My 4 year excursion into boat designing and building a craft for the Everglades Challenge.
My
Everglades Challenge story.
I first started thinking about the Everglades Challenge in
2021. My interest was piqued by Jeff Linton. Jeff also sailed classic moth
boats and had competed in the Everglades challenge for years with Jahn Tihansky
in a modified Flying Scot and then in a custom 22’ OH Rodgers design. I was interested in
class 4 (sailboat monohulls) but in the singlehanded division. I thought a lightweight hull with higher
performance would be the ticket. I discarded the moth boat idea immediately but
thought about my time in an international canoe, a longer boat that might be
more suitable. I acquired an old Ted Causey canoe from a guy in Charlottesville
and visited the Clarks up in Rhode Island for some help with canoes. Steve
passed along a usable seat and gave me plans to build a carriage. That summer I
sailed in the IC North Americans in Rhode Island in a borrowed boat.
My first thought was to widen the canoe to five feet for a rowing station and to that end I took a mold off of the Causey canoe, split the mold down the middle and added a flat wedge 0 inches wide at the bow and about 30 inches wide at the stern to achieve a five foot beam at the gunwale. I finished and faired the mold and that summer experimented with spraying gel coat and laying up carbon. I was using Nomex for a core and some Kevlar for reinforcement along the keel line. By myself I was not able to lay up the entire hull but got about 3 feet of the bow finished before it became obvious this was going to be too time consuming to finish it in time for the 2023 race.
At the 2022 Moth midwinters I picked up a used 49er from a chap in Miami. The boat was pretty complete and included an aluminum trolley. For $1000 I figured I got my money's worth, with if nothing else the hardware and the spars. My initial thought was to discard the wings and install sliding seat on the 49er hull. Some time rowing the hull without the rig and with the sliding seat carriage just sitting on board, convinced me that the rowing station and the canoe sliding carriage arrangement were not compatible. Jeff had counseled me not to discard the wings so Plan B was to use the 49er hull with the wings and a modified rig. For no-wind propulsion I thought rowing single handed would be problematic especially going up into the narrow waterways in and out of the checkpoints. I had competed in the 2022 North Carolina Challenge in a borrowed Tandem Island trimaran and was pleased with the whole setup except for the windward ability. So my thoughts turned to using the Mirage drive on the 49er hull and improving the windward ability of any boat I would sail (I was leading the NCC until the last 30 mile stretch to weather when Skinny Jeans in his Thistle beat me.)
A test sail on 49er with a drastically cut down mainsail and jib in 15 knots of wind in Willoughby Bay convinced me that the traditional slab reefing approach was not suitable on such a lightweight hull, especially single handed. So my next thought was to use the TI's roller furling mainsail on the 49er hull. To support a jib and any off-wind sails I would need to have a stayed mast forward of the rotating mast. A well with a pedaling station forward of the stayed mast would accommodate the Mirage drive. Steering would be via lines similar to a rowing shell’s coxswain arrangement. So, with these choices made I started building. I had a nice Ted van Dusen carbon mast which was about the length of the Tandem Island mast. Hobie sold parts separately that I needed: an insert for the Mirage drive, the socket and supporting beam for the rotating mast. I also had an old 1960s vintage Needlespar aluminum moth mast that I would use to support the jib halyard and spinnaker halyard. A proof of concept was launched in the fall of 2022.
Over the next few months I built lots of bits and pieces. A
big idea was to provide some leech tension with a rotating boom and a nine foot
long traveler. The required sheeting angle was much further aft than the stern
of the boat so I built some elevated tail fins to support the traveler.
The boom had its own socket and the sheeting angle was in line with the boom angle to reduce forces on the boom. A grainy picture taken from off Anna Maria Island on my 2024 EC attempt shows the basic setup. Also note the old big boat jib that was recut to act as a mainsail.
In the 2024 race the forecast was no downwind work so I left
the spinnaker ashore and didn’t even take the bowsprit. In practice sessions I
had trouble retrieving the spinnaker 100% of the time and was seriously
considering getting another sail built that could be flown from a furler.
In the 2024 race there were seven entries in the Class 4 singlehanded division and I beat all of them to the first and second checkpoints. I was the third Class 4 boat to arrive at the first checkpoint, about six hours behind Jeff and Jahn. Leaving Cape Haze I made a strategic mistake and went back out Stump inlet instead of going south to Gasparilla, losing hours in my trek to Checkpoint 2. The second night also revealed a flaw in the boat design that wasn’t apparent before. At night in light air to weather the boat was not easy to steer – it had excessive lee helm. After closing my eyes for just a bit I would open them and find myself on a broad reach. I went to shore to anchor and catch some sleep before continuing on to day three. My navigation into checkpoint two (Chocko) was trial and error. I had a hard time finding Indian Key and the channel into Chokoloskee Bay. By the time I reached the checkpoint I was ready to call it quits. Even so, I was still the first Class 4 single handed entry to arrive, and the eight overall monohull to Chocko. 2024 proved to be a rough year. None of the Class 4 singlehanded entries made it past Chocko.
