[Public-List] Another race last night...

[Gordon Laco]

I don’t feel much like writing about last night’s race; but I promised Marianne King-Wilson I would.

Once upon a time back in my wooden boat days I used to tell people that in order to successfully crew up a yacht for regular racing, one is well advised to cultivate the friendship of people who don’t or won’t work at regular jobs.  With time hanging on their hands, they’re a more likely pool from which to pull sailors when one needs them.  Perhaps there is something to that.  A few hours before a race, a few phone calls and presto, a fully manned yacht.

I’d forgotten that lately, and had to rely on Clint and Steve, who are partners in an auto repair business here in town.  Those guys are real professionals who treat  their profession like a profession.  Their reward has been manifested in a pace of business where every day is packed with interesting jobs… their lot always has truly remarkable cars awaiting their turn on the hoists, and it’s tough for them to dash out in time to get aboard SURPRISE.  People are sending them MG’s, BMW’s, Mercedes, Morgans and other exotic cars from all over Ontario.  This year it’s been tougher and tougher for them to go racing.  And of course perhaps after winning the Single Handed Race so decisively this year, I shouldn’t have chortled so loudly that I seemed to do better without them than with them.  Ahem.  They’ve crewed aboard SURPRISE for over ten years and I’m sure they’ll be back, when business slows down a little...

So there I was on Monday with Wednesday looming and no crew.   Clint and Steve were busy, Robin was away on vacation, my son was settling into his new home after being married a couple of weeks ago…  no crew.  It occurred to me to invite Alberg 30 friends from Parry Sound to come down, and some others who had been asking about our boats… I hit pay dirt in an instant.  Suddenly I had too many people eager to sail… and then, as such things go, just as I was considering how to hold off the excess (while keeping them warmed up) cancelations came in and there I was facing none again.  But what ho, one came back to life with a confirmation… Greg from Parry Sound confirmed he was coming.  Ok, we can manage with just he and I.

Right on time Greg arrived, having driven the 60 minutes down the coast to come aboard.  We whipped off the mains’l cover, warmed up the engine and motored out to the course.   Last night’s race was the Snake Island Race, a somewhat longer course than round the buoys being a race around the island of that name.  We hoisted sail then got into the swing of the mob milling about at the start.

The start was a short windward jaunt to M20 Buoy (Midland Shoal) then hey for Snake Island, which looked to be a nice reach out.  And the nice thing about reaching somewhere is that one might reasonably expect to be reaching back.  

Things started going off the rails right at the start.  Somehow I let TRAVELLER get under our lee as we came close reaching for the committee end of the line.  Chris is a nice guy, but was quite within his rights to steer his fair course for the line…. and scraped us off him causing me to peel away and go round again to start after the herd.  We were joined by one other boat in a similar predicament.  Oh well… there’s miles of sailing ahead and we do seem to make up for my starts when they go bad.

away we went across the line, tacking onto port as soon as we could clear the committee boat’s anchor line, then back onto starboard when we could lay the mark.  I was brimming with glee having caught up with three boats.  

We eased sheets and set off for Snake Island, noticing that the course was just high enough that it was too high for the spinnaker.   Some boats bore away under their chutes, no doubt hoping to come up again from some point to leeward of the rhumb line… I considered doing this as well but the wind was strong, we were trudging along at just under six knots, and besides, there were only two of us and I didn’t really feel like jumping around.  I should have jumped around.

We hung onto the pack for about 3/4 the way out to the island, leaving the three boats behind us further and further behind.  

Once out at the island the wind came ahead and grew lighter… the pack drew away from us… then as we rounded the island the wind direction changed about 180 degrees and grew stronger… it was a beat directly to windward on the homeward bound leg and now the pack was far ahead, having stretched their lead by virtue of catching the new stronger wind before it go to us.  At about the same time I noticed that the three sluggards behind us had given up… and also that there was a rain squall passing us to the north.

Rail down, we slashed back and forth beating home with the knotmeter showing a jaunty six regularly, but the pack up ahead of us was also slashing jauntily and we weren’t catching them.  The ignominy of a last place finish was becoming a certainty.  A new calamity loomed… another rain squall but this time looking like it was going to get us.  A thought formed in my mind… Gordy, why fight all the way home only to finish last, in the rain, and also forcing the committee to sit in the rain waiting for you?    After a quick discussion with Greg we abandoned the race, furled up and stowed the sails and fired up the motor.  We’d given up on the Snake Island Race, but now under power we were racing a rain squall … it got us while we were still a ways out but no matter, we both had hats and rain gear on.  Let it pour.   I think the committee was grateful we came in sooner than later.  Poor SURPRISE registered a DNF for this year’s Snake Island Race.

However there was one really nice thing… I’d spend a couple of hours yarning with my old friend Greg about heroes and villains we’d known in the sail training and marine businesses we’d both been in for decades…  I told the story of the days in the 1990’s when I was Executive Director of Toronto Brigantine Inc… operator of two square riggers plus a junior programme in yachts I’d revived.  One Sunday I received a phone call from a furious woman in Picton, Ontario, shouting at me that I was an irresponsible person for sending peoples kids out to be drowned in rotten wrecks like the one which was currently sinking in her town’s harbour.  Hmmm… EGRET, an elegant 40’ Crocker cutter I’d acquired for the junior programme was indeed on a layover in Picton… Sinking?  I jumped into my car and drove the three hours to Picton.   

I got there about the same time as the Canadian Coast Guard Safety inspector the lady had thoughtfully also called.

He looked very grim, and together we went aboard and sure enough, EGRET’a floor boards were afloat.  However the source of the leak was quickly found to be a butt block on her port side.  The inspector said curtly ‘Wadda ya gunna do about this?’   I said I’d have EGRET taken to the marina at Deseronto the next morning, hauled, and once up, inspect more thoroughly; we’d then replace the butt block and do whatever else the inspection demanded.  Relaunched we’d see how she was before returning her to service.   

The inspector looked at me silently for a moment then said ‘I'm confident this issue is under control and requires no further intervention by me.’  Then his face softened and he said ‘but you’ve still got a problem up there (jerking his thumb toward the port light, where a small crowd could be seen on the jetty waiting for us to come back up).  ‘I’m going to fix that for you, but it’ll cost you lunch’.  I wondered what he was going to do.

Together we emerged from EGRET’s companionway.  The mob leaned forward eagerly expecting to see me skinned alive by the inspector.  But instead of crucifying me, he put his arm around my shoulder and said ‘What a fine classic yacht this is!  I’ve admired EGRET for years and I’m so glad to have had a chance to come aboard her at last.  She’s a fine vessel… you must be so proud to have her in your seamanship programme.’  The vultures on the jetty were stunned… we walked through them and up to the parking lot. Once away I said ‘I’ll buy you a steak!’ but he only accepted a burger with fries.  And it transpired that Greg knew the man and agreed he was both a very tough safety inspector as well as a decent man.

We put SURPRISE away at her dock at the club.   As we worked, I thought what a pleasure it is to sail with a sailor... Greg is a professional mariner himself and when saying goodnight asked me if I’d keep him on the list to go out racing again.  Yes, I think I’ll do that.

Gordon Laco
426 Surprise