Small Boat Safety Out Wide

[Ross Hunter]

Raiders,

It is now 50 years since I first ventured out to sea in my Dad's tinnie. Then later in life I joined the St George SFC and bought my first Quinney.. I spent many hours chasing my piscatorial friends around in this boat . We rarely went any more than 10 mile offshore , no one did back then , mind you you did'nt have to there were plenty of big fin,kings etc at the Peak. I started the Marlin Broadbill boat company and built 400 boats over a 15 year preriod so my sea time had really got to the point where I was starting to grow gills . During this time we fished competivel for The Botany club and Pt Hacking GFC

We had come up in boat size but never got over confident about risking fate on Mother Ocean.

I recall getting hammered on several occasions, a couple of which required a change of undies.

I have travelled through 50 knot gales, but by far was the 100 knot storm at Pt Stephens

It really does worry me that so many small boats venture out on the wide grounds, 25 nautical mile out and that is a long way to come home if you get a storm front and what worries me more is that as sure as

"God made little apples it is going to happen"

'.

We have not had bad summer storms, the seasons have been mild, but they will come and for those who are in a 5'5 metre boat 25 nautical mile out are going to get very scared.

Gale forced winds in a small boat is scary crap.. You are down to 2 maybe 3 knots , the waves crash throught the boat, the cockpit is half full of water with everything that's not bolted down floating around, lightening crashes violently around you ... You try to keep calm but it's difficult.

It is you and your crew there is no help coming You are at the mercy of the storm.

This is a story I am writing of my experience in '82

The point I am trying to make is to be carefull... Get your weather right and never put fish in front of safety . It may be last time you do!

THIS IS ONE STORM WE ENDURED IN MY OLD BROADBILL ... HOPE YOU ENJOY

70 KNOTS FROM THE WEST

We fished in the Port Hacking 100, a small tournament held out of Port Hacking, south of Sydney. It is 1983 and the tournament was hosted by our gamefishing club, Pt. Hacking, so it's special for Vic Casey, Brian Nesbitt, Glenn Hunter and myself and we would like to compete well. We had ironed out a lot of the teething problems with the new boat and she's running well, so we head out of port with great hope and the trepidation for a good tournament.

It was mid-September and the yellowfin tuna had been excellent, we had caught several big fish so far this season so we decided to target tuna and makos. Like a well-written script, things went perfectly; the first day we caught a big mako on 10 kg and took out Champion Junior when Glenn landed a yellowfin of 29 kg on 10kg. We were feeling quite happy returning to Port Hacking on day one.

Back at the Royal Motor Yacht Club we put Broadbill into her pen and relaxed in the company of the other competitors, over a few drinks. As every keen fisherman knows, early to bed early to rise is the formula, sometimes this works and we observe what is sensible and on other occasions we have partied all night and gone to sea the next day with no sleep and a thumping good hangover. However, we decided to be good lads and hit the hay at midnight.

We awoke the next morning at 5.30 to a superb spring morning, barely a puff of breeze and with a calm ocean, the stuff that fishermen love. We headed to Shark Island to catch live bait then stopped at the continental shelf to capitalise on yesterday's effort. We caught a 100-kg mako and two blue sharks. These mobile logs are, without doubt, the most hideous gamefish in our ocean, I hate them with a passion not only for their smell but also for their lack of fight when hooked. Some gamefishing clubs still allow those sharks to be weighed; personally it makes me wonder why …… they really are quite a non-event …… but the gamefishing fraternity can be a weird lot at times!

We tagged the blues and we took the mako, so were doing okay! We needed a nice tuna or another mako on light line and we would be at the podium, but we berley all afternoon and saw nothing: fishing finishes at 5 pm. It was 4.45 pm and the 10-kilo outfit with live yellowtail screamed off. It's Brian (who we called "Moose") Nesbitt's strike. I called in the strike on the radio, which is compulsory. I started the engines and manoeuvred the boat around the fish. We all agreed it was a yellowfin and by the amount of line it took on the first run, a bloody good one.

We knew also that yellowfin never come easy and this had the rudiments of a long drawn-out tussle written all over it as Moose expertly worked the big fish. The air had gone still and there was an unusual warmth in the atmosphere. The sea was glass, not a ripple could be seen, it was sultry, quite unusual for September. On the western skyline, a ridge of very dark black cloud sat motionless; from where we were, it didn't look too sinister, but it did warrant watching with a weathered eye.

The tuna was a toughie and was still 50 metres under us when the ocean surface developed a ripple. That is a sign just before a good blow.

I had been watching the front develop in between backing around after the tuna …… the cloud mass had intensified and was about five miles from us. The clouds sat low on the water and were turning green, and a considerable amount of forked lightening was flashing from time to time. It is times like that that you really wish you could catch the fish and get the hell out. I call base on the high frequency set and give them our position and suggest that we may be playing the tuna for a bit longer.

