“You’re tired. The seas are high.

 A para-anchor can save the day”

 By Zack Smith

appearing in the 2001 issue of Latitudes and Attitudes.
 

It’s amazing how quickly a calm, clear day can turn. Many sailors have experienced it. They’re sailing along, enjoying the day, then boom. Clouds roll in, the seas begin to pitch and gale winds start up. It’s as if the elements are trying to whip your vessel into submission. I spent six hours like that during a recent outing with a partner. I dodged breaking waves and surfed downwind on the backs of 15 ft. swells until I was exhausted. Every decision, every storm tactic I used, became crucial. I couldn’t afford to make mistakes. And there’s no way I could listen to the macho side of my sailing ego that whispered, “real men sail all day and night in high winds and waves like this. They don’t get tired!”
 

But I was tired. Very tired. And this was real life. My legs were almost paralyzed from sitting on the cockpit’s hard, cushionless seat. And I couldn’t ignore the sharp pain that started at my wrist and crawled up my arm. My neck was locked into a single, static position. I couldn’t turn my head without pain. I guess that’s what I get for holding onto the wheel so tightly and for so long! But I didn’t have much choice. The seas were building.
 

I watched the sky grow darker and darker. I looked to my sailing partner for some assistance. Maybe he could take the wheel for a while and give me a break. But that would be a mistake. His face was chalk white as he sat slouched over in his seat. No doubt about it. This towering hulk of a man, my long-time sailing buddy, was seasick! It was clear that he couldn’t be much help to me. If we were going to get our Catalina 35 safely back to port, I’d have to be the one to do it. But how, when I was so exhausted? Continuing without rest might end badly. “You can make it,” my ego whispered. “You’ve sailed in nastier conditions than this before.”
 

Maybe so, but that’s no reason to ignore my exhaustion. I had been fighting the waves and wind for hours. I didn’t want to make the mistake that new and seasoned sailors alike sometimes do when pushing it too long. I decided not to follow my ego into danger. I looked at my parachute anchor lashed down on the bow deck. It was rigged and ready for deployment. It was the only way I could get any rest. The anchor would keep the boat bow-to the seas, which is much better than laying ahull, especially in severe weather like my partner and I were experiencing.
 

The decision was made. Off the windward bow I deployed a boat fender connected to a 50-foot floating line. I followed that up with a nine-foot para-anchor and a hundred feet of anchor rode. Our boat settled down immediately. After securing the boat and checking our position, I could finally rest. What a relief!
 

The Moral? Listen to your body. Exhaustion and seasickness are good reasons to use a parachute sea anchor. It’s a good idea to practice using your safety gear before heading out of port. Parachute anchors, in general, can pack down easily into small containers. They’re also easy to deploy, even if you’ve had little experience with them. When properly used, they can save your life in heavy sea conditions. And, at the very least, they offer you greater peace of mind and a little sleep when you need it.

For common questions and answers about parachute sea anchors visit Zack's FAQ's 
 

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