Category: Race Reports

Three seconds!  Just three measly seconds!  That’s how much Battlewagon beat us by.  We almost had them, but couldn’t quite real them in at the finish.  It was an exciting end to an exciting night on the water.  Once again we had big wind, and once again we flew the spinnaker.  The Thursday night lads got back on the bike again after our humbling last week — even though we were only four of us on board!

Of course, we’d a had ’em handily if I didn’t get caught at the start — this time Sabotage shut the door on us at the start line, so we had to circle around behind them, which cost is 30 seconds right off the top.  Not my week for starts — time for a new technique!

Sorry no video feed tonight — such a shame since we had water on the rail many times, a nice close crossing with Battlewagon when we had to dip them by a hair, and the slightest bit of a rolling motion starting when the spinnaker was up — those all would have made great highlights, and the finish would have been precious to record.  What a night to forget the camera!

Here’s how it went.

At the dock, we turned the boat around and changed to the new #3 (the deep one that doesn’t point very high).  In the pre-start we had 25-28 knots of wind blowing on our nose, so we reefed the main too.  Even so, we were going 8 knots on a reach (with the jib furled)!

We waited until the approach to the committee boat before opening up the jib.  Once again, we were faster than I was expecting, and before I could decide to slip to leeward of Sabotage, Doug was hollering — “you’ve got no room, Rob!” while he hugged the layline to the committee boat.  At the last moment, we tacked away, jibed quickly and charged at the line again.  It seemed really fast to us on board, but RaceQs shows that loop, and at least 30 seconds went by.  By this time our fleet was well away and we had to reel them in.

And here’s where the narrative gets technical.  I got some advice from Doug about tuning the shrouds differently for high wind — much tighter uppers and mids — and to max out the backstay.  On the first upwind leg, we were pointing as high as Battlewagon, and sometimes it seemed as we were pointing nearly as high as Sabotage — that was a new experience, and that was with the mainsail reefed.  Big Yellow was breathing down our necks from astern, but could not catch up to us!  By the windward mark, we were in a solid third place:  Sabotage, Battlewagon, us, and Big Yellow.  We decided against hoisting the spinnaker — the wind was still really strong.  Instead, we shook out the reef, and put in several jibes downwind.  By the leeward mark we had neither gained nor lost ground on the boats ahead of us.  Big Yellow fell well behind.

The next leg was magic for us.  With slightly less wind, and the reef out of the main, we pointed even higher.  RaceQs tells us that we sailed 10% less distance, and pointed 7degrees higher.  As we approached the windward mark we had almost caught up to Battlewagon, having to dip them when on a port tack.  Game on!  Four hands got the spinnaker ready, Squirrel took on two jobs, and we rounded and hoisted the big blue chute.  The sound of the wake was fantastic as we began to close in the distance.  One neat jibe late on the leg and we flew to the finish on a hot point of sail.  It looked as if we could sweep in just before the competition, but the pin end of the line was favoured, and Battlewagon got us by a boat-length.

If only I’d had a clean start!

But kudos to the Thursday crew for being the only boat in our fleet to fly a spinnaker, and doing that right after our excitement last week.  The vibe after was fantastic, and soon Chris called us over to Battlewagon to chew the fat on a gorgeous warm summer evening.

 

We began with a sandwich, and ended with Ceviche.  Yes, folks, whenever The Cunning Ham is on snack duty, you don’t want to miss out.  And no, he did not provide sandwiches for apres-sail — the sandwich was on me, at the start of the race!

It was a gorgeous night to be out on the water.  Bright sunny sky, warm, and a nice breeze at the start that tapered gradually.  We were able to keep PERSPECTIVE fully powered up, and average 4.5 knots of boat speed, peaking at 7.0 knots both upwind and downwind.  There were a few lulls where we really had to focus to keep up our boat-speed, but we were able to employ our new learning from GHYRA to keep the boat moving by sailing a bit lower during the lulls.  In fact, at one point we were going nearly four knots in less than six knots of apparent wind — we were making our own wind, and going faster than the true wind!

