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2001 Huron Doublehanded Challenge

I met Guy Hornett and Tony Hammer in July 1995 prior to the start of my first
Bayview Mackinac Race. I had started racing multihulls offshore about two
years prior and Tony had encouraged me by telephone to participate in the
Mac. The three of us struck up a fast friendship and over the last several
years I have competed in four Doublehanded Challenges with Tony as crew and
one with Guy. Guy has also crewed on my F-31RS, Stampede, in three
Chicago-Mac races. Tony and Guy met in the British Royal Navy serving aboard
Polaris submarines, Guy as a nuclear engineer and Tony as a medical officer.

Guy Hornett has packed more adventure into his 59 years than anyone I have
known. In 1972 he participated in the 2000 nm Round Britain Race aboard a
Kingfisher 26, Blue Smoke. He liked the boat so much that he entered it in
the 1972 OSTAR and completed the Trans-Atlantic solo course in 36 days, 21
hours, 26 minutes, correcting out in first place out of 55 starters. He would
subsequently complete a second OSTAR on a 42 foot trimaran, and although he
had stopped counting long ago, had logged well over 50,000 offshore miles,
yet never owned a boat. When Guy wasn’t working at his current job as a
nuclear engineer near Toronto, he was off on another sailing adventure or
teaching kids to ski, sail or play soccer. Guy’s sailing partner for the 2001
Huron Doublehanded Challenge was 42 year old Shelly Hind, from Windsor
Ontario. I did not know Shelly well, having just met her in February. She was
a regular member of the crew of Great White, the boat they would sail in the
Challenge. Shelly had been sailing since her teens, and was working hard to
build her offshore resume.

Great White was built by Larry Burden and Tony Hammer. Larry started the
catamaran project some 10 years ago and Tony purchased the partially
completed hulls and finished it over a two-year period. She was 40 feet long
with 24-foot beam and a 60-foot rotating carbon mast. All up weight was about
8000 lbs, more than originally intended. The boat was entered in the Chicago
and Port Huron to Mackinac races in July and the Challenge would serve as a
delivery race to get the boat part way to Chicago from Sarnia Ontario.

My crew for the 2001 Challenge was Bruce Carter, 52. Bruce has been a regular
member of the Stampede race team since 1998. He is enthusiastic, fearless,
tireless and a reasonable cook, as long as you can keep him away from canned
spaghetti. We were entered along with 5 other multihulls and 30 monohulls on
the Long Course, 195 nm from Sarnia Ontario to Rogers City Michigan with a
mark rounding at Goderich Ontario. 32 other monohulls were entered on the
Shore Course and the Bay City Course, also ending in Rogers City, for a total
of 68 entries. The pre-race weather forecast on Saturday June 30th called for
8 to 12 kts of wind out of the southwest with the wind clocking to the
northwest over the course of the day and later building to 15 to 25 kts. A
small craft advisory was predicted for later in the day with a chance of
afternoon thunderstorms.

The multihulls started at 11:10, the last group of Long Course boats to go.
The winds were as predicated and we set the spinnaker prior to crossing the
start line The bearing to the first mark at Goderich was approximately 30
degrees and we were sailing about 20 degrees above the rhum-line, making
about 8 to 9 kts. Within about 2 hours we had passed all of the monohulls on
our course. Gamera, skippered by Matt Scharl, and Great White were out front,
High Priority II skippered by Dave Shneider had tacked east toward the
shoreline to look for more air and we were fourth and continue our initial
course. Two G-32’s, Wild Card and Double Bullet followed. Everyone completed
radio check-in as required at 14:00. Winds remained consistent out of the
southwest and built slightly as the afternoon wore on.

At approximately 16:30 we began to hear occasional thunder to the northwest
and see signs of building thunderheads on the horizon. Winds remained
consistent out of the southwest. At 17:57 Great White radioed that they had
rounded the mark, followed about 10 minutes later by Gamera. We were still an
hour away, and had a storm cell quickly settling in, with plenty of
lightening and thunder. At 16:30 Matt Scharl radioed to the fleet that they
had been hit in the cell by a 50 kt gust front and reported sighting a
microburst in the system. In Matt’s own words:

"Just after the turning mark we were hit by a thunderstorm with a 50 knot
gust front… survived that well by feathering up a little, we saw a microburst
coming right at us approximately 50 yards in diameter, it was blasting water
15 feet in the air from the down force. Nowhere to go, when the burst hit, it
had a 60 degree windshift and auto-tacked the boat lifting the main hull free
of the water, I'm estimating 40 to 50 degrees of heal, it hovered there a
moment and rounded up, next we found ourselves going backwards at about 5
knots. I don't know what was scarier the auto-tack or the potential disaster
going backwards presented. I voted for the auto-tack, Mark (Zaranski) for the backwards."

