Holed below the waterline
Brandy Burridge recalls a frightening hull failure that took ingenuity and a bit of outside assistance to get through
One couple’s lucky escape when the hull cracked en-route to Grenada
When we left Puerto Rico in early August we were worried about running into a tropical storm or, worse still, a hurricane. The thought of getting a crack in our hull and nearly losing our boat to a sinking didn’t cross our minds.
The Atlantic hurricane season starts in June and to decrease your chances of being in the path of one of these powerful storms it’s best to be tucked into an island below the hurricane belt. There are only a handful of islands to pick from and we chose Grenada to be our hurricane hole for the season.
We should have already been safely anchored there enjoying the local carnival with friends, but instead we were sitting in the south-west corner of Puerto Rico anxiously awaiting the arrival of a new mainsail to replace our current ripped one. Since hurricane season was upon us, our original plan of island hopping down the chain was no longer an option. We decided to take the fastest route there to get to a safe harbour before a hurricane had a chance to make an appearance.
Our sail arrived and four days later on 7 August 2019, an ideal weather window opened up and we set our course for Grenada. With a projected rhumb line of 474 miles, this would be our longest sail offshore to date. Me, my husband, Beau, and our 15-year-old shepherd chow mix set off on Saoirse our 35ft Pearson sailboat fitted with an electric motor.
By the fifth day into our passage we had sailed 500 miles, tacked twice and were on the rhumb line with 100 miles to go.
Most of the sail we were close-hauled on a port-tack and had the boat balanced. Since Saoirse does not have an autopilot
this balance alleviated us from handsteering most of the time. The grind of being constantly at the helm will wear you down after a couple of days.
The winds had picked up, increasing our average speed from 3-4 knots to 6 knots. The waves were now reaching around 8ft, causing the bow of the boat to slap down hard every so often. I unlocked the wheel and started to hand steer trying to avoid the bow from hitting so hard. As night approached, so did storm clouds carrying steady rain and gusts. I turned over the wheel to Beau for his shift and crawled inside the boat, sliding the companionway doors into place to keep the rain out.
But as soon as I laid down in the saloon, I heard running water under me, inside the boat. I popped up off the settee and lifted up the closest hatch to the bilge. This is when the adrenaline started pumping. I knew something wasn’t right, my stomach was turning at the water rushing through. I opened up the companionway hatch to Beau, being pelted by rain and shouted: “There is a lot of water running through the bilge right now.”
“It’s been raining and we have waves coming over the bow, it’s probably just that,” he countered. I hoped that was what it was, but I insisted he come down to look at it.
I took over the helm and hove to as he went to inspect. He rushed back to the companionway and quickly said: “I found a crack and there is water coming in”.
A crack about 2ft long had appeared in the starboard bow just underneath our water tank in the V-berth.
Beau went to the VHF and called a Pan-pan, gave our location, the situation and that we may need further assistance. In return, dead air.
No time to waste, so we went to work. Our minds were racing with ideas of how to stop this, but first Beau pulled out the Fast Cure 5200 sealant. We made a starboard tack in hope of bringing the crack out of the water long enough for the sealant to cure. We knew this was a long shot, but we were willing to try anything and everything that came to mind.
The sealant didn’t hold: with each wave the boat flexed and with each flex came more water.
Our next plan of action was to stuff towels in between the water tank and the wall of the bow covering up the crack. There was just enough room to squeeze in two beach towels. They seemed to be working, they had stopped most of the water and now it was just a trickle. Only an hour had passed since we found the crack and we still had 64 miles to go. With the towels secured, we got back on track toward Grenada. The rain had let up which gave us a little reprieve. Once under way we slowed to 3 knots to help reduce the pressure on the crack.
We were hopeful the towels would do the trick, but once they became waterlogged they’d come loose and slide into the bilge. We just kept rotating the towels into the gap. The 1100 GPH electric bilge pump was keeping up with the water coming in, but to help prevent it from overworking itself we started using the manual pump too. We took turns manning the helm and pumping, while the other attempted to seal the crack with soggy towels.
‘The sealant didn’t hold: at each wave the boat flexed and with each flex came more water’
I was planted in the V-berth monitoring the flow of the water through the bilge access panel. Beau was out in the cockpit pumping the manual pump “like an old lady at the slot machines”. Now 2:30 in the morning, and the towels were doing less and less of a job holding back the water. I noticed the water stream heading into the bilge double in volume. We needed a new plan.
