Summer Sailstice

Ace and I completed our Basic Keelboat course. 

There's a written and a practical test to get certified.  We both passed our written, both failed the practical.  The great thing about OSCS is that you get to go back for as many refreshers as it takes to pass the practical - for free!  So failure was actually a good thing - an excuse to go sailing that many more times before you're on your own and have to shell out for your own charter.

So Ace signed up for a refresher Saturday; there was room for only one person.  I figured I'd get informal experience by volunteering when someone on the sailing club bulletin board advertised that they were seeking crew members for a race on Saturday.  I warned that I had minimal experience, but could do what I was told and serve sandwiches.  They took me on.

It was a lovely, hot day.  Every weekend lesson so far has been a study in long underwear, wool sweaters and foul weather gear.  On Saturday, I didn't even change from my shorts to blue jeans.

Unfortunately, there was also no wind, making the trek to the race start a very slow process.  We saw fellow competitors fire up their engine and pass us by, slowly.  Their skipper laughed at us languishing with sagging sails and shouted, "Need a tow?"

We laughed, but then considered the offer, given the price of gas these days.

The people on the boat who knew what they were doing were quite capable sailors, crossing us over the start line right as the gun shot; hoisting and dropping the spinnaker in seconds.  I proved to be all but useless.  Though I understood my instructions, my experience on a 24-foot training boat just didn't help me here.  On this big, old-fashioned Farallon Clipper, I simply didn't have the strength or even the weight to pull the sheets when instructed, and needed the help of someone bigger, every time.  I know there's a winch and everything, but I simply couldn't wind the winch as quickly as a man could hand-over-hand.

So the experience was a bit demoralizing, and I was frustrated and feeling like deadweight.

But every person was friendly and pretended to be appreciative...and then this week I got this great recap from the guy who'd put the request on the bulletin board.  (Anything to avoid writing a blog post!  Also, it's very salty.)  I'll include some of the few pictures I took - none from the race, we were too busy.  Mostly I was fascinated by going under the new Bay Bridge. (Those of you not from here will remember that the Bay Bridge is the double decker bridge - on the left, below - that collapsed in the Loma Prieta earthquake.)

  

We left the Berkeley Marina around 10 am, headed out the harbor break water and turned left at the first (and only) navigable break in the ruins of the Berkeley pier.
 
Something you can NOT do in an OCSC charter.  But Jack, the owner of Echo, Farallon Clipper #12 has been sailing Echo for more than 15 years now, and has made the passage into the area south of the pier many, many times.
 
Once clear of the pier, John and Evan hauled away at the genoa halyard, and with Linda, Ann, and Robert in the cockpit to grapple with hauling in the sheet, that huge foresail captured the light air and added to its shoulder to heave the sloop southward towards the bay bridge.

 
Young Evan sang the entire lyrics to “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” as he and John relaxed on deck and ignored the efforts of the others to navigate through the moored barges and bay bridge construction constriction.

 
 
Past the bridge, John went below to fall asleep as the wind died and Jack ‘pushed the button’ on the iron sail. 
 
He woke up in heaven.
 
It seems like heaven to me - flat water, warm winds around 8-12 kts, and a large fleet of sailboats dancing around the starting line – and a wonderful group of people to share the experience with.
 
Jack handled the helm, Robert, Ann and Linda the cockpit, Evan the running backstays, and John as lookout, the group got a front row seat to the start of the first division. 
 
With a little confusion, Linda attempted to figure out what course flag was flying as Jack judged the start perfectly, crossing the line right on the gun, to windward of the middle of the pack.
 
But a Farallon Clipper is no match for modern racing boats, and we were quickly buried, with the rest of the fleet casting a wind shadow, and we went our own way on port tack.
 
Searching the horizon for the windward mark, we made our way up the middle of the windward leg of the course, staying away from the patch of light air to the northwest.
 
Many, many boats from the previous two divisions are bearing down on us with colorful spinnakers flying.  “Look at the spinnaker with the Skull and Cross Bones!” Wow! the Beneteau 40 ‘White Fang’ was looking good with Geoff Love, one of the Wednesday Night Sailors on board.  Later I learned that they had the same trouble with the course flags and sailed the wrong one.  Catching the finish gun, but having to drop out of the race.
 
Racing to windward on the bay in 12-15 kt winds, in shirtsleeves? (Ann was in shorts!) Unheard of!  But true.  While the rest of the Bay Area sweated, we had a cool, light breeze making the whole thing exceptionally pleasant.

 
We turned the corner at the windward mark, bore off on a close reach as John and Evan got the spinnaker pole on the mast and up in the air.  Heaving on the halyards, they both got that glorious sail up in short order, and the massive genoa down on the deck.
 
Off we went, following what we thought was the fleet, towards the south east, around a anchored tanker, to what looked like the leeward mark.
 
Robert played the spinnaker like he’d been doing it all his life.  Out with the sheet, let the luff curl, then in with the sheet, over and over and over again.
 
Jack let the pole forward so John could ‘pull the pin’ on the guy, and the spinnaker cracks to leeward to luff its heart out.
 
Jack reminding John that the halyard he just took off the winch is the . . . John’s mistake is a little obvious as he catches himself before being launched into outer space by the main halyard.
 
After that, the takedown went smoothly, John lowering the correct halyard at that point, Ann and Linda gathering the spinnaker in their arms, and shoving its many square feet of cloth into the hatch.
 
Evan and John get the pole down, then hoist the genoa once more.
 
And we are off to the windward mark, as the realization hits that the ‘gate’ marks are over there . . .
 
We are on the wrong course with about a dozen other boats.
 
Jack reminds us that racing is just ‘Sailing with a Purpose’, and we decide to follow the other boats around ‘our’ course, and ignore the ‘Division K’ course, what ever that was.
 
John goes below and packs the spinnaker back in the turtle (it never fits the same way it does on the dock).  Linda goes below to help him keep the edges on the correct side.
 
John’s sweating bullets (from the heat – it was actually HOT below deck) and Linda remarks the canvas bag really does look like a two legged turtle with the head and clews sticking out from the sides as John finished putting the ‘shell’ on it.
 
It was all downhill from there as we swept around the windward mark once again, John gets all the correct halyard(s) this time as the spinnaker goes up, the genoa goes down, and the main stays where it is supposed to be.
 
We find the correct leeward ‘gate’ this time, and take the gun at the finish (we are the first boat in our division to cross the finish line. 
 
After a radio discussion with the committee boat, we determine that we sailed the wrong course as we thought, and disqualify ourselves.
 
The reach back to Berkeley was as delightful as the rest of the day and Robert takes the helm to sail us back through the gap in the pier around 5 pm.  Evan’s not going to be late for his date that evening.
 
We all give him some advice for it.  The crew (with a lot of experience) feels that you don’t ever want to impress your date by doing something for their benefit.  You can only truly find love by being yourself.
 
The surest way is to take them sailing, if they go out on another date, you’ve got it made!
 
We all remark on Ann’s sunburned legs, she’s smiling, not feeling any pain!
 
What a beautiful day!

Comments

[Captain John]

"So the experience was a bit demoralizing, and I was frustrated and feeling like deadweight."

WHAT? you were a joy to sail with, it was a fantastic day! Come sail with us again!

If you didn't feel useful on the aft part of the boat, next time I'll have you dancing on the foredeck.

Love your blog, could use some help with mine :)

Captain John