July 20, 2005 - Standing Watch
by Scott and Wendy Bannerot

	It's never too early to learn about vigilance...this is Ryan at age three, imitating the adults on board by keeping a watchful eye on the deep green channel leading out of the marina basin at Malololailai Island, Fiji.

We are extremely opinionated about the topic of standing watch. Like so many other things in life - marriage, family relationships, raising kids - it seems to us if you keep things simple, don't cut corners, and don't compromise your standards, everything works out well. On the other hand, if you begin to slip, weaken, or give in, the consequences can be rapid and severe. We firmly believe that you can do all of this with a smile on your face and a happy, relaxed countenance, in part because everyone knows exactly what to expect. No tension from negotiating or changing this and that, because it's all understood up front, what you see is what you get, and that's the end of it.

Our first standard is that someone is awake and vigilant while on passage, around the clock. Too much can happen in too short a time to do it any other way, be it a collision course with another vessel, sudden weather event, or something going wrong with one's own boat. Approximately in the middle of a 3,000-mile, 30-day passage from the Galapagos to the Marquesas we once considered standing down and both of us going to sleep while under way. We decided against it, and darned if several hours after dark we didn't develop a perfect collision course with a chemical freighter bound from Chile non-stop to South Korea, the only ship we'd seen on the entire passage.

The second standard is really part of the first, that word "vigilant". An active watch means stationing oneself with good visibility forward and with access to radar and navigation electronics, not down below reading a book at the galley table. The least pleasant weather for being outside is sometimes the most important condition to be out where you can see, that is if you lack a wheelhouse. Dense rain clutter can obscure targets on the radar, whereas glimpsed running and range lights can make all of the difference in avoiding a collision. I can think of three people right away that would likely be alive today had they adhered to this watch-keeping standard.

We usually set up our watchkeeping system by dividing time evenly - that is, 24 divided by the number of available crew members. So, for a couple that means 12 hours on and 12 hours off, with time off dedicated both to tasks required to keep boat and crew happy, and also to that all-important responsibility to get adequate rest. We have used various systems for allocating watch times, like six hours on during daylight hours and four hours at night, but I would say that in general four off and four on around the clock works out well. Then everyone develops a rhythm of rest and watch, and with it the ability to sleep soundly day or night. If one individual gets behind on rest - let's say something breaks and the person most mechanically inclined works for an entire off-watch fixing the problem, takes watch, and is then obligated to stay up a bit more to catch a weatherfax schedule. The other crew member might then take a six-hour shift to let the tired crew person catch up on sleep. Other than such aberrations, we think the formal set-up works far better than winging it, because it allows everyone on board to budget sleep and work more efficiently.

Watchkeeping can be social and fun, especially if you have a bench seat on an arch or other elevated station aboard your vessel. You can see so many things from up high, such as fish, mammals, or the distant breakers of Chesterfield Reef, far out in the Coral Sea, which Ryan is pointing out to Wendy.

Singlehanded sailing obviously causes the operator to essentially violate everything we've said so far (in addition to international maritime law requiring active watchkeeping). Nevertheless, circumstances don't always lend themselves to keeping or acquiring crew, and setting off by oneself, while inherently dangerous, may in many ways be a better choice than setting off with the wrong crew member. The longest passages I have sailed singlehanded were only two days in duration, both just under two hundred miles, and a few shorter ones between the Bahamas and Florida. We have several friends who have singlehanded extensively, including one circumnavigator, and we have spoken with them at length about how they handled watchkeeping This is an area where technology has helped immensely, particularly radars that can be programmed to periodically turn themselves on, look around, and sound a piercing alarm if they detect a hazard. One friend, who has singlehanded all over the Pacific from the tropics to Alaska, sets conservative canvas each evening, programs his radar, and sleeps eight hours a night while the boat tends to itself (as long as he's not in a busy shipping lane). He maintains that yes, something could go wrong and he might awaken well behind on an emergency (you know, like cold water lapping at your face from a thru-hull failure), but the odds of this happening are slim, and by taking this relatively small risk he can experience the rich rewards of sailing all over the place. This is analogous to surfing - sure, in most wave-catching areas it is entirely possible to be maimed or killed by a shark at any moment, but by choosing the right locations and observing some safety guidelines, the chance of this happening is minimal. You can waste your time worrying about the minuscule, or you can carefully consider the odds, decide on an acceptable risk level, and go enjoy yourself. This is certainly the kind of risk-reward analysis all singlehanders must consider.

