Mischief's dismasting

To start I should explain that this event happened on Lake St. Louis in Montreal at the end of September 1989.

Friday the 23 rd of September started as a nice warm sunny and calm day. I am not sure that there is any significance in the fact that it was a friday and that 23 is 13 plus 10 but the turn of events that evening has made me wonder.

In a complete reversal of the way things used to be my father had borrowed my boat that day for a company cruise to Le Vieux Kitzbuhl (a restaurant) on Ile Perrot. When I joined them after work they had spent the afternoon drifting around the lake in the fickle winds of a typical summer day. So we started up the iron jib and headed to then restaurant on Ile Perrot where, as usual a fine time was had by all.

After supper at about 10:30 on the way back to BYC (Beaconsfield Yacht Club) I noticed that the wind had started to come up and we raised the sails to enjoy the breeze. As we passed Dowker Island and entered the open part of the lake the smile on my face spread from ear to ear as the boat picked up speed in the southly breeze.

By the time we reached the club I had decided that I could not let a wonderful warm night like this go to waste and told my father that I would be heading out again after we had dropped off our guests at the club. Not surprisingly he decided to come along.

After we said good-bye to everyone else we headed out again into the lake and headed for Dorval. The sailing that night was fantastic. The wind was gradually building from the south and the wave action was minimal. As we reached back and forth from Dorval to Dowker Island (a distance of about 6-8 miles) again and again the boat seemed to relish the conditions. She was easy to steer, hardly ever put her rail under and seemed to want to fly. More often than not she was up on a plane with the knotmeter showing 8 knots and more. It was the sort of sail that re-kindles the sailing bug on a cold and depressing february night.

Unfortunately the excitement of the sail will not be the only memory of that night. At about 2:00 am we had reached Dowker Island again and decided to go back to Dorval one last time. After we tacked we took the genny down because the wind had been building all night and by now was too much for the sail even on a beam reach but under main alone the boat was quite comfortable. After we had reached Valois bay I noticed that the genoa had come undone from under the bungee cord on the foredeck and was about to go into the water. So up on the foredeck I went to secure the sail.

I discinctly remember working on the foredeck but after that all I remember is a strong feeling that something was very wrong. It slowly dawned on me that I was in the water and the reason I was not able to get to the surface was that I was under the sail. What I did not find out until the next morning was that while I was holding onto the forestay to steady myself the mast had broken.

When I finally reached the surface of the lake the feeling of relief was overwhelming, but it did not last long. The boat was about 10 boatlengths from me and moving away faster that I could swim.

I could see my father in the cockpit and heared him calling for me but he could not see me and I was not able to attract his attention.

As I began to realize the seriousness of the situation I remembered a book I had read this summer. It was the story of a couple cruising the South Pacific where the husband wakes early in the morning to discover that his wife was no longer on the boat. The book then goes on to tell about the fears and emotions of both people; the husband trying to find his wife and his wife afloat in mid-ocean. Needless to say it was with great relief that I saw the lights of the Lakeshore Road and realized that I at least had a target.

To make a long story short I reached shore after daybreak about 7:30 am. I was helped out of the water by a very kind lady who happened to be walking her dog in the right place at the right time. From her house we called my mother and my girlfriend and I was put into a tub full of hot water to warm up. It struck me as somewhat ironic that I should spend a night in the lake only to end up to my neck in water again as soon as I reached shore. Then the police arrived to take a statement and the paramedics gave me a quick ckeckup.

What I did not know at the time was that father was still missing and that a body had been found in the lake that morning. It never ocurred to me to wonder why the police was so interested in what my father had been wearing etc.

After we reached BYC and I had been outfitted with socks and boots by John and Lena (the caretaker's), Martin (the club manager) organized the search and rescue for my father. While Lena took care of my mother and girlfriend, Martin and I drove along the Lakeshore to see if we could find the boat. After we thought we had spotted it we returned to the Club and with Nick Chaimberland (the assistant manager) and Nick Richards (yard crew) in one crash boat and Martin and myself in the other we went out into the lake.

I was surprised to see how rough the lake had become. Martin and I went to where we thought we had seen the boat and the two Nicks went to search the part of the Lake the boat could have drifted to. We found the boat anchored by the stern just outside the channel near the Royal St. Lawrence Yacht Club (in Dorval). As we approached I realized for the first time that the mast was down and that no one seemed to be aboard. Martin put me aboard to search for a note or some other sign of what had happened but all I found was the lazarette full of water and the floor boards almost afloat.

Martin suggested going to the Royal to check if they had received any any news. About halfway there we met the other crash boat and to my great relief Nick informed us that my father had been picked up by the Coast Guard and that he was alright.

On the way back to BYC we stopped at my boat again, bailed out the lazarette and snugged things down so that she could ride out the weather until we could get her back to the club.

We were extremely lucky that the only dammage was to the boat and no one was hurt. In our discussions following the accident my father and I came to some conclusions which might help us should we find ourselves in similar circumstances in the future.

First of all to have had a VHF to alert the coast guard would have been a great help but only if we had had a spare antenna to use instead of the one which is usually mounted at the masthead.

Before the start of he next season I am going to buy a lifering, either the horseshoe type or the traditional type. It should be equiped it with a large drogue so that the wind cannot blow it away once it has been thrown and ,most importantly a strobe light which will make the lifering more easily visible both for the person in the water and for the people left aboard. In my opinion the strobe is the key to making the lifering work in bad weather or at night.

Another item which will be taken more seriously next year is to make sure that there is at least one other person aboard who knows exactly where all the emergency equipment is located and how to use it. This includes operation of the motor etc. What seems like an obvious spot to put flares, anchors etc. on a sunny day in the spring may turn out to be the best hiding place when the equipment is needed in a hurry.

When I talked to my dad after the incident he told me that in the panic following the mast breaking and my disappearance off the foredeck he could not get the motor going. He then drifted out of the channel toward a shallow rocky part of the lake. The first anchor he found was the little "Lunch hook" I carry for racing. This was not ready for use and he dropped the shackle pin when he tried to connect the anchor chain to the rode. So he knotted the chain and rode together and and quickly anchored the boat. (By the stern because he didn't want to risk going to the foredeck and he was close to the shallows.)

However don't let this story stop you from sailing at night or when it is windy, just let it serve as a reminder that even on our small lake it is important to prepare that boat and the crew who sails her, for the emergency we think will never happen to us.

Matt (286, Mischief)

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