Sail - July 2018

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stem i tting, making it impossible to remove the clevis pin holding

it there so that we could not separate that piece of rigging from the

boat. h ere was a round of brainstorming and while cutting it seemed

like a decent option, I think we decided we wanted to try to avoid

that. At some point we i gured that if we could get the foil back up in

to a more “anatomically correct” position we might be able to release

some of the pressure on the stem i tting and bang out the clevis pin.”

Yes. From there we were able to tap-tap-tap free the big clevis pin hold-

ing the gear to the foredeck. It didn’t even go overboard! h at free, it was

a matter of minutes for my dad to fold the forestay over itself and for the

two of us to secure that length of clumsy cable against the port rail.

h en we raised the deeply reefed mainsail, made ready to hank

the tiny storm jib to our new forestay if the diesel gave us trouble

and alerted Bermuda Radio. Soon a frigatebird joined us, then

three dolphins. I looked with admiration at the wildlife going by,

all the while sneaking wary glances at our mast. We eventually

motored through St. George’s Town Cut in the dark.

h e next morning as Nellie lay alongside St. George’s town quay,

we were stunned to i nd that the stemball i tting itself had failed.

h at’s a chunk of stainless steel, 5/8in in diameter! It connects the

forestay to the masthead and looks like an oversize golf-tee. Appar-

ently metal fatigue had plucked the head the way you’d pluck a daisy

in the summertime. Happily, Steve at Ocean Sails made my prob-

lems his and ordered new extrusions, a new stemball, assembled a

replacement forestay and had me on my way back to New England

with a fresh crew a mere 10 days at er the morning of my rig failure.

Still, while awaiting parts and stowing gear I had ample time to

ponder the forestay and come to some conclusions regarding Nellie’s

future. First and foremost, I decided when surprises happen, don’t

overreact. Practice for rigging failures just like you do man over-

board or through-hull leaks. Keep your life jacket handy for emer-

gencies. And most of all, get out of the messes you get into with at

least as many friends as got you there. s

WHAT WE LEARNED

1. We overtaxed the rig thanks to an aggressive schedule

imposed by fl ight plans and vacation days. As someone smart

once said, “the most dangerous object aboard your boat is a

calendar.” I should have asked the excellent riggers at Handy

Boat back in Maine to replace all the standing rigging before

our passage, but I satisfi ed myself with replacing two frayed

shrouds and best wishes.

2. Bad luck is sometimes good luck. As much as we felt down-

cast by losing the forestay, it could have happened in 30-knot

gusts or in the tumultuous Gulf Stream. Or, worse, it could

have snapped on the way back with my nephews aboard and

a big sea ready to pitch the mast overboard and crack the hull

like an egg. That would be the time for hacksaws!

3. Finally, an adventure is an ef ort whose outcome is uncer-

tain. This uncertain moment brought our crew together into

an agile and ef ective unit. Derek refl ects: “In hindsight, I think

we were lucky.... But you also make your luck. Solid boat with

a big section, weather and wind on our side, and we made a

habit of never being over canvassed. The crew reactions were

outstanding and everyone provided valuable input towards

solutions throughout the process.”