We arrived back in Olympia last night from Swiftsure. The delivery from Victoria was pretty quick and uneventful. The most exciting part was the first few miles, where the combination of the remainder of Monday night’s gale and a good sized ebb made for pretty big waves and wind. The southwesterly encouraged David to set the heavy 1, but we flew it for less than an hour before the wind went easterly, on the nose, then died. Despite a few sprinkles, it was a pretty day.
I really, really want to thank all who sailed Swiftsure and helped to ready the boat. I feel very good about how well we sailed. We were first or second around the mark, despite our wild flyer at Race Rocks.
For those who were not there, and those who were, too, the race started light. It took us till nearly 3 PM to tiptoe to Race rocks up the beach against a strong adverse tide. While we saw goose eggs a couple times, we passed Nightrunner and did not run aground like Ian on Synergy, ouch! At the Race, we compressed with most of the other boats who had gotten there before us only to find the Race living up to its name, the wrong way.
Smart money, like Paul Faget on Pakalolo, had sails down and beers out, since they did not believe there was enough wind to push them through. And several others, such as the nausea blue Monopoly, proved them right when they attempted to pass.
But who are WE to sit idly by in the face of paltry evidence such as that, especially when in first place in our class. Boor-ringg! No, we had to entertain ourselves, the rest of our class behind us, the rest of the fleet, and the flies and sea lions on Race rocks, by attempting river racing 101 with the chute. And it almost worked. But we still crabbed sideways well past the rocks, bringing a lot of the flies with us. Some say they smelled the delivery crew who did not get around to taking a shower.
By the time we made forward way again, I was making dinner, we were considerably SW of the Race and the rest of the fleet had broken free and were making their way up the Canadian shore well in front of us.
Bummer, or so we thought. Off on our own again, we finally started catching Catalina 30s at sundown. Shifts began, the moon rose, and so did the swells.
Some brainless watch captain decided it was cold downstairs and she had better turn the heat on. This send her watch, including herself, racing for the topside before the chicken fettucine reappeared. For some it did anyway, and it was not better the second time. Morale was not improved when Chris announced that Darby had rounded the mark.
Slog, slog, on through the night and out to the mouth of the Straits. No wind, as usual. Slam, slam of the sails and the boom. Sam says we are making way, but it sure does not seem like it. 25 miles to go to the mark! Darby appears behind our transom, hanging out. They must be waiting to go back in, and harassing us. I do not want to play, and tack off favored board to escape them and go through the waves better like another boat is doing.
11 AM: the mark boat is in sight, but not for long, they pull up anchor at noon. Will we get there in time? Would that be a bad thing if we had to quit? My stomach and head are ready to be done, now.
Wait, behind us! There is Nightrunner, and Freedom 10, and Union, and Pantera, and Darby!! Chris, you little Stinker!!! Despite our best efforts to give our lead away, we still have it!
So now we are racing again. Everyone else goes back to Canada. David wants to go to the American shore but Chris and I talk him in to covering the fleet for a change. We lose a little ground, as we delayed putting up the .6 ounce until there was enough pressure to stabilize it.
The others except for Pantera head for the middle of the Strait. It lightens up but then gets windy. Pantera gets the world’s longest hourglass in her chute without destroying it, and proceeds to take the sail down for every jibe thereafter. This is entertaining.
The wind builds and builds. It is time to think about replacing the .6 with the inch and a half. Since we peeled to put it up, we will have to take it down to change to avoid crossing the wing halyards.
Bang! Guess the starboard halyard read my mind. The .6 is now billowing out in front of the boat like a bridal veil in a fashion shoot. Quick action by Brandon, Dan and others gather it in before it hits the water and wraps around the keel. The snapshackle is still attached to the head, the swage parted. Guess it is time to go back up with the inch and a half...
The wind builds some more. Darby and Nightrunner come back inside of us before Shearingham, and proceed to lose ground as we surf merrily down the Strait in stronger gusts. The chute oscillates but Chris always avoids the death roll, and Brandon expertly plays the chute to stabilize. Kristin calls the puffs like a pro. Now, if only Sam, David and John can make the engine, which got a mouthful of sea water during an earlier charging session, run, so we are not disqualified, we might win this thing!
Time to jibe over to Race rocks for the final leg. Not an easy one, the pole is trapped between the sheet and old guy, so the sheet is released. The guy is better anyway to trim because the chute needs choking, it is too powered up.
After hours in one place, Chris wants to change position, and tries to slide to the other side of the boat. This innocent adjustment, with the waves now coming from a sharper angle, rolls us into a full on broach.
The pole hits the shrouds, the main jibes - and sends Kristin right over the port side. We try unsuccessfully to grab her. She does grab the guy, and manages to get back to the side of the boat. We try to drag her though the aft stanchion but finally coordinate getting her back over the port corner.
Once she is safely back aboard, we haul the chute in with the guys. It is intact, and all the gear still on. We raise the heavy 1. The pole is bent where it hit the shrouds, and deemed useless.
I take the helm, and we surf through the race, on Dan’s call to ignore Washburn’s like everyone else, in the face of a strong building ebb, and sail rumbline home. Darby also took their chute down, maybe after watching us?, and sails though several boat lengths behind. Cindy got some nice pictures of them against the sunset. Nightrunner is now well ahead. Far enough to save their time? Their chute is still up.
The smugness of being in front is quenched when Darby resets their chute, and reaches off the to right. Can they hold a tight enough line? Ohh, Pullease god, I want a header really bad right now to even the playing field. But, all our luck is used up to start the engine.
Darby finishes almost 3 minutes ahead, and corrects in front of Nightrunner for third. The first place boat was less than 3 minutes corrected in front of them. After 140 miles, the 5 boats to finish in the class do so within about 5 minutes corrected. Go figure.
I am very happy with how we sailed, especially during both the slow times and the crises. I am really glad that there was so little damage to crew and boat. I am ready to go again, as soon as my long underwear dries!!
Susanne Ames, O-My-God