I sailed in the San Francisco Yacht Club’s Summer Keelboat regatta this past week. As usual I was on my friend’s J/120, Twist. However, whereas I normally work mid-bow, this time I was the bowman. Saturday was utter chaos, Sunday was nearly flawless. I guess if you average them out then it was a good weekend of tough competitive sailing.
Saturday’s forecast was for SW winds in the 5-15 knot range, building to 25 over the course of the day. In the middle of the afternoon you could see the fog rolling in creating tons of pressure. The sailing was very technical, and my bow work was not all it could have been. I’d like to make excuses and say that 40% of our ten person crew were alternates, and lots of people were working positions new to them. But that’s the easy way out. I just didn’t lead the bow team through the heavy weather. Other than losing someone overboard I think we had every kind of bow screw-up I can imagine.
We ended up exploding a spinnaker, let the jib go overboard and then dragged it for a while, had some ridiculous wraps, horrid rigging tangles, and even pulled a jib halyard out of the mast (not an easy job to re-reeve). The most consistent problem was on the jib douses. More than once I had neglected to work the bottom of the luff out of the pre-feeder so when it came time to douse I couldn’t work the luff out of the foil fast enough, or it would flake above the pre-feeder requiring me to do twice as much work. Feh. Experience will sold that problem, but I felt like crap every time.
The whole crew worked hard and we certainly earned our dinner that day.
For every way in which Saturday was an embarrassment, Sunday was perfection. The wind was a touch lighter, and the sky was a bit sunnier, and all of our boat handling was outstanding. Sails went up, sails went down. It was like clockwork. The bow team worked really well together and it was just great.
After a night of despair I woke up feeling great (sleeping on the boat is so good for my spirits) and just knew that we were going to have a great day. Communication was great, the sailing was great, boat speed was great, weather was great. Everything was great.
After our final race we returned to the club and sat in the sun in Tiburon, debriefed, and then just sat and talked for a while. I could not have asked for a better way to end the regatta.
Then there was the trip back to San Francisco. The wind picked up, settling in the 20+ range for most of our ride back. I was at the helm, and the direction of the waves required very active steering. Half the time when we’re heading in or out you can sorta just sit there and rest your foot on the wheel and casually go about things, but this was work.
I had been eyeing a container ship for quite a while as it made its approach down the west side of the bay. After I passed out of the lee of Alcatraz it was clear that we were not going to have room to safely pass in front of the ship. Ugh. The skipper and our pit-man went down below, and I headed upwind into the crap so that I could take the ship’s stern. I had a wet and bouncy, but totally fantastic time. I was soaked at the end but had a grin from ear to ear.
Here you can see one of many waves that decided to take up residence in my shorts. What you can’t see is that the cockpit sole is covered in broken glass—and I’m barefoot. I won’t elaborate.
Anyway, I parked the boat, we finished cleaning up, made a list of boat work needed for the next regatta, and headed home.
