Marinas present a target rich environment in which one glitch while coming or going can spell disaster.

We all saw it coming as we stood on the dock, and for a very long moment held our collective breath and waited for the crash. The crew aboard the sleek, brand-new 42-foot sailboat scrambled with boat hooks and fenders, rushing to prevent a collision with a big powerboat on the end tie. From where we stood, too far away to lend a hand, we heard the crunch, then another, then one more, as the sailboat bounced down the length of the trawler, engine alternating between full ahead and full astern. The helmsman seemed unaware that his mainsail, sheeted in tight, was holding him onto the other boat. It was hard to watch, for us and especially for the owner of the trawler, who was on board staring in disbelief as the sailboat blew down on top of him.

It is tempting to play armchair quarterback for the wrong reasons, but after we saw that crash, Patrick and I started talking about what had gone wrong, and what might have been done to prevent it, with the uneasy feeling that there but for the grace of God we go. There's value in discussing mishaps--even those of others. This is not to gloat over their mistakes, but to understand the many elements that can conspire to create accidents, and to prepare a plan to cope when things go awry at sea.

Patrick and I are both experienced sailors, but having recently bought a bigger, more complicated boat, we set out to create systems specific to it and discuss scenarios that might crop up to challenge us. It is not pleasant to imagine what might happen if we lost our rig far out to sea, and it's worse to consider losing the rig and not having a plan in place. With that in mind, we turned to our library and revisited the many things that can go wrong.

The best time to become familiar with steering intricacies is at the dock and not pitching around in a seaway at night, looking for a jury rig.

Our boat has wheel steering, and it came with an emergency tiller. When we bought the boat, that tiller was neglected and loosely stowed in the v-berth, with a moldy rag tied around the rusty base. Improving the cosmetics of an emergency tiller is fairly low on the list of priorities when getting to know a boat, but we needed to make sure it fit the rudder post. Rather than simulate a steering failure at sea, we held a practice drill in the slip. We removed the wheel and installed the tiller, then tested it, making sure it held secure and that there was no slipping as it turned the rudder. During the drill, we found that the tiller was held down by a ¾-inch bolt, and that no wrench aboard the boat could turn it, because it was recessed four inches into the base, making it accessible only to a ratchet with a six-inch extension, and socket. The only solution was a trip to the hardware store for the proper tool, which is now permanently dedicated to that use. We were thankful that the need for the extension was discovered during the process of installation.

Next, Patrick refinished the tiller, wire-wheeled the base and gave it a fresh coat of paint, then made a place for it in the head. A little experimentation found it a home adjacent to the shower, where it stows in a special collar, secured for sea. It might seem an unconventional storage place, but the tiller is now readily accessible, and finished to match the brightwork, has ceased to be an eyesore taking up room in the sleeping quarters.

Once we'd resolved the emergency tiller system, we moved on to other potential pitfalls. After a discussion about losing the rig, we bought bolt-cutters, and stored them in a locker next to the companionway, along with a pair of sturdy work gloves. As a back-up to the electric and manual bilge pumps, we installed a sea strainer in the bilge, led through a Y-valve on the engine's cooling water intake line, so that the engine's water pump can act as an emergency bilge pump. Our investigation of potential trouble spots led us to creative solutions that would save us time down the road, should anything actually go wrong. In addition, by looking at the systems aboard, we were reassuring ourselves about the soundness of the vessel, and scouting out potential problems before they occurred.

Reviewing our own boat's systems revealed a few minor problems that could be fixed ourselves without expensive replacements or improvements. Our goal was to sail the boat, not replace gear, and although safety was of primary importance, we wanted to stay realistic. There's no need to over-equip a boat just to feel secure, and in fact, the process of equipping the boat can drag on and take time away from being out on the water. For a couple of years, our boat was docked next to a Catalina 27 that was being re-equipped with loving care. There was nothing obviously wrong with the boat, but as months passed, the owners removed all the original hardware, replaced the engine, and added thousands of dollars of new equipment designed to improve safety, but never once went sailing. Ensuring the safety of the crew is important, but if the boat sits in the slip, that new equipment is of no use to anyone.

Once past the sea buoy, a long time may pass before the next hardware store surfaces.

It's reassuring to know your boat well, to understand its quirks and systems, but that knowledge must be matched with common sense and competent seamanship. Most of the crashes we've witnessed--including the most recent one--happened not because of equipment failure but rather improper boat handling. Recently, Patrick and I dropped armloads of groceries to run to assist a boat in trouble: it was headed sideways toward a row of boats, with six or seven passengers idly lounging on deck, and seemed headed for a collision. After a moment, we realized that the boat wasn't in trouble; the helmsman had backed out of the slip using his outboard, and then zig-zagged through the water, backing all the way out to the main channel, with the sail cover and boom tent still in place. A number of us stood and watched the boat leave, wondering aloud how they planned to get the sail raised if the engine failed, and listening for a crash. None of the passengers were paying attention to the helmsman or the surroundings, and although the helmsman had crew aboard to fend off or handle lines, none of them seemed aware of the proximity to danger, and the awkward, close-quarters maneuvers. The captain never solicited participation from anyone on deck, and it seems safe to say that an accident--even a minor one--would have taken them all completely by surprise.

Like it or not, things will go wrong; do what you can to outsmart Murphy's Law by having a plan in place for when they do. You can't carry a spare for every piece of equipment that might fail, but you can actively study the proper preparations for trouble, and be ready when it happens.