Pooh Bear Cruising Report 2003-2, Piglet, Pooh Bear, and a Sad, Sad Day From: Tongsfjord, Norway Written - 13 August 2003 Hello Family & Friends, It may be time for a regular Pooh Bear Cruising Report, and one is almost ready, but events today compel me to write and send a special report. But first, for our non-cruising readers, I should explain about "The Dinghy". Our dinghy is named Piglet and we have had her for ten years. A dinghy is a small boat carried by a larger boat. Some are of wood or fiberglass and known as hard dinghies. Some, like Piglet, are inflatable (with wooden floor boards) and known as soft dinghies. A dinghy is not a lifeboat; the emergency raft being usually totally different. In many ways, the dinghy is to the cruiser, what the family car is to those living in ashore. Cruisers tend to anchor out much of the time instead of going into a marina. At anchor, the dinghy is the only means to shore for sightseeing, grocery shopping and visiting other yachts. The dinghy may serve as a workhorse. Remember earlier this season when Piglet was used to pull a wind bound Pooh Bear and Southern Cross off the dock at Suffolk Yacht Harbour. And more than once, when we have put Pooh aground, Piglet has been the means of carrying out an anchor and pulling ourselves free rather than calling for help. For the last several weeks we have been exploring the southwestern portion of Norway's coastline; a spectacular area. We are now in the northern part of the Skagerak having, in the past week, come from Stavanger on the North Sea around the southern tip of Norway and up the northeast coast towards Oslo. Much of this latter coast is a myriad of beautiful, rocky islands that, with great care, we have threaded our way through with complete protection from the sea. And the weather has been warm, sometimes very warm, with little wind. At each anchorage we used Piglet to explore ashore, around the anchorage or check for hidden rocks. Upon departure this morning, Wednesday, the 13th of August, from a lovely anchorage near Risor, we knew the day's passage would be different. There would be forty miles of open coast before reentering protected waters near the entrance to the Oslo Fjord. We had planned the passage carefully and reviewed three different weather forecasts. All called for continued, moderate, conditions with five to ten knot winds from the south or southwest. This would mean wind from the land and little or no seas. Probably also little wind. It is our habit to tow Piglet under moderate conditions rather than hauling her up on deck. Hoisting her aboard is quite a chore and once there, is not available for immediate use. Furthermore, when the dinghy is stowed on deck, foredeck work becomes very difficult. Based on the given weather forecast, we set out with Piglet in her usual position about fifteen feet astern on a towing bridle plus a second safety line. As we entered the open waters, maybe we should have been suspicious. The wind was 10 knots from the east - definitely not predicted, but the seas were only slight. I chalked it up to an early "sea breeze". By noon the wind was veering to the southeast and blowing 15 knots. By 2 o'clock the wind had veered further almost south at 20 and gusting more. What we were experiencing bore no relationship with the predictions. We rigged a preventer on the mainsail boom. This would prevent a real disaster should a big sea cause an accidental jibe. On the other hand, with the preventer rigged, we would be drastically limited in our ability to maneuver quickly. With the winds building, and I felt more wind was to follow, we lowered the staysail and took a single reef in the mainsail. Even after rolling up part of the jib, Pooh was still moving 6.5 knots. The autopilot was working hard, but doing a good job of controlling Pooh with the seas on the starboard quarter. With rocky ground ahead on both sides, we bought insurance by keeping the Perkins ticking over at a very low speed. We watched Piglet with some concern, but there was nothing we could do at that time. She would race down the face of a wave and turn one side or the other as the towlines went slack. Then, like a game of crack- the-whip, be jerked violently back on course. With the seas three feet and more, and with the winds gusting to 25, it would have been impossible to get Piglet aboard. Besides, we were entering an area with literally thousands of rocks on each side of our path, some above the water with waves crashing over them, some just below the surface. We had to be attentive and maintain our course within a quarter of a mile of the planned track. A little before 4 o'clock the sea conditions did improve though the wind was gusting above 30 (near gale conditions) from the south- southwest. We were passing north of Svenner Island, a large rock with a lighthouse and several dozen smaller rocky islets trailing off to the northeast. While these broke the seas, we knew they would provide only a brief respite as, unless the wind veered more towards the southwest, we would soon have another mile or two totally exposed before turning north up the Tonsfjord and real protection. Judy was in the cockpit and I standing in the companionway watching the seas, now regularly six feet with breaking crests. Suddenly a large wave broke just as it reached Piglet. Piglet rode right up on its port pontoon and stayed vertical for several seconds, the bottom exposed directly to the wind. Just as the welter of foam passed under her and I though she would come back down safely, an extra strong gust of wind hit and over Piglet went. Capsized! The bow seemed to dive down. At the speed we were moving the forces must have been terrific. Within a couple of seconds, first the main towing line snapped, followed by the back up towline. We both stared thunderstruck as we watched Piglet, washed by the seas, fall astern. Judy pulled in the two limp towing lines so they wouldn't foul our prop, then jumped below to record our position from that miracle of electronics, the GPS. I snapped off the autopilot and attempted to round up into the wind but, even at full throttle, I could not force the bow through the wind. A frantic minute or two followed with Judy at the helm and me getting the preventer off. Then, with full throttle, Pooh came through the wind, now a steady 30 plus knots. Probably less than two minutes, three at the most, had elapsed, but by then we had probably traveled almost a quarter of a mile. Piglet was nowhere to be seen. Quickly Judy and I realized the futility of a search and the hazards involved, as the search area would be rapidly closing on the seen and unseen rocks just to the north. With great reluctance, we verified our position and returned Pooh to a northeasterly course. Although we knew it was futile, both of us could not help but search the seas astern as we sailed away. Thirty minutes later we were anchored safely in a cove on the Tonsfjord. There we assessed our situation from a practical standpoint. Without question we had to purchase another dinghy. Hopefully, we might find a used dinghy, as a new one, especially one purchased in Norway, would be a major expense. We could continue cruising for a few days, maybe even a week or two without one, but not much longer. For this we felt anger. But then Judy and I realized we both felt a personal loss. Strangely, we both felt we had sailed off and left, among the seas and rocks, a living thing, not an inanimate collection of fabric and wood. We had lost a friend and constant companion of ten years. We were both quite depressed. Post mortem. What could we have done to avoid loosing Piglet? Of course, if we had put Piglet on deck before leaving our anchorage, the whole thing would never have occurred. But that is 20-20 hindsight. Maybe if we had been towing Piglet very close behind Pooh instead of fifteen feet back, the capsize would have been prevented. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Might someone find her and we be notified? Although we did report the loss to the authorities, probably not. In fact, an examination of the two towing lines showed the bridle lines had, as expected, pulled the D rings right out. But what was a surprise was the molded towing handle, where the back up line attached, had taken part of the outer layer of Hypalon with it. I believe that maybe immediately air was rushing out of at least one of the two air chambers, maybe both. This would explain why Piglet seemed so low in the water as she disappeared astern. The floorboards and transom of wood may wash up somewhere, but not much else. An interesting sidelight is where the polypropylene line was cleated on Pooh's stern, the loads were so great that heat had fused two overlapping loops. Did we abandon the search prematurely? Maybe, but I don't think so. A search for Piglet extending more that a quarter of a mile downwind would have been foolhardy. And even had we located her, how could we have recovered her? The towing points were all gone and the grab lines along the top of the pontoons were underwater. It would have required someone in the water to get a line on her for hoisting aboard. Such action would have been unthinkable under the conditions. Will the next dinghy be named Piglet? At the moment, I would say not. But we will see. END OF PB REPORT 2003-2 Bob & Judy (aboard s/v Pooh Bear)