I bought my 1983 Catalina 25 in November of 2000 after much searching and pondering. My choice was largely due to the fact that there are a lot of Catalina 25s around. Parts were still available and there was a very active National Association with a great web site complete with a lively forum, a place I could ask questions about the boat. I bought the boat, then paid the $20 annual dues and became a member of the Catalina 25/250 National Association. In the back of my mind I wondered how a National Association could be active, everyone’s scattered throughout the country. Oh well, as a member, I’d feel good about using the forum anyway.
In 2001 the National Regatta was held in Detroit, Michigan. Can’t make that, but I needed to put some work into the boat and learn to sail her. And have some fun cruising, the main reason for buying her, since Catalina 25s aren’t well known for their racing prowess. 2002 I spent quite a bit of time on the National Association web site asking questions, learning a lot, meeting some nice people internet style. There was no National Regatta that year; fallout from the 9/11 tragedy. 2003 the National Regatta was held in Syracuse, Indiana. Would be nice to put faces to names and meet other association members. But that is a long way and my trailer needs new brakes and tires.
The 2004 Regatta in Portland, Oregon; wow, might never get this close again. I’m on board. New brakes and tires on the trailer, repack the bearings. My brother, who happens to live in Portland, will be my crew. Practice racing, with everything else I have to do there just isn’t time. I’m on the road.
Arriving in Portland, I have the boat slung into the water. My brother, Mike, arrives and we motor it over to the Willamette Yacht Club. We find some regatta participants and, with their help, we get the mast up. It’s Tuesday, July 13, 92 degrees, no wind. Time to find some shade.
Wednesday we arrive back at the Willamette Yacht Club and start setting up the boat: roller furling, boom, sails. The Coast Guard Auxiliary comes along and offers to inspect the boat. It probably won’t pass, but what the heck. It was close, one bow light out and no replacement on hand. So I don’t get signed off or get the cool sticker to put on the boat. Oh well, back to setting up the boat. We’re almost done when someone asks if we’re registered yet? No, not yet. To get registered we have to take the sails into the clubhouse to have them measured. Yahoo, off come the sails. Did I mention that it’s 95 degrees? We get them measured then bent back on. Time to hit the showers and get ready for the first planned social event, a dinner and wine tasting at a local winery. Good wine, nice setting, and a chance to meet other Association members.
Thursday, time to get psyched up for the first race; the first race this boat has ever been in. It’s an upwind, down current start. Light air, hard to stay on the correct side of the starting line without the motor. We run the motor right to the limit, staying up current as far as we think we need to. Turned out to be a little too far. We cross the line about 14th out of a fleet of 15. Oh well, we charge forward anyway, not being too aggressive. I’m not real clear on all that “who has the right-of-way” stuff: I think they’re called the Racing Rules. I decide, in a flash of brilliance, to just follow what the lead boat does. We manage, in spite of a few spinnaker problems, to finish 6th. Not too bad!
We clean up the deck and get ready for race two. My flash of brilliance has a reprise, start following that the lead boat before the race starts. I almost fall off the boat. Gotta watch those flashes of brilliance. This time we cross the starting line 2nd. Wow, this is great! We’re having fun now! Beating to the weather mark, if you can call it that in 3.5 knots of wind, we lose a few places. Trouble raising the spinnaker causes us to lose quite a few more. The downwind run we’re still having trouble figuring out how to fly the spinnaker. We’ve only flown it four times prior to this. It’s an asymmetrical cruising chute and I’m coming to the realization that it’s probably more of a reaching spinnaker than a downwinder. We can’t seem to keep it filled running downwind. Oh well, let’s reach. So as everyone else is running wing-on-wing or close to downwind with a “proper” spinnaker, we’re screaming back and forth through the fleet: specifically, on one jibe screaming “Starboard” and the other, “Sorry, uh, sorry, no, keep your course”. We make up a few spots with the crazy zigzagging technique and manage to finish 8th. We head in fairly satisfied, but a little frustrated with our spinnaker work. But hey, we have a lot of room for improvements! If it was a newly purchased house that might be viewed as a positive thing.
