One from the history books

Time's a funny thing. In August of 1979, I was a week past my 18th birthday, and while I had an ex-sailor as a father, I harboured no ambitions I can recall (pun intended) to set off to sea and, if not to challenge the elements, to accommodate them without killing myself or the family I had yet to acquire.

Last year, I met John Rousmaniere, an American sailor with a French name known for sailing in the notorious 1979 Fastnet race that killed 15 yachtsmen, and for writing the widely consulted Annapolis Book of Seamanship, now in its 3rd edition.

I met Rousmaniere at a 2010 Safety at Sea seminar I wanted to take to consolidate my safety knowledge after having a testing, if educational, heavy weather delivery in 2009 in the Atlantic. I found him a pretty sober and down-to-earth speaker, who freely admitted that after a lifetime of sailing, he didn't have all the answers, but the answers he did have might prove broadly useful.

I found myself thinking that while reading his now-"classic" work, Fastnet, Force 10. Rousmaniere sailed in that race, but on a relatively large boat and in somewhat less fierce conditions than who was faced by the IOR-design rule 35 footers. His was a challenging race, but neither a fatal one, nor one from which he required rescue in appalling, washing-machine conditions of a full gale (50-60 knots or more) coming in hard and fast over shoaling waters inbetween Ireland and Britain, an area known as the Western Approaches.

For those not familar with the Fastnet race, it is a biannual, roughly 600 mile beat (usually) from the more southerly parts of England to a designed rock off the southwest coast of Ireland and back. While not particularly long in terms of ocean racing, it has been noted as challenging and very competitive, and has a certain prestige that has attracted sailors from the pro ranks down to the weekender. Several qualifying races are required, but in 1979, the level of aptitude could charitably be described as variable, as were the presence of two-way radios and other safety gear aboard. As Rousmaniere notes, a certain gung-ho attitude prevailed, and valour sometimes trumped discretion once the story of the explosive and tight low-pressure system that dealt so much death in the Celtic Sea became known.

Earlier, I referred to Fastnet, Force 10 as a "classic". I use quotes not only because John Rousmaniere himself is neither dead nor, to my knowledge, has ceased to sail, but rather because so many other important works of sailing in the last 30 years refer to or quote from, this book. It is important and relevant because it relates a specific story (the tragedy falling on a crowded race of yachts small and large from random and indifferent Nature) to a general human tendency to sometime choose to persist in an action in the face of increasing danger. While Rousmaniere relates some tales of pure bad luck, in which experienced sailors were killed largely not via their sensible and prudent actions, but through hard chance, he also points out situations in which staying with a half-sunken boat may have been the wiser course than was launching a life raft (some of which proved inadequate or faulty) into a very confused sea. Given the attrition rates of certain boat designs (the IOR rule was prevalent at the time, with its flat bottoms and pinched ends and skegless rudders), the rules were altered to beef up certain classes, although it remains unclear if any boat could have continued in one piece in some of the extreme conditions this Fastnet race encountered.

Nonetheless, and unlike some at the time who didn't sail the race, Rousmaniere does not judge, because he did not face the very stark choices before some of the crews that found themselves half-awash, dismasted and with injured crew, watching breaking seas approach from several directions. (Sincerely, this book, like many of its similar "boat race goes bad" progeny, made me quite tense at times, but I hope to learn from the experience!).

Speaking of progeny, Fastnet, Force 10 is the granddaddy of some similar works, such as A Voyage for Madmen, the story of the 1968 solo round-the-world boat race, and Fatal Storm, about the 1998 Sydney-Hobart race, another legendarily rough passage about the same distance as the Fastnet. I have also read, and alternated enjoyment with shuddering, the very good Rescue in the Pacific, about the 1994 "Queen's Birthday Storm", a well-described if poorly predicted "weather bomb" that fatally smacked participants in a New Zealand to Fiji ocean race.

Rousmaniere was arguably the start of the modern post-race "bad storm" narrative, and his book still holds up. I am just surprised it took me this long to read it. And lest you think me a touch morbid in having read so many tragedy-at-sea stories, I must convey that I learn a great deal about everyday sailing from these books, and how much of survival at sea is less to do with the boat and the gear (although both in failure mode can be very challenging indeed), but with experience, mental attitude and flexibility. Yacht racing is a wonderful sport that few have the drive, skill and sometimes deep pockets to pursue. It attracts a "type", frequently a very driven, self-actualized personality that enjoys a bit of conquering now and then, particularly if it's the elements that need to be shown who's boss.

It goes without saying that "the elements" will provide an unshriven burial at sea at unpredictable intervals to even the most confident Master of the Universe and that turning back or heaving to or even running back to England might have been the prudent choice. Many did, and unfortunately, we barely hear from them, the "retirees", some of whom might have provided insight as to at what point you decide to let the sea have this round. Still, an exciting and relevant story I was glad to read.