"And we sail and we sail and we never see land, just the rum in the bottle and a pipe in my hand…"
NSL buddy and sometime Temerity crew Wardog was lucky (and a valuable enough sailor) to be invited to Antigua Sailing Week where his regular skipper chartered a Farr 40 this year. Like the Heineken Regatta, it’s a real sailing bucket list item. Too much fun! Let’s see if he remembers to bring home some of that superb Antiguan rum.
Low Speed Chase accident survivor has published this today on Sailing Anarchy:
This is my first time posting on SA after years of lurking. First, I want to thank everyone for the kind comments about my original letter. I confess to some initial hesitation about publishing the story after reading heated SA debates over the years but I take my hat off to the collective sailing community for the respectful approach to the incident and follow-up discussions.
There are still questions floating around and I’ll try to provide some additional insight. Also, I have a special request to those that have done the Farallones race. Here are the most frequently asked questions since my letter:
Did SA change the original recipients of your letter?
Yes, but all I really cared about was publication of the complete story as opposed to how some of the news outlets butchered the message. One extracted this headline: “California sailing accident survivor urges new safety rules”. First, I never said there should be new rules. Second, they missed the real message around sparking discussions within the community and crews, or about safety as everyone’s personal responsibility not just the owner/skipper/captain.
Is there a GPS track?
Yes. We had 2 GPS’s running that day – the boat GPS and a handheld Garmin that we managed to recover from a mesh bag in the cockpit. I’m really amazed that it managed to stay on-board.
Here’s some interesting data from the handheld GPS: between 14:36:53 and 14:37:37 (44 seconds) the GPS traveled at 12 knots from a position approximately 464 yards north-northwest of Maintop Island to a position 295 yards southeast toward Maintop Island, this path was perpendicular to its previous direction of travel. Between 14:37:37 and 14:38:32, (55 seconds), the GPS again traveled southeast 160 yards to the shore of Maintop Island at a speed of approximately 5 knots.
I should probably rethink my initial estimate of 128 yards from the break zone. A 250-yard break zone would have then put us at 200 from the edge of the break zone. Any input from someone with a perspective on the depth of the northwest break zone that day would be greatly appreciated.
Where is the boat?
In a storage yard (not in Half Moon Bay).
Did you have a GPS EPIRB?
No. I said GPS in my letter to help those who would be trying to conceptualize an EPIRB for the first time. The Coast Guard said they got 2 hits from our EPIRB and then it went dead. This would have brought them to within a couple of miles of the boat and should clarify the initial misunderstanding about our location. The radio call was received before the EPIRB signal. Also, the EPIRB was recently recovered but the failure has not yet been determined.
How big (in feet) was the wave?
I intentionally left out an attempt at guesstimating the size to avoid the scenario where a bank robbery witness mistakes the Stubnose 22 for a 44 Magnum. The largest swells I’d seen prior to that one was on a boat delivery headed north around Point Conception. This wave was in an entirely different category from those or any I’d seen from shore or the water. Maybe wave science experts could estimate size based on ocean depth at the point we got hit.
I agree with all the comments about swell size verse breaking wave size. The wave that hit us grew as it approached. As I continue to digest, I should also add that the wave was relatively short when compared to a long breaking wave that you would see at the beach. I’m curious to find an ocean floor topography that’s more detailed than those in standard charts.
Did it take 15 minutes for the boat to get to shore?
No. According to GPS data it was about 2 minutes. It was much faster than anyone in the water. The majority of the time I spent in the water was trying to get out once I finally made it to the shore.
Should there be a course change and new safety standards?
Regarding course. I’ve intentionally steered clear of this subject as there are expects that have forgotten more about ocean racing and the Farallon Islands than I’ll ever know. I’m looking to those experts in concert with the local sailboat racing community to make the recommendations. Jay, Nick and I have and will continue to provide investigators with any data that will help them make informed decisions. I suspect the survivors and the families would support any decision that reduces the probability of another tragedy.