I was in pretty sad shape when they took my picture!
The major problems on my 2024 attempt were: (1) not having
routing programmed into the Maptattoo, (2) having a crack in the Mirage drive
well causing water to enter into the foredeck area, and then aft into the main
hull, and not having a way of removing the water once it got below deck, and (3)
having a personal issue with shitting myself in the drysuit. The helm balance
contributed to the poor windward work, even though I was faster than most of
the monohulls.
So how about
2025???
Major upgrades prior to the start included a new gennaker on
a nifty Harken furler, an actual Hobie TI sail instead of the cut-down big boat
jib, and a sump well that could accommodate a hand bilge pump that I could
operate at the pedaling station.
Some photos on the beach prior to the top start and shortly
after launching passing behind an incoming freighter.
In this attempt I had the routing with about 20 waypoints programmed in to the Maptattoo to go south and exit Gasparilla. So even though it was pretty dark, I managed to get back out into the gulf without issue. With the sunrise the wind started to build and during this 112 mile leg I experienced something I hadn’t in quite some time. About 10 miles south of Sanibel Island I was broad reaching in about 12 knots of wind with all three sails drawing. The Garmin showed a 10 min average of about 10 knots, but there were certainly some bursts of speed closer to 14 knots. I was sitting all of the way back on the wing and just trying to keep things upright. In my younger days I probably would have been whooping it up, hoping for more wind, but with each gust I became more worried. To douse sails I need to go forward but with waves coming over the bow I need to stay aft. A line from Jethro Tull’s Locomotive Breath came to mind: “Old Charlie stole the handle, And the train it won't stop going, No way to slow down…” Worry morphed into anxiety into fear. I was alone, far offshore out of sight of everyone, with thoughts of losing control and capsizing. Earlier in the morning I did exchange reaches with a couple of guys in a Tornado Cat (what was I doing keeping pace with a Tornado off the wind?!?) Fortunately the wind eventually eased back to about 10 knots and I reached to the shoreline, continuing the leg just off the beach. I figured if I got into trouble someone might see me and take action.
Another issue came to light when I approached Cape Romano.
The chart showed shoals from the Cape to about three miles out, and with the
fetch I thought it might be too risky to sail through the chop. There was a
passage before the Cape, but I had not programmed it into the GPS. I had the
e-chart and picked my way through the inlet and out into Sullivan Bay toward Indian
Key, the entrance into Chokco. Unfortunately, the wind had again built and was
directly astern. There was probably some water below deck and the boat was hard
to steer in the puffs. A 10-minute average showed over 8 mph but I know I had
some higher bursts during this stretch, enough for me to call it a day. I
furled all of the sails and stopped for a while, just drifting and trying to
collect my wits. Eventually I calmed down and proceeded to the entrance into Chokoloskee
Bay. My timidness probably cost me 30 minutes or so, something that would prove
detrimental as the sun set.
When I got in the mangroves and more sheltered waters, I took a moment to pump out some water. This necessitated me furling the sails and walking in front of the masts to the pedaling station. As I was pumping and pedaling I noted the tides starting to ebb out and the wind starting to drop. I quickly got back aft and started sailing hoping to get through the channel into the Bay. No luck. For the next four hours I slowed to a crawl, barely making headway against the current. I drifted out of the channel once and had to hop overboard and pull the boat back into deeper water. I was tired and frustrated. It took almost five hours to make it to the checkpoint (I arrived about 11:10 pm.) Even so, I was still the 4th boat in class 4 to arrive, at 1 day, 14 hours, and 40 minutes, ahead of all of the singlehanded competitors and ahead of 13 of the double-/triple-handed monohulls. I was only 13 hours behind Jeff and Jahn. By this point in the race three of the single-handed and two of the double-handed entries had dropped out.
Once at the checkpoint I faced the dreaded mud. I anchored
and trudged 50 yards through knee-deep mud. Luckly there was a fish cleaning
station and I got a chance to rinse the dry bags and dry suit off. I was
exhausted and slept on the ground on my air mattress in the emergency sleeping
bag, not even bothering to set up the tent.
I awoke cold and ready to get back in the race at about 0515. My Maptattoo routing with about 20 waypoints got me cleanly off through Rabbit Key passage and back into the Gulf. With the sunrise the wind again began to build but now from abeam to slight ahead of the beam.
I was still moving faster than I felt comfortable with. My
ass was raw and I was sitting on my left hip on the air mattress when about
1030 in the morning a stronger than average gust hit and the boat almost capsized.
The starboard beach roller prevented the boat from going over as I quickly
released and then dosed the gennaker. I lost overboard the air mattress and one
of the dry bags so I had to turn around and retrieve them. For the rest of the
day I sailed conservatively averaging about 5 knots to Northwest Cape. The wind
had gone east by now and it would be beating to weather for the rest of the
race. Around sunset things began to fall apart.
