August 23, 2019
Cambridge Bay, Nunavut
69 06N 105 09W
Sitting out a gale at anchor is not the same as riding out a gale at sea. In the former case, one is moored in a secure harbor as the storm rolls over, and in the latter, he is being swept along with the forces of nature like a butterfly on an afternoon breeze. But which is safer is an open question.
The adage that contains “any port in a storm” would suggest that given his druthers, a sailor would choose safe haven over running off every time. But this cannot be so. If Mo had encountered this blow well offshore, a blow that at its height has seen 40 knot winds, she would have had a couple of screaming 180 mile days with a deeply reefed headsail, and everyone would have been happy, if somewhat sleep deprived.
What made me so ardently seek the shelter of Cambridge Bay for this blow was not the forecast winds but our proximity to land when those winds arrived. Being in the Arctic archipelago means one cannot simply run off. Here there are rocks, islands, and even ice to threaten one’s way. Everything is lee.
But anchoring is not all bliss, either. Now, instead of betting on the seaworthiness of the boat, you are betting on the strength of the ground tackle. The boat has stopped being a storm riding machine; in harbor, she is simply a hulk tied to a length of chain, upon which all depends.
Our gale came on during the night as foretold. By morning, winds were 30 from the W and the sky, low and menacing. By noon, we’d been overtaken by a cold, driving rain that hardened the wind. Now Mo heeled well over in the gusts and threatened to spill my coffee. Even with shore but a quarter mile to windward, a three foot chop developed. The small whitecaps had their tops blown off and trailed spume. Mo threw spray back on deck. The whole boat vibrated.
During this I could not help but contemplate the soundness of my ground tackle choices. Here is where they would pay or not.
Mo’s anchor is the SPADE type, a worthy design, but the chain that connects it to the boat does not immediately fill one with confidence. At 8mm (5/16ths), it is a full size smaller than what I expected to find when I did the initial purchase survey, and it took some time to figure out why the previous owners had made such a choice.
All chain is not created equal, and in this case, the chain that filled the anchor locker was of the highest tensile strength available, known as G7. Using this smaller diameter but higher strength chain (rather than 10mm of the more common and less expensive G4 chain) allows Mo to carry more length of chain (in this case, over 400 feet) for the same weight in the bow. More chain equals more deep water anchoring options. A smart move.
The working load limit of this chain is 4,700 pounds. Is that enough to keep a 35,000 pound Moli secured in a gale?
It is a question of paramount importance, and yet finding any data on this topic (as opposed to advice, of which there is plenty) is a challenge. Only one reference have I found, an offhand remark by Steve Dashew in his Encyclopedia: “Our fifty foot boat might generate 2,000 pounds of load in 50 or 60 knots of wind.” How he got to this number is not explained.
Today in email I received an article on this topic written by Don Jordan, the designer of the Jordan Series Drogue.* The article’s focus is the safety of mooring a boat by the stern rather than the bow in extreme weather, but it contains the following illumination:
“Fortunately, very complete data on the aerodynamic drag of all reasonable objects are available from testing in wind tunnels and other facilities. Under these conditions [60 – 75mph winds], the drag of the hull [of a modern 40 foot boat]…will be about 300 to 400 pounds, and the drag of the mast and rigging will be 700 to 800 pounds. We might use a conservative estimate of 2,000 pounds for design purposes. [By comparison,] the breaking strength of a 3/4-inch nylon mooring line is 16,000 pounds.”
Data! What a comfort. And amazingly, it correlates with Dashew’s remark. So it appears that, baring shock loads, (accommodated for in this gale by 30 feet of nylon line), Mo’s ground tackle is more than sufficient to the task of keeping boat and skipper safe.
6pm. The height of the blow is past. Rain has transitioned to puffy cumulus clouds and the barometer pushes above 1000mb. Tomorrow we fuel in town; change oil and filters, and then we are back on the Northwest Passage course.
Fewer than 4,000 miles to home.
This article was syndicated from The Figure 8 Voyage