Small Boat, Big Waves: Our Worst Passage Yet
As a kid, I would gaze at my Granny’s picture of huge ocean waves that hung above the dining room table and try to imagine what they must look like in real life.
There was a part of me desperate to experience it for myself, and another part of me terrified at the thought of it. It could turn my stomach just thinking of it, and yet I wanted so badly to be out at sea in waves that big.
Over our four years of sailing Hot Chocolate, I have never felt scared of the waves, only the wind.
When the wind picks up I get twitchy. Everything feels more frantic and urgent when you feel the chill of the wind on your skin and in your hair. Suddenly the sails carry such a huge amount of power, every line is taut and one false move carries lasting consequences.
But the sea has never felt threatening. We were out in 4 meter seas off the coast of Sicily on one of our very first sails on Hot Chocolate, and watching the swell rise behind the boat was thrilling and exhilarating, but not scary.
Sailing off the coast of Astypalea in short, tall, choppy seas had me in tears, but only because of the furious 30+ knts of wind that we had to relentlessly plough into.
I would look for sailing quotes or captions for Instagram about the ocean but never chose the one about stormy seas. I just didn’t know what that looked like.
Every single day on a sailboat brings a new challenge, and just when you think you’ve seen the worst and come through the other side, there is usually something just as terrifying lurking around the corner. And something equally as beautiful. It’s what keeps this lifestyle fresh, exciting, and addictive.
So I shouldn’t have been surprised that the downwind three day passage I was so excited for turned into our most horrific experience onboard so far.
Leaving Croatia
The predominant winds during the summer in Croatia blow from the north. We had been beating into them for several months (much cursing was done) before enjoying some beautiful downwind sails back down south towards Cavtat, to wait for a weather window to sail down to Greece.
After a horrible 3 day passage up here, with hardly any wind and big seas, we couldn’t wait for some northerlies to send us straight down to Corfu. And we got the perfect forecast. We would have about 20knts of wind behind us almost the whole way, with a little motoring on the first day.
We left Zaton in the morning with a few hour’s sail to Cavtat where we could check out. The wind coming off the mountains was flukey, with 5 knts gusting to 30 and back down again, so we were kept on our toes a bit but felt confident the wind would settle as we got further offshore.
Checkout was smooth. We didn’t have to go onto the Q dock which was a relief, as we had cross winds and a boat that hates going in reverse. It seemed that luck was on our side, and as we left Croatia behind we had a steady 15knts of wind and were sailing with just the genoa at around 5knts. It was perfect.
Sunset Day 1
As the sun started to set on our first day we were making good progress, but the sea was getting a little uncomfortable with building waves and no more wind to keep the sails full. I threw together a quick pasta dinner so I didn’t have to be below for too long, and we got ourselves kitted up for our night watches.
Tethers on, decks cleared, nav lights on, red head torches, and our handheld radio clipped onto the person on watch. One of Hot Chocolate’s huge advantages is her big locker lids and high sides, which make for excellent beds even in a rolly sea. As Adam suffers from seasickness he will often sleep outside on passages, and as night set in it was clear he wasn’t going to last long in the building seas.
I took the helm while Adam got his head down in an attempt to ward off the sickness. We were still sailing, though it was slower going now with the seas rolling the boat and knocking the wind out the sails every now and again.
Night Time At Sea
It was a dark night, but the stars gave some light, enough to see that the waves we were taking on the beam were only growing even though the wind was holding steady behind us. The autopilot was struggling to hold the boat on course, and we were rounding up too often. It was time to hand steer.
Hand steering in the large waves and the dark was tricky, especially now the wind was picking up and then easing again. I reefed and shook out the genoa more times than I can remember, with one hand on the steering as I tried not to lose control of the boat in the waves. Adam was in his own hell, desperate to take over and give me a much-needed break but throwing up every time he tried.
