Gear

Make Sure Your Harness Fits Properly

Administrator — Tue, 02 May 2017 23:05:56 +0000

Make Sure Your Harness Fits Properly

Lawrence Glenn

Administrator Tue, 05/02/2017 - 23:05

Safety Moments

Gear

To be safe, all harnesses, whether integral with a PFD or not, should fit properly.

This may be an issue if you are smaller than average, as noted below.

Regarding the fit of a sailing harness, the core instructions are: the attachment point of a harness must be “above the lowest point of the rib cage” (from ISO 12401). US Sailing has expanded on the ISO rule to note that many inflatable PFDs with a built-in harness are designed for people 5’6” in height or greater.

If you are below that height there may be a risk of broken ribs or back injury if sudden tension is applied to the harness. It is strongly recommended that each person who is below the 5’6” height test their harness to insure that it is high enough. If not, that person should switch to a PFD with built-in harness unit that has a better fit, adjustable features, or an independent adjustable harness.

Spending your Safety Dollar Wisely

Administrator — Sat, 11 Mar 2017 13:08:29 +0000

Spending your Safety Dollar Wisely

Chuck Hawley

Administrator Sat, 03/11/2017 - 13:08

Gear

Safety Moments

No one wants to spend money foolishly, and no one wants to be subjected to unnecessary risks. How do you figure out how to spend your safety dollars efficiently to minimize the risks associated with going to sea in sailboats? Risk analysis generally boils down to the likelihood of something bad happening, the cost incurred when it does happen, and the expense of avoiding the problem in the first place.

In fact, very few of us are this analytical, although we likely apply this logic when we shop for safety items because either something a) seems to expensive for what it does or b) solves a problem that we deem too unlikely.

Speaking of unlikely, dying while sailing is pretty unlikely. In an average year, 600 boaters die in recreational boating accidents, and of those, about 24 or 4% die while sailing. In the last five years, 66% of those deaths are due to drowning, so this is a pretty good place to start to make sailing safer. The challenge is that, even though sailors are about 5 times more likely to wear life jackets than people who boat in open powerboats, adult sailors have an observed life jacket wear rate of only 26.5% or so. This breaks out as 55% in “day sailors” and 18% in “cabin sailboats”. The rate of life jacket use has approximately doubled since 1999, so sailors are on a good trend, but that leaves 73.5% of us who don’t wear life jackets while sailing.

...the most cost-effective way to reduce sailing fatalities is a change of behavior, not a change of equipment

Presuming this is the case; the most cost-effective way to reduce sailing fatalities is a change of behavior, not a change of equipment. While we can point to examples of incidents where a better life jacket (more buoyancy, greater turning performance, greater freeboard) may have made a difference (the Dauphin Island Race incident and the Low Speed Chase incident come to mind) the principle issue is one of wear rate, not buying the best life jacket money can buy.

It’s likely that you’ve made up your mind at some point if you’re going to wear a life jacket, or when you’re going to wear a life jacket, so I leave this to your own judgment.

What about other potentially life-saving devices? What makes a difference? Unfortunately, other than occasional stories about the benefit of certain safety products, there’s not a lot of hard evidence about the likelihood of most safety products saving sailors’ lives, but we can take a shot at some possible candidates for “good safety value”.

Less than $5

Whistle, $5

Much more effective than yelling, and uses less energy. Every life jacket and every foul weather gear jackets needs one.

Waterproof LED flashlight, $20

Practical for so many functions, and also becomes a great Person in the Water light if you find yourself over the side.

Medical kit, $80

Yes, you can assemble one yourself, but my preference is to buy a competent kit and bolster the supplies with a trip to the local pharmacy. Add a SAM Splint, additional bandages, a pint of antiseptic, and an Ace wrap.

Lifesling, $190

Long history of helping short-handed sailors rescue their crew. Requires some practice but it works.

Handheld VHF radio with GPS and DSC, $250

Takes full advantage of Rescue 21, and is independent of vessel systems that might be compromised. Cost effective and versatile.

PLB/EPIRB, $250 to $400

You’re not buying a piece of hardware; you’re buying a worldwide rescue system. Exactly how the rescue agencies of the world want to be contacted.

Crew overboard beacon, $260

For fast downwind boats that may not return quickly, a crew overboard beacon is practically the only way to find the person in the water.

Fixed VHF with masthead antenna and GPS and DSC, $300

Like the handheld version, this is how to take advantage of the $1B investment in Rescue 21. But it’s obviously the sailor’s communication link to other vessels, bridge tenders, race committees, and virtually everyone on the water.