Regarding new safely standards.There is no shortage of boating/racing safety standards. What seems to be lacking is diligent adherence to those standards and best practices. I guess the best comparison would be motor vehicles. Lowering the accident rate is less about new rules and more about getting folks to follow the ones that exist today – using seat belts, not driving under the influence, respecting speed limits and observing stop lights/signs.
I wish I could say that before every ocean race over the years someone told me basics like where the bolt cutters were located, and made sure everyone onboard knew how to hail the Coast Guard, how to crank their engine, etc. What if the one person left on the boat after an accident is new to sailing and has no clue about how to drive a boat or manually set off the EPIRB?
How can I help?
I’d like to assemble GPS tracks for that day and get them plotted onto one chart to provide a single consolidated view of as many boat routes as possible around the island that day. I’d ask that if you were out there or know people who were, could you ask them to download their GPS track data and email it to me at bryan@chonger.com. Raw data is fine as long as it has the basic long/lat/time. Our handheld had our 2011 track data so I’ll also take previous years routes from anyone that wants to share. Please include wind and wave conditions if you can remember them. Thanks in advance for your help.
Thanks everyone for your support over the past 3 weeks.
Sincerely,
Bryan Chong
Last Saturday we had an OYRA race that was not the Duxship. Following the Low Speed Chase accident, US Coast Guard Sector San Francisco has issued a ‘stand down’ on ocean racing originating in San Francisco (Santa Cruz, Princeton Harbor, and other west coast ports are not affected.) The OYRA did a great job at the last minute scheduling a replacement course that did not go outside the COLREGS demarcation line.
We had a great start, once again in a heavy ebb and light winds. We stayed clear of the pin and observed several boats piling up on in it in a highly reminiscent fashion. “That was us about 4 weeks ago,” I told Andreas and Andrew, who were once again crewing this race. Our upwind leg was fast and fun; as you can see from the tacking angles above. Even with so little weight on the rail we were in a good position rounding the mark, the Pt. Bonita buoy. And there I blew it. I knew that the current inside Bonita Cove would be much less than out in the main channel, and we had arrived at the mark a lot sooner than I had reckoned, so that the ebb was still in full force. But with only 3 aboard and still a little jittery so soon after LSC, I decided not to go close to shore under spin for the current relief. After we set the spin I had my hands full steering, and it wasn’t for a while that I realized how the ebb was setting our ground track to a net southerly heading. So we lost a lot of ground on the run to the North Tower. We made some of it up though with some good calls putting us near Angel, and anticipating the strong current still setting out of the channel to the north; we make the next mark, YRA 8 without needing to douse and tack back up. We doused before reaching the mark and went back up with the #1 for a reach south.
The call to go behind TI also proved to be a good one. There was a big wind hole just past the bridge, but apparently there was an even bigger one on the west side of the island and the course that way was longer. A nice spin run down the Estuary got us to the finish, and only a few minutes from our slip, a very welcome change from the usual situation. In all, a great day out with A&A, and a good party at EYC afterwards.
Track detail from our minor wipe-out on the way home from the Farallones.
As many readers will by now know, the ORYA Full-Crew Farallones race was struck with tragedy as five sailors from Sydney 38 Low Speed Chase were swept overboard by a wave as they rounded the islands, and the boat with the remaining three sailors aboard was driven onto the rocks of Maintop Bay shortly after. We were quite close when this happened. I did not witness the boat going aground personally but some of our crew did, and we made one of the first calls to the Coast Guard, at approximately 1450 hrs PDT. The sea state was quite rough, with a big swell and mixed chop that produced the occasional drencher on deck, even before we came to the windward side of the island where the waves are made even worse by the effect of the waves rebounding from the shore. Wind was NW 25 kts.
As of this writing on Monday morning, the USCG has discontinued their rescue efforts, which had involved considerable effort and assets over more than 30 hours, and the missing crew must be presumed dead. Only one body of the five that went overboard was recovered. Two of the survivors who went aground (including the skipper) were thrown off the boat when it hit the rocks, and managed to climb on some rocks where they were picked up by a USCG helicopter. Video here. The remaining survivor was on the boat with a broken leg, and was also picked by by helicopter.