And great to have Bert on board.  Bert is my neighbour in the marina, and this was his first race.  You’ve never have guessed it, and he trimmed the mainsail with aplomb.  Come again, Bert (just bring a blue shirt next time :-))

Here’s how it went:

At the start, I got caught un-prepared.  We steered toward the boat in some traffic and I focused on Remarkable, who appeared to be on the layline.  I dipped below their stern and came up on their leeward side, only to realize that Top Gun was lurking behind them, sailing very high and very slow.  (I gotta figure out how they do that — a very useful trick at the start).  So there we were in a sandwich with Top Gun pinching us into the committee boat.  What to do?  Remarkable got across Top Gun’s bow and had a great start, but we were caught barging.  There was no time to turn away — the committee boat was right there — so we carried on with our barge and the folks on Top Gun (grumpily) gave us room.  I didn’t hear the word protest, but knew we were in the wrong, so we put in a turn as soon as we were clear of traffic and the committee boat.  The 360 cost us about 45 seconds, enough to be well astern of the J35s with no hope of catching Remarkable or Top Gun.  What to do?  Focus on Battlewagon, of course!

Once we were back on course, we built up speed and began to catch up with the fleet — or at least it appeared that way to us!  Encouraged, we prepared for a jibe-set on the spinnaker, since the wind was coming a bit from the south.  This was the right call for the conditions strategically, but tactically it may have been better to bear away and jibe soon after the mark.  All the rejigging of lines up on the pointy end took extra time, and the wind did rotate back further east and wane significantly during the run.  Remarkable chose to do a bear away set and then a jibe, sailing hotter angles, which really helped them when the wind died down.

Nonetheless, we reeled in Battlewagon who did not fly a spinnaker, and when the wind died down, we headed up to pick up speed and put in a neat jibe to get ourselves back to the leeward mark.  Dousing was fun with a lot of traffic crossing us, but we found a clear lane and the kite came down without a hitch. I didn’t realize we had an audience on shore until I heard Skootch’s characteristic whistle and spotted them once we were heading back upwind.

On the way to the finish line, there were two holes (big lulls really) that we had to power through.  In the first one, we eased the genoa, shifted the cars a bit forward, eased both halyards a touch, twisted the mainsail, aimed a little lower and gained about half a knot of boatspeed while the wind drooped. That felt really good!  In the second hole, we shifted as much crew weight as we could to leeward and forward until we pushed through and the wind began to fill again.  Another little victory!

Third place was really uncontested as Top Gun and Remarkable were well ahead and Battlewagon was well astern.  After the line we tacked over to the committee boat to say hi to Lazy Sheet who was taking photos and video from the committee boat.  Great to see our buddy out on the water!

And afterwards, our resident gourmand Neil broke out the Sol with fresh lemon and Ceviche with chopped coriander.  Were we in Mexico?  All we needed was a Mariachi band!  Lazy Sheet came to hang out with us, and it was like good old times.

Well, I think you know by the title who won that battle! Yes, today, nature decided to teach the confident lads of the Thursday crew a few lessons, which culminated in our spinnaker laying in the water and the boat stopped on the second downwind leg.  Some people learn from other’s mistakes.  Us?  We gotta make ’em ourselves!  So, we will learn:  we will learn how to avoid a death roll; we will learn how to sense a broach developing and counter it early; we will learn how to break 10 knots of boat speed!

But we didn’t do too badly:  no one got hurt, nothing got broken.  Oh, well, one thing got broken tonight:  OUR SEASON’s SPEED RECORD!!!!!

It was a very blustery day with 25 knots on our nose in the lulls before the start, so we set up with the #3 jib and a reefed main.  Even with that big reduction in sail area, we had water over the rail, big gusts to manage and an average upwind boat-speed of 6.4 knots.  We could feel the wind strength fading down to something slightly below a roar, so we shook out the reef after the first windward mark.  In the final analysis, this is the fastest race we have done (even faster than Tuesday):

Leg 1 (upwind):  average 6.4 knots, max 7.7 knots

Leg 2 (downwind): average 7.5 knots, max 9.5 knots

Leg 3 (upwind): average 6.4 knots, max 7.7 knots

Leg 4 (downwind): average 7.5 knots, MAX 9.9 knots!

Leg 5 (upwind): average 6.3 knots, max 7.7 knots

and our average for the whole race was 6.4 knots.  Just a hair faster than Tuesday, mostly because the wind didn’t drop nearly as much.

But the story tonight is not about speed.  It is about nature’s power, and what can go wrong in high wind with a symmetrical spinnaker.  We had the infamous death roll beginning on the boat twice.  The first time, we were near enough the leeward mark that we doused — four hands got that chute down lickety split!  The second time, we had barely begun to react when the the boat began to round up into a broach.  Everyone responded so quickly, blowing sheets and halyard that we got the boat under control and then hauled in the spinnaker (sopping wet) without incident.  Great crew, and aweome reactions — you’ve got to watch that video clip.