Masthead tricolor light, $350

Has several advantages over other running light solutions. Isn’t blanketed by sails, has very sharp cut-off angles so right-of-way can be determined, draws less power, and can be seen dramatically farther. Only disadvantage is when operating with city lights in the background.

Inflatable life jacket with harness and tether $400

OK, this seems obvious, but this is the required “kit” when offshore. Add a whistle and a light if yours doesn’t come with one. It allows you to survive long enough to be rescued.

Blind Reliance on Instruments

Administrator — Thu, 23 Feb 2017 01:08:19 +0000

Blind Reliance on Instruments

Chuck Hawley

Administrator Thu, 02/23/2017 - 01:08

Gear

One of the requirements for the 1982 Singlehanded Transpac was to have sailed 300 NM, singlehanded, in the boat that you were going to take to Hawaii. For my second Singlehanded Transpac, I had selected an Olson 30, Collage, which I saw has having dramatically better creature comforts than my 1980 boat, a Moore 24. Due to my work schedule at West Marine, I didn’t have time to sail my Olson down the coast to LA and then trailer it back: my solo voyage was to head out of the Golden Gate, continue southwesterly for 150 NM, turn around, and come back to the relative security of the bay.

I installed what was then a cutting-edge Loran-C in my Olson by Micrologic, made somewhere in Southern California. In 1982 it was possible to manufacture electronics in California and compete on the World Market. The ML-2000 was a wonder of sophistication because it could show your position in latitude and longitude, and navigate to waypoints, and it only cost $1500. In truth, I had borrowed it from the electronics display at West Marine in Sausalito, hoping that no one would notice it was gone while I was on my two-day voyage.

Usually hard to miss, the Farallon Islands have been called the "Devil's Teeth" by unlucky mariners.

After being at sea for a little over 24 hours, I found myself 150 NM away from the Gate, turned Collage around, and headed for home. Optimistically, I had made a date with a young lady for the following night, so speed was of the essence. To ensure that I sailed the shortest distance, I entered a waypoint that was in front of Southeast Farallon Island to ensure that I would be home quickly, and set an arrival alarm with a 5NM radius to warn me as I approached. I also set my autopilot on a course to the waypoint, again to shorten the distance and time.

For warmth and quiet, I dove headfirst into a quarterberth, with my head aft, and curled up in my sleeping bag. Collage surged along at 7 knots or so, and I fell sound asleep.

In what seemed to be a few hours, I became aware of an alarm coming from inside the boat. “Aha!” I said to myself, “I’ve entered the alarm zone and I’m close to the Farallones.” I struggled out of my berth, reached up for the companionway hatch, and slid it open. I had apparently overslept because it was pretty bright outside and the weather was glorious, with the wind blowing about 6 knots. As I gazed forward, under the boom and the foot of the jib, I was surprised that I couldn’t see the island up ahead. The weather was clear; where was the 400’ tall island?

As I pivoted around in the companionway, the island came into view, directly astern of me, perhaps three miles away. It lay directly behind Collage, exactly bisecting the vessel’s wake. I could see no other solution as to how I had managed to avoid the island other than that perhaps there was a heretofore-unknown tunnel directly through the island that had allowed me safe passage. From my vantage point, there was no way that I could have missed it.

It took me several hours to shake off the feeling that I could have been killed due to a series of poor decisions that I had made which put me in this lethal situation. Among those decisions were the following:

I set an autopilot on a course with a known hazard.
I did not keep a proper watch.
I relied on a single electronic device to alert me of a hazard.
I let a schedule influence my decisions instead of good seamanship.
I had intentionally isolated myself from the subtle sounds and signals that warn someone of danger.

After the Aegean incident during the 2012 Ensenada Race, the question that inevitably came up was “how, with all of that electronic gear, could they have run into an island that’s clearly on the chart?” The same question was asked, frequently, after Vestas Wind ran up on Cargados Carajos Shoal in 2014. “How could it happen?”

Embarrassingly, I know from personal experience exactly how incidents like these happen. It starts with a decision that, deep inside, you realize is not good seamanship, while a less convenient or slower solution to a problem would be safer. But you elect to take the shortcut, to cut it too close, or to proceed at too fast a pace. It’s a conscious decision that leads one to take imprudent risks with horrendous consequences if we’re wrong. If we take enough risks, eventually, most of us will endure a completely avoidable incident, and we have no one to blame but ourselves.

