Late October, 2004 -- It was time to head south. I had intended to leave earlier but had discovered several structural deficiencies I felt needed to be remedied first. I was now ready to go but the weather wasn't cooperating.

Saturday, October 30 and Sunday, October 31, 2004 -- I sat out a gale in port at Grand Haven, Michigan. Ken, a sailor who had already pulled his boat for the winter, let me use his slip for free. Winds were blowing a steady 35-40 knots with gusts up to 55K reported in nearby Grand Rapids. This is a time of unsettled weather on Lake Michigan but if one is willing to wait there are enough good days to safely make it to Chicago and the rivers and waterways south. By Sunday afternoon the front had passed and the weather window I had been waiting for was opening.

Monday, November 1, 2004 -- The wind and sea conditions were fine but it was going to rain. I don't mind a bit of cold or rain but I'm getting too old to endure a day on the water in cold and rain unless it's absolutely necessary. And it wasn't. Tuesday and Wednesday were going to give me perfect weather for my run to Chicago. North winds of 10-25K on Tuesday would push me the 52 miles south to South Haven. The winds were going to shift to the east on Wednesday; ideal for the trip across Lake Michigan to Chicago. So I read and puttered about and napped while it rained steadily throughout the afternoon and evening.

Tuesday, November 2, 2004 -- I got underway at 1020. This was later than I had planned (I overslept) but anticipated no problem making South Haven before dark. The sky was overcast, air temperature was in the mid-40s, water temperature was 53 degrees (Fahrenheit), wind was from the north at 10K, and waves were 1-2 feet. The winds were predicted to increase to 15-25K during the day and waves were expected to build to 4-6 feet.

NOAA was right on. By noon I was seeing occasional 3-4 foot waves. By early afternoon, waves were averaging 3-4 feet with occasional 5-6 footers. The waves were steep but my boat was taking them well and under control. The wind was up to 15-20K and I was traveling at hull speed (about 7 mph).

While compensating for a burst in weather helm caused by a following sea, I heard a crack! which was immediately followed by the loss of steerage. I broached. The wave picked the boat up and heeled it past 45 degrees. I caught myself holding my breath, waiting to see what would happen. The wave passed under and the boat righted.

The transom-hung kick-up rudder was flopping around. After dousing my sails, I leaned out over the transom to see what I could see. The rudder blade had kicked up and was wobbling side to side. The tops of the 1/8"thick stainless steel plates, which are bolted through the rudder head and sandwich the blade, were bent outward at an angle. The lower pintle was no longer in the gudgeon and was instead hanging on the port side of the rudder. The rudder remained attached by only the upper pintle.

The Luger 27 has an unusually shaped transom. From the rear of the lazarette, it slopes downward aft for about 18" then angles back forward. The gudgeons are attached to the lower, forward angled portion. This configuration makes it awkward to reach the rudder to work on it. I grabbed a 1/2" dock line, leaned over the stern, and looped and knotted the line around the rudder head as far down as I could safely reach, leaving enough line on either side of the knot to reach my stern cleats. I then pulled the lines taut and cleated them off. This stabilized the sideways motion of the rudder somewhat. I tied another line around the top of the rudder head and pulled it forward to try and force the bottom of the rudder away from the stern and keep it from banging against the transom.

I started my outboard (which is located in a well built into the lazarette) and experimented to see how much steerage I had. Saugatuck was not too far north and would provide a safe harbor if I was able to steer into the waves. I couldn't. The outboard fit so tightly into the well it could not be rotated enough to help with steerage and the damaged rudder wasn't up to the task. I was, to a certain extent, able to keep my stern to the smaller waves but then a bigger wave would come along and slew my boat sideways. Sometimes I'd end up pointing toward shore; other times I'd end up pointing offshore.

My rudder failed at around 1500 just 14 miles north of South Haven. I was a mile or two offshore in 60 feet of water and drifting/"motoring" south at between one and two miles an hour. At that rate I would reach South Haven sometime in the early morning.

I pondered possible ways to regain steerage. If the lower pintle was still in its gudgeon I could have tried jury rigging a rudder blade by clamping a long board to the rudder head. If the seas had been calmer I could have removed the rudder and probably come up with some sort of temporary fix. If I waited, and the wind shifted and conditions moderated as predicted, my ability to steer and make temporary repairs would improve if, in the meantime, I didn't completely lose my rudder and the rudder banging against the transom didn't hole the hull and I was able to maintain a safe distance offshore. In the end, I would still need to come up with steerage adequate to negotiate the entrance to the South Haven harbor. If it was typical, the water at the mouth of the breakwaters would be choppy and confused if any kind of sea was running. And if the worst did happen, the chilly air and water temperatures created a real risk of hypothermia. If, if, if.

In over 25 years of cruising I have never had a tow. Reluctantly, I concluded this was an appropriate time to change that. I radioed the Coast Guard, explained my situation, and was eventually asked "Are you requesting assistance?" I replied "I guess I am."

The Coast Guard sent a tow vessel from Grand Haven. They estimated it would take about two hours to reach me. They also dispatched a helicopter. We set up a 15 minute contact schedule, at which time I updated them on my condition, position and heading. I settled down to wait. My boat was bouncing around and occasionally taking a little slop over the stern, but generally handling the conditions well.

Both the helicopter and tow vessel reached me around 1700. My (hank-on) jib was still on the foredeck (I had lowered it from the cockpit with a downhaul) and I was told I needed to remove it. Once the foredeck was clear, I was thrown a heaving line which I used to pull the tow line aboard. I attached the bridle to my bow cleats and was taken in tow. Our destination was Lake Macatawa, upwind (back the way I had come) about 2 1/4 hours away. I wedged myself in a sitting position on the cockpit floor with my back resting on the washboard in the companionway. The tow was so good and I was so exhausted that, during the last hour of the tow, I dozed off several times.

