What a long, strange trip it was

No one likes Southern Straits.  It is long.  It is cold.  It blows like stink.  It doesn't blow at all.  The litany of reasons not to do the race goes on and on and on.  Still, this is an iconic race in the PNW because it demonstrates the best and worst of sailing up here.  And so north we go.  95 miles to win, lose, or quit.  This year tested our will and our skill once again.

In stark contrast to last year, where it was blowing in the high thirties on the way out to the start, we left the harbor at West Van in glassy conditions and the weather report was for more of the same.  John and Becca had a long but pleasant delivery up, and Eli, Trent, Alex and I spent what seemed like forever in traffic.  So getting the whole crew (along with Terry, our token Canadian) together on the boat and headed out to the line felt like a decent accomplishment in itself.

There was a light breeze out of the east at the start which switched around to the west about 5 minutes before our horn.  We changed strategy from a spinnaker bear away to a light beat to windward and managed to avoid the cluster of chaos at the committee boat with a clean start more or less on time, with Astral Plane (J-109) just to leeward of us.

We beat slowly out the channel, holding the middle of the course, fighting to keep our lanes, and trading tacks mostly with the slower boats as the better light air boats slipped away from us.  Eventually we chose the north side of the straits, and pressure built along Bowen Island to perhaps 10 knots. This caused a painful shift from the light #1 to our medium/heavy #1, with one bad tack thrown in for good measure.  With only 7 people aboard, we were a little shy on crew, and sail changes were rougher than we are used to these days.  A few more boats slipped by us, and some fervent swearing was heard in the back of the boat.  Sorry folks!

The good news was that with the right sail combination up, and pressure finally up to Kotuku's preferred range, we started to engage our fleet again, and before long we were passing Rubato, and then Kiva, and the C&C 115s.  We continued to do well on the beach, and over the course of the afternoon we could finally see the leaders again, mostly close to shore and working the north side.  The part of the fleet that went south and west early got further and further behind.

Alex did a great job of forcing us to keep Kotuku's nose down and her boat speed up as the wind speed eased off in the afternoon.  We actually did the first leeward end-around on Cu N Mara, a C&C 115, but it was a move that we would use again and again along the course.  Good sailors don't pass to windward, apparently, if the the breeze is less than 8 knots and they are driving cruising boats.  By the time we got to the first mark, Ballenas Island, we were in a mixed fleet of big and little boats.  Even though it was dark--or perhaps because it was dark--it felt like we were in the middle of things as boats large and small went slipping by with their red or green lights indicating whether they were concerning, or whether they were just out with us enjoying the meteor showers.

"All hands on deck, we are rounding" calls Alex.  Sleepy hands pile out of bunks as we hoist the Finger and begin to work downwind.  I plot a rhumbline course for Entrance Island and we begin to show the fleet that while Kotuku may be sticky in the light stuff, she is dangerous downwind in any conditions.

We found ourselves passing big boats, (Beneteaus, Aerodynes) small boats (Olsons) and at one point getting rolled in the most awesome fashion by Strum, a modern 50 footer that somehow tangled with a flea--a french ultralight that thought they could hang with the big dogs tried to take them up.  Or not.  Some words were exchanged, and Strum disappeared in the dark, never to be seen again.  What a fun run!

Dawn found us beating slowly up to Halibut Bank, having lost a couple of places to our fleet on a bad sail change in a big header that caused us to go from a spinnaker reach to a head sail that we could not seem to get up in the dark, tired as we were.  Mojo (J-109)and Havoc (33' sport boat) ahead of us and Kiva too had slipped us past.  Damn, work to do.

I could see that the boats ahead were being set massively low of the island, and so we fought to stay high, and still be fast.  Kiva got below us, and we slipped by her and when we rounded we were on Havoc's heels and Mojo was just starting to leg out on the 22 mile reach to the finish.  Then it went light, ultra light again.

The good news was that we could see our competition.  Even Manana and Diva, the leaders were on the horizon.  Ptolemy, the other Express 37 who had been way ahead was just to ahead and to windward.  The C&Cs were not far behind us.  And Dominatrix, the X-119 that Brandon and I once made an offer on was off the stern.  Just not far enough..  Astral Plane, who we had struggled to stay close to in the daylight, was nowhere to be seen.  (They packed it in and headed home under power, succumbing to the pull of a warm bed and some actual boat speed)

My vote was to stay high and protect the north, where I thought the wind was likely to come from.  Alex was driving, although we were swapping helm regularly throughout the race with one of us navigating and the other driving.  We found thin lanes of air that allowed us to protect our lead on Kiva, but Merlin came up on a hot tack in good air underneath us and cleaned our clock.  Icon went with her, and we followed slowly behind them.