For me personally, singlehanding is unacceptably dangerous from a watchkeeping and a number of other perspectives, and I think that much of the danger arises from fatigue. Everyone's got to sleep, and there's no way to get adequate rest and still do everything you need to do for what I think of as a safe passage. At some point I believe I would become a hazard to myself and possibly to others (we have twice avoided collisions with sailboats far offshore, actively sailing along, whose occupants were asleep). I've singlehanded under specific circumstances where Wendy and Ryan had to fly out of remote island locations for medical reasons and I needed to go meet them a fairly short distance away, and I was once prepared to make a 2,700-mile passage singlehanded for similar reasons. My aging Simrad radar won't turn itself on, so I left it powered up during naps with the alarm function on. If I were ever to become a singlehander I'd certainly back this up with the acquisition of one of the new "smart" radars and a good life raft, complete with ice maker and stereo. Hats off to the guys that make singlehanding work for them, but it's not for me if I can avoid it.

If the smart radar works so well for singlehanding, the logical extension is, "Why not get a little extra rest while the radar keeps watch?," even for those sailing with crew. I believe that this is generally a bad habit to get into...two or more people can keep an adequate watch around the clock, and on a percentage basis we don't spend an inordinate amount of time on passage, so why not suck it up and be safe? Plus, how can you enjoy the solitude and the shooting stars if you're asleep?

	The fundamental goal of sound watchkeeping offshore is to eventually tie up or anchor safely at your destination. Shown here is our first sunset in Australia nestled restfully at Bundaberg Port Marina at the mouth of the Burnett River. This sure beats resting in the cold, dark depths of some mid-ocean trench, the potential consequence of poor watchkeeping standards while on an offshore passage!

When I am on watch, I primarily think, plan, and enjoy the solitude. Sometimes I set up a small reading light in the cockpit and read in very settled conditions, but I generally prefer the dark, and I really enjoy the opportunity to simply think, create, and imagine. Wendy spends more time reading like this than I do while she is on watch. Neither of us ever view DVDs or videos while on watch. We do duck in to the wheelhouse/galley area and brew coffee, or make something to eat, but not in poor visibility or dangerous conditions where radar data might be obscured - in these circumstances we set ourselves up with whatever we'll need for the next four hours in a thermos before we go on watch. We have installed red filters on dual fluorescent lights, and we use these red lights at night to protect our night vision. Once more I believe the time Wendy and I spent on commercial vessels prior to our sailing lives influenced our watchkeeping practices, and in particular made us both able to easily stand any watch schedule. Neither of us mind the "graveyard shift" between the hours of midnight and sunrise. I did it a lot during the early years, and I think Wendy did it most of the time for the past two or three years as we made our way to Australia. I really enjoy the night and very early morning, a time we don't tend to experience as much when we are on land.

The importance of getting adequate rest while off-watch cannot be over-emphasized, and is the mark of a seasoned seafarer. The worst thing you can do consistently offshore is to get off watch and squander your sleep time doing anything other than sleeping. It sometimes takes discipline to put down a good book or ignore the television, but it pays large dividends a few hours later when someone is shaking you awake to stand watch. The time to entertain oneself is when you're fat on sleep and nothing is wrong or broken aboard, although I would say that secluding oneself in a closed cabin and reading is also a form of rest, and can be a very helpful prelude to an off-watch nap. I would say the same for listening to favorite music in this mode, perhaps with a personal player and headphones. It's also important for other crew members not to pester someone who is off-watch and catching some rest, unless it's a very compelling issue.

And this brings us to the subject of having kids aboard - their idea of a compelling issue might not be perfectly in line with yours, like "Hey Dad, I haven't seen you for a couple of hours, so let's play!" That's an offer I can't refuse, so I play for a bit and then retire for some rest. The main way we have been able to do this to date is simple - we cheat. We have had an extra crew member for every major passage since having Ryan, and as it has worked out, we only have one child. The primary responsibility of the crew member is either to entertain and protect Ryan, or to assume the watchkeeping duties that would normally belong to Wendy so that she can take responsibility for Ryan. Our crew for the next intended major passages, eastward from Australia to the Pacific islands, will likely be just the three of us as Ryan will be six years old and more self-sufficient. He'll simply have to settle into the rhythm like everyone else.