The First Mate's view on our Steering Failure

Day 22 : Ascension to Azores

Friday April 8th 2022

[Pete] It’s 36 hours since we implemented our temporary repair on our broken steering, and so far, so good.

We have a period of light winds for the next day or so, and we’re going to take the opportunity to take the joint apart again and closely inspect how well our fabricated ram connector has stood up to the challenge.

The final 800 miles or so to the Azores promises some more challenging conditions again, so not only will our fix be put under greater strain, but if it was to fail, it will be tougher conditions in which to fabricate a replacement.

I’m wondering whether we ought to use the time we have today or tomorrow while things are calm to prepare another replacement bolt, so that if the worst were to happen, we could always just “swap and go”. As I write that, it seems like an eminently sensible idea, but then I contemplate digging out all the right tools and bits and pieces, and if I’m honest, angle grinding and drilling stainless steel on a deck that’s going up and down isn’t my idea of a bunch of fun, so I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t think of at least 5 better ways to spend the day.

Plus, first time around we had the adrenaline of knowing we HAD to find a solution, or we’d be drifting forever. This time around, it will just be a case of “well, we probably won’t need this, but we should do it “just in case”. Not quite the same impetus, really.

Anyway, it starts with having a good look at the part we’ve already made to see if there’s any signs of wear, bending, cracks etc. If there’s any hint of damage whatsoever, then it will be a no-brainer to get to work.

In the meantime, Jen took the opportunity yesterday to write up her thoughts and feelings about the preceding day’s events, and when I read it, I thought the contrast with how I’d described things was really interesting.

There’s lots of overlap, of course, but where I was off on one of my “when I was a lad” rambling stories from the past to draw parallels, Jen was straight into the emotion of the experience, and I thought it made for a fun and interesting comparison.

So here it is - Enjoy:

When things go seriously wrong - by Jen

Our steering has failed, we have zero steerage. The chartplotter shows an alarm message - no rudder! It’s 10.30am and the conditions are: winds 24kts and seas 2-3m. Pete and I were chatting in the cockpit, when it happened, so we were able to quickly respond and get Steely settled (genoa away, mizzen sheeted in) and then we went down below and ripped the bed apart (our rudder and steering column are under our bed) to find the issue.

It’s bad, it’s real bad. A specialist piece holding our steering arm on to the rudder has completely sheared. (Ok, so the rudder was still there but our steering wheel is completely disconnected to it.)

My immediate thought was (insert multiple swear words) my second thought was, I am going to cry and have a meltdown. But I looked at Pete and thought “that won’t help” and right then we needed to work together, so I parked my meltdown and told myself you can cry when it is fixed.

(FYI - for non sailors some context: complete steering loss can be very serious, and is actually one of the more common reasons people have to abandon ship, after sinking and rig failure. We do have other alternatives- emergency steering using a tiller on to the rudder stock, our very flaky back up auto pilot which actually controls steering directly via the rudder stock (when it works) and so on. So we weren’t in imminent danger, but this was still pretty high up there on the list of worst nightmare situations at sea.)

Six hours and many prototypes later we had a temporary solution (it included, a bolt from a spare seacock, a drilled out socket, plumbing sleeves, a cut down closed spanner head, multiple washers and two nuts.) We watched the Frankenstein fix for an hour. We were not happy. It was moving too much under the huge forces that our ‘barn door’ rudder produces.

We looked for ways to improve our solution, it was moving laterally, and we worried that it would change the shape of the hole that we are bolting through and make any other temporary and subsequent permanent fixes inoperable. We found a way to improve it. It was by now 6.30pm and the fix involved pulling out all our tools again and drilling out another socket to act as a secondary bush. I still hadn’t had my scheduled post fix meltdown. Both Pete and I were running on adrenaline but we were exhausted after unfortunately sleepless nights the night before (Steely was rocking and rolling lots in the high winds and waves.) It is day 21 on passage and we have about 12 days to go.

We were literally in the middle of the ocean, no land for 600 miles. No ships nearby. No help. Just us. Pete and I make a good team though, we brainstorm well together, riffing off each others ideas to come up with some pretty good solutions. And this one was a doozy that required all our creative thinking. I am really proud of both our input.

I did end up having my scheduled melt down at about 9.45pm that night after we concluded we couldn’t do any better than what we had implemented. I felt better for my cry, and after some delayed dinner, I needed sleep. We negotiated a new watch schedule so that we both get some sleep soon. Pete gentlemanly offered for me to sleep first, even though he missed his entire off watch sleep, we were part way through my normal off watch sleep. I took the offer, and lay down on the couch. Still wired though, so sleep took a while to come but eventually I drifted off.

I wake at 1.30am to relieve Pete. He says through bleary eyes and an exhausted body that the fix is holding up so far and Steely is sailing well. Five minutes later he is on the couch and snoring. I must be still be in a semi state of shock/disbelief as I don’t think too much about the fragile Frankenstein fix but rather just ‘do’ my watch - look out for squalls, other boats and trim the sails as required.

But today (the next day) as I write this I am a ball of stress, and my mind is constantly thinking of other unintended things that may go wrong as a consequence of our fix and ways that we can overcome those issues. I guess good pre-planning but hard on my mental state, I feel very teary. I guess each day will get easier as this becomes our new normal but right now, it’s hard.

____

Day 22 Statistics:

Time on passage so far: 21 days, 21 hours
Distance covered in last 24 hours: 134 nm
Average Speed in last 24 hours: 5.6 knots

Official Length of intended Route when we set out: 3,480 nm
Current Projected Distance to Go according to chart plotter: 1,066 nm
Distance Sailed so Far: 2,565 nm
Total Projected Distance of Route: (2,565 + 1,066): 3,631 nm
Change in total projected distance in last 24 hours: +4 miles

Projected Days to go until Azores: 9
Number of slices of bread left on board: 12
Level of concern about impending bread shortage – Astronomical
Likelihood of Pete persuading Jen to make some kind of “pan bread" that she’s mentioned she has a recipe for, as a convenient way of taking her mind off of any steering failure concerns: 43.8 %