The Rudder Snapped at Sea!

After our initial launch and sea trials in rather light winds, I was left eager to get out on the ocean again. For a little longer this time. I gave Nathan a call and he was up for it. It was quite windy but it was off the land, about 25 knot gusts, and the tide was mid ebb. Normally this is a no-go in a dinghy, although the sea was flat and we planned to be out until low water. Entering the harbour on a full ebb is a little nerve-racking, as the water flowing through the south wall creates an awful lot of turbulence, with about 5 knots of tide at times. I was brought up not to and I should know better. But we were in a “yacht” with an engine!! And Nathan was up for it.

The rudder

If you read my post ‘Lockdown Project’ then you will know the construction of the rudder. It is plywood with a couple of coats of epoxy and varnish. Looked real nice and seemed strong.

Anyway, we called for clearance and we cast off. The plan was to have a reach down to Dunwich or Sizewell and back, with just a bit of sail up. Nothing untoward about that really. As we exited the harbour we headed into the wind and hoisted the main with 2 reefs in. We then unfurled the genoa all the way and we started sailing south at a decent speed, but not overpowered. A gust came and the boat heeled, and I pulled the tiller towards me a little, just to keep heading straight. Then all of a sudden the steering just went light and Elise immediately tacked. I’m a quick thinker on a small boat, so I was trying to swap sides, balance the boat a bit, and ease some sails.

The boat would tack, pick up speed then tack again, then pick up speed and then gybe, then tack, then lunge back round into another tack. We were out of control.

I don’t recall what Nathan was doing at the time or what was going through his mind. But when I asked Nathan afterwards, he said he wondered what the hell had happened, then saw the rudder was being towed behind us. It was still attached by the uphaul used to raise it. We both burst into life: Nathan furled the genoa and I released the main halyard and pulled the main down, throwing it down the hatch.

Drifting Towards the Bank

By this time we had drifted across the harbour entrance and were now in all of the tide that was being expelled out of the river and flowing over the sand bank north of the entrance. I started the outboard motor but that was even worse: we’d start to go forwards, then we’d do a sharp turn lunging round, then forwards again and lunge round the other way. It wasn’t looking good and the boat was still lunging around, pivoting on the keel. The first thing that came to my mind was chuck the anchor out. I crawled up to the bow, managed to get the anchor out of the locker, double-checked it was tied on and lobbed it over the side. OK, now we’d stopped heading towards the sand bank, but we were still swinging around uncontrollably. We didn’t have a drogue, so we tied a bucket to the stern and chucked that in. We were finally stable enough. Finally we could take a deep breath. Both of us had really dry mouths and were off our heads on adrenaline. We had some water and considered our options.

Now what do we do!

I guess we had options: an ideal way to deal with it, a last-resort way and a middle-of-the-road way. But given the situation we weren’t really able to think properly.

The ideal scenario completely went over our heads. I’ll let you know what that was in a bit. The last thing I wanted to do was call the lifeboat out. So I called my brother and explained the situation. He said “stay there, I’ll call you back”. I thought, where am I going to go!!!

He called me back and told me that my dad was coming out to get us in the works boat, a decommissioned Atlantic 21 lifeboat. He was on his lunch break so he grabbed a couple of guys and came out to us. Meanwhile I rigged up a bridle and sat tight, while we were still swinging all over the place.

The Tow Home

A short while later I saw the rescue team pop out of the harbour and head over. They threw me a line and I attached it to the bridle that was made off on the port and starboard cleats on the bow. I then ran another line from the cleats to the sheet winches and cranked on the winches in case the cleats got ripped out.

I retrieved the drogue and pulled the anchor as we began to be towed back to the harbour. It was clear it was going to be a horrendous journey back. Elise is an absolute pig without a rudder; she just wants to go one way or the other. Not straight. Basically it’s the keel that’s steering the boat: as soon as it starts to veer one way, the keel is driving it in that direction. So when the towline snatched the nose back the other way, off we go in the other direction. Dodgy as hell!

I’ve snapped rudders before in exactly the same spot, but in dinghies. Part of a dinghy instructor course requirement is to sail a boat without a rudder. Which is fine in the right conditions and in the right boat. Not happening today!

So, we are being towed back to the harbour and we are fully maxing out the tow line, lunging to port then shooting back to starboard, and Nathan and I are swapping sides each time to keep the boat flat. As we got closer the tow was shortened and we continued our rough ride as we punched the ebb into the narrow harbour entrance.

So imagine this: in order for us not to get smashed into the harbour wall, Greg has to pre-empt which way we are going to lunge, then place the RIB on the opposite side of the river. When the tow line snatches and we start heading the other way, Greg has to move to the opposite side of the river. We were metres from the wall each time. Certainly if Greg wasn’t compensating for our zig-zagging we would have been goners. Nathan and I were swapping sides of Elise, as she was heeling right over. Eventually, once we got past the knuckle where the river widens, we pulled up to the harbour wall where the fishing boats berth, and we arranged ourselves to be towed alongside. This wasn’t an option up until now but is by far the best technique if possible. It allows manoeuvrability. We cast off and were escorted back to our mooring, where we moored up.

What did we learn?

Firstly, plywood piece of crap rudder. Upon inspection you could see it was just crappy ply, certainly not marine ply. I’d never trust a ply rudder again, and anyone I see who has one, I tell them of this experience.

Secondly, we probably shouldn’t have gone out that day. I know it takes a while to build up trust. It was too soon. Always admit your mistakes.

Thirdly, Nathan is my best mate.

Fourthly, the simple method to deal with this situation was to unbolt the remaining rudder head in the stock, with a 17mm spanner that I had onboard especially, and bolt the broken-off bit into the stock. It snapped level with the bottom of the stock. It would have done the job.

Fifthly, make sure you have a Mayday or Pan-Pan card by your radio, ready to transmit a distress call.

Lastly, Elise is a tough boat and I needed a new rudder. How on earth was I going to get a new rudder! Well, I’ll tell you in another post.

Completely Boated Out

I’m glad it was with Nathan and not Libby! But one thing is absolutely certain for me after this day… I am completely boated out after that experience. I now have a rudder complex and I can honestly say it was one of the most horrendous experiences I’ve had.

What would you have done?

Thanks for reading about this horrendous experience. I’ve since got a new awesome rudder and have measures in place for the future. I learned a lot this day. And still there is plenty more I could have done.

If you would like to read about making a new rudder then click here.

Leave a comment with what you would do! Or send me a message if you’ve had a similar experience. For me though, if I didn’t have this experience, I wouldn’t be as wise as I am now!

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