David Anderson's Small Boat Sailing Adventures

Like a Steam Locomotive Rolling Down the Track

2012-01-15T08:01:00.000-08:00

She's ga-a-on, she's ga-on
Nothin's gonna bring her back.

Farewell, Lapras.

Lapras for Sale!

2011-12-23T14:18:00.000-08:00

Time to sell another boat. This time it's the big one.

Well maintained 2005 Catalina 250 Wing Keel.

Galvanized Trail-Rite trailer
Honda 8hp extra long shaft
Standard rig, 110% headsail, tiller steering
tiller pilot, chart plotter, depth/fish finder, whisker pole

Asking 20,900 OBO. Moving, must sell.

Too Busy

2011-09-16T18:38:00.000-07:00

Too busy to sail
When I do sail, too busy to make the video about it (but thankfully Luigeee let me submit my entry late)
When I do get the video done, too busy to say much about it other than:

My entry in the Catch The Weta photo/video contest. Some great photos and video submitted by fellow Weta fans.

Vote here: http://www.catchtheweta.com/vote-now.html

What Happened to Summer?

2011-08-21T20:17:00.000-07:00

Six straight Summer weeks without sailing? Ack! What happened? Where did the time go? I can't believe the High Sierra Regatta was the last time I left hard ground. Don't know what to say. All I know is I awoke from a nap Friday afternoon and checked my email. At the top of the list was "Sailing?," a note from Dean. Sure, why not? And, this is what we did:

Lido Next?

2011-07-14T20:30:00.000-07:00

Three different years, three different boats, three different scraps of burlwood. Hmmm, maybe young Kara is right, I have a streak going here that needs continuing. The more I race at Huntington Lake, the more things transition from frustrating to stimulating. It really doesn't seem to matter what boat I'm in or whom I'm racing against. It's always challenging; it's always enlightening; it's always about the lake.

OK, that's not really true. Thankfully the "whom" is always there for all the great camaraderie ashore no matter what classes they're sailing alake. But, out on the water it is all about solving the wind over water puzzle that gets the boat up and down the lake faster than anybody else. Sure, everybody has read the "primer" that's been posted on the regatta website for years. My first year sailing the lake (as an adult anyway) I was surprised that Charles Witcher, who as far as I knew had never lost even a single race on this lake, would willingly share all of his secrets. I read that sheet over and over for several days prior to the regatta. Charles would be sailing in the same class as me, Megabytes, and his fellow lake guru, Craig Lee, had borrowed a boat to join in the fun. Well, the study didn't help as those two guys left me so far behind that I could hardly see them. It was very frustrating as I seemed to be doing everything wrong.

The next year, back in the Megabyte chasing Charles, I decided to not try to be so smart and instead just sail conservatively and easy. Low and behold, I started to recognize some patterns first hand, "feeling" the lake in a sort of Tarzan, maybe George 'o Jungle, swinging kind of way. I still got my butt kicked, but at least I was close enough to see the butt on the guy who was doing it to me. Bu year three, I was Megabyteless and jumped in to crew for Dean on the Vanguard. Maybe it was the two years of dues paying experience or maybe it was the observer friendly vantage point from the crew spot, but I really started to feel good on the lake for the first time. More than half the time, we were in sync with the advantages. The racing was outstanding at the front, the best I'd ever been involved in. The lake felt fun for the first time.

Well, for 2011 it was Weta time, and we had a truly amazing turnout, 15 signed up, for the class' debut on Huntington Lake. A trimaran is an odd boat, and I was uncertain if we'd be able to apply the "classic" approaches. Would the windshifts be worth chasing in a relatively slow tacking boat? Would it be possible to stay in pressure downwind while sailing hot angles?

