Suddenly Overboard (7 page)

While any accidental death is tragic, Olivia's seems particularly so. She was young and had done nothing wrong. It seemed as randomly cruel and pointless as a lightning strike—worse, even, as she would have sought safe harbor if lightning had threatened
.

Her story was prominent in the news and sailing media for a long time. Inevitably, discussion focused on a range of issues, including equipment, training, age, the responsibilities of sailing schools, safety procedures, and even the nature of risk in any sport. Some speculated that inexperience may have contributed to the accidental jibe or the problem with the trapeze equipment, or possibly that fear caused Olivia to freeze when the problem arose. U.S. Sailing, the governing body for organized racing in the United States, conducted an independent review and issued a lengthy, thoughtful report. It found no fault by anyone involved, and while it made a series of general recommendations for the sport of sailing, it remains far from clear whether this tragedy could have been avoided if anything had been done differently
.

The Fastnet! What sailor of age doesn't know of the Fastnet Race? What sailor who races, who reads, or who simply was in tune with the world in 1979 doesn't remember the world's worst sailing
disaster and the largest peacetime water-rescue operation? That year, with over 300 boats participating, a severe storm with unexpected hurricane-force winds swept in and decimated the fleet. Fewer than 90 boats finished the race. Almost 200 quit the race to seek shelter. Two dozen boats were caught in the worst of it and were sunk, crippled, or abandoned. Well over 100 sailors were rescued in an effort spearheaded by the Royal Navy and involving literally thousands of personnel. Fifteen sailors died.

The race runs over 600 nautical miles on the offshore waters off England and Ireland. It has generally been held every 2 years since 1925 and is the culminating event for many professional racers. Several books have been written about it and the 1979 race. In 1985 another dramatic rescue was needed when the keel of a maxi yacht broke off and the boat turtled, trapping six crew for a time under the inverted hull.

The reputation of the Fastnet, then, is inevitably on the minds of all sailors entering the race. It's something you can't help but think about, no matter your experience and background. Regardless of your level of professionalism, you prepare for the Fastnet, and you make sure your boat and equipment—and crew—are all ready for what may come.

So it was that in 2011 the skipper of
Rambler 100
and his 20 crew prepared well for the August race. All were highly experienced, several had sailed in America's Cup races, and just weeks before they had sailed
Rambler
across the Atlantic, winning another race in record time. Compared to the conditions they had experienced then, given the forecast for this Fastnet, some of them might even have viewed this race as a piece of cake. They had a great boat, a great crew, and every expectation of another win.

At 100 feet overall, the super-maxi
Rambler
, one of the world's fastest monohull sailboats, had a high-tech contemporary design, including movable water ballast and a canting keel to balance a huge sail plan.
Canting
means that the long, thin keel with a weighted bulb on the bottom does not simply hang straight down off the bottom of the hull but can be angled up on the windward
side to prevent the boat being blown over. Almost half the boat's total weight of over 70,000 pounds was condensed into the bulb at the bottom of the keel, hanging some 18 feet underwater.

Nothing unusual happened in the first part of the race. In fact, winds in the low 20s made it almost relaxing compared to conditions they'd experienced before. At five o'clock in the afternoon when they rounded Fastnet Rock, four crew were off watch below. Several others relaxed on deck while the on-watch crew did their job to maximize boat speed. Waves were 5 to 6 feet, and
Rambler
launched off the bigger ones and pounded along after a turn upwind.

Then the crew below heard a terrible crack and grind as the keel broke off when
Rambler
came off a wave. With all the sound and fury on deck, most of the crew there didn't realize what had happened until
Rambler
started going over.

There was a brief pause when the mast and sails hit the water, then the rolling continued. In less than a minute
Rambler
had turned turtle, floating upside down, the broken keel stub pointing skyward as the hull pitched in the waves.

A few of the crew managed to climb over the rail and onto the bottom of the hull as it rolled. All the rest were in the water, including the four who had been below and who had been unable to grab life jackets in the chaos of the cabin rotating 180 degrees before struggling out of the cabin and swimming free of the tangle of underwater rigging and lines.

Luckily no one was caught in the rigging or otherwise pinned under the boat.

The auto-inflate function of the crews' inflatable PFDs had been disabled to prevent buoyancy from trapping them under the boat. This function is designed to protect a sailor who is knocked unconscious and is thus unable to pull the cord manually for inflation. Fortunately all 21 sailors were conscious and those wearing them were able to inflate their PFDs. Later, when giving their recommendations based on this experience, the crew urged not using auto-inflate PFDs. While this does not seem a controversial
issue in this instance, there have been other emergencies in which unconscious sailors were saved by their auto-inflating PFDs.