It was a class act for Matt to warn us and you could hear the adrenaline
pouring through his veins. Shortly after his message we could see a black
rolling sausage cloud coming at us and we immediately dropped the spinnaker,
put on our foulies and began heading the boat into the wind. We were smacked
with 40 to 50 kts of wind with a 100-degree shift, combined with plenty of
lightning, thunder and rain. Almost as quickly as it hit, it was over, and as
usual the system took every lick of wind with it. There we were, 500 yards
from the mark and no air, finally rounding at 19:10, about 20 minutes after
High Priority II. Over the next 30 minutes or so the wind slowly came back
from the southwest at 10 to 15 kts and we were off again under screacher, jib
and main, reaching down the rhum-line at 10 to 15 kts. There was some radio
conversation between Great White and Gamera, Great White having made it
through the system under bare poles. This was the last time anyone would hear
from them.

Bruce proceeded to heat up one of his famous home made creations, beef stew,
and we ate well. This would be the last food I would eat and keep until 03:00
Monday morning. Our new course after the Goderich rounding was 330 degrees to
Thunder Bay Light and we were walking right down the line with the wind
remaining consistent out of the southwest. So much for the weather forecast.
At about 02:00 Sunday we had a radio check in with Gamera. Everyone except
Great White was accounted for, but not to worry, as they had been seen and
heard after the storm cell and they quite possibly could be out of radio
range by now, beam reaching being a happy state for the big cat. Shortly
after the radio check-in the wind began to die and we spent the next couple
of hours trading positions with a couple of our competitors, High Priority II
and Wild Card.

It was now between 04:00 and 04:30 and we were about 35 nm E NE of Oscoda
Michigan. I had been chasing puffs for about a half-hour. The last consistent
wind had been southwest. After a brief dead spell I began to feel a very
light freshening breeze out of the northeast, .5 kt, 1 kt, 1.5 kt, then 2.5
kt. I called Bruce up to prepare the spinnaker for a port launch. The morning
sunlight was just beginning to light the sky. Suddenly we had another
90-degree shift to the northwest combined with about a 10-degree temperature
drop. I told Bruce to stow the chute and peered to the northwest. There was
just enough light to see a wind line ripping toward us, ripples waves and
whitecaps all in one field of vision. I immediately headed the boat into the
wind. We were slammed by 35 to 40 kts of wind at 30 degrees to the bow. The
leeward ama submerged about 3 feet and I threw the tiller down hard, the boat
rounded up and we hove to. We immediately set about reefing the main and this
is where sailing with experienced people that are used to working as a team
really pays off. With a rotating mast, reefing hove-to is a piece of cake.
Just release the rotator controls, ease the mainsheet and the mast and sail
happily point into the wind, setting very steady amid the chaos. The reef was
in in less than 5 minutes. We tried to sail but were still over-powered so we
dropped the blade jib for the storm jib. While the jib was down we were being
pushed backward at about 5 kts. Unknown to us the aft port light had been
left open, which is about 1.5 ft up on the transom. Water poured in from the
stern wave and onto the cabin sole where our duffel bags were stowed, soaking
most all of our spare clothing under 8 inches of water. Fighting the effects
of hypothermia over the next 21.5 hours would become a major undertaking.

With double reefed main and storm jib and 35 to 40 kts of wind we began
beating on a heading of 258 degrees toward Oscoda. We had to feather into the
wind to hold the boat speed down to 6 to 8 kts and not turn the leeward ama
into a submarine. The seas seemed to almost instantly build to 5 feet and
then continued to increase to 10 to 12 feet (trough to top) over the next
couple of hours. Once we had the boat dialed in we set about getting into our
anti-exposure suits, putting them on over the wet tee-shirts and shorts that
we had on when the gale hit. We were reasonably warm, but wet inside. Finally
at 07:30 I took my first post-gale break and turned the helm over to Bruce. I
sat in the cockpit with him for about 10 minutes and made sure he was
comfortable with the conditions and understood how the boat had to be driven.
This became SOP at each helm change to give the new helmsman an opportunity
to shake out the cobwebs and get comfortable.

Enter problem number 2. I have been an insulin dependant diabetic for 29
years, and never been seasick. I can no longer make that claim. I had gone
below to eat some breakfast, test my blood sugar and take my morning insulin
injection. Breakfast went down, then came up (sick sailors don’t buy food,
they rent it). I had not yet taken insulin and my blood sugar tested at 179.
At a level of around 80 to 90 I start to get symptomatic (insulin reaction
from low blood sugar) and must eat. I had two emergency glucose injection
kits (Glucagon) on board and decided that if my blood sugar dropped to 150 I
would inject the first kit and we would head for safe harbor. One Glucagon
injection without insulin in my system would sustain me for at least 24
hours, if not more. For the balance of the trip I tested every two hours and
my blood sugar climbed to over 200 and stayed between 200 and 300 for the
duration of the race. I never had to inject. Bruce assumed all foredeck
duties, which he loves anyhow, in order to preserve my energy.

