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The original was posted on /r/sailing by /u/QuackDuckPrank on 2025-07-13 11:54:42+00:00.
I went sailing with my father-in-law for the first time. I had been sailing since I was 18 (I was 33 at the time), and my wife and her family had shared stories confirming that he had sailing experience too. He had recently purchased a 16-foot dinghy with an electric engine. It was October, on Lake Michigan. A beautiful fall day—sunny, with a good wind from the west, but chill. The boat was already in the water when I arrived, so I couldn’t inspect it out of the water, but I trusted him. I was also impatient to get going.
I checked the rigging, the sail, and a few other things. We started sailing around the mooring area to test the engine (which died after a few minutes) and other equipment. The mainsheet wasn’t working properly. At the time, I didn’t know many nautical terms in English (I had been in the U.S. for about a year and it was my first time sailing there), so I asked him what the "main sheet" was called. He replied, “A rope?” That should have been my first red flag. I pushed a little more, asking about boat terminology, and he became visibly frustrated. Since I had only been married to his daughter for a few months, I decided to back off.
Then he said, “Let’s sail to that island. It’s only three miles from here.” I initially said no. But after he insisted a couple more times, I gave in. I was at the tiller the entire time. About 10 minutes after we left the bay, he sent a few photos of me sailing to my wife. I was wearing a short-sleeve T-shirt—it was that nice of a day. But then I realized: the wind was actually pushing us away from shore. What I’d experienced earlier in the mooring area was probably wind circulation within the bay itself.
Soon we hit 2-3 foot waves. We were on a beam reach with full sails, but struggling to make any progress toward the island. That’s when I noticed the waterline was too low—I realized that we were probably taking on water. I decided we had to turn back. As I began the turn, I jibed, and at that exact moment a wave hit us on the windward side. The boat rolled and capsized.
I remember thinking: *Holy f**k, we’re in real danger.*
We both ended up in the cold water, surrounded by floating gear. I managed to climb onto the keel and, after about a minute, flipped the boat upright. It was fully flooded—barely floating due to trapped air between the boat’s inner and outer layers.
I forgot to mention: my father-in-law has reduced mobility and is 6’3”, 220 lbs—not an easy person to lift. After some effort, I got him back into the swamped cockpit. We were both freezing, and I was already exhausted. We put on life jackets (he grabbed the smallest one, of course), and I started planning our next move. We were drifting between two islands. One was inhabited, but the wind was pushing us away from it. The far side of the lake was a long shot.
I tried sailing again, but within 30 seconds another wave capsized us. I flipped the boat again. Same story. The third time we flipped, I was so exhausted I just climbed onto the keel and stayed there. I started thinking: Can I swim with him to shore? It was far and dangerous. Should I stay with the boat? It was bright yellow and easy to spot. I remembered an article that said: “Never leave your vessel unless it’s sinking”
Eventually, I found the energy to flip the boat one more time and haul him back into the cockpit.
Then—miracle. My father-in-law had left his phone in a lifejacket pocket, and somehow, it was still working. Shaking, he called my wife. Thankfully, she picked up (she’s usually in meetings all day). In the calmest, most casual voice, he said, “We are in the water… please call someone.” I was stunned. We could capsize again any second, and this man was explaining things like he was ordering a coffee. I grabbed the phone and yelled in my native language: *“Call f**king someone! Call the Coast Guard, the police, Jesus Christ—we’re f**king dying here!”*
Right then, another wave hit us. We were in the water again.
At least 30 minutes had passed since the first capsize. I managed to climb onto the keel again, with my father-in-law still in the water. Now I had the phone. I called 911. The dispatcher said my wife had already contacted them, and help was on the way. (Later, I learned she’d called her mom first, unsure what to do—just 30 minutes earlier, she had received happy sailing photos from us. She also didn’t know that my father-in-law had been joking all week about needing the Coast Guard.) Minutes later, my father-in-law’s lips turned blue. First signs of hypothermia, he'd already spent at lest 20 minutes in the freezing water. That’s when I thought, He’s going to die. How am I going to explain this to my wife?
Then, a small boat appeared. We were the only other vessel on the lake.
They saw me waving and came over. I jumped aboard. Bringing my father-in-law onboard was difficult; the boat was rocking hard and we risked injuring him. They turned around, and with the help of all three men, we pulled him in. We covered him with the boat’s cover and rushed toward what we thought was an uninhabited island. Turns out, one family lived there—a former Marine, his wife, and their kids.
The man said: “We need to stand him up and walk him. If he lies down, he could go into shock.” So we stripped him, covered him with blankets, and walked him around the dock. Eventually, we brought him to their house, gave him more blankets, and hot chocolate.
Meanwhile, my wife had reached the harbor. A small Coast Guard vessel had already gone out looking for us. An officer told her that locating the phone’s GPS was hard in those conditions. Then, over the radio:
“We found the boat, but we can’t see them.”
My wife almost fainted.
Then another message: “We’ve got them. They’re safe on the island.”
The Coast Guard picked us up and began treating my father-in-law. When we got back to the harbor, a small crowd was waiting, cheering the rescue team. I felt like an idiot.
I had put other people at risk because I didn’t take simple precautions. I’ve replayed that day a thousand times—going from blaming myself to blaming my father-in-law, to quitting sailing altogether, then slowly getting back into it with more caution.
I’ve also lost trust in my father-in-law. He’s a superficial person, and this wasn’t the only incident that showed me that. But sailing is a passion for me that I still cherish. I just treat it much more seriously now.
Lessons learned:
- Trust, but verify. Don’t assume someone knows what they’re doing just because they told you they already did it.
- Always take safety precautions. We didn’t tell anyone at the dock we were going out.
- Check everything before you do somenthing. I skipped key safety checks. Create or copy a check list
- Listen to your gut. If something feels off, stop.
- Call for help early. Don’t wait until it’s nearly too late.