I was having to steer slightly off course so we weren’t taking the now-breaking waves directly on the beam. It was hard to see how high they were in the dark. I could just see streaks of white water alongside me and hear the roar as they broke, often into the cockpit. I was thankful for my study sailing jacket, life vest, and tether, which felt like the only things protecting me from the freezing spray.
By about 3am I was completely exhausted, and making uncomfortable helming errors. It was hard to steer down wave at the right time, and the boat was getting thrown around more as I got more tired. Adam took over. Just as I got my head down he woke me, as a fast rib was approaching.
They had a bright searchlight that was blinding and coming towards us at speed. I made sure the radio was turned up but we heard nothing from them as they came alongside us, lit up our boat, and then disappeared again. It was a search and rescue rib. After a panic that it was out there looking for our friends, who were several hours ahead of us but out of touch, Adam persuaded me to try and sleep again.
It was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes I could see the enormous waves that had been lit up by the search and rescue rib.
Sunrise Day 2
Usually sunrise is my favourite time on a night passage. Watching the world light up around you after a whole night of darkness feel magical, and I will always volunteer for the sunrise shift. This passage was a little different. I had my usual sunrise shift (Adam had done his best to helm for as long as possible before the sickness got him again) but the world was terrifying in colour.
We could suddenly see just how big the waves really were.
They were towering above the bimini in a frothy mess before breaking, and they came relentlessly with just a few seconds between them. We realised it was becoming dangerous for us to be attempting to continue on our course, taking them beam on, and with the wind building, we weren’t optimistic they were about to die down any time soon.
There’s not an exact science as to what height of waves have the potential to make a boat roll, but if the wave height reached 30% of the hull length we knew we had to take them seriously. At 11m long, Hot Chocolate should be safe in breaking waves of up to about 4m, which was what we estimated we were getting. If we steered the boat beam on by accident, and a wave broke at the wrong time, we could be in serious trouble.
We had a decision to make. Risk continuing on as we were, which we quickly ruled out. Head upwind towards Albania in the hopes we would get wave protection from the shore or turn down wave towards Italy. It was so nice to have options, but on absolutely no sleep it was hard to make a decision.
We decided to try turning towards Albania, as it was the closest bit of land. That quickly proved to be a disaster. The wind speed picked up dramatically and we were seeing sustained 35knts. We only had the head sail out and had no hope of getting up the main, so the boat was totally unbalanced and we would have to motor. And although Hot Chocolate rode pretty smoothly over the breaking waves, it was totally terrifying to watch.
Down wave it was.
As soon as we turned down wave everything became more settled. Hot Chocolate eased into her favourite wave conditions like a champ, surfing down the tall waves. With full genoa out in 20knts of wind we were sailing nicely. The waves we had been taking in the face were now hitting us in the back. Although we were still totally terrified, we felt we were at least in with a fighting chance.
On To Italy
With Adam recovering more with every hour that passed and able to take the helm while I slept, we found ourselves slightly clearer headed. I even attempted a trip below where I managed to grab a banana, though coming back up and seeing the waves looming behind little Hot Chocolate was an image I never want to see again.
We kept our focus forwards, as glancing behind proved too daunting, but even without seeing the waves coming we found a nice rhythm and Hot Chocolate was just a little rolly. We planned to head towards Italy, and hopefully turn towards Greece once the seas died down a little.
This was optimistic. We reached the coast of Italy and the port of Brindisi at around 7pm and the waves were still huge. Wet, exhausted, hungry, and honestly, pretty traumatised, we radioed the coastguard and asked permission to seek safe harbour for the night. I cried when it was granted.
Brindisi
It took several hours to reach the port itself, so it was dark by the time we dropped the hook. The wind was howling but the anchorage was protected from the worst of the seas, and just a little swell was making its way in. It felt like heaven not to be surrounded by towering waves.