Chartlet of the islands.
Here is our GPS track for the full race:
View Larger Map
And an excerpt from the rounding of the islands:
View Larger Map
Raw .gpx files are here: full, islands
We were way too cold and wet much of the time to take pictures and in a somber mood on the ride home. Frankly, what happened to Low Speed Chase could have happened to us also. When shorthanding in the ocean I am very disciplined about having myself and crew clipped in 100% of the time, but with crewed racing with very proficient crew I am much more lax, as conditions outside the Gate many days are no worse than in the Bay. But Saturday was not one of those days. It was pretty hairy from Pt. Bonita onward.
For the race we had a great crew, comprising Kim, Chewy, Andreas, and Andrew K., the latter two new to the boat and very experienced, skilled sailors. There was a big ebb and almost no wind at the start, something of a tradition it would seem. We set the #1 genny, and tried to work our way out into the middle of the stream as best we could. Approaching Bonita, the wind and seas increased steadily, and we made a good anticipatory call in changing down to the #3, with Andreas and Andrew working very well in managing this with the new hanked-on sails. From then on it was just a nasty beat into the square waves formed by the ebb meeting the 20 – 25 kt northwesterly. As usual, crockery down below was smashed, the galley cupboard door popped out, and drawers in the forepeak cabin knocked off their tracks. It was very wet, with plenty of waves washing over the deck and down inside the clothes of most of us.
We rounded with the islands to starboard, and mid-way we observed Low Speed Chase very close inshore, and then driven aground. The radio call was made to USCG as described above. We were already as close as any rational person would want to be to the rollers breaking on shore, and with a helo on the way and LSC grounded, we did not feel there was anything we could safely do to help, though we did scan the water for survivors.
On the ride home we stuck with the #3 sheeted to the rail and full main, which we had been flying since Bonita. I did not feel like putting up any more sail than that. Near the Lightship we were hit by a breaking sneaker wave on the port quarter, which flung me across the cockpit and to the starboard lifelines, and tumbled Temerity around in a 360° circle. As I was in the air I had plenty of time to remember that I was clipped in and would not be going overboard. We finished without further incident, and pulled in to StFYC to drop off crew, and everyone jumped on their cellphones to inform friends and family that we were OK. It seems that there had been some confusion with our initial radio call and USCG thought for awhile that we were also in distress. Strangely, they called our cell phones and emergency contacts, but did not attempt to hail us on VHF, which would have cleared things up immediately, as we continued to monitor Ch 16 for the rest of the race.
I and the Temerity crew extend our deepest condolences to the families and friends of those lost at sea.
Some races forbid the passage between the Mile Rocks and the shore, and some allow it. Frankly, as I can only see about 0.14 nm (less than 300 yards) of clear water, I’m happier when it is excluded, and I don’t have to think about chancing it. But then, I’m a well known wimp.
The DH Lightship ended not with a bang, but a cold and wet whimper as all but 5 of the 36 entrants retired in the face of light winds, bumpy vomit-inducing seas, and the flood tide that started all too early for most. As you can see from the track above, we were among the retirees. My crew was Gilles Combrison of GC Marine, who has done most of the rigging and deck work on Temerity over the last two years.
We had a good start, as most of Div A was fooled by the Race Committee’s mistake of starting the race 5 minutes earlier than had been stated in the SI’s. The First Warning was meant to be at 0900, with the first start at 0905, but they started the sequence at 0855. It was light, light, light though, and the lighter speedsters pulled ahead. We set our somewhat baggy 0.75 oz runner and tried to make do reach-to-reach jibing to keep boatspeed up, the angles be damned. It was cold and there was a heavy drizzle much of the time. Eventually, we realized that we had spent 4 hours covering 25% of the course distance, with the wind only expected to get lighter later on. So we bailed. Well at least it was good practice of a sort, and I enjoyed sailing with Gilles. Hopefully he can join us later in the season and we will have some better weather!