At about 10:30 we were about 6 miles from Oskoda. The seas had built to 12 to
14 feet and the wind was ranging from 30 to 45 kts. Everything seemed under
control so we tacked to a course of 15 degrees and continued on, leaving
Oskoda behind. We were now heading up and gradually pulling away from the
eastern shoreline of Michigan. As we continued north the sea state continued
to build. The wave period was about 7 seconds and they were breaking. It
seems like we would hit two in a row every 30 seconds or so, just as they
were breaking. 1000 gallons of water would rip down the deck, peel under the
forward lip of the slider hatch and make Niagara Falls in the companionway.
Whatever was left, about 990 gallons, would hit the helmsman in the face. The
slamming and pounding was relentless, and the helmsman had to constantly
adjust to take the waves on the nose or the fore quarter and then drive down
the backside and come up a bit so as not to drive the bows into the trough.
Over one two and a half hour period the wind ranged from 40 to 50 kts, never
dropping below 40. During that peak our speed slowed to 4.5 to 5.5 kts. It
was amazing how our reactions would switch into auto-mode on the helm, the
slamming and pounding even becoming "normal". I asked Bruce if he thought
bungie jumping could get like this.

There was some spectacular beauty in all of this. The sun had thankfully come
out about 09:00. As the winds built to 40 plus, water from the breaking waves
would go airborne and vaporize, at times surrounding us in a rainbow halo.
The appearance of the lake was surreal, something of a sailboat mogel field.

At around 14:00 on Sunday, we were passing Thunder Bay and heading toward a
point about 15 nm northeast of Middle Island, a theoretic turning point I had
put in the GPS to head to Rogers City. We decided not to start tacking toward
the finish at this point as we would have been playing along a lee shore and
with the fatigue factor we weren’t up for a bunch of tacks. As we began
moving north of the protection of the Lower Peninsula we now had about 70
miles of fetch staring at us and the wave heights built to about 18 feet, and
stayed that way for the next 9 hours. We elected to maintain our heading of
15 degrees until we could lay Rogers City on one tack. That course took us
about 32 nm offshore to just southwest of Great Duck Island at 21:30, where
we made our long awaited tack toward the finish line, bearing 258 degrees, 38
nm to go! Our long board from Oskoda to Great Duck had covered 68.5 nm in 11
hours. We had not been able to raise or see any of our competitors since
10:30, and Bruce thought we were dead last or dead lost. I refused to
speculate as I have an anti-prediction rule on the boat, although I did allow
Bruce some leeway, under the circumstances (me dry heaving in the cockpit and
all).

The first hour and a half after the Great Duck tack was more of the same, 18
foot seas, 35 kt wind and colder due to nightfall. Then, at last, the winds
began to moderate to 20 to 25 kts and the seas subsided as the wind clocked
about 15 degrees to the north. We were now reaching at 10 to 14 kts under a
bright moon, absolutely beautiful. We were actually able to set the autopilot
(allowed under the Race rules) for a much needed break from the helm. We were
closing quickly on Rogers City and about 30 minutes out called the Race
Committee to tell them we were approaching the finish. They were glad to hear
from us and informed us that the finish mark was not on station and we should
duck the harbor outer buoy for our finish. Bruce, the pessimist, said they
must have been packing up to go home and was sure we were last. Again, no
comment from Ron.

We finally crossed the finish line at 01:52 Monday morning with an elapsed
time of 38 hours 42 minutes. We had covered 136 nm since the gale hit in
about 21 hours 21 minutes. The race committee came on the radio and
congratulated us saying we were first to finish and possibly the only boat
that would finish. We arrived at the dock completely spent and cold. The only
way to get rid of the hypothermic shakes would be a long hot shower & a warm
dry bed. The Rogers City harbor staff found a motel room for us and was
prepared to deliver us there when we were ready. Bruce prepared a heater meal
for me while I lay on the sidewalk. It would be my first food in nearly 18
hours, and it stayed down!

The news from the race committee was not good. There had been three boats
unaccounted for; Stampede, Great White and a monohull whose name escapes me.
Everyone else had retired. Guy and Shelly would have called in had they
retired, and I couldn’t believe they would still be on the lake as Great
White had no where near our pointing ability in those conditions. There was
nothing for us to do but wait. Our exhaustion was complete and the hot shower
and warm bed was welcomed relief.

