[Public-List] Raced - Finally!

[Gordon Laco]

Good morning - 

Well poor old SURPRISE finally got to race last night... Here's the story.

Wind was 15kts from the south east - quite unusual here and usually a
portent of disaster.  Grey sky, promise of rain (which didn't happen)

Our club's fleet straggled out of the harbour and began the usual milling
around the start as the committee struggled to set a line square to the
windward mark - the wind's direction was shifting back and forth up to
twenty degrees.    Just in time the line was established, and with a clear
'to hell with it, let's get going' look on their faces the folks manning the
committee boat started the sequence.

With 40 seconds to go we got SURPRISE cranked up and stampeding with the
rest of B Fleet reaching for the line on the boat end.  We had the usual
crowd of vermin (Shark class one-designs) under our lee; I was not happy
about this as they point significantly better than we do and I did not want
to be lifted to perdition right off the bat.  Miraculously a hole in the mob
appeared and we shot down into it, starting with clear air right out in
front and right on the horn.

Our nemesis, a Pearson 29 well sailed by an old friend, got tangled in the
vermin behind us but won through and began overtaking us ominously hand over
hand.  As he was about 40 meters to weather (the wind had shifted enough now
that we could nearly lay the weather mark on starboard tack) I decided to
throw a hitch to starboard in order that we could sit on the Pearson and
also ensure that when he took his hitch later, we would be on starboard when
we crossed.  

Just as I was chortling about my cleverness and explaining the evil genius
of this to my crew, we were headed badly and discovered that the Pearson was
now lifted to the point where he was now laying the mark.  We flipped back
onto starboard and found ourselves to weather but behind...from first to
third in one easy move.

Because the hitch had put us in an overstood position, we cracked off sheets
and footed, finally rounding the mark nearly on the Pearson's stern.  This
was quite thrilling as the wind was now up to 20 and we both had foaming bow
waves.  We overheard the Pearson's crew discussing that the leg back was too
tight for their chute - I dodged across their wake so as not to have them
under us and lifting while we tried to keep low enough to keep the chute
pulling.  Once on their lee quarter I realized that the course was too tight
for us too - so back up we went and began climbing over them to windward.

We did everything we could to power up the rig and oh the looks on their
faces as inch by inch we clamblered over them - the tall shadow of our rig
steadily eclipsing the sun like some inexorable, horrible blight.  We
rounded the leeward mark in an overlap situation - nicely on the inside.

We held them off on the beat - now a straight drag race on starboard tack.
Once at the windward mark again I resolved to gybe around then climb to
weather a little so that we could reach home on the chute.  Up she went and
away we went - SURPRISE bustling along with a big foaming bow wave and
equally big quarterwaves... Us low in the middle.  There was a loud
mysterious bang which turned out to be the spinnaker guy block blowing - but
the reach was too good to let such a minor loss dismay us.  Everything else
seemed to be holding so we kept going.

 Alas, all too soon it came time to consider getting the spinnaker down.  I
called to the crew that we were going to douse it by running the guy instead
of the usual tack shackle release... Unfortunately one of us had no idea of
what I was talking about and when I called 'let 'er go' released BOTH sheet
and guy.  Away shot the spinnaker like a giant horizontal flag of shame -
sheet and clew flapping 100 feet to leeward and the sail connected to us
only at the head; the most marvelous entertainment imaginable for the fleet.
Luckily one of the flaps resulted in the guy whipping over the foredeck
which allowed Duncan, our young foredeck hand, to strike upwards like a
cobra and grab it.  In seconds the chute was down and the spinnaker gear
cleared away just in the nick of time for us to round up for the last beat.

Well it wasn't a beat anymore, but a close reach, our best point of sail.
We galloped up, rounded the mark, gybed and headed back for the finish.  Now
recall this... We were second overall and the whole fleet save one was
roaring up to the mark right behind us...and  ahead of us once we rounded.
We saw the first place boat dodging through them and in seconds we were too.
Despite the head on high speed traffic I became engrossed in discussing
something complicated and philisophical with Clint, our mainsheet man (whose
action station is behind me)...then I heard frantic shouting ahead and put
the help up just in time to avoid a head to head collision...MONARCHIST tore
past on a reciprocal course and actually dowsed our cockpit with her bow
wave.  A few seconds later we heard a shout of real fear and saw EVERGREEN,
a largish vessel rounding up with her mainsheet cleated and about to run
over a Shark...they missed.  Oh we laughed later about the high pitch of
Larry's normally deep voice.

The rest was a run of the mill reach to the finish - as we crossed the line
and took our toot we heard the committee chanting 'Ben Hur - Ben Hur'
(google the famous chariot race on youtube if you haven't seen it)   We were
second in real time - way ahead on corrected, and the Pearson comfortably
behind us.  In the clubhouse after I heard someone complaining about our
rating - ah, music to my ears, a perfect end.

I love yacht racing.

Gord #426 Surprise






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