After talking it over with Beau, we decided to try butyl tape. I hesitantly removed the towels that were wedged into place and when I did the water gushed in. It was as though the boat was breathing in the water. I peeled off some of the tape and tried to place it into the crack in the fibreglass. I could feel the rush of water pushing past my fingers as I was trying my best to doctor this space with the putty. It was like trying to put a piece of gum over the mouth of your kitchen tap while it has been turned on full blast. It was not working. On top of it all, from the feel of it, the crack had grown and was allowing more water to come in.
We went back to stuffing the towels back in. They were at least keeping the water at bay long enough for the bilge to do its job. As long as the bilge pump and the manual pump kept working we should be able to make it to our destination. We were prepared for some rough, sleepless days and nights ahead.
At daybreak, I was back at the helm working the manual pump. I noticed it felt different as I was pulling and pushing the lever. We discovered that after hand pumping for almost seven hours straight, the manual pump flange cracked. This coupled with crack allowing more water in, the bilge started to fill up faster than the pump could keep up with. We decided to heave to and look everything over. Beau pulled out our backup bilge pump to help out. It immediately shorted once he plugged it in. Next he pulled out our salt water pump. It was slow and not worth being in the way as I was trying to bail out water from the bilge into the nearby galley sink.
The water was steadily rising and we knew the only way we were going to stop this flow was from the outside of the boat. But first, Beau went over to the VHF again and called a Mayday. This time, we had an answer come back immediately. My breath was taken away and I couldn’t fight back the tears. The voice asked for our coordinates and Beau gave them. He responded that they were five miles from us, but had fishing lines in the water and would be there as soon as they could.
Beau grabbed the butyl tape, tied off a safety line and jumped into the sea. Inside, I continued to bail out water from the bilge into the galley sink, only pausing to check on Beau. At this point the water was sloshing around my ankles. The waves had calmed down to about 3ft, but they were broadsiding the boat, making it difficult for him to stuff the crack.
After an hour, he worked enough butyl tape into the crack to slow the incoming water. It was temporary, but it would give us an opportunity to think of more things.
Although exhausted, knowing someone was on the way helped to reinvigorate us. We had no idea how he was going to be able to help so we had to try our best to continue to stop the water influx.
Still inside emptying the bilge, cup by cup, I heard our rescuer hail us on the
‘I bailed out water into the galley sink – it was sloshing around my ankles’
VHF, he was on his way. I gave him our new coordinates and asked if he had a pump. He said no, but that he had something that would help.
Around an hour after Beau called the Mayday, a red and white fishing boat came into sight. Two smiling Grenadian fisherman had answered our call and one of them was perched on the bow of their boat with a rusty square piece of sheet metal with a swirl of black, green and yellow goop on top of it. As he passed it to me he instructed us to put it on the inside and outside of the boat. He said it would take about 30 minutes to an hour for it to cure and that they’d stay nearby in case we needed more help.
Beau applied a coat of this goop to the crack on the inside. The butyl tape that he’d placed on the outside earlier really helped with applying this new sealant. Once he had a layer on the inside, he jumped back in the water and I handed him the palette of goop. Riding the waves again, he started smearing the goop on the crack.
I had my head inside the V-berth watching the epoxy dry like it was a batch of delicious chocolate chip cookies. Within 40 minutes I could see it hardening and the water was no longer pouring in. Beau was still in the water consistently reapplying the underwater epoxy because the bow was bobbing in and out of the water, ripping the epoxy away from the crack. Little by little it started to cover the crack and harden. Around an hour and a half later it was fully cured and he was finally able to get out of the water.
As we stood inside our boat we heard the slurp of the bilge pump taking out the last of the water. A wave of relief hit us, we were safe. Saoirse was safe.
Instead of immediately raising our sails, we cleaned up the boat, ate something and took some time to think about the crazy ten hours that just passed.
Two days later, we limped slowly into St George, Grenada, where we hauled out the next day so we could get busy with repairs. The happy ending to the story was that we were able to meet up with Gavin the fisherman who answered our Mayday and give him our most sincere gratitude.