My compass told me that each shift was typically 15 to 20 degrees with some as large as 40! Catching the right side of those while staying in pressure is a huge advantage. I managed to do that most of the time upwind, but downwind I was mostly just flailing about hoping to get lucky. Race 2 was the only one I managed to get it a little figured out. Finding some big fat port tack headers down the North side of the lake allowed me to make some big gains after my very late start. In dead down wind boats like the Megabyte and Vanguard 15, the Huntington Lake downwind tactics are relatively simple--keep the boat pointed at the leeward mark and slide left or right to stay in pressure, gybing as needed depending on how significant the shift is. The Weta, on the other hand, needs to be kept hot downwind with gybing angles near 90 degrees. I guess that makes the downwind tactics about the opposite of the upwind tactics, and I just couldn't figure out how to sail fast and think backwards at the same time.

Frustrating or exhilarating on the water, Huntington has always been a blast on the beach, around the campsites, and all. This year was no exception with big Weta turnout--most with full families joining in the fun (both on and off the water.) So, what'll it be next year? Great, of course, but which boat? I really need another crack at learning the lake downwind Weta style, but Dean and I also chatted up the possibility of borrowing his dad's Lido 14 to have a try in that class--perennially, one of the biggest at the regatta. Whichever, it'll be great. The only problem will be trying to fit so many class party appearances into a short weekend. Hmmm, Wetas for cocktails, ex-Megabytes (Folsom Lake crowd) for Mexican potluck, Lidos for dessert, and a nightcap with the Vanguards at Catavee.

The boats will come and go, carrying us upwind and down. The friendships will be treasured, filling us with good feelings from year to year.

Dear Kara

2011-07-05T21:39:00.000-07:00

Thanks for going sailing with your dad and me on the Weta last Saturday. The sun was warm, the wind wash fresh, and you were great crew. I'm glad you didn't mind getting wet, soaked really. Once your dad started driving, it was pretty much impossible to get him to slow down--too much fun!

After the sailing, I hope your kayak practice went well--that'll be a good skill for Huntington Lake. I know my tacking practice will pay off. It seemed the one hand for the tiller, one for the sheets, cross behind the back technique was fastest (at least in the protected marina conditions.) Let's compare notes this weekend.

See you soon,
Mr. Anderson.

Shortcoursing Monoslugs

2011-07-02T17:08:00.000-07:00

From battling twelve fourteen-foot trimarans up a mile and a half beat for two days on the open bay to bangin' out eight college-style shortcourse races in a couple-a-hours against seven fifteen-foot Vanguards, it's been a great week of sailing. It's July already, and I only just got out with Fleet 76 for the first time this season, and last night was perfect--relatively flat water despite the building ebb, steady 20 knot breeze, and warm summer temps. Chris and crew did a fantastic job with the race committee, keeping us hot lapping and mixing up the courses for interest. Lots of yelling and screaming at the starting line as skippers struggled to remember the approach (and rules) when starting with a strong current doing its best to shove everybody over early. Good fun. Note to self: get out there with them more often.

High Sierra Regatta at Huntington Lake up next. Fleet 76 will be there with another strong showing for the Vanguard 15 class, and the Wetas will have 14 on the line in just our fist ever trip to Huntington. It'll be a good mix of NorCal and SoCal duking it our for West Coast supremacy.

2011 NOOD

2011-06-29T22:13:00.000-07:00

2011 Nukin’ NOODs: I guess this is becoming the West Coast Weta’s annual big air regatta. Excellent conditions all weekend on the city front.

From the Surfing Pikachu log:

Race 1: Forestay lashing came loose during prestart. Five minutes late for start after returning to beach to tension rig. Damn. Jumped in late and passed two boats—saved 3 points. 10th place.
Race 2: Over early at start (got aggressive with John and he got me back pushing me over the line.) Good recovery and found new lane. Still managed to drive back to the front and round top mark first. Still managed to suck downwind. 3rd place.
Race 3: Port tacked the fleet with 8 boatlength lead! Woohoo! But wait, why does this feel so weird. Caught way too far left in emerging flood current down city front. Ack! Stupid. Dropped back to about mid fleet by weather mark. Luckily found a gap through the F18 fleet stack-up on the starboard layline and got through cleanly while other boats ahead tangled up and aborted. Good job getting back into it. That’s a consistent lesson in these bots. Don’t ever give up—things can/do change fast. 3rd.

