During this race my friend Harvey Shlasky died. I was the other half of the crew. This article is from the May 1999 edition of Latitude 38. I have added some editorial comments to the original article.
The Doublehanded Farallones Race has long been one of the most grueling events on the Northern California racing calendar. In its 20 year history, it has also become possibly the most infamous race on the entire west coast. Held early in the year and thus subject to late winter storms and extreme conditions, this race has claimed six lives since its first running the 1979. (MVS note: this is part of the reason there are no offshore races through the winter months off of SF Bay). The sixth occurred on March 27, despite valiant efforts by a co-crewman and Coast Guard rescuers.
Only through the quick actions of two other boats in another, unrelated rescue was the total not higher.
For most of the race, Harvey Shlasky and crewman Mark Van Selst were doing well aboard Shlasky's Berkeley-based J/29 White Lighting. In their second year racing the Doublehanded farallones together (MVS note: correction: this was the second time we had raced to the farallones while doublehanded, we had raced the 1998 crewed Farallones Race -- also in very heavy weather -- while doublehanded against other, fully-crewed yachts). They had won their start, were the first boat in their division out the Gate and, in a building wind and swell, had a fast passage to the only 'turning mark' in the race. Southeast Farallon Island. They even had the thrill of passing a pod of whales spouting (MVS note: At this time, I can only recall seeing one whale, though it was definitely spouting).
By the time they were homeward bound, White Lightning, under double-reefed main and #3 jib, was broad reaching before northwesterly winds in excess of 30 knots and surfing down (close, steep) 12-14 foot swells, some of which were breaking. "We were aware the conditions were dangerous," say Van Selst, "But we were feeling very good, very dialed-in. The boat was pretty much in control."
The 'fatal' wave, says Van Selst, did not appear to be larger, faster, or steeper than any of its predecessors. As he had been doing for two hours, Mark dumped the main to ease the boat's helm and prepared to take it back in. Harvey steered down the face. The next thing he knew, he was underwater. The time was about 4:30 PM, and the boat was at the entrance (just inside) to the shipping channel, about 5 miles from the Golden Gate.
"I do not remember leaving the boat at all," recalls Mark. "In fact, for a moment I didn't even realize I was in the water. My next thought was 'Do not swim till you know which way is up."
Van Selst did not have to worry about swimming. A moment later, he was jerked through the water as the broached boat regained her feet and started dragging the two sailors through the water by their harnesses.
Both Shlasky and Van Selst were wearing 'automatic' inflatable SOSpenders vests, which double as harnesses, as both men had been clipped onto jacklines since sailng out of the bay. When the boat went over, Mark's was clipped to the high-side (port) jackline: Shlasky to the low-side (starboard) jackline. Mark went out under (MVS correction: OVER) the leeward lifelines. Luckily his strap had taken a wrap around the starboard Primary (mvs correction: was prevented from travelling further aft by the PORT Primary. This brought him up on the low side of the boat, only inches from the rail. Harvey was (about 5 feet) behind the boat (on the low side), being dragged face first through the water.
As with many extreme situations, Mark could not put a time frame on the sequence of events that happened next. Other witnesses estimate the sequence of events took place over about 20 minutes.
Only when he surfaced next to the boat did Mark realize what had happended. He dragged himself through the upper and lower lifelines and started to climb the steeply angled cockpit to release the windard-cleated jibsheet. (The mainsheet had been released prior to the broach) "But I found now the harness was pulling me down" says Mark. He looked around to discover that the harness was wrapped around the lower (MVS: I am 90% sure it was the upper) lifeline, where he had climbed through. "My immediate thought was to clip and unclip" he says, "But that did not last long. I fully expected the boat to broach again." So, laboriously, he climbed back out through the upper and lower lifelines and back aboard (at some point surprised to find out that part of his awkwardness was due to his SOSpenders PFD that had automatically inflated. (MVS correction: It was actually (I think) five minutes later [likely longer] when I was going forward to retrieve a halyard for Harvey that I discovered that my vision and ability to turn my neck was impaired by the fully inflated PFD). He finally got to windward and released the cleated jib.
It was only then that Mark realized that Shlasky was in trouble. he looked back to see the 51 year old software developer being submarined through the water, "just like someone who won't let go of a waterski rope," says Mark. Van Selst said Harvey was trying to say something to him, but it kept getting lost in the wind. He also noticed that Harvey's life vest had not inflated. (MVS note: I cannot recall noticing this up to the time he was at the boat).
Mark knew he had to work fast, but he was shocked to find the cockpit almost completely empty -- no lines, no winch handles, no nothing. Further complicating factors included a partially jammed rudder and a broken boom (MVS note: it was a long time into the rescue attempt before I realized that the boom was broken).
He blew the entire bank of clutches o the boat -- which included the main halyard -- to try to slow it down, but the high wind only plastered the top part of the main against the shrouds and White Lightning kept on going. He tried to jam the tiller hard over to bring the boat head to wind, but without a boom, the howling wind and waves just pushed the boat down again. (MVS note: remaining as hove-to as possible was not an option broadside to the waves). Motoring was out of the question as the outboard was strapped down below in the cabin.
In between trying to slow down, Mark recovered a lazy sheet, tied it to harveys tether and tried to get him closer to the boat -- or at least get his face out of the water. It was a difficult process without a winch handle, but he managed to muscle Shlasky in a little bit. From then on, it was a matter of "steer, steer, do something, steer..." He got several more lines around Harvey's tether, including the yellow polypro line from the lifesling, which he'd opened for just that purpose. By the time he got the now unconscious Shlasky "about eye level with the transom (MVS note: toerail halfway back from starboard primary)" the cockpit was a spider web of lines. Mark was planning to (MVS actually 1/2 way there) when he realized he was surrounded by other boats.
Mark recalled that the Olson 34 Razzberries had been sailing to leeward of White Lightning when the broach happened. Now he saw that they had dropped their sails and were standing by under power (MVS correction: At about this point in time I became aware of Razzberries sailing to leeward -- apparently standing by to assist if required). He also saw the pilot boat, which had been inbound, and two Coast Guard rescue boats hovering close by (MVS correction: my situational awareness outside the immediate viscinity of the boat was pretty poor at this point). Razzberries had called the Coasties. One of the Coast Guard Boats with two rescue swimmers at the ready came up behind White Lightning and -- it being too rough to come alongside -- shouted to Mark to pull up the all the trailing lines (rescue sling). That accomplished, "they started yelling at me to lower Harvey back to them" says Van Selst, a 31 year old Assistant Professor of Psychology at San Jose State University.
"I looked around for a line to do that, but they were all being used for other things" say Mark, "So the next thing I did was probably the weirdest thing I've ever done in my life -- everything I'd ever read or been taught says to stay with the boat. But I knew this transfer had to be done quickly -- so I unclipped Harvey." Van Selst never saw the recovery because he was too busy trying to get the boat under (some kind of) control and get it home. Witnesses say the Coast Guardsmen yanked Shlasky from the water and instantly began CPR as the boat raced back to its base at station Golden Gate. Unfortunately, Harvey Shlasky could not be revived. He was airlifted to Marin General Hospital, where he was pronounced dead.