The Science And Religion Of Anchoring

Noi scanning for a good spot at Deshais, Guadeloupe

"We must respect the other fellow's religion, but only in the sense and to the extent that we respect his theory that his wife is beautiful and his children smart." -- H.L. Menchen.

(See also: Musings On Anchoring.)

You've heard it all before: new-fangled super-anchor, all-chain rode, plenty of scope, snubber. Check your set. Yep. That's anchoring in a nutshell. At least the science part of it.

Putting theory into practise, however, isn't always a fully quantifiable exercise. I will try not to sound smug or arrogant, lest we tempt the gods. We are not experts! However, after dropping the hook perhaps one-hundred times in the past year or so, we have not dragged once, either in fair weather or foul. That counts for something, I suppose. Pride before the fall?

First, if you're planning long-term cruising, take a deep breath. Now, double the line item in your budget for anchor and ground tackle. Put a pencil line through the satellite phone entry if necessary. You will miss a good anchoring kit that works 100 percent of the time a whole lot more than that sat phone that is only 30 percent reliable. Trust me on this one.

Anchors fall into the purgatory between science and religion. We love our primary anchor -- a Spade. Why do we love it? Because it has never let us down. Does that mean that it never will? We have no way of knowing that. But we have faith.

We did our research before buying the Spade. The numbers looked good in the (few) unbiased reports we could find. But, we could just as easily have gone with a Rocna, and most certainly would have if only it had fit our bow roller. The two hooks are roughly equal in performance. The only real difference is that the Spade is more expensive.

When we bought Symbiosis, she came with an oversized CQR and a large Bruce. When we purchased the Spade, we got rid of the CQR, but kept the Bruce. The reasoning was that the CQR and Spade were similar "plow-type" anchors, so they were basically duplicates (although we were quite sure the Spade was far superior). The Bruce is perhaps better than the Spade in a few types of bottoms, so it seemed the better choice to keep. Having said that, the Bruce has never come off the bow roller. We haven't found -- at least in the Chesapeake, down the ICW, the Bahamas and the Eastern Caribbean -- any reason not to use our Spade every time. And it's held nicely -- every time.

I passed up a good deal on a used Fortress I found at Bacon in Annapolis just before we cast off. I have been kicking myself ever since. It would be, in my mind, the ideal complement to the Spade and Bruce. It is an excellent anchor for kedging or for holding against strong wind in a single direction (its main drawback being that it does not reset as well as the others). In addition, it is very lightweight for its holding power, which makes it easy to handle, and it disassembles for easy storage.

A word about weight: I agree with the conventional wisdom to go big. Our Spade is a size heavier than recommended. Why not "supersize" me when it comes to anchors and go two or three sizes bigger? It sounds great in principle, but there's a limiting factor. We do not own an electric windlass and neither do you. For us, that's a literal statement (ours is an old manual Simpson-Lawrence Sea Tiger 555), for you, it might be theoretical. You might have a kick-ass electric windlass, but unless you can get the anchor up with two (or four) hands, the anchor is too big. Electric windlasses are one of those items that (along with refrigerators, water-makers and autopilots) keep marine repair folks in business throughout the Caribbean. Our buddy boat, Tropical Blend, recently experienced a jammed gypsy that resulted in a burned out motor. It took four of us to retrieve their 110-pound Bruce. The advantages of buddy boating!

Stainless vs. galvanized? I honestly cannot see any advantage to stainless except aesthetics. They do look nice and shiny. But at nearly twice the price for the stainless-steel versions, I can use the mirror in the head to brush my teeth. 

The next link in the chain, so to speak, is the connection between the anchor and rode. A high-quality swivel, such as made by Italy-based Kong, is a good investment. When the anchor comes up, it is almost invariably twisted the wrong way. The swivel will get it turned around easily.

And the rode. We met a couple in Florida who had been cruising for quite some time in the Bahamas on their home-built motorsailor. They claimed to be anchoring gurus and even had a self-published book on the subject. This couple were strong advocates of chain and nylon line instead of all-chain. They insisted that the elasticity of the nylon rode made for more secure foul-weather anchoring and that the extra weight of all-chain wasn't all that valuable. They have more experience than I do, but by contrast, nearly everyone who is a serious cruiser in the Eastern Caribbean uses all-chain rode. For us, it is the combination of the Spade and the chain rode that we believe (because, remember, it is religion we're talking about here) has kept us safe up to now.