Are we daunted?  Absolutely not!  This is a great chance to learn how to avoid these high wind spinnaker challenges, and how to recognize them developing early enough that we can react to keep things settled down.  A quick chat with the old salts back at the dock had advice with great words like “barberhauler”, “tweaker”, and “vang”.  In plain English, I think that means it’s time to drill a few more holes in the deck so we can install another padeye at the chubbiest part of the boat, shift the guy turning block forward, and add an extra line to force the spinnaker sheet to stay low, instead of riding sky high.

(I can hear Gadget and Squirrel rummaging through their tool boxes already — have I mentioned we have an awesome crew?)

Oh, hey, I almost forgot to mention WE GOT THE GUN!!!

(Do I have to admit that we were the only ones in our fleet brave/dumb enough to sail tonight? :-))

Yes, this was our fastest race ever.  And it was a long one.  How fast?  How long?

Top speed was right after we hoisted the spinnaker the first time (before the wind began to drop): 9.6 knots!  Here’s a breakdown by each leg:

Leg 1 upwind: 6.3 knots average, 7.9 knots max

Leg 2 downwind: 7.4 knots average, 9.6 knots max

Leg 3 upwind: 6.0 knots average, 7.6 knots max

Leg 4 downwind: 5.9 knots average, 8.0 knots max

Leg 5 upwind: 5.6 knots average, 7.0 knots max

And the first two upwind legs were done with the small jib — that’s how much the wind was blowing.  And yup, we changed the foresail during Leg 4!

And the whole race as 1:44 long.  We spent about 40 minutes blasting downwind with a great big gurgle, spreading a smooth wake far astern.  And we spent over an hour fighting gusts upwind, with Big Dave keeping the boat flat as possible — I think he was trying to get PERSPECTIVE to play like the laser he has at the cottage!  This was definitely the longest high wind race we’ve ever had, but we barely noticed the time go by, as we gobbled up boats on every leg.

And it was one of the hottest nights on the water too.  30C feels like 40C, but the high wind helped, especially upwind.

Here’s how it went:

With the season half over, it was time to shuffle positions, so everyone (except me) was in a new spot.  With Lazy Sheet recuperating and Kiwi away, we recruited Squirrel from Thursday to help out on the foredeck, and Big Dave (yes, he needs a better nickname) on the main.  Nonsuch took the foresail trim, and The Cunning Ham debuted in the pit.  It’s a bit insane to switch things up like that in such high wind, but I am a bit touched and we had people paired up well:  Squirrel coaching Gadget on the foredeck, Nonsuch coaching Neil in pit and me helping Dave get the feel of when (and how) to power through the gusts.  The result?  Flawless!  Gusts, hoists, jibe and douses were managed with aplomb, and without a hitch.  Throw in a foresail change on the downwind, and you can see confidence is high.  (Still I suspect Neil is hunting around for a secret decoder ring that translates all those strange names into something memorable — perhaps he and Afterguy can start a group therapy club!)

At the outset, with the new #3 jib — the one that doesn’t point very high and needs to be re-cut — we knew that we would have to sail our own race, and not get caught up trying to point as high as the J35s.  Instead, we went for boat speed and clean air, trusting we would make up ground on the downwind.  Nonsuch asked if we would fly the spinnaker in the high wind — “Of course we will”, said the skipper, sounding far more confident than he was :-).

So with that gameplan in mind we timed our start well, and sought out the biggest slot of wind we could find and tacked our way up to the windward mark.  As expected, we fell behind three J35s (Top Gun, Remarkable and Battlewagon) as they out-pointed us by a good margin while packing on more sail area.  Never mind: we sailed our own race.

At the windward mark, we took a moment to ensure the pole was secure and the jib was away before hoisting, and then powered up with a lurch.  Seriously, I thought about naming this post after the Adam’s family, because Lurch was definitely with us when the kite filled.  I never knew that there was a risk of whiplash on a sailboat, but the way the wind grabbed that giant blue sail and through us forward was unforgettable.  We went from six knots to over nine instantaneously.  AGAIN! AGAIN!

This downwind run was dreamy.  Fast, and straight to the leeward mark: over two nautical miles in a fast straight line.  Douse.  Round. Power up. Tack back to the windy slot.  Yeehaw!