We have a few beers at the clubhouse and try to explain to the Commodore and other racers what we were doing out there zooming back and forth through the fleet. They thought we had given up on racing and were just goofing off. Yeah, just wait ’til we perfect our technique. Goofing off. Oh well, tonight a potluck dinner is on the schedule. Maybe I can redeem my reputation with the BBQed pulled pork I’m bringing.
Friday, still not much wind, temperature still about 92. Didn’t perfect our technique: first race 12th, second race 11th. But there’s the BBQ and rock-n-roll band in the clubhouse tonight. Should be fun!
Saturday, the plan is to get in two races in the morning and two in the afternoon. After motoring in circles for an hour, the morning races are cancelled. Did I mention the temperature is still in the 90s? The afternoon races begin. Finally some wind, and it’s clocking around from the North. A reaching race! Yahoo, if we can hold our own on the first leg, we’re gonna fly on the spinnaker run. We make it to the first mark, the boat in front of us is leaving a lot of room at the mark. I try to cut in, but end up clipping the prop of his tilted-up outboard. Darn it. We leave the course and do our 720.
We get back into it and set the spinnaker. So far, so good, except for that minor infraction. We are moving! Passing boats like they’re standing still. It’s a good thing, we’ve got a lot of boats in front of us. We’re on a beam reach, barely holding onto the spinnaker. We’ve got so much momentum, I get a really stupid idea. It’s amazing what a little over-confidence can make a person think. If we can just use our momentum to tack the boat without lowering the spinnaker, we can pass all these boats and get on an opposite reach and scream across the finish line. Oh boy, I’m thinking trophy now!
Dang, it’s amazing how fast the momentum can disappear when there’s no wind in our sails and the current’s against us. Forgot about that current. Oh well, we can recover. Drop the spinnaker, roll out the genoa. Did I mention our spinnaker technique needs a little work? The spinnaker halyard wraps around the roller-furling, as does the spinnaker sheets. I need the genny out. Too late, we hit the mark. I run up to the mast to see what’s wrong. It’s a total mess. Too many lines wrapped around too many things. We’re done. I sit down. My brother reminds me we still need to get the spinnaker down no matter what we do. So I roll the genny up. The spinnaker comes down. And we’re drifting down river. Right toward the finish line.
My brother’s talking again. Something about finishing anyway. OK, what the heck. We do our two 360s. Yeah, in all that excitement, we hit the downwind mark twice. What a fiasco, what a stupid idea, tack a spinnaker. I blame the heat. Brain must of fried. Did I mention the temperature was in the 90s? We finish, but not last, second to last. Oh well, better than a DNF. Dang and we were doing so well there, somewhere between hitting that boat at the first mark and the idea to tack the spinnaker at the second mark. What went wrong? I blame the spinnaker.
The second race, new idea, let’s forget about the spinnaker. We’ll take a hit being in the spinnaker rating, but maybe it will be a calmer race. We run wing-on-wing with the genny. We’re not doing great, but it is more relaxing. And hey, we make a move close to the finish line, pass three boats and end up finishing 8th, even with the spinnaker handicap. Eh, not so bad. We watch the last boats finish, end up drifting into the middle of a major naval battle. Seems like every boat is bristling with water cannons. Every boat, except ours. We didn’t stand a chance. I blame the heat.
So, when it was all said and done, we came in 10th overall. Didn’t win any trophies, but we had a great time and met some great people. I was impressed with the boat’s performance and I learned a lot about how the boat handles. We actually did better than I was expecting, especially that part in between that thing at the first mark and that other thing at the second mark. Did I mention the temperatures were in the 90s? I blame the spinnaker.
It was a lot of fun. I’m definitely thinking about next years Nationals at Lake Cheney, Kansas. I don’t think I’ll trailer my boat that far, but maybe I can crew with some of my new friends. If you have the opportunity to take your boat to the Nationals, do it. If you have the opportunity to go to the Nationals, do it. Even if you’re not a racer, you’ll be glad you did.
John Mason, Ali Paroosh