We almost dropped a mast the other day. It was a very near thing, a too-close approach to yacht rigging's Mother-of-all-things-that-can-go-wrong. It was scary at the time, and profoundly disturbing later - dodging a bullet is an act that is over in an instant; the full realization of what you've dodged takes some time to seep in. On the other hand, we had no problem in finding a bright side to the event. Even though we clearly did some things wrong, things that almost caused a disaster, we also did some things right, and because of them the disaster was averted.

   So here are the details. We had just stepped the main on a big ketch. It was a brand-new aluminum mast, much lighter and better-engineered than the rotting wood stick it replaced. We only had finished lengths for the lower shrouds, so those were the only ones hooked up when the crane came off. This in itself was a little nervous-making, since this was a deck-stepped mast. But there was lots of fore-and-aft sweep to the shrouds, so we were fine from a staying standpoint. And just to be cautious, we set a halyard up, forward, for further staying of this notably aft-raked mast. Redundancy there.

   Next, one of my apprentices - we'll call him Clyde - began working with one of the owners on hooking up the topping lift. The boom was temporarily supported by another halyard, and needed to be lowered so the topping lift tackle could be rove to its pendant. Working according to a ritual that we are fairly obsessive about, Clyde began casting off the halyard with exaggerated care, keeping a strain on the free end at all times. The idea is that he would be ready if there were an unexpected load on the line. It happens. He carefully slacked out a bit of rope, and belayed. Oddly, the boom was still not low enough. In fact, it didn't seem lower at all. To his credit, rather than just slacking away more, he looked around to see if there might be something that would account for this. And yep, discovered that he had slacked the wrong halyard, the one we were using as a temporary forestay. This should have made only for a slight embarassment, except that he also noticed that the port forward chainplate was sitting a little high. Seems that the owners, at the tail end of a major hull renovation, had neglected to put the throughbolts back in that chainplate. As a result, the mast had swung way aft, and the after lowers were slack. In another moment that chainplate was going to pop free - you could see it crawling as the goo that it was bedded in let go. It was easy to visualize the accelerating arc that the mast would describe as it slammed down to starboard. Fortunately we were able to sweat up on that halyard, and lead another temporary off to port side before that could happen. Disaster averted.

   The bright side was that, in the absence of caution and obsessive ritual, that mast would certainly have come down. Given the shrouds' staying angle, that temporary forestay was a needlessly redundant item. We just set it up because it was cheap insurance. But without it, that chainplate would have likely pulled free, regardless of Clyde's actions. And the bit with the tai chi-style casting off of the halyard also figured into things, as this time there was a bigger load than expected. I've had people comment on our casting-off technique before (oh, come on, it's only a flag halyard!), but we are dealing with potential here, not necessarily what we expect. Our perceptions are often flawed, so such rituals are a way of compensating. And it doesn't matter how good a job you usually do, if there's the odd disaster mixed in. As an air traffic controller put it, "You land millions of people without incident, and nobody notices. Then you have one little midair, and they never let you hear the end of it."

   Of all the Things That Can Go Wrong, the ones riggers are daily closest to have to do with belays of one sort or another: to cleats; to pins; to winches; and even, in this case, to chainplates. All of these fixtures look so reassuringly solid, and they usually are. It is a profound, satisfying, archetypal experience to make up to one, and to know that you have just made a significant connection. But the very fact that these fixtures are solid implies that they need to be, that they have to be able to withstand serious loads. It behooves us, then, to treat them with care and respect, as though they were big draft horses, capable of much work, but also much havoc. It is so easy, in the normal run of things, to forget this, and to treat belays as more or less automatic things, of guaranteed safety. At times, I have felt self-conscious about the level of formal care we are in the habit of. Especially when all around me, people seem to be doing just fine by being slapdash. But all it takes is one little midair...

   Next month: Measuring the Gang

   Fair leads,

      Brion Toss