This time upwind we caught a great lift that carried us all the way to the layline — another two nautical miles on one curvy gusty lifty knocky line.  And what to our wondering surprise did appear?  An antique wooden cutter -igged two-master poking along between us and the mark, threatening to force us to deviate from our path (and put in more tacks???).  Thankfully, they made enough progress for us to dip below without blowing our chance at making the mark.

Hoist number two, and away we flew.  But three things were different now:  Battlewagon was astern, the lift that helped us upwind, hurt us downwind and the wind slackened.  So we made two adjustments:  sailed a higher course and planned for a jibe; and change the headsail (great suggestion, Gadget! Inspired by video of Kiwi!).  So, down came the #3.  Jibe.  Connect #1.  Hurry up boys, we’re running out of time! Re-route the jib sheets.  Haul up the halyard.  Oops, there goes the windward mark.  All well, stay calm. Douse.  Turn. Fly!

It was amazing to see all the hustle up front to change over the sails.  Of course, we were disorganized. Of course it took longer than expected.  As a result, we sailed about a minute beyond the leeward mark, and took another minute to claw back the extra distance.  But I wasn’t worried since by then we had extended our lead over Battlewagon.  But once we were heading upwind, we couldn’t find them anywhere. Had they caught up and snuck in behind us while we doused?  Scan the horizon.  Nothing.  Strange!

And then, as we approached the finish line, we saw them sailing downwind without a mainsail.  Something had gone wrong.  Something bad.  Something expensive.  Yes, of course we want to finish a race with them behind us, but not because something had gone wrong.  Back at the dock, we learned that they had been caught by a gust when passing below another boat (Chimo II).  The gust rounded them up (no laser sailor on their mainsheet!), and they were about to collide badly with Chimo II when the skipper put in an emergency tack to avoid them (follow the gust through the wind).  But this caught the crew off guard, the running backstay was still firm (I’m glad we don’t have those), and the mainsail caught on it and tore.  I didn’t see the rip, but I gather it was a big one.  YIKES.

So, I hope we see our friends on Thursday, with a fresh Battle scar on Battewagon.  (And I hope I see them behind us).

Yeehaaaaaawwww!  Bravo!  Well-done!  Encore!

This was the race we have been building toward — a night where we got every decision right, nailed every maneuver and blasted our competition away.  (well, except for Sabotage of course, but I don’t really consider them as our competition).  Tonight’s success started at the dock, as we dialed in the high wind settings on the shrouds, made a plan to change to the old #3 jib (the one that points higher) and sorted out crew roles with Lazy Sheet away.  Out on the water we removed the big #1 genoa and set the smaller headsail, put in a few tacks to work out the rhythm and get our jib cars where we needed them.

But the success also started in our hearts.  Everyone was in good spirits, the wind was thrilling, the sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, and it was the eve of a long weekend.  We set out with a smile on our faces and it just kept growing as the race went on.  Crew work was amazing, with very crisp tacks, perfect control of the spinnaker pole (essential in high wind), great hoists and a flawless douse.  Even when we had an hourglass in our second hoist, everyone stayed calm and let the air do its job.

And the speed was exhilarating: averaging 6.0 knots upwind, and 7.2 knots downwind, we were flying.  Top speeds:  7.9 knots upwind and NINE POINT TWO TWO KNOTS downwind.  Now that is some fast sailing!

Here’s how it went:

We started with full speed, hardening from a reach to close hauled right at the line when the gun went off.  Pin end was favoured, and Battlewagon had a good start down there.  Soon we found ourselves heading toward their wind shadow and made a great tactical decision to tack away before we got there.  We kept ourselves in clear air the whole way to the windward mark, enjoying a nice series of lifts as we headed toward the west end of the bay.  Skootch kept the traveler low and managed gusts with the tweaker.  As a result the boat was wonderfully balanced, and I only had to fight the tiller a few times in the biggest gusts — thank goodness for lifelines!

Tacks were amazingly crisp with Afterguy and Four Hands working together like an Octopus (does Alvin have four hands too?), and Skootch dropped the traveler every tack to keep the boat from rounding up as we powered on.  We kept track of Battlewagon as we went, and by the windward mark we were just a boat length behind.  That means we made up distance on them upwind — and we were flying our #3 jib while they carried a much bigger foresail.  Big Yellow was astern as we rounded the mark.

(This is a victory for all the thinking and learning about how to tune the rig, and how the jib shape affects the ability to point.)

