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You don't want
to read this, and I don't want to write it. The subject of navigation
lights is boring, but if you read this, it just might save your life.
In fact, I've been putting it off for several years until I heard about
a grizzly accident on Lake Erie in which three people were killed when
two small boats collided. That was one of just many deaths and maimings
that have occurred with nighttime collisions this year, all because of
defective lights.
I take lighting seriously, and I'll tell you why. I've run boats all over the western
hemisphere, and not once have I ever run aground or hit anything. Yet on at least three
occasions that I can remember, I nearly had night time collisions. Once with an oil
tanker, no less. If you don't think oil tankers move fast, try misjudging your
bearings and closure rate sometime, and you'll discover the hard way that they really can
move 25-30 knots.
It's hard to appreciate how flat out dangerous nighttime running is until you have one
of these close calls, or worse, you end up like the three people on Lake Erie. They
probably never had a close call, so that was their first and last chance to get it right.
Even when all boats have proper lighting, it's very difficult to judge bearings and
closure rates. I'll say it again, operating a boat at night is dangerous, and it requires
the utmost in attention and knowledge to do so safely. But when boats have improper
lighting . . . well, you don't really have a chance of avoiding an accident.
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| Could you identify these vessels by their lights? These are
three of the most dangerous light combinations you could face. |
Tug pushing barge alongside |
Tug pushing barge astern |
Tug towing a barge |
The simple fact is that at least 1/3 of all boats that I survey
have lighting defects. That's right, one third. That's a pretty good reason why
there are so many accidents. No?
The most common reason is that something has been installed in front of the light which
blocks it. Radar scanners, dinghy's, searchlights, you name it. If the builder did install
proper lights on the boat, people will do something that interferes with the light. Mainly
because they just aren't aware of what they're doing.
The second most common problem is that the lights weren't installed right in the first
place, or the builder installed something that obscured the light.
The third most common problem is that the lights are so puny, such cheap-ass crappy
pieces of junk that one might just as well rip them off an throw them overboard for all
the good they do. Some of the lights I see must have a grand total production cost of 59
cents in Malaysia. But some nut paid $40 for the dang thing. They're that bad. Others are
so poorly designed that they won't keep water out in a 30 second rain shower, so the thing
corrodes and craps out.
The fourth most common problem is the people never check their lights to see that
they work.
The fifth most common problem is that the installation of the lights did not take into
account the running angle of the boat. Since all boats do not run at the same angle, it
often happens that the attitude of the boat dramatically changes the angle at which the
light can be seen. The bow may be pointing so high that the lights can only be seen by
aircraft. A boat far away may be able to see it, but one close-on can't.
There are several important things boaters need to realize.
- It's hard enough to operate by night with good lights, but to run around with marginal
lights is to flirt with catastrophe. Maybe you can see where you're going, but the other
guy can't see you.
- Night vision can be highly illusory. Anyone who's spent some time out on the water
at night knows how hard it is to judge distances, and how easy it is to be fooled by
optical illusions. It is especially difficult in an environment with a lot of lights, such
as near a city. Picking out the lights of a moving vessel from a background of dozens or
even hundreds of lights is very difficult, if not even impossible. Vessels with poor or
defective lights likely go unseen.
- Many people have very poor night vision, or lack the kind of visual perception that is
needed to operate safely at night. This kind of visual perception is a skill, not merely a
matter of good vision. It's the ability to quickly pick out lights and identify their
nature. Whether unskilled or poor vision, it doesn't help matters if your lights are not
up to snuff.
- Many people who operate boats at night quite simply don't know what they're doing. Ask
them a question about taking a bearing of an oncoming boat based on the display of lights,
and about 95% of all boat owners would give you a dumb look. That's because they have no
training whatsoever. Keep that in mind, because that's what you're up against when running
at night.
Check your lights.
- Make sure that the lights meet Federal Regulations, and that they are not obstructed by
anything.
- Check to be sure that the running angle of your boat doesn't obscure visibility. Does
the stern on the transom sink so low that the light is hidden by the wake, and can't be
seen by anyone but you? Over-runnings have occurred because of this -- are actually quite
common in South Florida.
- Check the intensity: Do they look weak or dim? Is it a cheap light, is it too small, or
do you have the wrong kind of bulb in it. Your red and green lights should be shining
brightly, not a dull red or green. Can they really be seen a mile away.
- Make sure that your 225 degree white light isn't blinding YOU. This is a very common
problem on small boats and flying bridge boats where there is no good place to mount the
light.. The builder mounts the light right in front of you so that it hinders your vision.