To say that our running in the OYRA Lightship I race got off to an inauspicious start would be beyond understatement. I was lucky to have Kim, Chuy, and Michaela as crew, and was looking forward to turning in a good showing, as well as a good time. The start proved to be a fiasco however, as I misjudged the speed of the early ebb and we drifted over the pin, snagging it in fact on our rudder. As as you can see from the animated chart below, there we sat for all to see for nearly an hour. The RC delayed the two Divisions after us, but then started them off, with Temerity playing the inglorious role as the pin.
After the other fleets had all left, a nice young man in a big StFYC RIB helped us off, after several attempts against the 3 kt current. By towing straight back towards the ‘X’ buoy, we were eventually freed, and could see the nasty pink inflated mark ahead of us by a boatlength or so. And then, before we could get the sail up and get steerage, we drifted right back down on it and snagged it again with the rudder. A real character building moment. Finally, we were off for real, we hoisted sails and started out the Gate.
The wind died, and then filled again out of the promised NW. We made the Lightship in one long beat on starboard, getting a bit of a lift on the way. It was too late to be clever and try to work to the north of the course. As we rounded, the wind was blowing about 20 kts and had veered enough so that the apparent was nearly on our beam — too far forward to set the spin, and the seas were pretty steep, probably about the 12 feet at 12 seconds that had been forecast. We stuck with the #1 and power-reached for home. As the afternoon progressed, the wind built to a solid 30 kts with gusts of 35 kts. With Kim and Chuy sharing the driving most of the way back, we saw over 17 kts on the speedo, a new boat record, helped by the steepness of the waves. We even managed to pass a couple of the PHRO3 boats on the way back. The result was a DFL, not surprising given our delayed start.
Fortunately the crew were very good about the whole business, and après-race we were all happy to tuck in to the delicious chicken pot pie that Kim had prepared, with Dark and Stormy chasers to take the edge off. It was a lovely day with good wind and a chance to be on the ocean, so what’s not to enjoy?
This year’s edition of the SSS Three Bridge Fiasco was the fourth time we have done the race, and the first time we have finished. Annika flew up from UCSD to provide her excellent helming skills. The weather couldn’t have been better warm and with lightish winds, except for the two big holes near Blackaller and at the end rounding Yerba Buena.
The wind was pretty variable at the time of the start. Motoring along the city front at about 0900, the wind was up to 15+ kts with whitecaps forming west of TI, and so we put the #1 genny below and hauled out our shiny new Doyle Stratus #3. But a half hour later it had dropped to less than 8, so it was down the hatch with the #3 and out again with the #1. Even so, we called the start pretty badly, and were about 5 minutes late over the line, creeping along at 2 kts. After being razzed by our pal War Dog about having too small a sail up, we set the spin, and proceeded to drift down to Blackaller, with over a hundred boats around us doing a floating fiberglass impersonation of 880 at rush hour. We barely stayed outside the Anita Buoy, and then it was really crunch time as we entered the Maelstrom. Three trimarans were lined up ahead, ama to ama and we where hemmed in on either side with boats less than 10 feet away. The tris seemed to form a solid barrier, and in spite of the well known fact that multis are the fastest boats sailed by teh bestistist sailors, with our spin up we were fast than they were, and as overtaking boat had no rights. I guess in hindsight I should have doused the spin, but somehow the waters parted and we snuck through. “A ballsy move” was what one fellow racer told me the next day, but it was more reckless than anything.
We overstood Red Rock only to find the wind dying there as well, and had to do a short, slo mo tack to stay clear of the reef. Then we made one of the better tactical calls of the day, delaying setting the spin to head south until the wind settled down. At it turned out, the apparent wind was ahead of the beam for the whole reach down to TI, and we saved time over those boats that had set and doused. The Bay Bridge was another traffic jam, and this time we did not do so well getting out of it. But we picked up a bit by going straight for the Pier 39 corner instead of hugging the city shoreline as many boats did, and then had to tack out. Our finish was at 15:35, putting us at 158th out of 271 double-handed starters. It was a great day on the water for Annika and me!
Approaching the finish, photos by Jeremy of Surf City Racing.
