My son and I were competing in a 300-mile endurance sailboat race in an 18-foot sloop. On the morning of our capsize, a north wind blew at around 20 mph as we headed south through the mouth of the Alligator River toward North Carolina\u2019s Outer Banks. We had set no reefs, and the centerboard and rudder vibrated as they sliced through the waves. The boat lifted and pounded across the wave tops with each gust. We were moving fast, and it felt exhilarating.<\/p>\n
By late afternoon, we entered Pungo Sound. To stay on course, we needed to make two jibes. The first came at around 3 p.m. It was tricky, but it worked. An hour later, about a mile north of Belhaven, North Carolina, we attempted the second jibe.<\/p>\n
Small boats can make heavy-air jibes difficult and violent. In hindsight, we held the mainsail too close. Before we could let it out, the boat capsized. Everything changed in seconds. I saw my son fly over me as his side of the boat rose and my side went into the water. Lines surrounded us, and I quickly became tangled. My son managed a little better.<\/p>\n
After we untangled ourselves, we secured the gear we could reach. Then we tried to right the boat. It lay over at about 45 degrees. The mast tip caught on the bottom and stopped the boat from fully turning upside down. Normally, standing on the centerboard gives enough leverage to right a small sailboat. Our boat\u2019s design gave us no way to pull the board down, however. The board had lifted into its housing, and the one-foot swells made every attempt harder.<\/p>\n
For an hour and a half, we tried to right the boat. Eventually, we used a piece of sailing equipment to pry the centerboard free. I climbed onto it to provide leverage. The boat started to rise, and I hoped we could sail the three-quarters of a mile to shore.<\/p>\n