As the third night fell, I found myself hardly making any way against the tide and knew I needed some sleep. The plan was to head to shore, anchor and wait out the tide. Here I made the first stupid mistake. The boat ran aground (as planned) and I lowered the anchor to the bottom. I’ve taught seamanship for decades and even so, I made a rookie mistake. I didn’t tie the rode off before lowering the anchor, thinking I could just lash it off as the rode tightened. Unfortunately there was a strong ebb (2kts?) and I couldn’t manage to secure the bitter end as the boat drifted strongly down current. It was either release it or get pulled overboard. I released it and now had no anchor. Shit! Plan B: sail the boat hard aground and hope it stayed put. With the board hard down I sailed until the boat was aground and quickly furled the sails and went to sleep, probably at 1900. Five and a half hours later I woke (0030) and found the boat had drifted a few miles down current. So, I started sailing again, trying to recover lost ground. It took me four hours to finally make the entrance channel into Flamingo. Some folks got my picture arriving.
These pics show the pedaling arrangement with the pump
between my legs. I should have spent more time pumping and less pedaling but I
was eager to get off the boat.
Once ashore (I arrived at 2 days, 22 hours, 11 minutes) I got out of the boat and got some coffee and made a head call. One of my objectives was to break Jarhead’s class 4 singlehanded record of 2 days 23 hours and 45 minutes. Obviously, that was beyond reach (but if I had gotten to Flamingo before the wind shifted, who knows?) As it was, even with the night’s fiasco I was the eight class 4 boat into the checkpoint and still the first single-hander.
I should have just stopped and pumped the boat out. I
thought if I could get close enough to the shore I would be out of the waves
and could pedal and pump. But each wave over the bow exasperated the leaking.
Eventually the boat just stopped responding to the rudder. I couldn’t even
tack, having to gybe around to change tacks. Foolishly I opened one of the hatches
and started bailing with a Clorox bottle bailer. Water was coming in as fast as
I bailed it out. A slight gust rolled the boat over. I righted it, scrambled
aboard and tried to furl the sails, The gennaker sheets had come uncleated and
fouled the jib as I was furling it. The boat rolled again. I had to swim to the
masthead and cut the gennaker halyard and gather the sail onto the foredeck.
During one of the capsizes the pump bailer came loose from its mount and went
overboard. In the swimming and reboarding I found my legs about 20 pounds
heavier. The relief flap on the dry suit was not completely closed and the
drysuit was flooded. I took off the drysuit (I had a nice fleece and insulated
long johns so wasn’t cold.) But I was now in extremis. The boat was upright but
completely swamped. I was kneeling in about 6 inches of water and realized I
needed to “pull the ripcord.” I first tried to get the flares and radio from
the drybags. I couldn’t find them and even though this wasn’t technically a “MAYDAY”
situation (would anyone have responded if I could transmit a PAN-PAN-PAN
message?) at 0200 I initiated an SOS using the PLB, the Garmin InReach, and the
Spot. The phone was dead, failing to secure it in its own drybag. It was 1 hour
and 15 minutes before the Coast Guard arrived. They picked me off the boat,
left it adrift (no anchor, remember) and hustled me back to the Islamorada CG
station (about a 40-minute ride.) On the way they called Susan and she was
waiting when I arrived. We were back at Key Largo by 0400. I was completely
knackered, but alive.
The boat stranded on a flat and was sighted by Mark Cockerham on Thursday and we successfully retrieved it on Friday morning.
A screengrab from a video taken by Mark. The video is posted on the Watertribe Facebook page. We waded out onto
the flat and pumped out as much water as we could with a Rule 2000 pump attached to a 12 v battery. Once mostly empty we dragged it off the flat, I removed the Mirage drive and prepared for the tow. Once under tow on a plane I
pulled the stern plug to get the boat almost completely empty.
( (1) The
49er is a well-designed and balanced boat. The large aft raked mainsail is countered
by a large daggerboard and rudder (and two men on trapezes). By using a smaller
mainsail with no rake I threw off the balance and had a resulting lee helm. If
my centerboard and rudder were raised a little in shallow water or if the main
was partially furled, the phenomenon was exasperated. Probably not too much an
issue when broad reaching, but was definitely felt when going to weather.
Lesson: building a boat to specs is one thing; trying to build a boat/rig
without consideration of forces involved is something else altogether. My next
EC attempt will be in a well- designed boat (I’m thinking of a Core Sound 17
Mk3.)
(3 (3) Long distance single handed sailing is hard. Physical needs are paramount. Comfort while at the helm and the ability to get some sleep or to relieve oneself are not niceties but are necessities. Without these attributes extreme fatigue and poor decision making are guaranteed to follow. A good boat should be able to use a tiller tamer or an auto pilot for short stretches. A functional GPS routing system is needed. I was pleased with the Maptattoo. The only issue was leaving Flamingo with it only being 25% charged.
(4 (4) Practice all communication methods in the dark.
I had a hard time knowing how deploy the SOS measures I used when I couldn’t
clearly see the devices.
(5 (5) Sportboats are not for old men with three
replacement joints!
Thanks for reading.
