Louisiades - Cairns… or maybe not!

Frequent friends

It was early afternoon on 10th May as we pressed into the steady ocean swell in the passage past the Duchateau Islands anchorage off Pana Bobai Ana Island.

We saw two cruising yachts, our first in many days, relaxing at anchor we assumed after their trip from the south. We learned later that Hans, the skipper of one of them had been trying to call us as we passed to discuss the weather he’d experienced but we’d got so used to being alone that the radio was off and we missed the chance.

The expected SE’ly winds were fresh and occasionally gusty to over 20kts from squalls moving in from the east as we headed out to sea. With a single reef and reduced Genoa we held good speed and course through a moderate 3m swell. By late afternoon the Louisiades were almost 20 miles behind us and we were being accompanied by a large pod of dolphins. Things were going well and the watches were getting themselves organized for the night shifts to come.

Then there was possibly a slight thump and the boat abruptly rounded up and continued beyond windward to a heave-to position lying uncomfortably across the swell. Moving the helm had no effect even though the twin wheel moved in unison with the inputs.

We dropped all sail and started the engine but the boat was still unresponsive and remained in its athwart swell position. An inspection into the transom compartment showed that the steering gear was attached and correctly moving there so we decided to put a crewman into the water for a look. This was not a popular assignment in the circumstances but with a lifejacket and security tether the job was done.

All that remained of the rudder below the hull was its internal steel skeleton; not much good for steering the boat anymore. Of course, it was now getting dark and beginning to rain!

We assessed the situation. Apart from the uncomfortable motion of the rudderless boat in the prevailing seas, the vessel was otherwise secure, we were in very deep water with reasonable sea room from both the reefs behind us and the shipping lane 10 miles to the west. However, we were being blown towards them.

The ability to advise people of our predicament with the satphone was a comfort (we spoke with the Australian coastguard to let them know of our problems) but with 500 miles of the Coral Sea between us and Cairns, and Alotau over 120nm to the west, it was clear we would have to recover the situation ourselves.

We resolved to explore ways of steering the boat and in the meantime hold offshore until the morning when, assuming we could regain some control, we would attempt to return through the reef passage to the nearest anchorage at the Duchateau’s, where we’d seen the other yachts. We experimented with various forms of makeshift steering systems including a spinnaker pole and board ‘oar’. Without a secure pivot point this proved very difficult to control and likely to damage the boat further or injure someone with the loads placed upon it in the seas.

The 'drogue' in action

We eventually found that a makeshift drogue affair, trailing a long weighted (with our spare anchor) line from a bridle hitched to both Genoa winches would permit us to hold a course at around 2kts under engine with an acceptable workload on the crew who, despite generally feeling tired, seasick and apprehensive, were working hard to keep things together and support each other.

Jeremy was down below handling comms and navigation, while Chris and Roger did a great job watching over us – throughout the night they made sure that the small but critical things like being clipped on, food, hot drinks and getting some rest weren’t overlooked in our efforts to control the ship.

We set a northerly course, timing our arrival at the passage for first light. However, the reef passage was affected by steep following swells. This made holding a steady course between the lines of surf breaking on the reefs to either side tricky, but with a combination of simultaneous drogue adjustments, remaining helm and occasional amounts of Genoa we got through into the shallow water of the anchorage and dropped the hook.

Good job team! We were now anchored off a deserted island in the middle of somewhere the Lonely Planet doesn't cover and with no rudder.

I called my wife on the satphone and told her I didn't think I’d be home in time for our wedding anniversary next week!

Steve.