Mojo, who had been sailing low but directly at the finish came up suddenly and decided to try and roll us to windward, but Alex had seen enough.  We rolled up our sleeves and got into a fist fight.  With me trimming the kite, and John trimming the main, we somehow managed to have enough up when we needed it to close the door on them.  Once, twice, three times, four times they tried to go above us.  Head faking, swooping under us, rushing, threatening us with the long prod and their huge red kite.  Never more than a  pole length or two from our stern.  But we were fired up and fighting and Alex was on them with every move.  Between scraps he sat slumped casually over the wheel like he was tired and oblivious, but shifted gears fast as a cat when they powered up for a run at us.  Finally they gybed away and I handed the sheet to Eli, my arms were Jello.  And that was the last we saw of them, as their gybe out put them into bad current and our rear view mirror.

We finished at 12:56PM, after 26 hours of constant racing.  Yes it was slow, we probably never saw hull speed.  But it was sustained racing for 95 miles.  I can't remember a race where we were head to head with such good competition, in such challenging conditions, for so long.  We finished a few (70') boat lengths behind Neptunes Car, proving that this was truly a race to remember.

We finished 4th of 14 in our class, behind a J-109, an Express 37, and that C&C 115 that clobbered us in the final leg.  We corrected over Ptolemy, and beat the rest of the class boat for boat even though we were slow boat in the class.  We were 8th of 34 for the medium course race.  Not a podium finish, but nothing to be ashamed of either.  Every crew member contributed to our effort.  Terry and Eli were relentless trimmers in the physically demanding work of fighting big sails in light air conditions.  Becca's lasagna evaporated, as did her eggs and 7 of the 8 cinnamon rolls that she managed to cook before we ran out of propane.  Trent kept us on course and pointed at the mark, and fought sails up and down the mast at all hours.  And John trimmed main for pretty much the entire race without a break.  Alex was Alex, and if this report doesn't make it damned clear, that man can sail.

Exhausted.  Exhilarating.  Worth every minute.  We'll be back, in spite of good advice to the contrary.

Southern Straits Annual Yacht Race - Easter Weekend - West Vancouver Yacht Club, Canada

Here is the list of competitors so far. Some good boats for us to race against!

Southern Straits Annual Yacht Race - Easter Weekend - West Vancouver Yacht Club, Canada

Tom and Talia Bring us a Second

OK, so you won't see Tom Cawrse or Talia Cawrse Esarey on the crew list all that often.  But on a shifty day like Saturday's Blakely rock benefit Regatta, youth and experience are a potent combination.  With a combined age of less than 75, they average out in the middle of the normal Kotuku crew range.  Except that Tali just turned 5.

Against my better judgement I entered Kotuku in the Blakely Benefit Regatta after my mom said
"Sure we'd like to go sailing."  Janna's folks were game too even though their daughter was up on Whidbey Island for a 4 day writer's conference.

So after realizing that it wasn't going to rain too hard, and after racing back to the house to get the dacron #2 because the #1 was in the sail loft we loaded up the girls from 2 to 67, plus the dads from well, let's just say old to older, and headed out to the race course.

We got a nice conservative start with decent boat speed, crossed the line first with Eye Candy above us sailing higher and faster.  (It was light, and this was a family race for God's sake!).  We tacked and crossed the fleet resolved to follow Eye Candy.  Turns out even with Tom driving well and us tacking furiously we just didn't have the power in the light stuff to stay with them.  We sure did miss having the #1...

We rounded Blakely Rock second, which was nice for a change, and proceeded to sail into a monster hole.

Pretty much the entire fleet caught up to us under spinnaker while we flopped around with our "windseeker"  (aka the #2).  Luckily the wind died for most of them at West Point, and we had a hard slow beat back against tide and light fickle breezes.  But we got there, drifting across the line more than an hour after Eye Candy crossed.  Tom drove most of the way, but Talia did a couple of the final tacks to the committee boat, and we crossed the line with three generations of sailors smiling and exhausted.  We all slept well last night.

Best part of the evening was when Burke texted us with the pleasant news that the family effort, while not pretty, was good enough for 2nd in our class.  That was a nice bonus, appreciated by all.  Except Talia of course.  "Second again Dad, can't we do better?"

Where does she get that anyway?