That's the builder's fault and you should call him to task on it.
- If you have a small boat that has the minimal lighting options allowed (such as
combination lights, and those flimsily little things mounted on aluminum sticks that don't
work most of the time, change them out to good lights.
- Small boat owners should be more appreciative of the fact that small boats are much
harder to see from larger vessels. That's one reason why the highest proportion of
collisions involve small boats. Small boats need better, not lesser lighting as the rules
allow.
Check you knowledge of night running.
- Do you know how to take bearings? Do you know what your looking at when facing a ship, a
tug, or other types of vessels?
- What do you do when facing a shoreline dotted with hundreds of different color lights?
- Do you allow yourself to be distracted by onboard guests when operating under these
difficult conditions?
- Do you post a second lookout? Have you ever?
- Do you operate defensively, instead of assuming that the other guy is also looking
out for you? Chances are he isn't.
- Do you occasionally look behind or beside you, instead of assuming that all hazards are
ahead? Nearly half of all collisions involve running down, meaning hit from behind.
- Do you maintain high speeds even when there are a lot of unidentified lights around you?
Does your speed exceed the amount of time you have to identify what's around you? If so,
you're going too fast.
- Do you know how to judge closure rates at various angles?
If you answered no to any of the above questions, you need to brush up on your
nighttime operating skills.
Story time: One night I was on my way to the Exuma Cays,
Bahamas. It was late and there was a full moon out, which actually made visibility more
difficult. As I was crossing a shallow section of the Bahama Banks, I was checking my
coordinates on the chart very closely. There was a rather narrow slot in the shallow bank
that I had to hit dead-on, so my nose was down on the chart and the SatNav most of the
time. I thought I had the ocean to myself as I had seen few other lights all evening.
Convinced I was on course, I flipped on the autopilot, and was leaning out the
pilothouse window watching the phosphorescence of the water go by. Looking down into the
dark water, suddenly that inky black water becomes illuminated by a lighter blue glow from
below. What in God's name is that, I wondered? Anyone who's spent a lot of time at sea
knows that strange things can happen. What's behind all those crazy stories of the
Bermuda Triangle are the illusory tricks the sea can play on our eyes by day or night. I
look up at the moon, then back down at the water. And here I am looking down at this eerie
blue/white glow from the bottom of the ocean.
Holy Mackerel!!! It dawns on me; it's the damn moon light reflecting off the white
sandy bottom. It never occurred to me that in this very clear water that could happen.
We're heading into the reefs and I'm in big trouble. Yike, now I can pick out coral heads
on the bottom. Hitting the autopilot switch so hard it breaks off, I leap for the wheel
and swing it around hard -- to my horror straight into the path of an overtaking
fishing boat charging along at around 30 knots.
I see him when my vessel is nearly perpendicular to his. Spinning the wheel around to
the opposite direction, without ever touching the throttles, I can hear lamps, television
sets and dishes crashing below as the yacht heels over wildly.
Fortunately, that operator wasn't daydreaming as I was, and saw me start my turn as
soon as it was initiated. He turned shortly after I did. The two vessels were less than 50
yards abreast, with him slightly behind. Sure, I could blame him for following too close,
but in my panic I didn't look before initiating a hard turn. Who would have been at fault?
Both of us, actually. Me for not looking and him for overtaking too close abeam with no
signal, and no reason to be that close.
As it turned out, we weren't in as shallow water as it appeared, about 30 feet. Never
before had I seen moon light reflecting off a white sand bottom so brightly, but there it
was. We were oncourse and all was well with the world when illusion and circumstance
conspired against me. Fortunately, the 60 foot yacht I was piloting had big, bright
lights. You know, those five inch jobs that far and away exceed minimum requirements.
So there you have it, in the middle of an apparently empty sea, two lone vessels
somehow manage to come together almost in collision. Needless to say, that cured me from
any further assumptions of the ocean being empty. Spend enough time out there and you get
the idea that there is some sort of magnetic attraction between boats that somehow pulls
them together. It's not the boats, of course, but the unconscious human tendency to steer
toward other boats, no matter how empty (or perhaps because of the emptiness) the space
around them. That old saw about two ships in the night; this is where it came from.
I'll spare you any further sea stories, but that is just one of many such incidents
involving illusions and lights. In this case, good lights saved my skin, whereas if the
yacht had weak lights, the other guy might not have noticed my turn in time.
Posted December 20, 1998
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