A “wild” rescue

The other evening seemed like a perfect time for an evening sail.  Wind was robust, but not too robust, maybe 15 knots. The weather was warm enough for shirtsleeves. Not too many other boats were out — just one Merit 25 and a dinghy with a trapeze and two sailors on board. 

The wind direction made it possible to sail out the Redwood Creek channel onto the bay with just a few tacks. On our way out, we crossed tracks a few times with the dinghy, whose crew was suspended on tiptoe from the trapeze to keep the little boat upright. 

It was a lovely end of a Saturday afternoon for Spinnaker member Jerry, his two guests, Sepee from the Spinnaker office crew and myself. 

We left the dock at 5:30PM, about an hour before low tide. There was an ebb current flowing, which, as usual, created short, steep waves, maybe five feet from trough to wave top, on the bay outside the channel. There was nothing about the evening to offer much challenge or danger to Tunkentell, the Catalina 28 we were aboard. 

After exiting the channel, we sailed north for a a few minutes and then tacked to the west. As we neared Mark 2 at the entrance to Redwood Creek channel, we crossed paths again with the dinghy. This time we noticed things didn’t seem quite usual. The mainsail was down, and they seemed to be sailing somewhat randomly under jib alone. Maybe they were practicing downwind tactics?

As we came within maybe 20 yards, we shouted to ask if everything was OK, and got the distressing shouted answer, “We lost our rudder!”

It was then clear they were going to need some help. I heaved-to to windward hoping to drift to leeward toward them to offer them a tow and perhaps bring the crew aboard. After a few moments, it became clear that that wouldn’t work — they were moving erratically to leeward faster than we were drifting. 

The situation required us a make some quick decisions. Maritime law requires that we render assistance to a vessel in distress if assistance can be rendered without undue hazard to the assisting vessel and crew. That’a a judgment that the skipper of the assisting vessel has to make. 

In this case, the relevant facts were clear: 1) This dinghy was without any question in distress, and its crew did not appear to be dealing efficiently with the situation. 2) No other vessels were in the vicinity. 3) The dinghy crew had no emergency equipment on board — no anchor, no paddle, no vhf radio, no lights, though both were wearing wetsuits and pfds. 4) Sunset was approaching in maybe an hour. 5) Emergency crews, if called, could not be expected to be on the scene any sooner than a half hour or 45 minutes, depending on who came. 6) It seemed to me that the possibility of serious hazard to my boat or crew would be minimal if we were to approach the dinghy alongside under motor to pass a tow line.

Also in my mind as we were considering how to help — we were approaching channel marker 2 and would have to be careful not to hit it or go aground on the foul ground beyond it at low tide. 

The conditions were less than ideal — those five-foot waves were making it nearly impossible for the crew of the dinghy to maintain any kind of control. The waves also made things tough for us to approach to pass a tow line, or even get close enough to shout over the wind.

As I was considering what to do, I asked our crew to find a long piece of line we could use for a tow, and to secure it to a cleat. We passed that line off our stern in a way that would lead fair in case we did actually take the dinghy in tow. We started our engine, furled our jib, dropped our mainsail and quickly secured it with a sail tie. After tightening the mainsheet so the boom wouldn’t swing and injure crew, we maneuvered carefully alongside the dinghy and passed them the tow line. 

The dinghy crew secured the tow line to their mast after wrapping it several times around their forestay where it met the deck. We allowed about 20 feet of tow line to pay out, creating a safe space between the dinghy and our stern. Gingerly, we increased our speed to take them into tow, but the dinghy was yawing dramatically. They had the centerboard down in part to give the tiny boat a little more stability. Unfortunately, that caused the boat to veer violently from one side to the other. I suggested they raise they centerboard, and the yawing decreased to very little. 

The dinghy crew members seemed exhausted, were definitely soaked, and were probably frightened, which would ordinarily be a critical problem. Hypothermia in these conditions can be fatal. But these guys were in wetsuits and otherwise seemed fine once we had them safely under tow. I nevertheless asked them multiple times throughout the rescue process how they were feeling — were they warm enough and otherwise OK? They gave me thumbs-up each time. 

I called this a wild rescue — one where I’m rescuing someone I don’t know and who is not affiliated with my organization. This was my first one of those, though I’ve done dozens of what I might call tame rescues, where I help someone affiliated with Spinnaker or whatever other outfit I’m sailing with at the time. 

With this or any rescue, particularly a “wild” one, the rescuer needs to make sure what they do is appropriate at all times. Maritime law requires us to render assistance if it’s safe to do so, and it protects us from liability if we do choose to help. But we must nevertheless do everything in our power to keep everyone safe during the process. 

The first step is to be sure the vessel in distress desires help. In this case, before approaching the dinghy, we asked if they wanted a tow. They said yes. 

I considered whether to rig a fender before coming alongside and chose not to because both Jerry and Sepee were thoroughly engaged in other more important tasks. There wasn’t a lot of time to rig a fender anyway, and I felt it’d be possible to have the dinghy alongside briefly without causing damage or putting any crew members in undue danger. 

The second step in a rescue is carefully consider what must be done, in what order, to keep everyone safe and reach a good outcome. This isn’t easy given time pressure and difficult, unfamiliar conditions. Visualize step-by-step what has to happen. 

The third step is communication. You need to clearly and calmly specify what each crew member should do. This is a delicate thing because the skipper actually has several goals here. The first goal, of course, is to prepare everyone to carry out a safe rescue. The second goal, trickier but just as important, is to communicate that everything is under control. 

To the extent that anyone — rescue crew or crew to be rescued — loses confidence in the process, things can spin out of control very quickly and very badly. So a calm, authoritative manner from the skipper is vital. This might be a bit or play-acting — you may not feel totally in control of a chaotic situation. Set that aside because appearances count. You gotta look like you’ve got this. 

Fourth, as the rescue unfolds, keep an eye on everything to make sure nothing goes wrong. Just because you have the tow line attached doesn’t mean you’re done. On the way down the channel, make sure to stay in the channel and well clear of dangers. Make sure the tow line isn’t fraying or otherwise coming loose. Make sure everyone on both boats is physically OK. It wouldn’t be good to hit a channel marker or go aground or have someone go overboard now! 

Fifth, after everything is over, it’s a very good idea to mentally review what occurred and try to think of things that could have been done better. In this case, I didn’t recognize immediately the distress the dinghy was in. I might have been able to operate a little more quickly and cleanly if I’d noticed what in retrospect was their obvious difficulty. 

I feel like a learn something new or have some new experience every time I step aboard a boat. Usually those are tiny things. Sometimes what I learn is more significant and worth sharing.

In this case, we were able to safely tow the dinghy and its crew to the launch ramp across from the Spinnaker docks. They disembarked safely, if perhaps somewhat rattled, packed up and headed home. All’s well that ends well, the Bard tells us. And so it was, this time. Stay safe out there!