Somehow there is always a line dangling whenever we get a photo taken…
[Edit] framgrab from our crossing the finish, seen from the Racedeck
It’s never too early to start thinking about. DH again this year with the 1st Lt. Our start: 9:57:45. This year’s goal: to finish.
Animation from holdentechnology.com:
Frames broken out for your printing and studying pleasure (click for big):
The tide is not as strong as it has been the last couple of years:
Oh snap, the Singlehanded Farallones Race is being held on Judgement Day.
Well I guess that is true in a way. Yesterday I did a singlehanding practice, and meant to fly the spin, but by the time I got to the Cityfront (it was slow going against a big flood), the wind had kicked up to the teens, which was more than I wanted for my very first solo kite flying expedition. So I messed about a bit just outside the Gate, enjoying the sun, breeze, dolphins, and views of the America replica and USA76 which were both out for a spin.
Fortunately, the End of the World will occur just after the Vallejo 1-2, which is pretty much the end of our season.
This video should come in handy this weekend – our first Friday Night in the Estuary, and crewed Lightship Saturday.
Last Saturday Paul Harris and I took a little trip out to the Farallones, and I, at least, got my ass kicked.
It started innocently enough. It was my first BAMA DH Farallones race. The forecast was moderate, as these things go, it was only supposed to blow no more than 25 kts outside, and for only the late afternoon hours. The start was a drifter, with the real surprise being the tide. Instead of a 3 kt ebb, we found we had about a 2 kt flood, setting due East. For once I was on the ball at the start, and we aggressively motored up to the start line with the #1 and spin ready to go, cutting the engine 30 seconds short of the deadline. We noted Green Buffalo doing the same, while most of the fleet was moving backwards, if at all, having set sails too early. So we were in a good position as we crossed the line, perhaps less than a minute after our 0820 starting signal.
Looking back at the fleet at the start. Almost everyone was suckered by the huge flood counter-current at the beach.
A small group of boats made the call to head North to intercept the ebb that must be out there somewhere. We were moving, slowly, in the direction of the South Tower, and we hoped that we would either get a good puff or cross out of the counter current eventually. This strategy did not pay off as well as the northerly one, as some of that portion of the fleet first reached the ebb and then a wind line came down from the North. Meanwhile the bulk of the fleet was still milling around in the start area. We cleared the bridge, and the wind picked up. We were making good time out to Pt. Bonita on starboard tack under the #1, when it really started to blow and so we peeled to the #3. The first real excitement of the day occurred as we lost a jib sheet, had to tack back onto port to re-attach it. By this time the exposed reef at Bonita was looking pretty close and pretty mean. We tacked away with only a few boatlengths to spare. We settled in on starboard, aiming more or less at the Farallones, parallel and about a mile north of the shipping channel. The seas were short and steep, and the wind piped up to 20 – 25 kts true. I could hear down below as various objects were crashing and breaking. We were also taking a lot of water onto the deck, and we scooped up one big wave with the bow that sent a mass of water over the cabin top and dumped into the open hatch. Oh well.
Our track. Unfortunately, the GPS ran out of memory and overwrote the start of the race, which was the most interesting tactically.
