South Pacific: Triple Wrapped, Pt. 3

The Karoraina Atoll - Triple Wrapped


I barely made it around the southern tip of the South Pacific Atoll 'Karoraina'. The wind and light rain was just becoming apparent when I was far enough west of the reef that I could turn up to the NW towards the lee of the small island. I was just in time. The winds increased to 30 knots and the rain was strong.

I moved the boat close to the reefs and moved very slowly. With the Polaroid glasses there was a very definite color difference between the very deep ocean surrounding the island and the reefs. There was a well defined line of dark blue (deep) and then various lighter blues and greens mixed with browns of the shallow reef. I had never seen such a well defined reef line.

There is a reason. When you look at the photo of the chart depths surrounding this atoll, they are very deep. The depth lines go from 13,000 feet to 9000 feet within a mile and then again to 6000 feet depth less than a quarter mile off the island. 6000 feet deep a quarter mile off the island. I had to repeat that.

Where was I going to find anything for an anchor to hold onto? I began looking. I saw a small inlet between two small islands. It was very shallow but maybe there was some loose sand or smaller rocks just off the edge. I eased the bow to within just a few feet of the reef and looked at the depth gauge. There was NO reading. The gauge doesn't read deeper than 400 feet. It was more than 400 feet deep just a few feet behind the bow which was at the edge of the reef.

My bow was almost on the reef and the depth transducer only a few meters behind had no reading. I went up and down the coast trying to find a spot that showed some form of color change just inside the dark blue of the deep water and greens of the reef. I thought I found one between two spots of reef with about 2 boat widths between. I went to the bow and let out the anchor just enough so that it hung down from the roller. If I was going to try to snag something for the anchor to hold on to, I needed to move the bow up near where I wanted to drop it, put the engine into reverse and then neutral to keep her in one spot, run forward to the anchor windless buttons and drop the anchor as quickly as the chain would pay out.

I tried once, but before I could even get to the windless controls, the boat had drifted back because of the wind pushing her away from shore. I didn't have cockpit controls for the windless; they were up at the bow.

I wanted to look at the ocean floor near the reef. I was alone so I couldn't just leave the boat and swim around with a mask. If I had someone else with me, I could have tried to put out some anchor and chain in the dingy and actually place the anchor upon a part of the reef that looked like it could hold for a few minutes.

I came up with another idea. I would back the stern up to the edge of the reef line between the two outcroppings and put on a mask and look out over the transom into the water. I put the tether on the harness I always wore and clipped it into the stern rail, then backed the boat almost to the edge of the reef, just out of reach of my rudder. I crawled out over the swim platform and put my whole head and shoulders under water leaning way out over the edge of the boat still holding onto the swim platform hand grips.

The reef seemed only inches from my head and only a few feet from the rudder. Directly under me was a huge boulder and then black nothing. There was no way an anchor could find anything to hold onto or if it did wedge itself between boulders, I could never get it out and would have to leave my good Delta anchor and a lot of my 200 feet of 3/8 inch chain there on the reef.

I couldn't anchor. How else was I going to find some calm water and winds other than very near the reef and just behind the trees? Only a half mile off the reef the winds were there at 18 knots and the swell would wrap around the point making it difficult for me up on the bow.

I tried twice to get the boat as close to the reef as possible and behind the wind protection of the trees on the little island. I then let her drift downwind away from the atoll. I only had a few minutes until I would again be in the winds and a swell. I needed some calm to try to unwrap the sail, undo the knots and get the furling line untangled.

The first two attempts solved nothing, but on the third attempt I was successful in releasing enough tension on the furling line wrapped around the winch that I was able to remove the top part of the winch nut and self-tailer and remove the whole top of the winch. This let the furling line loose. I had one of the wraps undone.

Then I tried to go forward to the bow while the boat drifted from the calm near the reef slowly out into the open sea. I needed to get to the genoa sheets knotted together near the clew of the sail. In two attempts I was able to bring both sheet ends up to the bow from the stern winches and tie them in two handy bundles. I was able to bring the line bundles up and around the whole genoa on the forestay thus unwrapping at least some of the congestion. But there simply was not enough time for me to finish before the boat was again attacked by wind and swell.

I somehow needed more time in calm conditions. I don't run very well along the side of the boat and I have very poor balance when I don't have anything solid to hold on to. I am completely paralyzed from below both knees and my feet do not have feeling nor do they move on command. They just stand there looking up at me while I am loosing my balance and falling over. Not only that, but the sheets knotted together were at least 8 feet above the deck and I can't climb up the forestay without someone else hoisting me up in a boson’s chair. I was alone, nobody to help.

The next thing I tried that could give me more calm time was, to head back north along the well defined reef, turn around and head the boat back to the south end of the island. That was about a mile and could give me enough time to get the things I wanted done up at the bow before I got into the winds and swell again.

I put the engine at just above idle and once I was on a good heading just a few yards off the reef, I pushed "Auto" on the autohelm. I ran to the bow to try to untangle the sheets and the wrapped genoa. I made a little progress now that the tension was off the furling drum but I still needed to get up to the knots at the clew. That was 8 feet off the deck and I'm only 6 feet tall.

I needed two more feet. Down in the salon, there is a sliding bench at the dining table. I unbolted it and brought it up to the bow. I tied it down and thought I could stand on it long enough to get the knots undone but I needed calm water.

I got everything prepared with some tools for gripping the rope and a place to clip my tether around. I went through the whole procedure again of heading north, turning around at the reef, setting a course just a few yards off the reef, idle slowly forward and then hit 'Auto'.

I ran forward as fast as I dared, climbed up on the bench and, with pliers and grips, started working on the knots, always looking ahead to the reef. I had gotten more than half the knots undone and was just about finished when I looked again to the reef. We were too close and closing fast on a small outcropping of a different color than dark blue. I only had one more rope knot to pull apart and then it came undone.

The sail was free.

I stepped off the bench and started to run back to the wheel but I crashed to the deck. I had forgotten to unclip the tether from my harness to the pulpit. I reached up and unclipped it and started to crawl, then run back to the wheel before we hit the outcropping near the reef. When I got near the standing rigging at the mast I had to maneuver around the stays.

I slipped. I fell, in slow motion, down onto the deck and bounced out under the lower lifeline. My head, arms and shoulders were out over the water and I knew I was going in.

But something stopped me from continuing into the ocean. I was stuck. I was headed straight down with my head and shoulders but my legs were somehow keeping me from sliding further. I tried to twist around and see what was holding me but I couldn't turn. I reached up to the toe rail and got a good hold there and pulled myself around enough to see that my left leg was wedged between the mast stay and the lower lifeline.

It was in a weird, contorted position and I knew it must hurt like crazy. Because my legs are paralyzed, I don't feel anything, so I continued pulling myself up and finally got back on deck. I crawled on hands and knees back to the helm and hoped I would be in time to maneuver the boat away from the approaching reef.

I wasn't.

As I was at the wheel grabbing the throttle and hitting ‘standby’ on the autohelm, I heard a screeching sound along the port side under the waterline along the hull. It was loud, but didn't slow the boat or move it in another direction. The boat continued forward until I eased her away from the reef. I wasn't aground and I wasn't sinking.

And I had gotten the three wraps undone.

Mike Harker
s/v Wamderlust 3