Our approach to the mark didn’t give much time for Squirrel to set the pole, but he had it up in no time.  We took a moment to ensure that the pole was totally secured, and then hoisted the kite.  Bye bye Battlewagon!  Bye Bye Big Yellow!  Once we got flying, we just pulled away.  With 9.2 knots of speed, the boat was lifting out of the water, and spreading a great big smooth wake behind.  The great gurgling sound was music to our ears and our smiles widened even more.

Another thing we did right tonight was to talk through our plan before the hoist.  We’re still learning our angles, but got it right — a bear-away set with the pole on starboard was the right call.  We didn’t even need to jibe to get down to the leeward mark.  Whenever the wind picked up, or a gust hit, I would steer a lower course and enjoy the speed.  In the lulls, I heated up the angle and got more speed.  Afterguy adjusted the pole and Four Hands trimmed the sheets to keep the kite filled.  It was a joy ride.

For the douse, Skootch went in the hole.  We started a bit early which was another great move — with all that boat speed, we were around before we knew it.  Out came jib, down went pole, the kite dropped in the hole and we powered up for another ride upwind.  We put in our first tack long before Battlewagon and Big Yellow got to the leeward mark!

And this is where we made the right strategic move.  With no one’s wind shadow to deal with, we carried our line toward Hamilton into the big slot of air we found late on the first upwind leg.  Lots of wind in there, which had us flying upwind (and hanging on for dear life in the gusts), and enjoying another nice lift to the windward mark. Pole up, hoist from the hatch, shake out an hourglass and a speedy cruise to the finish line.

We crossed more than three minutes ahead of our competition.  In Brian Garret’s words: “You annihilated those guys!”

Bravo! Bravo! Encore! Encore!

A beautiful night with plenty of breeze, and bright sunlight poking through layers of clouds.  The boys in blue were ready for action, with Gadget trimming the foresails in Lazy Sheet’s absence.  Kiwi took the mainsail and went forward to help on the foredeck, and Gil kept an eye on it when his hands were free.

The wind was coming from the northwest, so the race crew set a tough course with three laps, giving us plenty of opportunity to practice our spinnaker work.  Unfortunately, half-way through the second downwind leg, a freighter came into the bay on its way to dock near marker number 12, and the race had to be abandoned — can’t have sailboats dodging an oceanliner!

Too bad!  We were sitting pretty when the race was called.  Here’s how it went:

 

Our start was fantastic — we’re really getting the hang of this.  Our goal was to cross near the boat end of the line, which would let us carry the favoured tack in good air all the way to the layline.  When I turned to approach the line with about a minute to go, it was clear we were going to be a bit early.  Kiwi had the lads luff the foresail so that we lost speed, and that helped a lot.  With about twenty seconds to go we powered up and went for the line.  We were still a bit early, so we reached along the line a bit building tons of speed before hardening up at the gun.  Top Gun and Battlewagon started down at the pin end.  Top gun went onto Port tack early, Battlewagon stayed on starboard.  As we approached the layline, Battlewagon had just caught us, but were still to leeward.  We tacked onto the layline and put them in our dirty air.

The air up at the windward mark was twitchy since it was near the shore:  light, with shifting wind direction. Our first hoist was a bear away set, which sent us away from the Burlington shore, down to the stronger wind. One we jibed and caught good air, Battlewagon was far astern and it looked like we were making ground on Top Gun.  We doused and got around and had to make a strategic decision.  Top Gun was heading to the middle of the bay before tacking (essentially repeating their first leg);  we decided to tack early and stay in the air we knew was good down near the Hamilton shore.  When Battlewagon rounded, no surprise, they took the opposite approach, splitting the course.  Unfortunately it worked for them:  when we met at the windward mark, they were half a boat length ahead of us.

The traffic was really tight up there.  Only half of the story is caught on the video.  We followed Celtic Spirit’s line to the mark, but pointed higher than them, so when we approached the layline it looked like we were going to T-bone them. A last second tack and we tucked between them and Battlewagon, who was pinching to get around the mark.  We gave them room, stalling as we pinched too, and then turned quickly to put in a jibe set and head away from all that traffic.  It was a good move.  Although it took us a couple minutes to get set and fill the spinnaker, we had clear air, whereas all the other boats were in a clump of bad air with limp Spinnakers.  And so we began to pull ahead.

After a while, the other boats began to fill their spinnakers, and they were sailing more directly toward the mark.  We contemplated a jibe to get back to the fleet, and were just about to begin when the wind strengthened and shifted so that we had a full head of steam heading straight to the mark.  We cancelled the jibe and enjoyed the good pace.