The base advised that a bad storm had just hit Cronulla, with wind gusts of up to 50 knots …… "Oh shit!" I thought to myself, as Moose yelled, "Doubles up."

The boys gaffed a 65-kg tuna and I told them to batten down the hatches and make haste, because I wanted to get the hell out of there and move closer to land. I turned on the radar and could not believe what I saw: the whole screen was blanked out by intensive rain and storm activity. It's a weird feeling that you get when you know that you are in for a real clubbing by bad weather …… you can see the storm only a couple of miles away, but you know also that it is between you and the safety of land. This storm looked bad on the radar but was evil in real life. The clouds that sat on the ocean were approaching at great speed and were rolling …… this was bad ……

The ocean was rippling as if it too was nervous and the thunder was now deafening and came immediately after the lightening; then the wind hit, at 25 knots! We knew we were in for it! The boys had stowed the gear and made the boat at safe as possible by adopting a place for everything and everything in its place. We sat together on the fly bridge and no-one spoke; we all just watched in awe as the storm intensified in front of us. Two giant waterspouts formed and passed within a kilometre of us, whipping the sea to foam.

The spouts were accompanied by 50-knot winds. It was eerie; darkness was now upon us, but not for long as the lightening illuminated the ocean that is now whipped to foam by the wind. The sea was building by the minute as we steamed at eight knots towards the eye of the storm that was between us and the comfort of Terra Firma. The kaleidoscope of terror looked worse than a mariner's worst nightmare

The temperature had plummeted by three degrees in as many minutes. The wind was deafening as the thunder rocked the boat and reverberated through us. I turned off the radio but left the connections fixed. I turned off and disconnected the radar. We were in such a violent amount of electrical activity that I did not want to loose the radar from a strike …… the radio was useless in such a storm, because of electrical interference. I it connected in case of an emergency and risked a lightening strike.

We now had 60 knots of wind and every wave is breaking up over the bow, covering the screens on the fly bridge giving us zero visibility. I throttled back to six knots to ease the pounding a little, but at the same time tried to maintain forward progress. My compass bearing indicated that we were heading south. I corrected, but instead of the boat reacting, we actually started to head east, back out to sea. I started to have some strange thoughts, such as: has the electrical effect of so much lightening affected my only form of navigation, my compass? Why are we going in circles?

I checked the rev. counters and note that both engines are running and at the same revs. I felt a mild dose of panic set in as I struggled with the wheel to bring the boat back to my compass bearing of 320 degrees, back to Port Hacking.

After a while and after two more circles, I figured out the problem …… the wind was blowing at 70 knots on our quarter, and was blowing us south. I ran the port engine 200 revs. more than the starboard, and that counteracted the problem. I felt happier; we were at least now maintaining a reasonable course, but what a pounding we were taking with every oncoming wave shaking the 10-ton boat with its power. Occasionally the cockpit held two-feet deep water, and at one stage the yellowfin was washing around in the cockpit. The fellows put a tail rope on him and tied him off to the bollard. That job was dangerous, as a fall out of the boat in those conditions would be certain death.

The boys had retired to the cabin and I am soaked and cold on the bridge, but I am happy that I am by myself as I really need to concentrate to hold course off the compass and kept an eye on the engine gauges.

A clap of thunder frightened the life out of me and immediately the boat lit up like a Roman candle—so bright that it seemed to glow forever, like the retina-burning flash from the arc emitted by an electric welder. The fellows came rushing out of the cabin with eyes like saucers. "What blew up?" asked Moose. I replied, "I don't know, all the instruments are okay. I don't know. Is everything okay down there?" I was half expecting someone to inform me of an engine fire.

My heart was racing, but all seemed all right. I reconnected the radar and tuned it in. It told me that we had four miles to go and the worst should be over. I thought to myself that it could not come quickly enough as I hung onto the wheel and braced myself for the next wave to smash into our bows and over us.

Many times we were totally submerged in green and white water, the wind at its peak was roaring so much in the rigging that we couldn't hear ourselves think. A storm of this nature with gale winds of 70 knots is an amazing experience to live through; I liken it to one of the last frontiers. It's you and your crew against the elements, far from the safety of land on a big ocean, copping a pounding at the mercy of Mother Ocean at her angriest.

Was I frightened? Yes, I was, but it was a different form of fear; it was adrenaline-charged.

But you never think the worst, because you must concentrate on keeping calm and on top of any crisis—scared because the wind is blowing at 70 knots; scared because the waves hit on the bow and the boat shudders and shakes so much that your heels are aching from the pounding of the white water; scared because the water spouts miss us by just a kilometre and there may be more, but you can't see them now in the pitch-black dark; scared by the cavitation of the propellers as the giant waves pass by so fast that the screws grab air instead of water. Scared? Shit yes!

