POOH BEAR REPORT 2003-9, The Riddle of the Sands, Solved Starting: Norderney Island, Germany, 25 September 2003 Ending: Delfzijl, The Netherlands, 25 September 2003 OK folks; now listen up while I tell you about Pooh Bear's "riddle of the sands" and how that riddle was solved. First off, for those of you who have not read Erskine Childers book, "The Riddle of the Sands", let me recommend that you do so. Written in the early 1900s, it is a story of international mystery and intrigue that involves a yachtsman who stumbles on what he believes to be Germany arming for an invasion of England. And the area involved was the German Frisian Islands. Unfortunately, Erskine Childers did not get to enjoy the popularity of his book. He was hanged by the British for supplying guns to the IRA. Along the northern Dutch and northwest German coast the North Sea has built a string of barrier islands. Very low lying with treacherous sand shoals to seaward and constantly shifting channels between the islands, called watt channels, they were the undoing of uncounted sailing ships making coastal passages through the North Sea. Behind the islands are vast sandbanks that cover and uncover twice a day with the tide. And when I say cover, I mean that at high tide almost no land is in sight in any direction. And when I say uncover, I mean that that at low tide almost no water is in sight in any direction. In the 1700s, trade began to flourish and transportation of goods was by sailing vessels. Seeking a route protected from the ferocious North Sea storms, vessels sailed behind the barrier islands. Sailing vessels evolved that could float in very little water and when grounded, would sit comfortably upright awaiting the next tide while the crews could walk for miles on the sands. When the water returned, as it surely and predictably did, they continued their passage. To make the most of the water available, at low (or no) water crews would mark the natural channels with "withies", withies being nothing more than tree branches stuck into the sand. This was the setting of "The Riddle of the Sands". Returning to the 21st century, September 2003, Pooh Bear had transited the Kiel Kanal, motored in dense fog down the Elbe River to Cuxhaven, then sailed to the German Island of Helgoland. From there, Pooh made a coastal passage southwest along the most northern of the Frisian Islands and entered "the Sands" via the watt channel at the west end of the island of Norderney. Even under the relatively moderate conditions existing, the sea was white from the breakers on each side of the well-marked channel. I can't imagine making such an entrance under storm conditions without the benefit of channel markers. Yachts making the passage the following day, when conditions were a bit more boisterous, reported the watt channel was heart stopping even with the channel markers. We spent five enjoyable days in the modern marina at Norderney, waiting out strong westerlies and gleaning advice from fellow yachties as well as the locals. The advice ranged from, "Oh no, not possible with your five and a half foot draft" to, "Oh, nothing to it, if you pick the right time and weather". We concluded the best advice came from the Harbor Master, Jorg, who said, "No problem. I have done it many times. Leave the harbor 2-1/2 hours after low water." This segment of our 2003 cruise had always concerned me greatly. I did not want to make a non-stop overnight passage along this dangerous piece of coast. Also, once through a watt channel and behind an island, I did not relish going back out through the watt channel into the North Sea only to reenter a few miles to the southwest. But no matter how many times I looked, the chart always showed vast areas of green, meaning totally drying at low water, with little dotted tracks, presumably indicating possible channels. The cruising guides were ambiguous, some saying 1.5 meters draft, about 5 feet, was the most that could safely make the trip across the sands. Others indicated a definite maybe, depending on many factors. What Jorg said not only sounded authoritative, but we liked it. Were we not to cross the sands, we would have to sail back through the watt channel into the North Sea, follow the islands southwest past the most westerly island in the German Frisian chain, Borkum, then up the Ems River to the marina in Borkum; a trip of almost 30 miles to only go 10 miles. And we would still have had 20 miles up river to our intended destination, Delfzijl, our entrance to the Netherlands. Jorg did point out that we really had two problems. The first was the withy channel, officially known by the catchy name of Memmert Wattfahrwasser, running roughly parallel to the island of Juist. This portion of the passage we would take on a rising tide, so running aground would not be a serious problem. We would then have 12 miles of natural, buoyed, deep well water channels going south until we again turned west to enter the Ems River via the Osterems channel; not really a channel but more a large flat area covered by inches of water at low tide. As we would reach the Osterems much after high water, we would be crossing on a falling tide. The tactic would be to make all possible speed after leaving the withy channel, and evaluate the water depth as we approached the Osterems. If we felt there was not enough water, we should lie at anchor for about 18 hours and continue in daylight the next day. Should we continue on and misjudge, thereby going aground, we would spend a miserable night heeled over 45 degrees, and, in addition, probably be forced to make our way into the Ems River at night. The "channels" across the sands are, to this day, still marked by withies, mandating a daylight passage. An inspection of the tables showed sunrise around 0800. Following the Harbor Master's advice we looked for a low tide after 0530. On 25 September low tide would occur at 0520 - close enough. But what about the weather? Twice a day we poured over forecasts from three sources. They generally agreed that on the 23rd