This is where we were — sitting pretty — when the race was abandoned because of freighter activity.  What a shame!

Back at the boat, our own personal pizza delivery guy (Mark Reed’s twin bother Gino) greeted us with a pepperoni pie and cold ones to share.  Ahhh, summertime :-).

This race report is dedicated to Lazy Sheet…get well soon, bro, we missed you!

Heading out to the bay this evening, I thought there would be no race at all.  The lake and the bay were shimmering like smoothly undulating mirrors, with nary a whisper to push a boat.  But the optimist in me saw the cloud cover rolling away propelled by a westerly gradient wind up high.  The sun started shining on the land; perfect conditions for a sea breeze to establish.  And sure enough, near the western shore we saw ripples on the water that spread across the bay as the breeze filled in.  We hoisted sail near the start line in 5+ knots of easterly sea breeze.  Brilliant!

With Lazy Sheet getting some health care, and Skootch on a trip, there were four of us on board.  There were definitely times when we missed the extra hands (I thought of using my teeth once, and then changed my mind), but I think we can honestly say that it wasn’t a problem in this very pleasant, steady breeze.  We are definitely learning how to handle the spinnaker smoothly — every maneuver went off without a hitch.  Special shout out to Four Hands alone on the foredeck, but of course, having four hands, he has an advantage over mere mortals! (Truth be told, Squirrel helped with the douses)

We are also learning how to trim the sails and tune the boat.  Reviewing the raceQs feed, I can conclude that we have found our light wind settings: cap shrouds at 68mm and mids and lowers nice and floppy.  Tacking angles were 87 degrees on average (even better when I didn’t over-steer:  best was 83 degrees, which would put us right on the theoretical minimum)!

The other evidence that we’ve got our tuning correct for these conditions came right at the start…

Timing was great, as we had a chance to reach along the line at full speed before hardening up at the gun.  Eclipse started coming up from below us, pointing just a hair higher.  On other nights, they’ve been able to luff us up and climb through our dirty air to smother us on our lee bow.  But tonight they couldn’t catch us, and we crawled away from them, giving them our dirty air as we slipped into their lee bow.  What a victory!  Credit to the guys for trimming the sails exquisitely.  Next came a tack onto port.  We were even with our fleet, but didn’t have right of way, so we had to put in three tiny dips in a row, shaving the stern of Eclipse, Take Notice Again (Yes, “Big Yellow” is back!), and finally Battlewagon. No worries, we were heading into better air over near the Hamilton shore.  Sure enough, by the time we tacked again, we had consolidated a lead over everyone except Sabotage (That’ll be the day!), and rounded the mark in firm second place.

Next came a strategic error:  we had noticed that the wind was stronger over on the Hamilton shore, so we should have put in a jibe-set at the windward mark, to sail over into the better air.  Instead, we kept with the bear-away set, which is easier and faster, but it sent us to the weaker side of the course.  Even though we sailed hotter angles downwind than our competition, we didn’t really gain any ground.  We did this twice.  Looking back, I think it cost us quite a bit. If we had sailed hot angles in the better wind on the Hamilton side, we would have added distance on our competition.

But then came the tactical error, and this one definitely cost us dearly:  approaching the leeward mark with Eclipse in pursuit, we entered the infinite black hole of their wind shadow and they began to close the distance rapidly.  With other traffic around and no experience to guide my decision making, I made a big blunder.  I should have stayed in front of them, claimed the inside lane at the mark and forced them outside — never mind that they would have almost caught up, at least I would be ahead and could choose which side of the course to sail (ie: the Hamilton side where the wind was better).  Instead, I put in a jibe late in the leg, so that we could get boat speed.  it worked, but it also opened an inside lane for Eclipse.  So, when we doused, we were beside them, and we rounded we were to leeward, and as they pulled away we were smothered the entire time in bad air.  By the time we got up to speed, they were five boat lengths ahead — out of range for us to overtake.  Then we did the sensible thing, tacked away to clear air and split the course — but this pushed us to a zone of lighter air.  Rather than catching them, we gave some ground to Big Yellow, who overtook us at the windward lay line, and to Battlewagon, pressing on from the windier side of the course. Perhaps we should have footed off and gone for speed and clear air?

I think I have learned my lesson!