We had been told we had to leave in the morning, so we tried to make the most of the nights rest and went straight to bed. It was hard to sleep with the knowledge we would have to head out again on another overnight passage. We were really shaken, and the sea suddenly felt like a very uncertain place.
Day 3
After a fitful nights sleep we awoke early and straightened the boat out before we needed to depart. We could see the waves crashing against the entrance wall, so we knew we wouldn’t be in for smooth sailing, but we had no idea how much the waves had calmed.
We headed out behind a super yacht who steamed ahead of us. Surely if he was ok, we would be ok. Our optimism faded as we watched him leave the calm harbour and get thrown around all over the place before turning tail and heading straight back to safety.
As we came out from behind the harbour wall we were faced with similar waves to the day before, though not breaking now. With the knowledge of what they could turn into fresh in our heads, we too hot footed it back to the anchorage and hoped we could lie low for a few hours.
We sat and watched for hours as boat after boat attempted to leave and then returned. Only the big ferries seemed prepared to head out into the waves. At this point we contemplated selling Hot Chocolate in Italy, and never setting foot on a boat again.
We agreed we would leave at 5pm, and suck it up no matter what. The forecast was for no wind, all day and all night, so we reasoned that even if the waves were big when we left they should calm down through the night. We picked up the hook, raised the sails in the hope of countering the roll of the waves, and headed out.
Thankfully our patience paid off. The waves were down to 2 metres, which felt tiny after the night before. These waves would have had me looking for the closest protected anchorage before, but now felt like little baby waves. There was a lot of relieved laughter, and sunset seemed more beautiful than ever.
Land Ahoy
Our passage back to Greece was dreamy. We sailed all the way through the night with light winds and 1m waves, making 4-5knts the whole time. By the time the sun rose we could see Greece, and we motored the final few hours as the wind died completely, before dropping the anchor on the north end of Corfu.
Luckily the memories of that passage faded quickly. There was a day or so when I thought I would never be able to close my eyes without seeing the wall of waves, but time works wonders, and now I find myself questioning whether it was even that bad.
We were reunited with our friends in Greece, who suffered a similar passage, with breaking waves damaging their bimini, leaking inside the boat, and ripping off their life sling. They too were worried for us when they saw a flare out at sea, perhaps set off by the same boat the search and rescue team were looking for. We hope everyone was found safely.
Lessons Learned
Like every near disaster, Adam and I spent time unpicking what happened. With hindsight, knowing the sea didn’t improve, we would have turned down wave sooner, but what if we hadn’t had the choice of heading down wave, if down wave had taken us onto shore?
We have practised heave to many times on Hot Chocolate, but only with the main sail and the genoa. Heave to is a method you can use to stop the boat at a favourable angle, so you create slick and stop the breaking waves before they reach the boat. You can then safely go below and wait out the storm in relative safety.
Hot Chocolate heaves to well, but we only had the genoa out and putting up the main in those waves would have been too dangerous. We decided in hindsight we would have practised heaving to with just the genoa, in case we were ever in that scenario again.
One thing we will definitely make sure we have for future passages is better cold weather sailing gear. Sailing jackets were not enough for those big seas!
We were relieved we had already worked out what to do with Tiny Cat in bad weather. We bought her a hard carry case for this exact occasion, and although she wasn’t impressed at being shut inside a cage for 24 hours, she was very safe tucked up on our bed inside. She handled the whole thing incredibly well, and despite feeling sick with worry for her in the middle of that awful night, she walked out totally unphased and lovely as ever.
Mostly what this passage taught us is how seaworthy Hot Chocolate really is. Our confidence in this boat has grown and grown over the years, and the way she scooted through the monstrous waves was kind of mesmerising. As I was helming upwind into them, scared stiff, with Adam asleep in the cockpit, I had a moment of calm as I realised she was totally fine and would be for far longer than I would have stamina for.
I wonder whether this final passage of keeping us safe, after the many storms we’ve weathered together, was her way of saying goodbye and fair winds.