For three hours we had been smashed by the three-metre sea and the wind which by now had dropped back to 30 knots, at least that meant that the worst was over. We had travelled 12 nautical miles in that time and land was still about seven miles away, I glanced at the radar and yelled to the guys that we had about half a mile to go and we should start to get some visibility and respite from the storm. They were not complaining, they too had taken a punishing in the cabin. The nicest thing I recall about that most exciting experience—one of those sent to make better mariners of us—was busting through the last of the storm front and coming out the other side like there was never really a storm, and what was the fuss all about!

The air went still again and had a beautiful, pristine, clean smell to it. In another couple of miles the sea was calm and we were steaming at 20 knots, to port.

We entered the heads at 11 pm, weighed the tuna, which took out the heaviest other gamefish award and gave Moose the Champion Angler award. The amazing flash of brilliant light we experienced during the height of the storm still intrigued me for days until I inspected the radio. The earth strap had been burnt off the back of the set by a severe lightening strike—we had experienced the phenomenon of St Elmo's fire.

When we got back in the pen, a bottle of Scotch was drunk in a short time as we sat in the cabin and relived the best storm we had encountered. We were grateful to be safe in Port, another great memory would stay with us forever …… we were all a little wiser for the experience and knew that we would all remember that storm of '83, and would take it to our graves.

[netic]

Great advice and story..........

[Reel Addiction]

Thabks for sharing that with us Ross

[locodave]

That was an awesome story! I've been in 40 knot winds and I thought that was scary enough!

The last photo a real photo from the storm?

[jewgaffer]

Without any doubt the best read and the best avice deep sea members would ever find anywhere.

This has been written in a very fine style and expression indeed and would make a top seller worldwide if ever developed into a documentary novel and published.

There is a real warning in this story to anyone with a deep sea boat any less than 25 foot that has

not got at least two big twin main power motors and a ships master with at least a third mate navigators ticket at the bare minimum.

Awesome sea safety information in this article and there is an even bigger story written in between the lines.

Asolutely devastating reading, Ross Hunter and the actual facts and your description of the storm of '83 is totally overwhelming.

jewgaffer

Edited August 22, 2007 by jewgaffer

[Ross Hunter]

Without any doubt the best read and the best avice deep sea members would ever find anywhere.

This has been written in a very fine style and expression indeed and would make a top seller worldwide if ever developed into a documentary novel and published.

There is a real warning in this story to anyone with a deep sea boat any less than 25 foot that has

not got at least two big twin main power motors and a ships master with at least a third mate navigators ticket at the bare minimum.

Awesome sea safety information in this article and there is an even bigger story written in between the lines.

Asolutely devastating reading, Ross Hunter and the actual facts and your description of the storm of '83 is totally overwhelming.

jewgaffer

Thanks jewgaffer It is my concern that we look after our clan (Fishraiders) To be over cautious is better than being over confident, when it comes to the ocean in her darker moods.

Glad you enjoyed and thanks for your comments

Roscoe

[Nathan L]

holy crap . . . that's one killer story

great read too btw

thanks

[Penguin]

Ross, after reading that I almost feel like I was there.

Well written

[thereddragon]

My knuckels turned white, holding my chair reading that. top read I can relate to that.

[TheDiko]

I must say what a recount, the weather outside seemed dark and stormy the whole time I read.

Felt like I was there in the middle of the storm

Great story

IFS

[marlin1962]

ross, that was an incredible and i bet scarey experence you and your mates will never forget,i once was in a storm with my brother inlaw where the waves were rolling out to sea,it was only for his gps he knew which way was land but it was nothing compared to your experence but still scary.(i think that is why i like a drink so much now-lol.)all ok in the long run,mother nature is so unpredictable.

[On Edge]

You tell the story like it was only experienced A few days ago, an ever lasting memory I only pray never to experience such A nightmare. I'm sure your advise will not fall on deaf ears. Thanks.

[inhlanzi]

G'day Ross

Thanks for sharing that awsome story with us!

I really hope that your book gets out there one day.

Wow... images of the perfect storm.

I am glad it is you who have given us small boat guys the warning.

Coming from you I think it carries a lot more weight.

Take heed Raiders this gentleman knows what he is talking about!!!

The temptation to chase the fish out wide is there, especially with the advent of the internet, and a lot more anglers being able to tell of their catches and this leads to blokes going where they shouldn't go.

Sure you will get away with it most times but when you don't its going to cost you BIG.

Ross I never knew you started Marlin Broadbill. You may be pleased to know I have had many a day out there on the big blue in my mates 660 Marlin Broadbill.

Thanks for the story and the advice.

cheers

inhlanzi

[Kiwi Dan]

Ross that was unreal, you writing makes a reader feel involved.

Cheers

Dan

[Laredo]

Good story and great photos.

