Me
I will start off with a disclaimer: this story contains no pictures. If you are the type of person for whom a thousand words will not suffice, then please enjoy these non-race photos of me and my boat, and then run along to someplace like Instagram with the rest of the illiterates.
Ok then. So this all began when I was putting my boat away a few weeks ago, and I ran into a guy that invited me out to "Informal Monday-Night Dinghy Races" at Sail Sand Point where my boat lives. I thought, "Hey, that sounds like fun!" and decided to give it a try. Since I've never sailed my boat single handed, I decided the first order of business was to line up a willing crewmember to assist me on this first step towards America's Cup glory. My girlfriend, Deb, had other plans for the evening, so I contacted my friend Ross and asked if he'd like to join me, and he said "yes." Ross has some sailing experience, and we'd been talking about going out on the boat, so this worked out well. Since I have never raced before, I gave the Racing Rules Of Sailing a quick read, and managed to retain the basics... starboard boats have the right of way, do a couple of penalty turns if you hit another boat, bla bla bla. Every place I read said things like, "Course layout will be displayed on the committee boat" or something similar, and had a long list of flags and sound signals that are used to communicate things to the boats from the starting line. I remembered none of that.
Monday night I showed up around 5pm, about an hour before the race was to start. I grabbed all my gear, leaving my hat and sunglasses in the car since it was overcast. Note, I think this is what writers refer to as "foreshadowing." I'm not really sure... I spent most of my time in English and Literature class doing math homework, a fact that should be painfully obvious if you've read anything on this site. Anyway, I found the guy, Bob, who had told me about it and asked where I sign in. "Oh, its not really that formal, there is no sign in." he replied. Anxious about my lack of knowledge of course layout, start sequence, and other such trivial matters, I asked him about those things. "Oh, we usually decide on a course once we get out there." Ok, no big deal, I just need to be out there with the group of boats and I will be told what is going on.
Ross arrived, and we finished our last bit of rigging, and got the boat in the water. A couple of the other boats were already out, with about 4 more still on land being rigged. The wind was very light, but once we got out 50 yards or so it picked up a tiny bit and we slowly cruised over towards the other boats. It was about this time the clouds rolled back leaving us with blinding sunlight reflecting off the water. Remember that foreshadowing? Yeah, my glasses were in my car. So were Ross's. We made a quick decision to head back to shore, get our glasses, and rejoin the group. After all, there were still several boats rigging, we had plenty of time.
About 50 yards into our 100 yard journey, the wind started to die. In fact, the closer we got to shore, the less wind there was. A couple more of the boats finished rigging and launched as we asymptotically approached the shore. Finally we made it, and Ross made a dash for the cars. Meanwhile, all the other boats had congregated around what looked to be a start line, and I heard the beeps of the 2 minute warning. Crap! Well, at least I knew were the start line was, but I had no idea which way they were heading, where the other course markers were, or anything else. Ross returned at the sounds of the 1:30 warning, and we shoved the boat back into the water and we were off!
And then the wind died. Arrrrggggggg!!!! The minute warning sounded, but we were completely parked in a zone of zero wind, about 50 yards away. Well, since I was clearly not going to make the first race, I could at least watch them and see what the course was. I watched the boats, maybe 8 of them total, jockeying for position at the start line. All of them were Lasers, except for one other boat with a crew of 2, which looked to be about the size of mine. That's just great, a whole fleet of Lasers. A high performance racing dinghy, the Laser is basically a windsurf board that you can sit down on, and will plane with about 2 knots of wind. My boat is, um... yeah. Anyway.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPP! And they were off! Headed upwind towards a bouy which I decided must be the Upwind Mark. Now, what was the rest of the course? Turn around the upwind mark and back to the start/finish line? Was there a downwind mark as well? Pretty soon the first of the fleet rounded the upwind mark and headed back downwind. It was the larger, 2-person boat. They seemed to be making pretty good time and had a decent lead on the Lasers. Yay, score one for big fat boats! They crossed the line and headed downwind. Ah, ok, that bouy down there must be the downwind mark. Sure enough, they rounded the mark and headed back towards the start line. Soooo... would it be just one lap? More?