About 10 nm outside the Gate a problem developed. The #1 jib had not been secured well enough to the foredeck, and the waves coming across the deck had partially washed it through the baby strainer and into the sea, where it performed a creditable imitation of a sea anchor. It was hard to see what was happening, and the #3 was sheeted in very hard, and some portion of the #1 was under the boat on the leeward side. I offered to go fetch it back and Paul did not object. I clipped in to the jacklines and started crawling forward, hanging on to dear life as Temerity bucked her way through the waves. I clung to the spin pole and mast, and started hauling the sail back on board. This proved to be incredibly difficult, as the boat was doing 4+ kts through the water and the sail was acting like a big scoop. The middle of the sail had gotten wedged down into a corner where the lifeline, stanchion, and strainer line formed a noose, and as soon as I had tugged a few feet of the damn genoa back aboard the sea would pull it back. This happened again and again and again. I tried to brace with my legs, but I needed at least half an arm to use as well to hang on. While twisting my body and pulling as hard as I could, I suddenly heard and felt a tearing sound from my chest. “Oh shit,” I thought, “this will start hurting pretty soon.” I had pulled a muscle in my upper abdomen, badly. Paul shouted words of encouragement, but my mental state was not good. “What the hell are you doing out here, you are just not cut out for this!” I berated myself. But my fear of losing the sail and having it jam under the boat, perhaps fouling the rudder, was greater than my fear of falling overboard or the pain and exhaustion I was feeling. I was also wet to the skin at this point, having ventured forward without my foulie jacket on. I got even more scared when I saw that in groveling around on deck my tether quick release had triggered, leaving me unsecured for some unknown amount of time. I reattached it with shaking hands, and at this point Paul eased off the jib sheet enough for me to actually make some progress in getting the sail back on board. Finally I had done it, and I bundled it up and put on two bungees to hold it down. I had not brought any sail ties forward with me, which was quite an oversight. By the time I made it back to the cockpit, I felt completely drained, and my torn muscle was stabbing me with pain with every breath.
Not 15 minutes later, it happened again. The wimpy-ass bungees were just not enough the keep the waves from knocking the sail off the deck. I told Paul I just couldn’t do it, and that it was his turn. He suited up and ventured forward. I let the sails flog like crazy and slowed the boat to 2 kts to make it easier for him. Not as much of the sail had gone overboard as in the first instance, so he was able to recover it a bit more easily, and this time we stuffed the soaking thing down through the hatch. I never wanted to see it again.
We were both beat, I had lost my fancy new Myerchin knife, and Paul’s VHF had also been launched into the sea at some point. But we only had about 8 nm to go to the island, and all we had to do to get there was steer. We knew we should reef as we were still overpowered, but figured we would want the full main back as soon as we rounded the Farallones.
It was clear and beautiful at the island, but neither of us had the energy or time to fetch the camera. The famous great whites and orcas were not to be seen, as it was far too rough. The waves smashed most impressively against the rocky shore. We had converged with Nancy, Express 37 Escapade, and 1D35 Zha Zha. The ride back was fun — a deep reach (still with full main and #3) on a straight line course back to the Gate. The wind was still blowing around 25 kts, and we were seeing 10′s, 11′s, and 12′s on the fun meter sliding down the steep waves. Paul got an especially good ride on one, setting a boatspeed all-time record of 16.2 kts!
The wind stayed strong all the way to the finish, again defying the forecast. We had a nice view of E-27 Great White doing multiple spin crashes, while Dianne under white sails only edged past to beat her by 2 minutes.
Temerity crossing the finish line at the X buoy. The #3 sheeted to the stern fairlead proved fortuitous. We were way too beat to change to the #2 reacher.
We were crushed by the Cal 40s in our Division and edged out by Ay Caliente (oh there but for the dragging jib!). The Wyliecats crushed us and their Division as well. All the Moore 24s that finished beat us as did the entire Express 27 fleet. Moores took the overall 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th places on corrected time. On the other hand, we beat (on corrected time) all the Express 37s, a 1D35, and the Open 50. The Olson 34 Redsky, the Mini, and the mighty Double Trouble dropped out. And in a race where 4 out of 10 starters retired in the face of the wind and waves, just getting home in one piece feels like an accomplishment.
Some other write-ups:
Cal 40 Shaman (winner of our Division)
Video from SC-27 Don Quixote
Photo gallery from the race deck, by Slackwater
NorCalSailing’s writeup
More stories, official results, and links at the SF BAMA site.
19 April 2011 Edit: I was interested in how participation in this race has changed over time, so I made up this plot.
Under her former name (OZONE) and owner, Temerity did this race only once before, in 1998.
Last weekend Char and I competed in the Singlehanded Sailing Society’s Corinthian Race, in the Doublehanded Spinnaker Division. Char was a little apprehensive about doing a race with just the two of us, but I told her we were not going to fly the spinnaker (even though we could have in principle), and that we would treat it as just another daddy-daughter day on the water. Fortunately the weather was fair and the winds fairly light, except for a bit rounding Blossom Rock buoy. We flew the full main and #3 jib, as did most of the rest of the fleet — I didn’t see too many #1s even in the very light air of the start.
