SAILING ADVENTURES

Heaving-to

Angel Island Cove. Photo by Scott Alumbaugh

By Scott Alumbaugh 
Published: May, 2007 

Sometimes the best part of sailing is getting off the boat, not because you’re seasick, or sick and tired of sailing, which does happen to everyone now and then, but because you’ve reached wherever it is you were heading. And, if you are the skipper and have done your job well, everyone on board is in great shape to enjoy the place you’ve brought them to. If not, you will know because they will kiss the dock and walk away as fast as their wobbly legs will take them.

It might be someplace special, this place you go ashore — maybe a small island in the Aegean, say. Or, your destination might be more mundane — like brunch at The Ramp in China Basin. But, the important thing is that you arrived there under sail. Somehow, stepping out of a sailboat transforms an experience. It is different from stepping out of a car. And you feel different for having done so.

One of my favorite memories of sailing in San Francisco Bay is a picnic I had on Angel Island. I sailed over from Berkeley with a few friends on a weekday in the spring. And as soon as we stepped ashore in Ayala Cove, I was ready to leave. The entire area swarmed with throngs of people, mostly schoolchildren. It was crowded, noisy and busy.

But, at 3PM, something wonderful happened. The last ferry of the day left the island for the short crossing to Tiburon, and everyone without a sailboat left with it. As the sound of the ferry engines faded, the quiet of the island grew. We were left alone in the Cove, save for maybe a park ranger somewhere. I don’t remember whom I sailed with that day, what we ate, or even whether the sail over was good, but I can still feel the quietude rising out of the woods and spreading across the Cove. If we had never stepped off the boat, I would have missed that experience.

Even if you don’t have a destination, and are just out for a sail around the Bay, taking a break can be a good idea. Sailing on the Bay is often rough and windy, and on the best days, can be very wet and cold. And, by the time you realize that not everyone enjoys pounding waves and sea spray as much as you do and that it’s time for a break it is usually too late. Landfall might be 30 or 40 minutes away, and there may not be enough time to dock. So what can you do? Heave-to.

Heaving-to essentially stops the boat from sailing. The boat still moves — a boat moves anytime it is not aground or tied to a dock, but you are no longer sailing it.

Sailing requires that all forces work together on the various parts of the boat (the sails, keel, and rudder) to propel the boat forward. Heaving-to pits forces in opposition to prevent the boat from moving forward. Essentially, you backwind the jib, which makes the bow of the boat point downwind. At the same time, you point the rudder away from the wind, which steers the bow upwind. The main sail is slack and the keel is stalled so the boat lacks lift, which is the force that moves it forward. With all these opposing forces, all the boat can do is drift downwind while creeping slowly forward. And all you can do is make sure there is nothing hard to drift into.

Once you heave a boat to, it’s as if you were on a bucking bronco that has decided to go to graze on some nearby grass. You can’t believe you are on the same animal, or boat, I guess. The howling wind is now a breeze. The pounding waves are gentle swells. You don’t have to yell to be heard, or risk bruising to go below. Best of all, drinks stay in cups and food stays on plates. And, like the growing quietude that day in Ayala Cove, you can feel the crew’s tension fade as they relax into the boat’s gentle motion.

I make a point of heaving-to when I sail, especially with people on board who are new to sailing. I find the lee of Angel Island a good place to take a break, letting the boat drift gently back toward east Bay. By the time we get underway again, everyone is rested, relaxed and ready to sail again.

This point — that it’s a good idea to get off the boat once in a while — is one I try to instill in new sailors. Because they are new, and because they have spent so much time working to build the skills and competence to skipper a small boat safely on the Bay, they sometimes get over-zealous… shall we say… about sailing. They will show up to charter a boat as soon as the club opens, sail hard as long as they can all day long, and return back to the dock tired and salty, but just as excited as the moment they left, which is great for them. They are used to it.

But sailing, even for those of us who love it, is an acquired taste.

Fiberglass can be molded into any shape except comfortable. Sitting in the cockpit, you are exposed to the elements, and sailing on the Bay is often rough and windy, and even on the best days, it can be very wet and cold. Sailors don’t care — especially newly certified skippers. They are drawn to the rawness of sailing and the complete departure from their normal routine in a way that only fanatics can be.

But pity the poor friend who has never sailed before, and, really, had no idea what they were getting themselves into. They are new to the discomfort of the cockpit, the cumbersome foulies they have to wear, the disorienting terms (Haul in the port sheet!) and the claustrophobia they experience once they realize there is no where to go because they are surrounded by water.

Add to that the discomfort most people feel when they feel a sailboat heel over the fist time and it’s a wonder anyone ever goes out a second time. It is unnatural for the Earth to tilt, even if the Earth is a little fiberglass boat designed to tilt. It is rational that tilting would make someone panic. New skippers forget this. In their excitement to show off their skill, to stretch their wings, they sail their hearts out.

Plus, it is counter-intuitive to sail a boat somewhere just so you can get off. And it is anachronistic to heave a boat to when you have worked so hard to learn how to sail it well. Maybe that’s why heaving-to is a skill not many sailors have. But, the best sailors know that there is more to sailing then, well, sailing. And that sometimes the best course is not to sail at all . . . at least for a little while.