Sailing single-handed

I’ve been asked about how I deal with the practicalities of sailing a boat alone. Sitting in the middle of the Atlantic with a steady wind and nothing else to do, I have attempted to give some sort of answer. For those uninterested in technicalities, you can skim over it, but I suggest you read the last part!

Sailing alone certainly presents challenges. It’s simple really: anything that needs to be done, you have to do it. Adjusting sails, navigation, preparing food, mooring… When there are three or four people on a boat, each can specialise, which makes life a lot easier.

Adjusting the sails

Small adjustments to the sails are easy. Tightening that line, loosening that one… no problem. But if you are reefing the mainsail (reducing its size, by pulling it down a few feet and securing the new foot of the sail), being alone does mean more effort. First you steer the boat into the wind to de-power the mainsail. If the wind is strong it then flaps around wildly. Engage the autopilot to keep the boat headed into the wind. Then leave the wheel, go to the winch and drop the mainsail until the reefing cringle on the sail is roughly at boom level. Then go forward to the mast (ideally with a safety harness on, because you don’t want to be thrown overboard from a pitching and tossing boat). You then attach the cringle to the steel eye situated where boom meets mast. Then get back to the cockpit and tighten up the mainsheet and tighten the reefing line – which ideally you already had attached to the back edge of the mainsail. (If it wasn’t attached, you have the fun of trying to attach it securely while the boom swings back and forth). All done – now you can go back to the wheel, disengage autopilot and resume your course. 

If adjusting the foresail (the jib), things are easier because it rolls onto a furler which runs from the bow up to a high point on the mast. If reducing the jib, you are rolling some of it onto the furler. To do so nicely, you want to do it steadily – not just let the jib sheet go and have the sail flapping around in the wind and furling unevenly. Fortunately, one has two hands. With the left hand, I take the jib sheet off its winch and pay it out gradually, while with the right hand I’m winching the furling line on a second winch. With two people this is obviously pretty easy. But doing it alone is not a big problem and it’s all done from the cockpit – there’s no need to go forward to the bow. 

Mooring the boat

How do I manage to moor alone? With say four people, mooring can be an elegant exercise: one on the wheel who also operates the engine, two standing by with mooring lines to attach to the dock, and a fourth person possibly being “roving fender” (having a spare fender to hand to drop between boat and dock if the boat is likely to hit the dock anywhere. Oh, and it’s easy for the helmsman – he can shout How far away are we? to the others who, standing on the side deck, have complete visibility.

Alone, more complicated. The absolute key is to come in as smoothly as possible. This means getting not just direction but the speed absolutely right – effectively you want the boat to be almost stalling as it touches the dock. Of course you have prepared everything in advance, three or four fenders tied to the rail on the mooring side and mooring lines attached to the boat’s cleats fore, midships and aft. 

So you come in gently, ideally just kissing the dock. As you are doing so, you leap from behind the wheel, grab the closest (aft) mooring line and lasso a cleat on the dock. Doing this successfully makes all the difference: you then just secure the end of the mooring line to the boat’s cleat and you are now firmly attached to the dock. (If your lasso misses the dock cleat, the boat probably moves on, driven by wind or current, in which case you might manage to lasso the next cleat, or if not possible, get back behind the wheel, engage engine, come out and then have another go). 

With the aft line made fast, the bow very often swings out from the dock. This is not a real problem because you are at least attached to the dock. You go to midships, take the mooring line there and lasso a second cleat on the dock. You can then basically haul the boat in to the dock before making the line fast. Alternatively, you can gently engage the engine in forward gear, which against the pivot of your aft mooring line should bring the bow in towards the dock (unless you have a very strong wind blowing it off). 

Anyhow, with the luxury of having the aft line attached, you can simply throw the midships and bow mooring lines onto the dock, run down to the stern and hop off. From the dock, you can get each line around a cleat, physically pulling the boat in before tying her up. 

You can see that all this is a lot easier if there are two or more people to do it. You have a lot less room for error when operating alone, and you need to be quick. The absolute key though is coming in gently. If you come in too fast, the boat will simply bounce off the dock, while continuing to move forward – and your chance of lassoing a cleat is minimal. 

So that’s it: sailing single-handed, some of the practicalities. Before I finish though, something about two basic elements that are very important.

First is wearing a safety harness. The risk of going overboard from the cockpit is small: you are sheltered and there are plenty of things to grab onto. But going up to the mast or the bow is a different matter. Ideally you have at least two clips on your harness so that as you move around you can be clipped onto something at all times, engaging one before disengaging the other. 

If you are alone you do not want to go overboard, because unless you are in a very busy shipping lane or close to the coast, going overboard means certain death. And not a nice way to go either, cursing your own folly until you drown. If the yacht is doing only 3 knots (3.45 mph), you simply cannot swim fast enough to catch her – let alone if she’s doing 6 or 7 knots. And wearing a life jacket is pointless – depending on water temperature, it will simply prolong your death (enabling you to curse your folly for a bit longer). If you are floating in the middle of the ocean, or for that matter 30 miles offshore, nothing is going to see you. In a choppy sea with say 5-foot waves, even someone 100 metres away would be unlikely to see you. So you really want to stay onboard.

One thing about a safety harness: it is crucial to properly attach the two straps that go down from the back of it, up between the legs and attach to the front. They stop the harness being pulled over your head. I read about a case where a yacht was found drifting with a safety harness attached to it and trailing in the water. The man had not attached the straps, the harness had simply slipped over his head, leaving him somewhere. His body was never found.

The second basic element underlies everything. If you are alone, you have to weigh up the situation and make a decision. No-one to discuss it with. Psychologically this is tough – especially when you are uncertain. You try and take everything into account and then decide – knowing full well that you might be missing something rather obvious that another person would instantly see. This psychological aspect is a bigger challenge than rushing around trying to do two or three things at once.