Next hoist was great, same strategic error downwind, which brought us to a very tight finish.  Eclipse got away from us, we overtook Big Yellow, and so did Battlewagon.  In the end, we crossed ahead of Battlewagon — a moral victory — but after PHRF correction, they beat us by THREE SECONDS….(sigh).  But Big Yellow was well astern of us, finishing last.

So the sailing was great, the boat speed was awesome, the pointing was fantastic, the maneuvers were flawless — we have learned so so so much of the fundamentals.

But the strategy was flawed and the tactical error was painful — and so opens another chapter of our learning.  Great fun!

(Later that night at the awards get-together I talked with Ken Denholm, skipper of Eclipse.  He was so surprised we gave him room at the mark.  We had a laugh and then he and Doug Folsetter taught me what we should have done — great sportsmanship from our competition)

So that was the race.  Reading this, you probably think we were sad about the mistakes.  Not at all!  We had a great time out there, thoroughly enjoying having the boat zooming along in a steady breeze, and savouring the triumph of smooth maneuvers with a short-handed crew.  The only thing that cast a pall on our time was our concern for Mark.

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Post Script:  Four Hands has installed a new innovation in PERSPECTIVE to aid in packing the spinnaker bag — plastic hooks in the forepeak to hold the spinnaker clews.  There’s one on each side, just forward of the bulkhead.  We can hang our clothes on them when cruising :-):

The picture says it all!  Midsummer 2016 was an absolutely glorious night to be on the water.  Thanks to The Cunning Ham for this shot.

And it was a surprising night!  Wind forecasts were calling for very big wind (up to 20 knots plus gusts even higher).  At the dock we debated which headsail to put up, and decided to motor out to the start area and see what was developing.  It was windy, but not intimidating, maybe 12 knots with gusts.  If we knew the wind would drop, we would have set out with our #1 genoa.  But one last look at the forecast warned of bigger wind ahead, so we changed sails on the water (a new trick), and installed the old #3.

At the start of the race, this seemed like the right choice — we were perfectly balanced, pointing just as high as the J35s and sailing just as fast.  What a revelation!  What a confirmation!  (I had become nearly convinced that our trouble pointing with the new #3 is due to its excess luff curve — up to 5″ — compared to the luff hollow — about 2.5″ — in the old #3.  Now I’m convinced).  This also confirms that we’ve learned a lot about how to tune the rig so that we could keep the mainsail powered up in big wind.

So, we were off to a great start, charging along the line toward the pin end, crossing near the favoured end with clear air and full boat speed.  What a great night to race on the bay!

And then the wind started to drop, and so did our boat speed, and well before the approach to the windward mark it became clear that we had been tricked by the weather forecast, had set the wrong headsail, as one by one the rest of the fleet overtook us.  Alack!

What to do?

First, I began to compose my Christmas wish list to Santa for a #2 jib.  I better be a good boy!

Second, Gil recognized that the wind had shifted, and we needed to set our spinnaker on port (pole on starboard), which meant a jibe-set, rather than the more usual bear-away set.  Yep, we got that right!  It took a wee bit longer, but we were sailing in the right direction the entire time, whereas a bear-away set followed by a jibe would have taken us well off course.

Then, Kiwi’s experience kicked in.  We decided to change our headsail during the downwind leg, so rather than furling it, we dropped it to the deck.  Once we were on course with our Spinnker filled, the lads swapped sails once again and we were ready to fly the #1 on the next upwind leg.  Good practice, great learning.  Next, we’ll need to work out how to do that while sailing upwind — it is technically possible, but might need some adjustments in the gear.

Back to the race — it quickly became a drifter with shifty wind that eventually rotated forward so that we decided to drop the spinnaker midway through the leg, and sail upwind to the “leeward” mark with the #1 genoa.  We were still behind our fleet, but not by much.

Once we rounded — and what a beautiful scene — the wind seemed to fill a bit, and we were moving along fine when we heard that the race had been abandoned — there was zero wind up at the finish line.

So, we got some free lessons tonight:

• We point just as high as the J35s when we have the right headsail for the conditions
• With the smaller headsail, and a fully powered main, we don’t give up much speed when the wind is strong.
• We have learned how to anticipate the need for a jibe set and execute it.
• We have learned how to change the headsail on the downwind leg
• And you can’t trust the wind forecast!