Rambler
's crew on its inverted hull awaiting rescue. (Photo copyright RNLI)

Similarly, perhaps in part because they were not in storm conditions and thus not at particular risk of being washed or thrown overboard, none of the crew was clipped on to the boat with a tether. In this case, again, this reduced the risk of being caught under the boat and unable to get free quickly. But again, many other sailors in other emergencies have been saved by their use of a harness and tether to keep them on the boat.

Immediately after the capsize, the crew began climbing up out of the water onto the inverted hull, assisted by those who had managed to stay on the boat. As professional sailors, many of whom in the past had raced dinghies and were experienced with capsizes,
they maintained a sense of calm that might have surprised most recreational sailors in such circumstances.

Within minutes, 16 crew were out of the cold water on the relative safety of the hull. Five, including the skipper, were missing. The others quickly conferred and were fairly certain none of the missing was trapped below; someone remembered seeing each of the missing crew free in the water. Hopefully they were all okay and had just drifted away from the boat and would be found by the rescuers they assumed would arrive soon since the crew on the hull had already activated the signals of the two PLBs they had with them.

Here again, some would say they were fortunate. Each of the 21 crew had a PLB, but because conditions had not been viewed as risky, only two crew had their PLBs on them.

Since they had capsized on the race course, they hoped another boat would pass close enough to see them. If only they'd been able to grab a handheld VHF radio! One crew had been able to make a quick Mayday call on a handheld VHF as the boat rolled, but he'd lost it when swimming clear after the capsize. He'd had no chance to relay their position, and the radio was not DSC equipped, which would have automatically provided their GPS coordinates to other boats in the area.

The boat's satellite phone, as well, was somewhere down below. As was the EPIRB. And the life rafts were unreachable if needed.

Although visibility was poor, they soon saw another sailboat passing. The crew on the inverted hull shouted, waved their arms and strobe lights, and blew the whistles attached to their PFDs but the boat raced past.

Another was sighted and it too passed. In the first hour they watched helplessly as four boats sailed past without hearing or seeing them perched on the hull floating low in the water.

After 2 hours, some of the crew must have been wondering if the PLBs were working. Their signals should have been received and rescue boats should have arrived by now. Although they were wet and cold in the wind, their thoughts were for the five crew
still out there in the water. The water temperature was in the high 50s (°F), cold enough for hypothermia to set in.

Then a lifeboat arrived. The crew on the hull sent it off to look for those missing in the water, but it soon returned, saying other rescue boats were searching for them now and a radio call had gone out to all boats to assist. The 16 were ferried over to the lifeboat.

Forty-five minutes later, the five crew were found a short distance away. They had linked arms and huddled together to preserve body heat. Only one experienced hypothermia severe enough to require being airlifted to a hospital, and she was released later in good condition.

Everyone was safe. Except for a short delay resulting from some confusion about the PLB signals, the rescue effort had gone very well.

Even in a story that ends well, however, there is speculation about what might have happened and what can be done to help ensure the next story ends as well; that is, to leave nothing to chance or luck. Recommendations in the U.S. Sailing Safety at Sea Review emphasized that crew should always have a PLB- or DSC-equipped handheld VHF on their person as well as a bright strobe light or laser flare, and they should ensure that other boat safety equipment is always accessible in any emergency
.

Or in a phrase, even in calm conditions, think about “what if” scenarios and be prepared
.

“For God's sake, girl!”

Her voice sounded weird in the dark, almost like someone else speaking. She almost spun around in the pitch black to see who else was there. She was losing it. “What, already?” She shouted this time, and now heard how her chattering teeth distorted her voice.

“Goddamn, it's cold!”

There, that was better. She almost grinned in the dark, but a wave splashed in her mouth and she had to spit it out. She stopped treading for a moment then and felt her body slip lower in the water. She was so cold.

She barely felt her muscles now, but knew they were still moving because she wasn't sinking. Yet. “Go, girl!”

Part of her couldn't believe she was talking to herself, shouting actually, like some sort of crazed cheerleader.

And she still couldn't believe what had happened and that now she was all alone in the cold, dark water some 50 nautical miles off Cornwall, England. The boat was long gone. It had been hours—at least that's what it felt like.

She didn't even have a life jacket to keep her floating until the cold killed her. “Damn you!” she shouted again. Shouting helped hold off the terror, if only for a few seconds.

“Paddle, girl!” A wave splashed over her head. “You will
not
kill me like this!”

If only there were stars. Stars would give enough light to at least show the waves around her. But the sky was as dark as ink.