I should add that somewhere around 2 or 3 minutes into the race, the sun went behind the clouds and stayed there for the duration of the evening. Good thing we went and got those sunglasses!
They crossed the start line and kept going, so I decided it must be more than one lap. I decided instead of just sitting here, I would follow them on the second lap, and just stay out of the way of any boats that were in the race. We headed off upwind, and after getting part of the way to the mark, the other boat rounded the mark and headed back. I looked back towards the start/finish line and realized all the other boats had stopped there. It was a one lap race after all, and this guy was just futzing around killing time! We turned and made a run for the start line as the 2 minutes warning sounded.
As we got closer, it became apparent we were just going to make it. That is, until the wind died again. I watched helplessly as the start beep sounded, and all the boats took off upwind, with me still 30 yards upwind of the start line (on the wrong side). No matter, I will cross the line, swing round, and just join the race late. And that is just what we did. Only we were late enough that we were a half course length behind the lead boats. They had already rounded the upwind mark when we crossed the start line. We made a valiant effort to stay out of everyone's way, and managed to get back to the start/finish line and complete half the course by the time the first boat finished. Determined to finish the course, I headed for the downwind mark. Then I stopped and did some quick mental math and realized that this would be a repeat of what happened last time. So, we wisely decided to just head to the start line and await the next race.
Finally, we were going to get a proper start and be part of a race! Third time is the charm, I guess. The area behind the start line was swarming with small sailing craft, expertly piloted in an intricate, unchoreographed dance in close proximity, fighting for the best position at the line when the buzzer sounded. I reached the start line and joined in. And by "joined in" I mean "stayed as far away as possible." In fact, most of the action was at the starboard end of the line. I vaguely remembered reading something about that being the coveted position as I headed for the other end of the start line.
Every time I try some new activity I think, "Maybe this will be the thing I am naturally good at! Maybe my first attempt at this will totally rock and the other's will be all like, 'Son, you're a natural!!!' " That was not the case with moto racing, and it was not the case with DH mtn bike racing, or with 4x racing, but, hey, maybe sailboat racing is the thing! I had a plan, sail along at full speed along the line and then at the buzzer, turn and carry all that momentum up the course. And that is just what I did. Only, since I did it at the port end of the start line, and had to pass on the starboard side of the upwind mark, I was at a huge disadvantage. But, at least we were in the race this time! Last place, but only by a little bit, rather than half a course length.
If you're unfamiliar with sailing, its helpful to know that sailboats cannot sail directly into the wind. In general, boats such as these can get within about a 45 degree angle to the wind before they stall. So going upwind involves sailing a zigzag course back and forth, working your way upwind. Each change from a zig to a zag or vice versa is a tack. In the case of this particular race course, it was not laid out perfectly into the wind, but almost at a 45 degree angle to the wind. So, if you started right at the starboard end of the start line, you could almost sail directly towards the upwind mark, and go around it on the starboard side. However, if you started at the other end of the line, you'd have to eventually tack, and sail that extra distance (the length of the start line) to go around the mark on the correct side.
This presented a new problem, as I was basically crossing the course to get back to the starboard side of the mark, and I was crossing in front of traffic coming downwind. Which of us had the right of way? I ran through the rules in my head, couldn't decide, and came to the conclusion that I should probably make sure I was out of the way! This involved sailing as fast as I could (as if I wasnt already) and hoping that it took me across the path of the oncoming boats before they got to me. What was baffling to me was how the same wind was causing this guy to bear down on me at what seemed like 30mph, while only moving me across his path at 3mph! Anyway, we made it with a small amount of room to spare.
At this point, I made the mistake I always seem to make when sailing upwind, which is tacking too early. It seemed like we had gone far enough to get around the starboard side of the mark, so we tacked and went for it. Alas, the wind is a shifty devil, and there is a slight chance that I don't know what I'm doing, so we found ourselves having to tack again because we were a few feet shy of clearing the mark. Fortunately, Ross was doing a bangup job as crew, and tacking the boat went smoothly, but still, each tack cost us precious time and put us a little further into a solid last place.
