On Coming in First!

Reaching start on port, at the port end of the line. Actually, a near perfect start with only one hull between us and the pin. In the 3-7 knots of easterly, I executed my momentum starting tactic perfectly: on the correct angle to the pin and at a correct distance from the start line I cut off the engine which had given us 3 knots of speed over the ground with a little more than 4 minutes to the start.

Everyone (who counts) was aboard except for Trophy Wife and Mastman. But our combined talent was wasted because the wind could not prevail over the current which sucked much of the fleet in to the Sargasso Sea of kelp next to the cliffs. I promised everyone that when it came time to tack out on port, I would turn on old sparky if 4 knots of wind didn't show up in time. It didn't and we did. We were the first of 15 to see the light and abandon.
























First crew to the bar, wins!

Some Days You Just Don't Feel Like Going Sailing . . . .

. . . . you go anyway and have a great time!

I was not looking forward to today's sailing. Lack of energy factored in. Also, I never look forward that much to sailing without Trophy Wife being aboard. But I took most of the day off from work and caught a good mid-day nap. That helped me get down to the harbor an hour earlier than I usually do. I staggered down to the slip, carrying ice in my backpack. The middling wind seemed overwhelming. Put the boat together with all deliberate speed. The crew arrived on time. So, off to the races we went. Without TW aboard, I could not feel relaxed at the helm.

The weather leg turned out to be exciting. Wind was steady, 13-16 knots. Das Boot started on starboard in clean air. 90 seconds after the gun, the Hunter ducked us on port. Fine, I thought. But inexplicably he flopped over into our bad air. The result was he trapped us into on long starboard tack, preventing us from tacking on to port side and going into the beach. Conditions were optimal for blasting through the kelp straits: high tide and a decent breeze.

Nevertheless, it was interesting: a number of close tacking situations with the C&C. At the weather mark we trapped the C&C and the Tri on the mark. The latter had to do a penalty turn and the former had to re-round the mark.

Then my mood changed: I was free from tactical stress & drama on the beat.  On the miraculous reaching legs, I reached for a beer and wondered who wouldn't want to go for a sail? Crew was delightful. The day was beautiful. What more could be asked for?

Then the wind dropped to 10 knots. Bob Marley caught up to us, but couldn't break through our overlap to leeward. A smooth tack at the leeward mark gave me confidence we could force Bob to tack out, away from the beach. When he did, I thought we had a chance to hold him off. But in the falling breeze, he caught us.

We finished in the middle of the fleet (Again!)

I skipped the bar and went home to TW and barbecued dinner.

A Sea Change?

This morning the sun comes up over my
porch & a swatch of sea water, as it does
every morning.

Life intercedes when you're making big plans. Yesterday we were planning to race with Rookie's brother and father as well as two Swedish friends of Mastman. Rookie's brother was supposed to be a V.E.S. (very experienced sailor). But I was only 50-50 on it until Spinnaker Maestro called and said he wasn't feeling all that well. That tipped the scales. Karma wasn't right.

After all, it was (only!) the day after TW's surgery. I wasn't ready to be away from her side, out of earshot, especially for a couple of hours or more. What was I thinking? If I had been on the water, I certainly would not have been thinking about boat tactics or sail trim.

So, what did I do instead? A little housework. A little scheming on my Rotisserie entry in our English Premier League fantasy group. A little shopping for our salmon dinner. A short walk on the soccer fields with Doberwoman.

No, I didn't want to take her along the shoreline where I could have had to watch my friends dueling it out on the water. They would have had a decent 13-16 knot breeze and a very easier time with it, too, without Das Boot to contend with.

Truth is, my right Achilles heel is out; my back is out; and even a walk down to our slip would have been a chore. Plus, we have an offer on Das Boot. It's not at all attractive enough to amount to an offer I can't afford to turn down. Or is it?

Syncing-Up with my Taxi Squad

Of late, I've been unsure what I've been dealing with here. Maybe what I have is ½ crew and ½ taxi squad. As I understand it, a taxi squad are not really members of a (football) team but are lower-paid extras retained to fill out a roster for practice scrimmages. That sounds like the best way to describe our people.

Out of Das Boot's hard core, today we only had TW, Spinnaker Maestro, Rookie-of-the-Year, and Newman. These four are assuredly first stringers. Additionally, we had Rookie's mother along. Which was good. She handled the camera well and brought down the spinnaker into the sewer without a hitch or a tear. What more could one ask?

In today's pursuit race we started, maybe, seven seconds late. More important, we were right on the highly-favored, weather pin on port tack. In the 13-17 knot breeze, I took this advantage to sail out of the current, close to shore, tacking up the Kelp Straits. Right away I knew we were in a groove when we crossed our first starboard boat. On that first leg of this windward/leeward course we basically passed the entire fleet.

The crew, even if short-handed, was smooth as silk. And our chemistry was much improved. Newman and I are actually loosening up & getting along! We finished 3rd out of 17 boats. It was a beautiful sunny day with a steady breeze and flat seas.

My asking price for Das Boot just went up $5K.

Das Boot as Others See Her

Resumption of My Wednesday Afternoon Job

It's strange.

Once you think you have the hard core crew assembled on a day with perfect conditions, things would gel. But they didn't. The chemistry was missing. Maybe it was my unfamiliarity with sailing with Newman's GPS's VMG readings. Counter intuitive, they were. After years of arguing for VMG on deck they just amounted to a distraction from my seat-of-the-pants feel?

The wind was strong for maybe two-thirds of the weather leg. And then plummeted by half.

Boats passed us, one by one. Especially that lovely C&C under Bob Marley.

We corrected out to 10th out of 15. Not too different from where we finished, I'm guessing.