Safety Moment, Cruising Club of America, May 2016

Chuck Hawley

Retiring Safety Gear from the list

Administrator — Thu, 23 Feb 2017 01:08:19 +0000

Retiring Safety Gear from the list

Chuck Hawley

Administrator Thu, 02/23/2017 - 01:08

Gear

Safety Moments

The 2015 meeting of the International Sailing Federation, now known as World Sailing, was held in Sanya, China. One of the committees that met was the Offshore Special Regulations committee, which is responsible for creating equipment rules for six categories of sailboat racing, based on the proximity to rescue and the duration of the event. The Offshore Special Regulations have grown over the years: in fact, the 1982 version published by the then-United States Yacht Racing Union fit on a single sheet of paper. By 2014, the OSRs, as they are known, had grown to over 200 pages.

It’s interesting to consider why a relatively simple document like the 1982 version would grow to be a bloated, complicated, and ultimately undesirable document that tormented yacht owners, boat captains, and pre-race inspectors due to its incomprehensibility. One could argue that a wide range of new products have come to the market since 1982, and many of those items have greatly reduced the risks of going offshore, or even along the shore. Who wouldn’t want to have an EPIRB, a high buoyancy inflatable life jacket, GPS, AIS transceivers, satellite telephones, VHF radios with Digital Selective Calling, even if it caused the page of requirements to become a small booklet of requirements?

Items tend to be added to the Offshore Special Regulations with relatively little debate about their merits compared to either not adding them

Items tend to be added to the Offshore Special Regulations with relatively little debate about their merits compared to either not adding them, or exchanging them for other items. When AIS became available a few years ago, I can imagine that most offshore sailors felt that the ability to know the location of AIS-equipped vessels was absolutely worth the cost of adding an AIS receiver or transceiver. How could it not be the right thing to do? What about improved safety harness tethers that would have different snaps at each end, and a dated tag that showed when it was purchased, and a overload indicator that would show when the tether had been subjected to a large load (undefined, as it turns out, in the Special Regulations).

Sometimes the new items or technologies obsolete some thing that is already bought and paid for and on the boat. If we’re lucky, the new technology is given a few years of lead time before it’s required, and the old items are allowed for a few years of additional use before being relegated to the rubbish bin or marine flea markets. But it’s always hard to resist new pieces of kit, since everyone worries that if only one life is saved with the new gear, then it will have been worth it.

It was somewhat amazing that one of the submissions presented in Sanya was to eliminate the carriage of SOLAS rocket parachute flares on offshore race boats

Thus, it was somewhat amazing that one of the submissions presented in Sanya was to eliminate the carriage of SOLAS rocket parachute flares on offshore race boats. Instead of having six relatively expensive pyros on board, Category 1 boats would not have any. Not only are these flares dated, with an expiration date of 42 months, but they are virtually impossible to recycle or ship, and they have relatively few instances where they have been the critical alerting device in rescues. Remarkably, the Offshore Special Regulations committee voted to remove the need to carry these devices, showing a reversal of the trend to add consistently rather than to have each item fight for its place on the list of gear.

This raises the obvious question: how DO you decide what gear should be voluntarily carried, or require it to be carried, when sailing offshore? Is more always better? Are you playing fast and loose with the safety of your crew when you elect to not carry a piece of gear?

Liferaft: Sometimes your only option. (Photo Dan Nerney)

Let’s look at an example. Most of us would not consider voyaging down the coast of California and certainly not to Hawaii without carrying a life raft. But is this a logical choice? Life rafts cost around $4,500, require periodic maintenance that might amortize out to $200 per year, and last about 15 years. Total cost per year of ownership: $500 per year. But how many U.S. sailors are saved by life rafts every year? It’s a tiny number: perhaps 20 in a particularly bad year, and perhaps fewer than 10 in a good year. Is it worth it, ignoring the obvious argument that, “if it were your family, you’d sure want to have one if the boat sank” which is always going to be raised. A better argument that lacks some of the emotion is “what alternative do you have if your boat burns or sinks?” A life raft is nearly the only choice.

Let’s return to SOLAS rocket parachute flares. How may sailors are saved by this item, considering that they may have VHF radios, hand flares, EPIRBs, SEND devices, Iridium phones, strobe lights, spot lights and on and on? Perhaps parachute flares have fallen prey to the improving technologies that we all embrace, especially the ability to communicate over the horizon to either rescue networks or rescuing vessels. Perhaps, in this case, we can confidently retire these devices, and their frequent replacement, hazardous waste disposal, and potential to harm the B&G masthead unit, and feel confident that we’ve evolved beyond technologies that were more appropriate for the Titanic generation. As the song says, breaking up is hard to do, but sometimes it’s the right thing to do.

CCA Safety Moment

Chuck Hawley, SF Station, February 2016