The theme for WR today was “challenge”. The idea was to pick some way to challenge yourself. But then the wind turned out red flag and the wind itself was quite a challenge. Previewing the forecast, I had already decided my challenge would be to fly the spinnaker in the stronger wind. Most of my spinnaker practice/experiments this summer have been under green flag so I wanted the challenge of trying it with more wind.
It turned out you had to look fast or you would have missed my spinnaker. I only got one run with it. It was the first race. As I’ve done a few times, my plan was to try the first hoist poleless. And it worked! I had actually rigged everything right the first time, I pulled the tack to the forestay, then the sail went up and filled and pulled nicely. We (I had Robin at the helm) jibed at the jibe mark and I floated the spinnaker across easily. I was a little slow with the drop but I thought to do a windward drop so I would be all set up for the next hoist and everything had worked!
Sadly, the hoist in the next race didn’t go so well. The sail went up half way and twisted badly. A number of things were wrong. This time I neglected to pull the tack around ahead of the hoist. If I had, I likely would have noticed that it had snagged on the snap shackle of the jib tack, which of course kept the sail from going up all the way. It was a mess, and I never got things sorted out again.
Sailing and racing was pretty intense with the red flag wind and the extremely short WR courses.
Tiller club Sunday racing. Really great wind, rarely so much that we were overpowered, but often near that point of maximum power.
That’s right, I won every race! Well, the boat I was on always won anyway. I crewed for Katherine first and we won. Oh, but then was on the signal boat for a race, then crewed for Molly and we won. Then I took the helm for the last race finishing back at the island, and I was first back to the island! Ha! Winning is fun!
In my day job, I work with asteroid data. Space rocks. Part of this work is understanding the chance of an asteroid impact on earth. The thought is scary enough that lots of people get excited about “near misses”, occurrences of an asteroid passing near the earth. This excitement causes me great anxiety because I disagree strongly. No one should be excited. A miss is non-event.
To put things in perspective, I try to draw an analogy to traffic. Any two-way street, or even a divided highway, is a place where cars traveling opposite directions come almost straight at each other and then miss by mere tens of feet. Are people excited or concerned about this? No, they are so used to it they participate in this madness without a second thought. Why? How?
Part of it is that people generally watch where they’re going. Something about the consequences of swerving across the centerline generally keeps people watching where the’re going. If you don’t watch, bad things happen. Keep your eyes on the road. Stay in your lane.
There’s automobile traffic, then there’s air traffic, then even — boat traffic! The routine sort of “near misses” happen continually. Even without other traffic, bad things happen if you don’t watch where you’re going. And yet, somehow, it’s extremely common for inexperienced sailors to just stop watching where they are going. Folks, in a car, you all know what happens if you’re driving and you just look down become absorbed in your belly button, or your knitting, or your phone. So what in the world do you think might happen if you are sailing and half way through a tack or a jibe you face aft and become absorbed in the tiller and the tiller extension and how floppy they are are and you begin to stress about being uncoordinated and wonder what you should do. It’s not might. It’s happening. Your boat is spinning round and round. Your boat’s heading is not anything that’s on your mind. Your boat is out of control and you don’t even know it because you’re not watching.
I was at CBI half an hour or so early for Thursday women’s racing. It’s late in the season, wetsuit restrictions are on, sunset comes early, so the plan set last week was to switch to Mercuries. Also there was talk of single-handing so I went out by myself for a bit. Problem was, the wind was up, 10 mph gusting to 20, although I think just yellow flag. That means single-handing a Merc with a full main and jib is a handful. I got in one lap up to the Mass Ave bridge and back before racing started. I had fun trying to keep up with a Sonar that left the same time as me, but omg, it was hard work. I was done with that for racing and furled the jib on the foredeck.
Furling the jib set up the lesson for the day. It turned out I was the only one that seriously considered single-handing and all the other women racers had paired up two to a boat and naturally were sailing full main and jib. I wasn’t afraid; since I was a little over powered with the jib, I expected my speed with main only to be nearly, or perhaps as, good. Wrong! I couldn’t believe how much faster the other boats were than me. I was winning starts but then I could never hold my lead. The other boats would just run me down. Wow, did not expect that. I remember Friday informal racing a few times with main only and I don’t remember being that much slower. And I remember single-handing once in similar conditions with main and jib while someone else (a very good sailor) was matching my speed to windward under main only. But not today. Two women racers to a boat totally kicked my butt single-handed.
It was Elena’s birthday and she wanted to sail! We played hooky to skip out of work early and meet on the dock at 2:30. We took a spinnaker on an Ideal 18 with gorgeous, perfect weather. Blue sky, yellow flag, upper 60s, E wind 10 mph gusting to 16, and Elena had brought an internet radio for music! The goal was to enjoy the day and we sailed effortlessly, passing the tiller back and forth so that we didn’t have to change sides. With the great wind and a few hours before sunset we made a number of spinnaker runs down the length of the basin. I had positioned us right out in front of the dockhouse for a hoist when this happened:
I called it a 270 degree wind shift. Needless to say, the hoist didn’t go as planned. I turned the boat, trying to keep up with the shift, hoping it was a little eddy that would pass, as Elena dealt with the spinnaker continuing to back against the rigging, all to the delighted hoots of the spectators on the dock. We got it filled just as we were headed straight for the Longfellow bridge and had to douse right away.
I played Tiller Club roulette again and this time got paired with Jen (a different Jen than I sailed with last month in WR.) Jen had already rigged a boat so I was crewing in the morning. Wind was very light and variable seemingly adding a huge element of luck. Leoni complained at one point something like “there’s nothing to learn on a day like this.” Yet, a few sailors (like Jen) were still doing consistently well, placing in the top few places in each race. The lesson from that is that there is something out there that these top sailors have learned. We might not know what. It might be obscure or subtle. But there definitely must be something out there to learn.
Jen offered me the helm after the lunch break and I readily accepted, making us co-skippers for the day. One squishy spot I got into was a pinwheel at a leeward mark. I wish I had counted the boats involved because I don’t remember exactly, but I was about to be trapped pretty far on the outside of a number of boats, with still more boats beyond me. At the last instant possible, I fishtailed out and then back in so I could cross the sterns of the boats inside of me. Jen’s eyes went wide as she said “you have no rights over any of these boats!” True, but they appeared all well rafted up side by side and I was gambling that none of them would be able to break formation for a while. Again, I wish I had paid more attention. In that situation I really should have counted boats and checked sail numbers to see whom exactly I owed mark room. Eventually (this was all happening in super slow motion because of the lack of wind) a boat did appear to the outside of me. It was Leoni, and I didn’t know exactly where she came from. I waited to see if she demanded mark room but she didn’t, and was possibly giving me mark room. I couldn’t quite tell if she could have come up more or not. I asked her later if I fouled her at the mark but the thought hadn’t entered her mind.