we would have a gale, with improving conditions the next two days. On the 23rd we did have a gale with heavy rains. On the 24th, no rain, but still strong northwest winds. But would they be right 3 days in a row? On the 25th we awoke to south-southwest winds 15 to 20 knots. But worse winds were forecast for the next few days, by which time the tide would have moved so late than we would reach the Osterems channel after dark. So it was GO. Shortly after 0800 on the 25th, we slipped our lines and motored around the west end of Norderney to into a force 5 wind. To the north, seawards, was a solid line of breakers. But we would turn west before reaching them. But what did chill me was a line of breakers to the west and southwest; the direction we were going. Were we really about to take Pooh's five and a half foot draft across what only two and a half hours earlier had been bare sand? From our log, I see that at 0852 Pooh turned west out of the main channel down the buoyed channel leading to, we hoped, the withies marking the Memmert Wattfahrwasser. And if Jorg and our calculations were correct, by the time we reached those withies, there would be at least 5-1/2 feet of water. With 15 to 20 knots of wind nearly astern, running aground could be more than embarrassing. I don't know what Judy really thought, but she made encouraging sounds when I voiced my fears. We motored on. At 0921 the buoyed channel ended and the withy channel began. And the depth sounder showed only 6 feet. But that was six inches beneath the keel and about what we had calculated. At this point the island of Juist to the north gave us smooth waters. We motored on, keeping the withies about 15 feet to starboard. At the shoalest point along the channel the chart showed that a few hours before the depth would have been an "elevation" of 2.5 feet. As we approached this "peak" I glanced over my shoulder. To my horror, only a hundred feet astern was a car ferry! He looked like the Queen Mary. We should have held our course until deeper water and let the ferry wait, but instead I swung out of the channel to the south. Almost immediately we were bouncing on the bottom. The ferry (he was flat bottomed and designed to float in only two feet of water) swept by fifteen feet astern, his wake repeatedly lifting Pooh and dropping us on sands that felt more like concrete. There were about a dozen bone jarring crashes. But the good side was that, at full throttle, on each lift, we made progress back to the channel, OK though a bit shaken. I was once again thankful for Pooh Bear's super solid old-fashioned long keel, instead of a modern fin or wing keel. At 0953 we were out of the shallow Memmert Wattfahrwasser channel, the withies behind us, and in deep natural channels, some showing 25 feet or more. But remember, we had a second choke point to the south. With the engine at max cruise rpm, and the sails helping where possible, we ticked off the waypoints against our predicted times. Sometimes we picked up a favorable current and moved ahead of "schedule", only to find an adverse current and be set back. Let me digress a moment to talk about electronic charts and GPS. Yes, electronics can fail so we do carry paper charts. And we know how to use them and could certainly have made this passage with only paper charts. But the electronic charts in conjunction with the Global Positioning System are amazing. This year, we are using a new electronic navigation system called MaxSea. Using MaxSea we planned our route as a series of waypoints plotted on an electronic chart that looked exactly like our paper charts. We, of course, knew we would have to deviate slightly from the waypoint path where the buoys had been moved from their charted position to follow the channel changes, but this was of little consequence. Once the route was planned, and replanned multiple times, we entered our planned departure time and estimated speed on each leg. Throughout the passage, our track was recorded every minute permitting us to look back instantly and see what time we passed a particular mark, our exact position (usually within 10 or 20 feet) at that time, and our speed and course over the ground. This we could compare with the predicted time at each waypoint, giving us great comfort - or causing great anguish. In addition, the program kept an electronic logbook that required no action by us. We did keep a paper log, but especially when things got tight, there was no time to make log entries. In such cases, a few clicks on the computer screen and we could recall all the information we could want. While writing this, I have looked back and can see exactly where the ferry overtook us. Would you say I am a fan of electronic navigation systems? At 1145, we were almost 10 minutes behind predicted at the Osterems "go/no go" point. But at buoy 29 the depth sounder showed a foot of water more than expected. It was a GO for the Osterems. As was common, the channel buoys had been relocated from their charted position, hopefully, to lead across the least shallow water. And a good decision it was as we never showed less than seven feet of water and by 1315 we were southeast bound in the Ems River with depths of 35 to 40 feet. The greatest thing of note about the last ten miles up the Ems to Delfzijl was the speed. Ten miles we would normally do in less than two hours. In this case it was 3 hours and 30 minutes. Remember that we entered the Ems well past high water. Unavoidably, we had to buck the ebb as we chugged upstream, making only 2.5 knots over the ground. But, before sunset, we were in a slip in Delfzijl, Pooh Bear having solved The Riddle of the Sands. And should you go to your local library and check out a copy of Riddle of the Sands, you will find it has much more drama than Pooh Bear's crossing. It is good reading even for non-sailors. End of PB Rpt 2003-9, The Riddle of the Sands, solved.doc Bob & Judy Bailey (aboared s/y Pooh Bear in St. Katharine Haven, London, England) NOTE: Please address any comments or problems ONLY to W5TFY@amsat.org.