But the real bottom line is it was not a fun day. Not for me. I can fix my boat, but not myself it seems. Declining energy, physical conditioning. It's just trending to be too much even walking down the docks to get to Das Boot. Wednesday afternoons -- this one anyway -- what I really wanted was a longer nap with Doberwoman.

Barbarians

Newman and His VMG

There's a different way to sail than we have been sailing. I get it. When you have around you a small group of people who get your boat, get competing on the water, and get along together, you can approach each race day in a different frame of mind. That's the way it's supposed to be. That's the way it used to be for us. And that's the way it can again become.

Today the missing man finally showed up. We were missing someone knowledgeable to challenge my boat handling, sail trim, and tactics. Equally important, someone who can take a leg or two at the helm so that I can tip my ancient feet up and a cold beer down. In addition, New Man believes in the application of GPS to derive Velocity Made Good (VMG). Which I have never been able to turn/coerce past crews on to! I have always argued that only VMG can arbitrate all on-board disputes pertaining to DDW and pointing vs footing. Today, I was even delighted to lose a couple of debates to Newman and his VMG.

But those losses are acceptable on a day when your team loses to just one other boat on the water.
I can take it.

It Gets Better!

A Week short of a year ago, I wrote that it "Dudn't Get Much Better than This". But tonight, it did. The wind came, topping out at 21 knots, apparent. My son and his father-in-law came along. And, creme de la creme, two of my grand kids, ages 5 & 7. They came on board.

At the dock, I was more alarmed than shocked. Am I being irresponsible? My Crew of Irregulars taking my pride & joy to sea? But these two tykes were veteran white-water rafters, and did they know how to follow orders from their dad! Nevertheless, I was major league distracted.

Very distracted, in fact. At the start, I pushed the habitual bargers up a little only to find that I maybe had 30 seconds of time left with only 15 seconds of water between me and the pin. Plus, Das Boot herself, was being pushed up. I started early, over the other boat and dipped down, finding just a teeniest bit of water to do so. Not enough, I was thinking at the time. Just short of fouling leeward boats, I turned back to the line and put the pedal to the floor. "Was I over early?" I was asking over and over.

The Race Committee displayed the Code X (Individual Recall) flag, but we could not hear anything on our VHF. Then we saw the Hunter turn back to the line. The crew wouldn't let me think about doing the same. "Go for it, Dammit!"

Sometimes you just have to say, W.T.F. We never looked back. At least I never did. We were second or third to the weather mark. We had an unbelievable fine spinnaker set after a brief delay. People who had sailed before on Das Boot, but never together, worked with unbelievable teamwork. I felt the pressure of the Hunter's pressure close astern on the last leg. But relaxed when they tacked off from our bad air. The only flaw -- a small one -- is we didn't hear the audible as we crossed the finish line. But at that point we didn't care much if we weren't accorded an official start or a finish. It had been that fine of a day.

In the bar, we checked the board. We had corrected out to first place out of 17.

It was fine. Ever so fine.

Missed Church. . . .

Instead we took Das Boot out for a mid-day memorial cruise at friends' request. Their grand parents requested to be buried off their favorite beach with their ashes scattered at sea. They didn't die together. The surviving spouse honored a request by his partner not to have her ashes scattered apart from his. He may have lived a few years longer. I don't know. Their details were not important to me. But I get their idea. Sweet.

A 'Fun' Race?

"Fun Race" is what they call it when a race is scheduled between two of the three twilight beer-can series in the summer.
It's supposed to be fun in that it doesn't effect any series score. And it's an excuse for the R.C. to pull something "funny" like down-wind starts. In 15 to 17 knots of wind.

 This space ship arrived during the race & was tied up
by the time we returned a couple of fingers down from our slip.

Doing that with Lasers is one thing. Even with me feeling like I had control of Das Boot as if it were a Laser-38! Like I used to.

But I am still in my mid-summer transition stage with a revolving-door crew of irregulars in training. Couldn't get the chute organized quickly enough to justify confidence in getting it down. By the time we got around the first, downwind mark, we were crowded with boats who had no business crowding us on normal, rational, non-fun courses. But the remainder of the race was fun in the sense it provided me with novel problems, navigation wise. The conditions were fun: significant wind and wave action.

Not to mention our granddaughter sailed with us. Last but not least! That made the day 'specially fun!

Here's to My Crew of Irregular Amphibians!

Today's beer can found me still struggling to achieve some critical mass in my crew. Almost half of our people this afternoon had not sailed with us this season. But the real problem is with my pessimism. I have forgotten how quickly the younger set learn what has to be done and pitches in to find their role in their team's work. My key recruiting criterion has become that they just have to be physical fit amphibians.

Such is the case with this afternoon. A new main sheet trimmer materialized before my eyes. (Unfortunately, IT-Man goes on vacation in a week.) And, with my Spinnaker Maestro in Hawaii, we promoted a recent addition who has become a regular to the bow: Kiteboarder was a quick learner as a spinnaker trimmer. We had one returning guest who serves ably as Morale Officer. And a one-time guest, White Water Woman, was also put to important work in spinnaker retrieval and photography roles. So my crew of irregulars was happily kept busy.

Especially so today. Winds steady at 14-15 knots. Very close encounters with the Ranger-33 and the C&C-41. Just to mention a few! And not to mention the day's real hair-raiser: my really dramatic swerve into our slip while I was micro-managing IT-Man's rigging of a dock line. Das Boot survived, with her fresh new paint intact, finishing 10th out of 17 and correcting down to 13th. But that's not the bottom line.

We had a great sail and a great party in the bar with other crews afterwards. Sometimes a good wind is almost as good as a good win.