Mother Nature has a sailing instruction curriculum all her own as the Terry and Rhonda Forshier found out on a recent trip back from the Dry Tortugas.

After three days at Dry Tortugas National Park at the southern tip of Florida, it was time to head home. The plan was to start early and sail 38 miles to the Marquesas islands where we would anchor out and snorkel and fish for another two nights. Then it would be off to Key West, another 30 miles up the road.

The anchor was up at 7:30 a.m. and we motored around historic Ft. Jefferson and the other little keys there, rounding marker #2 to start the easterly trek to the Marquesas. About a mile ahead of us we could see another boat and we knew that our friends the Fullers would be behind us in about an hour. They were in a newer Hunter 42 and cruise at 7 knots while we plod along in our O’Day 30 at 5.5 knots. Their longer waterline and 64 hp diesel is much faster than our old Yanmar 15.

The weather was overcast and we were not able to get a weather report on the radio, but the posted weather at the ranger station called for a 30% chance of showers and thunderstorms for the next three days. We figured one day was as iffy as another and under the mainsail and full 150 genoa motored at 5.5 knots into a headwind.

We were about an hour out between the marker and Rebecca Shoals which we needed to leave to port before turning more easterly. We thought we would then be able to turn off the motor and sail. We then noticed a long grey black line behind us and saw it was coming right up on our stern. It looked bad, but squalls always look bad until you get in them then they are just a normal kind of rainy and windy. We did not see any lightning or hear any thunder so kept plodding on and did not reduce sail.

In about 10 minutes the wind came up to 20 to 25 mph, maybe more, hitting us on the quarter hard enough to knock us down and round the boat up into the wind until we stalled and got knocked down again. In the lulls we rounded up, righting the boat. We released the main and genoa. Rhonda tried to hold the sheet while I pulled the roller furler. We got it rolled up but it was wrapped so tight that it did not go all the way and about four feet of sail was flapping and the sheets were flying around. I went on top and lowered the main while Rhonda tried to keep the boat in a somewhat upright state. Trying to get the topping lift hooked I pushed the main and felt a tear in my shoulder. Great! I got it down, thanks to the lazy jacks that I had up and ready. The main fell right down in the slot.

Now we could steer. Rhonda went below in her life jacket and reported that looking up all she could see was me and the waves over my head in the stern. We tried to power up and into the wind and tighten the sheets on the flapping genoa but by now the wind had increased to at least 30, gusting 40, and we could not get enough power to get the nose into the wind, so I fell off to steer away from the wind, putting the stern to the storm and surfing down the building seas. Rhonda came up and helped. This gave us control but within a few minutes the wind had increased and the bimini started shredding right off the frame, flapping all around me at the helm. Rhonda went below, got the sailing knife. I cut off the rest of the canvas so at least I could see and wasn’t getting smacked in the head by the canvas shreds. I then saw that the sheets had parted from the ring on the genoa and had fallen to the deck. Now the genoa was unfurled and flapping in the wind. I assumed the ring had pulled out at the clew.

The wind and waves continued to build and we were surfing along. The GPS recorded a new max velocity of 9.9 knots. Our sailing speed is usually 6.5 to 7 knots at very best.

Rhonda took the wheel and I went forward with a line to roll up the rest of the sail and tie it off. I ran up and in my haste forgot to put back on my lifejacket. This was not a fun job as we were surfing the waves and the wind and rain were pelting me. We did get it though and I was able to secure the sail. We were now running under power and bare poles. The lazy jacks saved the main and I was able to tie a line or two around it to make sure it stayed put. Now I felt we were safe even though the storm was all over us we were steering the boat and not getting knocked down.

Checking the impeller before the trip could have saved some headaches on the way home.