Finally rounding the mark, we headed downwind and quickly ran into the same issue we seemed to always run into... all the other boats seemed to have plenty of wind, but we were in a dead spot. We were still moving, but any hope of making up ground was long gone. Soon, I realized that I now had to contend with the race leaders, who had rounded the downwind mark and were now sailing upwind, directly towards me. I had another quick panic where I tried to sort out which right of way rules applied, and then again rapidly decided just to get out of the way. One thing that I have always found very exciting about sailboat racing is how close the boats pass to each other, seeming like they could collide, or get their rigging tangled or some other disaster, and all in relative silence. Well, now I got to experience it first hand, as the upwind Laser passed me, heeled over at a good angle, and both of us steering just enough to make sure there was no contact. Careful now... steady... what would my friends think if they found out that another seaman and I got our masts all tangled??? Exhilarating... this is what racing is all about!
We rounded the downwind mark uneventfully, and made it back to the start/finish line. WooHoo, we actually finished a race! Last place to be sure, but we were improving! At this rate, only 100 or so more races and I might be an actual threat! As we congratulated ourselves and rejoined the chaos of the start sequence, I noticed that someone was launching from the beach in one of Sail Sand Point's HobieCats. I wondered briefly if he was planning to join the race, and then turned my attention back to trying not to hit any of the other boats milling around.
I managed to get a better start this time, closer to the starboard end of the line, and, gasp, NOT in last place! We were in second to last place, but hey, there was someone else behind us! Around the course we went, managing to hang onto our position. I noticed the guy in the Hobie Cat sailing around. He seemed to be having issues with his boat, as he kept yelling at it.
At some point, the previously light and variable wind started to pick up and the gusts became stronger. We'd be sailing along with me on the upwind side of the boat, and Ross on the other side, manning the fore sail. Then we'd get hit by a strong gust and heel way over. I did my best to project an air of confidence and control as I scrambled to ease the main sail and keep us from capsizing. I don't think Ross was buying it though, cause most of these episodes sent him scrambling for higher ground. Or, maybe it was the fact that the his edge of the boat was basically in the water. In any case, the wind was making things more interesting, and exciting!
Coming around the downwind mark, and heading for the line, one of the Lasers capsized in front of us. That made me feel a bit better, cause, hey, it wasn't me! Plus, we were still in not-last place! We cruised across the line, quite pleased with ourselves!
This race went much as the last, only the catamaran was in the running this time. He was well ahead of me until we got to the downwind mark. In his attempt to round the mark, he managed to run it over, with the two hulls of his boat straddling the bouy. As he lashed out verbally at the mark, his boat, the wind, etc, I got a pretty good idea of where the phrase "cursing like a sailor" comes from. I went around him, only to get blocked by one of the Lasers that had also somehow gotten tangled up in the disaster at the downwind mark. By the time we got clear, we managed to cross the line in last place.
As various boats headed for shore or headed out to retrieve the markers, we headed back in. The place where we launched from is tucked into a corner of this little bay. Everyone else had launched about 100 yards farther down the beach. With our destination being directly upwind from us, we had to tack back and forth, working our way into this corner. The closer we got, the less wind there was. To make things more difficult, the shallow water required pulling up the daggerboard, a long fin that sticks down from the bottom of the boat. The whole purpose of the daggerboard is to allow you to sail upwind without the boat just getting blown sideways. So, of course, as soon as we pulled it up, the wind just blew us sideways. After several minutes of what seemed like going backwards (it seemed like going backwards, because we were, in fact, actually getting farther away from our destination), we finally managed to get the boat into shore and hauled out of the water.
So, there it is. My first attempt at sailboat racing. It was challenging and a ton of fun! Huge thanks to Ross for coming out and crewing! The $5 race entry included BBQ after the race, where we met some new people and chatted for awhile. All in all, quite a good time, even if nobody recruited me to skipper one of the Volvo Ocean Race boats. All in due time, I suppose. I'll be back next week for sure.