he was in a state of frequent dry heaves.

Graeme took the watch at 3:00 a.m. Friday morning. The wind was 58 kts plus and the swells were upwards of 10 meters. At about 4:00 a.m.

Aquarelle took her first knockdown. The sound was unbelievable. The howling wind was so loud that we could barely hear each other inside the boat and in the cockpit it was horrendous. The wave that broadsided, us knocking us over, made a sound as though a bomb had gone off. We couldn't imagine that we had a rig left but she was still standing.

By now, Ken was lying helpless in the dinette stuffed in with pillows.

When he lay on his side he was able to stop the retching. It was impossible to stand and crawling was extremely difficult. I had taken a few pills during my early evening watch but at the first knockdown I too became violently seasick. The knockdown flooded the boat with seawater. Our closed companion way allowed water to flood into the boat, as did the pilothouse hatches and Vetus vents and unbeknownst to us at the time a port in the v-berth had burst open.

Aquarelle was on a port tack at that moment and gallons of water flooded the instrument panel, electrical panel and everywhere else.

Cupboards opened up and emptied their contents. The entire sole of the boat was covered with slopping food, a dozen eggs that had broken, biscuits, books, and charts and of course vomit all sloshing around in several inches of seawater. By now there was not one dry thing on the boat. Every cushion, mattress, book, piece of clothing, blanket or towel was drenching wet.

At 7:00 a.m. on Friday morning I took the watch. I can only describe my feeling upon clipping into my harness, in the cockpit, as sheer--pee my pants-terror. The sea was just a series of white, frothy mountains of breaking water. Wave after wave pounded us. The shudder of Aquarelle was unnerving. I began to shake and approach hysteria. I yelled down to Ken and Graeme that I wanted to turn around and go back. By now we were approximately 100 miles off New Plymouth, New Zealand. The second knockdown occurred only moments later. Again the boat filled with water and Ken managed to crawl from his berth to the radio in an attempt to call Maritime Radio and request a weather update. It was then that we realize we had lost all electronics. The computer was gone, sloshing around on the sole in salt-water slop. The SSB had fried as well as the radar and all other electronics in our navigation station. Our old VHF radio had managed to survive but the signal was very weak from Maritime Radio.

A joint decision was made to turn back to Nelson. Ken, Graeme and I all gathered in the cockpit in foulies, which we were sleeping in by now. Aquarelle had been under power for many hours when Ken noticed that we had lost a running back line over board. Graeme clipped onto the jackline and volunteered to leave the cockpit to retrieve the line before it wrapped the prop, which would make us completely helpless in the massive seas. He successfully retrieved the line and returned to the cockpit. As he leaned over our cockpit combing and unclipped his tether we were knocked down for the third time and Graeme was washed overboard. At the time, I didn't realize that Graeme was unclipped.

The roll had knocked all of us off our feet and the rushing water flowing through the cockpit picked him up and threw him head-over-heels off the port side of the boat. Ken scrambled to grab on to Graeme as be hung onto the lifeline as the boat rolled once more. Ken was somehow able to pull Graeme back on board as Aquarelle rolled back. Incredible! By now we were all scared out of our wits.

The sea state was Beaufort Scale 12 with winds gusting well over 60 kts and 11 to 12 meter swells. The following hours were pure hell.

With no navigation, paper charts lost to the sloshing slop, and raging seas we dug into small sopping wet holes to wait out another terrifying night. Ken and Graeme took turns on watch by lying on the floor of the pilothouse in full foul-weather gear sliding back and forth as Aquarelle withstood the punishing waves hour after hour.

Crawling up the companionway to look out every 20 minutes and make

sure we still had a rig. By this time, I was in a state of shock and

shaking with fear and vomiting frequently.

Dawn Saturday brought, slightly calmer with a steady 48 kt wind. The seasickness that Ken and I had been experiencing stopped and we were able to drink a bit of water. We were all still badly shaken from the ordeal and Graeme going overboard but we were beginning to think we might actually make it back.

More attempts were made to radio New Zealand Maritime Radio for waypoints, which we were able to put into our handheld GPS (the one remaining working piece of equipment). And at 9:15 p.m. on Saturday, April 14 we approached the Nelson breakwater. When asked for a heading into the entrance of the harbor, Nelson Harbor declined to provide us such data. We were told it was illegal to provide such information. We just bumped along the break wall until we found the right spot and I was able to recall the layout of the harbor and get us safely to the dock.

Naturally, New Zealand Customs Service was there to greet us and we went through the entire check in procedure again.

At this time we are cleaning up the boat and taking stock of the damage. Our rig is still standing and we are all here to tell our story so we feel fortunate. Our immediate plan is to fly to Sydney and visit friends. From Sydney we will fly to the US and figure out where we want to go from here. Aquarelle will remain in Nelson for the next few months.

Safe and sound,

Diane

[Nausikaa]

Whenever I read such an account I want to buy a little smallholding far from the sea and spend my time growing vegies and keeping bees. Fortunately that feeling, like the storm in this account, passes after a while and I, once more, look seawards for hope, inspiration aand pleasure.

What can one say? I am just so pleased these guys made it through the storm. Others have not managed so well and my thoughts are with them as well as with you guys who did so well to make it

Aye

Stephen

Yacht NAUSIKAA

[Lighthouse]

Well done to you all for hanging in there. I'm happy that you're all safe and sound. Have a well earned rest and think of the boat later.

[Trim50]

I hope they return to complete their jouney and don't let this encounter with the seas scare them away from the dream.

[manor]

Is there any way of finding out what storm tactics they used? Under power with bare poles? Sea anchor or drogue? Storm sail and hove-to? I would be very interested to know how they rode this out.

[JeanneP]

I think I've expressed my theory of seasickness elsewhere on this board, and this story seems to support it. I think that stress and anxiety are a significant contributors to seasickness. Tough not to be frightened here! Even though I can only remember ever taking anything for seasickness (and that was many years before we owned a sailboat), I think that every boat's first aid kit should have a good seasickness/antinausea medication, ideally a suppository that can be used when nausea is so bad that anything taken orally would come up right away.