Once we had negotiated the entrance to Lake Macatawa, the Coast Guard vessel put me on a side tow and took me to Eldean Shipyard Marina. After securing my boat to a dock and obtaining some information from me, the tow vessel departed around 2100. I was impressed. The Coast Guard personnel had at all times been extremely courteous, competent, and professional. I couldn't have asked for a finer example of the invaluable service they perform for mariners.

The marina was deserted. I examined my boat to make sure it was not leaking, then closed it up, lit the stove to provide some heat, and plunked down on a settee and tried to relax. I wasn't hungry but knew I had to eat something so I nibbled on some cheese on cheese crackers. Feeling better with a bit of food in my stomach, I heated water on the stove and made hot chocolate. Then I doffed my flotation jacket and safety harness and tackled the mess on the cabin sole, including the porta potti. The porta potti, which faces athwartships, had broken free from its clamps and tumbled forward. The front was now down, the top and bottom halves had separated, and the valve on the bottom half, which keeps the waste contained, had opened. I feared the worst and was delighted to discover it was empty enough there was no overflow. After righting, reassembling, and testing the porta potti, I turned off the stove and crawled into my sleeping bag fully clothed. I slept soundly and did not awaken until 0815 the next morning.

Wednesday, November 3, 2004 -- I wanted to see what my rudder and transom looked like but, at the same time, I didn't. So I delayed by making some hot chocolate and having breakfast.

It was a gorgeous morning -- a sunny blue sky dotted with cumulus clouds and a light easterly breeze. I climbed onto the dock and walked to my stern. Looking down, I was amazed to see that after all the hours of bouncing around and being towed, the lower pintle was still hanging from the port side of the rudder, apparently held there by nothing more than the friction of the threaded remains of a single, now headless and nutless, bolt.

I climbed back aboard, hooked one foot around the mainsheet as a precaution against an unwanted swim, and eased myself headfirst over the transom in an attempt to lower myself far enough to grab the pintle. It was a stretch, but I eventually managed to get a good grip and lifted. The pintle came free easily. So did the remains of the bolt it had been hanging on (which promptly sank).

The port strap of the pintle was slightly distorted; the starboard strap, on the other hand, was bent in a semicircle. The lower gudgeon appeared undamaged and solidly bolted to the transom. The lower pintle is about two-and-a-half inches long and when inserted extends about an inch-and-a-half below the bottom of the gudgeon. The force of whatever had happened had twisted the pintle up and out.

I next secured a couple of lines to the rudder to prevent its loss in case I lost my hold while removing it. I pulled the rudder aboard over the stern, then lifted it onto the dock where I took the following pictures of the damage.

A total of eight bolts secure the side plates to the rudder head. Six of those had broken off, leaving the rudder blade hanging by the remaining two bolts, both of which were bent.

After removing the side plates, I took them and the pintle to the marina's ship's store to explore my options. Not surprisingly, it did not have a replacement pintle in stock. But the employee I talked to offered me the use of the shop. With a hammer, vise, and anvil I managed to bend the pieces back into usable shape. I returned to my boat and, using some of the spare nuts and bolts I carry on board, reassembled the rudder (right).

It was only a temporary fix but adequate to allow me to motor the 20-plus miles to Grand Haven where I had friends and could get the boat pulled. It was now 1400. The seas were flat and the wind was light and would be on my beam. That was close to ideal and conditions were going to take an unfavorable turn tomorrow. So I scarfed down a quick lunch and departed Lake Macatawa at 1430.

The rudder was vibrating slightly and I didn't want to subject it to any more pressure than necessary, so I held my speed down to about 5 mph and steered as delicately as possible. I arrived at Grand Haven just past sunset and slowly worked my way up the river in the dark toward the Wharf Harbor Marina. I got disoriented as I approached the marina and took a wrong turn into it. But I was in (just not at the docks I was targeting) and any place to tie up was good enough at that point.

After securing the boat, I walked into town looking for a pay phone. I don't have a cell phone and their ubiquity seems to have resulted in a corresponding scarcity of pay phones. I eventually found a coffee shop that was open, entered, and asked a customer where I could find a pay phone. He said there was one in the rear of the coffee shop but generously offered me the use of his cell phone. I called my friends, left a message on their answering machine, and walked back to the boat.

Uncertain about whether I would be spending the night on the boat, I proceeded as if I would be and started dinner. While it was cooking I turned on my AM/FM radio and dialed through the stations searching for a talk show to listen to. Most of the talk was about the re-election of President Bush. Being preoccupied with other things, I had completely forgotten that yesterday was election day. (I voted by absentee ballot before taking off.)

My friends arrived shortly after I had washed my dishes and settled down to read. They joked about how pitiful I sounded in the message I left on their answering machine. I'm willing to swallow my pride for a warm place to sleep and a shower.

The teasing continued throughout the evening. "You should rename your boat `I'm Back.'" "You should cross out the `B' and add a `C' and a `D.'" We finally agreed that the best change would be a circle around the "B" with a diagonal line running through it.

Thursday, November 4, 2004 -- My friends dropped me off at the marina and I made arrangements to have my boat hauled. I knew that, at the very least, I would have to build a new rudder. But I was still concerned about possible structural damage to the hull and wanted to do an out-of-water inspection.

At first glance, it appears the hull damage is only cosmetic. Eventually, I'll do a more thorough examination. But my top priority right now is to determine the cause of the rudder failure so I can prevent a recurrence.