The next morning we were greeted at our door by Tony Hammer. Tony had
delivered my truck and trailer to Rogers City and brought provisions for
Great White for the delivery to Chicago. There was still no news of the two
missing boats. We waited through a long morning for news from the Coast Guard
as they conducted a harbor by harbor inquiry. The monohull turned up having
retired and simply not bothering to call in, an inconsiderate gaff, but no
sign of Great White. Shortly after noon the coast guard called again and
reported that the boat had been found capsized about 15 nm off Point Clark
near Kincardine Ontario, and that rescue vessels were in route. There was no
reported sign of Guy and Shelly. Several hours later we got the news that we
feared, their drowned bodies were found with the boat.

What happened to Great White? (This section is subject to revision as we have
had a great deal of conflicting information. I expect to receive a detailed
report on 7/10)

I believe when the gale struck us at 04:30 that Great White was probably as
much as 20 nm further to the northwest than Stampede. They had rounded the
Goderich mark over an hour ahead of us and probably averaged 2 to 3 kts
greater boat speed than us in the reaching conditions encountered over the
6-hour period between 19:00 on 6/30 and 02:00 on 7/1. The boat was found with
the spinnaker up. We had the benefit of some visibility, Guy and Shelly did
not. Even if they sensed the shift and temperature drop as I did, they would
have had less than a minute to get the spinnaker down, as the wind went from
3 to 35 kts in under 60 seconds. On Stampede, all sheets and halyards are led
to the cockpit and can be reached from the helm. This is not the case on
Great White. Halyards are led to the base of the mast and sheets to winches
in the vicinity of the helm station. The only action that could have saved
Great White from going over would have been a very quick release of the
sheet, halyard or tackline. Only the sheet could have been reached by the
helmsman, leaving the crewman to cover a vast distance to handle everything
else, if that individual was even on deck. 99% of the time Guy and Shelly
could have handled it, in these extreme and quickly changing conditions the
boat was beyond the physical capabilities of two people to handle.

I do not yet have enough information on their condition and location in which
they were found to speculate on why they were unable to survive after the
capsize. They were lightly clothed and not wearing exposure suits.

What did we learn & what can you learn from us?

The single biggest example of poor seamanship that we demonstrated was not
checking current weather info at each helm change. We parked on the race
channel (72) after we left the dock, and never knew that a gale was added to
the forecast later in the day on Saturday. We will monitor the weather at
every watch change in the future. The knowledge of an impending gale could
have saved Guy and Shelly.

I will never venture offshore without a 406 GPIRB again (GPS/EPIRB combo). I
have an old Class B EPIRB, worthless. Whether trying to survive on the bottom
of our capsized boat, or in a liferaft, survival chances would have been
marginal over the 38 hours it took to locate Great White after the capsize.
Remember that we had up to 18 foot breaking seas and a 7-second wave period.
Nighttime water temps were below 50 degrees. I like the sound of a 6-minute
notification, thank you. We have one for the Chicago-Mac next week.

I will add two more Glucagon kits to my arsenal.

Mulithulls - Carry cutting tools in an accessible area in the event of
capsize, or install an escape hatch above the inverted waterline. Getting in
and out of the hull without swimming creates a very survivable environment. I
have always carried cutting tools in a crash compartment along with survival
food, flares, hand held VHF and GPS. I am testing my cutting tools on test
panels (thanks to Meade Gougeon) this week to make sure they work.

Practice Reefing – Get out in as much wind as you can find and make sure you
have a system and that it works. Make sure everyone on the crew knows what
his or her job is. You don’t want to have to learn or teach this process with
40 kts of wind blowin’ your shorts up. We have reefed many times and it went
very smoothly.

Always carry a storm jib. I have carried one for years and haven’t had many
occasions to use it. It made the boat very manageable.

Farewell to Guy

Dear Guy,

You are one of the most unique personalities I have ever encountered and have
taught me so much about sailing, laughing and living. It’s hard for me to
lament what has happened because if we took the adventure out of you, you
wouldn’t be Guy. I rather choose to celebrate your life and your example. You
saw value in everyone and everything, and made a positive contribution to
everyone you encountered. I don’t know why God decided to take you now, but I
do know you finished the race. All of us that are still here either have more
to do, or maybe need a little more time to get it right. Thanks for showing
us the way.

I didn’t know Shelly very well, but I do know she has a great traveling
companion for the next adventure!

I will never forget you, my friend, and I’ll make sure Tony gets back out on
the lake.

Your friend,

Ron White
"Stampede"

2 Timothy 4:7 I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have
kept the faith.