To complete the kit, there's the snubber. The winter before we set off on our big adventure, I did a bit of research on snubbers and bridles. I can't say the research was exhaustive, but for some reason I concluded that I wanted a Y bridle rather than a single-line snubber (which is what most monohull sailboats use). I looked at the one Mantus sold and decided that it would be easier (and cheaper!) just to copy it. Using 3/4" three-strand nylon, a stainless eye thimble, a chain hook and some chaffing gear, I set about recreating that bridle. It doesn't look nearly as good as the fancy Mantus bridle in the magazine ad, but it has proven excellent gear. It is, however, a bit of a struggle getting it around all the bowsprit stays on Symbiosis. One major advantage, in my mind, is that with the bridle (as opposed to the one-line snubber), you artificially increase scope by hooking the chain at or near the waterline, which reduces the angle of pull to the anchor. Those few feet from the bow roller to the waterline can make a lot of difference.

The home-brew bridle/snubber.

Middle: Our Spade well dug-in in Bahamas. Bottom: A Rocna(?) in Martinique.

How to pick an anchoring spot? We tend to only go for "approved" anchorages (i.e., those places marked as anchorages on the chart). On occasion we go off the beaten path, but seldom. We are conservative when it comes to anchoring and other sailing things and centrist or liberal on pretty much everything else. In a crowded anchorage, it's obviously important to have plenty of room to swing and to stay away from your neighbors. All well and good, but sometimes you have to make compromises. More than a few times we've found ourselves a bit too close for comfort with our neighbors -- either because we anchored closer than we should have or our nice and open spot looked good to everyone else who followed us. It is amazing how quickly the perfect anchoring spot can become downtown central.

On the rare occasions when we really feel uncomfortable with an usurper, we move. For those times we feel uneasy as the potentially offending party, we dinghy over and ask the neighbors how they feel. Almost invariably, this defuses the situation. Granted that it's human nature to avoid conflict and the smiles we typically get might be masking gritting teeth. But, if nothing else, it lets them know that we are keeping a close eye on the situation and are prepared to move if necessary. The truth is that we never hit anyone swinging at anchor and no one ever hit us. Sure, strictly speaking, there's some math I could pull out of my sail bag to explain scope and swinging room. If that's your thing, have at it. But, for us it's more a feeling. Not very scientific.

When we anchor, Noi is on the foredeck and I am at the helm. While we are still on approach to the anchorage, Noi is using the binoculars to scout out potential spots. A short discussion (or sometimes argument) ensues and we head for the spot we've picked (or the one I've picked). Thick mud is ideal, but we haven't seen that since the ICW. In the Bahamas and Caribbean, we are looking for lily-white sand on the bottom. And, if the sun angle is right and the water is relatively calm, we might be able to spot it visually. Looking at the chart plotter, I am careful to avoid areas marked "sand and coral." Sometimes that means "sand over coral," which is not good. Additionally, sometimes what looks like sand turns out to be broken shell or coral -- also unsuitable. But it's difficult to know that until you've actually dropped the hook. 

So, what about scope? Our standard is about 7-to-1, regardless of the conditions. Too many times we have seen squalls roll in unexpectedly, with wind quickly ramping up from nil to 30 knots or more. You don't want to be fooling with the anchor then. Here's an example of how I figure scope: if the depth finder says 15 feet, I add five feet for the distance from the waterline to the roller on the bowsprit. 20 x 7 = 140, so I round up to 150 (which, in any case, is an increment marked on the chain rode). If I am feeling a bit nervous about the weather, I spill out a bit more for good measure.

If the water is clear enough (which isn't always the case), we do like snorkeling on the anchor to see how well it is set. If you own a "look bucket" that works too. On at least one occasion, Noi went out to check things and reported that the Spade was over on its side and only partially dug in. We decided to yank it up and do it over.

After all that, it was just a matter of getting comfortable with the routine and what to expect from it. 

Sure, I still get a little nervous when 40 knots comes through our anchorage, but I don't panic. I am pretty confident that we are doing the right thing. The science (and our experience) is what gives me confidence, though. Others might prefer the power of prayer.