Tell us the story of the 100 knot storm at Pt Stephens!

the worst storm I ever went through was also off port stephens. We were on our way there from Port macquarie and were in a very solid 34ft boat. and it took us about 5 hours to travel the last 15NMs to port Stephens

waves were up to 3metres+ and the intervals were very short; only around 5 seconds. all the waves were breaking. each good wave put hundred of liters through the cockpit screen and clears. There was zero visibility.

There was a foot of water in the deck constantly

The whole time i was thinking that if we were in a smaller boat, we would be dead

Edited August 22, 2007 by Laredo

[Ross Hunter]

Good story and great photos.

Tell us the story of the 100 knot storm at Pt Stephens!

the worst storm I ever went through was also off port stephens. We were on our way there from Port macquarie and were in a very solid 34ft boat. and it took us about 5 hours to travel the last 15NMs to port Stephens

waves were up to 3metres+ and the intervals were very short; only around 5 seconds. all the waves were breaking. each good wave put hundred of liters through the cockpit screen and clears. There was zero visibility.

There was a foot of water in the deck constantly

The whole time i was thinking that if we were in a smaller boat, we would be dead

Thanks Laredo,

You have to experience the terror of a big storm and get through it, like you did to appreciatte what a lonely and frightening place the ocean can be when it really hits the fan........Just you and your crew getting hammered like you never have before...It just makes a better mariner of you and makes you a lot more aware of weather and its dramas ..Thanks for your kind words I will post the yarn about the 100 knotter soon ..that one did get the pump going

Ross

Roscoe

[abiasin]

whatan amazing read definatley an eye opener. great storm pics too i love a good storm story

[davebrewer]

I'm with Jewgaffer-this story could be out of a Patrick O'Brien novel brought forward 200 years-astonishing stuff you love reading about but a graphical heads up that you don't really want to experience it personally even if you have the training and vessel to cope with it.

Good on you Ross,

Dave.

[southerly]

Gee you have seen some tough weather over the years Ross.

A couple of months ago I was speaking with the skipper from the Tunny who used to drop line Browns in the 1980's and remarked on all the small boats that head out there now. He just shook his head, shivered and mumbled something about being **** mad.

I was on the Tunny in 1980 when a southerly hit just as we had put the gear in, it took 3 hours to get it back up by which time the sea was lousy. As we started for home I headed to a bunk for a sleep, the skipper called me on deck as we crossed the 60 fathom line, I have never seen anything like it, the waves were massive and lining up on the shelf with the top 5 mtrs or so of each wave just rolling foam, it was like being in a surf zone. In a small boat it would have been like playing russian roulette. At least I had 60ft of steel displacement hull under me, even then there was water all over the deck.

So to all those heading to Brown's in small boats go and have fun, but don't be afraid to hit the go button and run to home on the first sign of any weather, heading home from Brown's in 30kts would give you a travel speed of 5-10kns max and its a long and miserable thumping home at that pace.

Southerly

Edited August 22, 2007 by southerly

[Ross Hunter]

Gee you have seen some tough weather over the years Ross.

A couple of months ago I was speaking with the skipper from the Tunny who used to drop line Browns in the 1980's and remarked on all the small boats that head out there now. He just shook his head, shivered and mumbled something about being **** mad.

I was on the Tunny in 1980 when a southerly hit just as we had put the gear in, it took 3 hours to get it back up by which time the sea was lousy. As we started for home I headed to a bunk for a sleep, the skipper called me on deck as we crossed the 60 fathom line, I have never seen anything like it, the waves were massive and lining up on the shelf with the top 5 mtrs or so of each wave just rolling foam, it was like being in a surf zone. In a small boat it would have been like playing russian roulette. At least I had 60ft of steel displacement hull under me, even then there was water all over the deck.

So to all those heading to Brown's in small boats go and have fun, but don't be afraid to hit the go button and run to home on the first sign of any weather, heading home from Brown's in 30kts would give you a travel speed of 5-10kns max and its a long and miserable thumping home at that pace.

Southerly

Southerly,

I guess if you go out there often enough you are going to cop a storm or two one day I hate them and will never take risks if I think bad weather is eminent...Enjoyed your report and glad you made it through.

It is a lonely post when caught in a bad storm and it does feel good when you have made it through safely

Thanks for sharing your experience with us.

Ross

[brickman]

great read ross but more importantly a good warning that i have taken on board thanks mate with all the gadgets on boats nowdays[mine incuded]leads boaters to beleave they have all the safty gear to head wide

being 45 and in my younger years we chased big seas for surfing all up and down the east coast

i know how it can be 3 foot when you padel out and 15feet 2hours later scarry stuff

i would love to go wide but in a 5 meter cubby that's just not on and i think we need people to remind us off the dangers that await and the risk's we should not take

thanks again ross

cherrs gary