Afterwards, Nonsuch had a great spread of snacks, a bit of rain began to fall, so we crammed down below, joined by Squirrel, so there were seven of us in the cabin.  Kiwi improvised a seat on the ottoman (aka spinnaker).  I can hear it already:  “Hoist the Ottoman!”  That would certainly startle the competition at the windward mark 🙂

On Saturday we had our first regatta with the big genoa and symmetrical spinnaker, competing against a group of big boats including — in order of magnitude Sabotage (Viper 830), Starry Night (J44), Eclipse (41 feet), Code Secret (J35) and us.

It was a hot hot day, with strong sun beating down on us, made more intense by a very light breeze that changed direction  throughout the afternoon: the first race was set heading upwind toward the west, the second race had windward to the east, and the third race was southeast.

We got the spinnaker up and around and down without a hitch.  In fact, our hoists were flawless (see especially hoist #2), and I would say we have now figured this out.  Especially impressive with Fairlead and Lindsay on the foredeck — first time up there for both with the spinnaker pole.

But the highlight of the day was the hat trick.  On the first downwind leg of the first race, Nonsuch knocked is very new Tilley hat into the water.  Such a shame, such a nice hat, what a loss.  But on our second downwind leg of that race (about half an hour later), at about the same spot, we started to think about Mark’s hat again, and lo and behold, there it was, floating in the water a wee bit ahead and a wee bit to port.  A big hustle on board, and a slight change of course, and Nonsuch was re-united with his hat! (and the $20 inside, unless that was a finder’s fee :-))

How did we fair against such stiff competition in such flukey wind?  We managed to finish each race ahead of someone (2x Eclipse, 1x Code Secret), and even gave Starry Night a bit of a run for their money on the first race with the lightest wind.

 

Looking forward to our next regatta — fresh air, good company, great snacks and lots of laughs. Just a bit less heat and a bit more wind, please!

 

Yes, Lazy Sheet took a bath.  Calmly, I mentioned to Bob that I was experiencing a tad of weather helm, and calmly he eased the traveler.  And in that interval, the low side of the boat plunged happily beneath the surface, smothering our foresail trimmer in a cozy blanket of baywater.  Glancing casually at the sole of the cockpit, I observed four inches of water merrily draining away, and simply return my focus to steering.

And such was our adventure tonight.  Somehow, despite big wind, the big genoa, plenty of hanging on for dear life…somehow, we just stayed calm and rocketed around the bay, laughing at all the gusts.

Yes, we bent a stanchion.  Yes we nearly launched Four Hands (again), yes, the spinnaker pole hit the forestay (again), and yes we washed both sides of the deck.  And yes, IT WAS A BLAST!!!!  Did we make the right choice at the dock (installing the big jib)?  Maybe not, but it was so much fun!  Besides, although the wind was blowing and the gusts were strong, nature wasn’t nearly as angry as on Tuesday night — and there is only one way to find out:  try!

Not only was the wind intense, but the course was intense too.  Before the start, we had to go back to the committee boat for a second look to make sure we had it correct.  Yes, we did: three upwind legs, two downwind legs and a reach to boot.  Game on.  Ready. Set. Go!

[Check out the duel with battlewagon, here in square brackets]

We timed our start well, and got clear air around the middle of the line, charging away with just Sabotage (who else?) crossing our bow.  Up we went, heeling like crazy in the mad gusts, crossing the other boats until the windward mark.  Once again, we rounded last in our fleet, just astern of Sandpiper. [180m behind Battlewagon]

But once again our spinnaker made all the difference.  Tonight we were the only ones in our fleet brave (crazy) enough to fly our kite, cresting over 9.1 knots on the downwind leg, passing everyone.  We were the third to the leeward mark [35m ahead of Battlewagon].   The next tack was made especially for us:  a reach to mark number 7.  Lazy Sheet put into practice everything he learned on the weekend, and we added another 150m to our lead on Battlewagon [180m behind us].

Upwind again, we lost ground [now 120m behind Battlewagon], but this leg was exhilerating — check out the footage!

Hoist again for a longer run back to mark 12 and we surged ahead once more [now 110m ahead of Battlewagon].  Was it enough to cover them to upwind finish?  We were getting optimistic, especially when the had to dip us before the approach to the finish line, but the fickle wind in the home stretch was not on our side, and we were 60m behind Battelwagon when they finished.  Just six boat lengths.  Just ten seconds!

But never mind!  What a fantastic ride to remember — better than anything they offer at Canada’s Wonderland 🙂

(and we all know what Lazy Sheet is getting for a gag gift:  Soap on a rope, for his next bath onboard!