At this time we heard a distress call on the radio. It was the other boat we were sailing near. We could not see them but they were calling a distress call. They were the Barnacle Bait. On the boat was a grandfather, his son, and three grandkids. They had lost their motor and their mast had somehow pushed through the deck and collapsed the compression post , so were without power and sail while the mast was flopping around half in and half out. We have a new radio cable on our boat that runs from the radio up the mast to the antenna. It is an extra thick and highly efficient system that is an upgrade most people do not do. We were the only boat that could receive and send to Ft. Jefferson so Rhonda, scared though she was, went below and radioed communications between Barnacle Bait and the Rangers at Ft. Jefferson who called the Coast Guard, which were dispatched immediately. We continued to stay in communications with them. The blow lasted about 45 minutes and we now heard from other boats of winds in the 50 to 65 range. On the Dry Tortugas the boats in the anchorage were also dealing with the storm. Although our friends anchored there did fairly well, several boats broke anchor or drug off the hook and into the islands beaching themselves in the big waves and wind.

Finally the wind abated and we rounded back into the wind and tried to figure out where we were. We had been blown about six or seven miles off course and had to then try to motor into the wind and seas of about 6 to 8 feet. We were sluggish to say the least just rolling up on the rollers and then falling down. Our progress showed about 3 knots and our little 15 hp motor had a hard time punching us over eight foot swells.

After another half hour the wind had dropped to 20, enough so that I felt we could put up the main. This time I put on the jacket and went up and raised the main. What a great feeling a sail boat can give you when it starts doing what it was designed to do. We were still powering but heading in the right direction. We called our friends who were supposed to be behind us and found they were far ahead now.

As we reached a southern point, we eased off the wind and pointed east. Then I went forward again and checked the roller furler and found the snapshackle had let go and the ring was intact. What luck--we now had both sails. I untangled the sheets and snapped them on to the sail. I untied the sail returned to the cockpit and we rolled out about half the genoa. Now we began to eat the waves and once again were motor sailing down the waves with the wind just off our nose but the waves at our quarter. Rhonda went to the rail and threw up---several times. After everything she finally had time to think about what just happened.

At about 8:30 we heard the motor sound change. Instead of the rhythmic thump-thump we heard puff-puff. I knew this sound and a look over the stern showed we were no longer pumping water through the motor. I shut it down. Now it was nearly dusk, seas were calming and were in the 4-to-5 foot range but very overcast, winds about 20+, and 24 miles to go. Well, we were sailing. Rhonda looked at me like, well? Now what? It was almost funny. We did laugh, I told her we were not IN, trouble but we that we HAD trouble. The difference is we could handle this. We were sailing along fine now and even took a shot or two of the sunset.

At 9:30 I radioed for Key West TowBoat US. They wanted to know if we were in distress. We told them we were sailing along fine now under full sail of 150 and the main. We were doing 5-to-6 knots and on point for the Key West SW channel. We told them to go to dinner, call us in two hours and we should be near the harbor where they could come out and tow us to Conch Harbor where we had reservations for the next day.

It was dark, without stars, or moon with only a few channel marker lights flashing on the reef islands to starboard and an occasional light on the islands to port. Man Island, Woman Island, Crawfish Island we sailed past them and to the now visible lights on the horizon that were Key West.

Why we put up with it all--the amazing sunsets far outweigh the trials at sea.

At about 11:00 TowBoatUS hailed us and said they were loading the boat to come out for us. We gave them our coordinates and soon they hailed us to identify them as they flashed us with their spotlight. Rhonda went below and talked to them on the radio and we formulated a plan for the hookup. They pulled up near us, Rhonda rounded into the wind and I rolled in the genoa and dropped the main. They pulled alongside and pitched a tow line that I made fast to the bow cleat. They eased up the slack and let out about a ton of line and began the tow us in and through the harbor. I steered and Rhonda relayed info on the radio.

At about 12:30 am, we cleated on to the fuel dock at Conch Harbor. The tow boat guys stopped and told us they would be back first thing in the morning to move us to a slip. We were here and safe. We ate some cinnamon spins which completed our great feast of two other granola bars for the day, and fell fast asleep. At 6:30 am the following morning the dock man was banging on the deck. We awoke and explained our situation. They moved us to an out of the way spot, gave us fresh coffee and we called for a Yanmar repair man. About two hours later he showed up. He checked everything out and changed an impeller and pronounced us good to go. The tow was covered under our Boat US policy and the repair was pretty inexpensive.