It was a long day for us as we finished near the back of the pack (in spite of taking the Raccoon Strait option, that worked out for most of the winners), and we finished slightly after 5PM. We saw a few porpoises and the usual seal, but again did not manage to take any pics!
The rain held off at the start, but lumpy waves greeted sailors once they reached the ocean. ©2011 norcalsailing.com
This past weekend Temerity had her first outing in IYC’s iconic Double Handed Lightship race. I was very lucky that Annika was home from college for Spring Break, and could crew! It was to be a day of daddy-daughter bonding through shared suffering.
Annika and I went up to Alameda Friday afternoon, where we got the boat ready and reviewed spinnaker procedures. We had a great pre-race dinner at Speisekammer (same place, different daughter since last week). After a night spent on the boat listening to the rain on the deck, Saturday dawned to even more rain.
Our trip out to the starting area (off St.FYC) was a quick one on the building ebb, and we arrived over an hour early. We messed around, reaching back and forth while avoiding (and marveling at) the 38 swimmers in the water and their chase boats, making their way from Alcatraz to St.FYC itself. Seeing this lot made us feel a bit less crazy ourselves for being out there. Ironically, we had so much time to kill we were late to our start by 9 minutes, as we lost track of time while pondering which jib to use. The rain had stopped and the wind was blowing out of the South at about 10 kts. Finally I called for the #3 though, which proved wise, as the wind picked up and veered after the start.
We had previously agreed that we would only set the spin if conditions were benign, and that our main goal for the day was to have a nice day on the water. The waves outside the Gate grew much steeper, and were very short period — I timed them at 6 – 8 seconds at one point, and I guess they were about 8 feet high. This was due to the massive ebb tide (estimated by one observer to be 8 kts) running against the wind, which was now westerly and in the mid- to high-teens. We pitched and slammed. Annika started to feel sick, and we focussed on hanging on, glad to be clipped in with jacklines rigged. One oddity of the day was that the Lightship buoy itself was to be found aboard a USCG buoy tending ship, and we gave it a very wide berth.
Our track. The image does not show the first third of the race as the GPS memory overflowed.
After finally gybing back towards the Gate, I went below to fetch up some bottles of water. We had both been drenched by waves breaking over the bow and were thirsty from the seawater in our mouths. In the cabin I found that everything had gone flying, even though we had stowed well enough by Bay sailing standards. The portable GPS plotter had gone ballistic, some heavy coffee mugs and other crockery had smashed through the sliding plasitic door of the galley cupboard, breaking it and themselves, and half a case of ginger beer was now in the bilge. Fortunately there was no broken glass, and the rum was safe, praise be.
The trip back was slow, again against the ebb, and we managed to get a good deal further towards the Potato Patch than I might have chosen initially. Our low boatspeed while North of the channel (we were sailing very deep angles) and the quartering seas made for a great deal of banging of the boom and mainsheet tackle. The wind and waves picked up again as we got closer to the bridge, and we were doubly glad to have not set the kite as we saw peak gusts of 30 kts TWS and boatspeed of up to 12.4 kts surfing down waves under full main and #3 alone. After some final course diversions to avoid an enormous container ship inbound for Oakland, the Bay felt like a mill pond, and the sun was even coming out. We finished at just a hair under six hours after our start time, near the bottom of the fleet, but we did finish, one of 22 boats out of 39 entries to do so.
So I guess we did OK in the larger sense. We weren’t intimidated out of starting, nothing important broke on the boat, and we avoided injuries (such as a broken eye socket bone, a cracked rib, and a dislocated finger as some other unlucky competitors suffered). Rivals Nancy and Ay Caliente! declined to start due to conditions or bagged it early, respectively. (Green Buffalo and the other Wylecat did fine, though.) And of course I am lucky any day I can go sailing with one of my girls!
Recent Comments