Day one done: sitting 4th at front of 2nd cluster—that 10th was a killer.

Race 4: Wow, what a great, close race. I had a great start just to leeward of Davo and managed to climb up and out front. Too tentative with my tacks to go when I wanted, though, and had to wait for him to go. Would have been better to get to the right first (favorable current and pressure) and then come up from below again. Had a great duel with Dave downwind—some of my best speed all weekend—probably because I was sailing his line and not mine. Kept my focus on Davo (not a bad thing) and gybed off to right with him. We both let Bruce bang the left corner and he nipped us at the finish. Dang—he was the one I should have covered! This was overall a great race at the front. Top four were within shouting distance and the lead had changed several times. 3rd.
Race 5: Another great start and first beat. Dave is so much more confident downwind, though. He just works right on past while I worry about what’s happening. Still, with three upwind legs I might have been able to get him back, but hit the leeward mark while trying to round tight inside of him--did my doughnut. Should have just rounded cleanly, tacked out first, and then climbed up from leeward position. 2nd.

Final standing: 4th.

Weekend Notes

Great starts and upwind speed (and height.) I can use this as a tactical weapon taking up leeward positions and climbing out of them.
With starts and upwind speed, first at top mark in 3 of 4 races (that I started on time!) Then, gave it up all three times. Damn!
Downwind speed was improved at times (good trim, I think) but still my major weakness. Need to train hard so that I’m as fast downwind as I am upwind.
Pushed the boat upwind pretty hard keeping the power on in the rough stuff more than I dared before. Still need to get better focus on maintaining groove and worry less about stuffing the boat. I was hesitant to put the bow down and just drive. Feel the “hump hump” and go!
When it was really honking in last race, I was able to sail really deep from rumble seat position and still keep the boat planing. That was cool.

Results -- Pictures -- More pictures

More later . . .

WetaWest WetaClinic

2011-06-19T11:08:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Dave Berntsen for a great clinic.

Weta West Coast Championships at SF NOOD next week!

What Practice Looks Like

2011-06-11T16:02:00.000-07:00

Watching Gordon gain on me downwind every race at Whiskeytown (and overhaul me twice) made my Weta weakness pretty clear--I'm sleepy-dog-slow downwind. Up until this point, I've been picking up tips here and there from the vets in the class and basically just winging it when it's time to put the wind abaft the beam. Some days I hang in there, others I'm clearly the slow one.

My old Megabyte buddy, Dean E. (who won the Banshee fleet at Whiskeytown--nice going!) sent me a nice email the other day. He noted how much fun the Weta looked and commented on how hard it must be to learn how to sail downwind after coming from the Megabyte. I hadn't really thought that much about it before, but his note really got me thinking. Maybe I was carrying over some good but now wrong habits. In the Megabyte, I'd worked hard to refine my downwind speed--had to in order to keep up with lighter weight sailors. I learned just how to optimize the vang, how to trim the boat for zero helm pressure (no brakes), how to feel just the right mainsail trim--how to rip down a lake dead downwind. The Weta on the other hand doesn't even have a vang, has two extra hulls with three sails to trim, and it definitely don't do dead downwind.

With the West Coast Championships coming up in two weeks (at the SF NOOD), I figured I'd better figure this out. Armed with some tips gleaned from catamaran sailors, I set off for some practice in the Carquinez Strait. Without a benchmark available, I can't say whether any of it worked, but I can say that I gained greater awareness of how the helm, sails, and wind angles interact. Awareness is good. It's a first step to identifying and dropping old habits and discovering new ones.

2011-06-06T17:39:00.000-07:00

OK, here's the video to accompany the story. Dig it.
Check this one out, too: http://vimeo.com/24464550

Family Class

2011-06-04T09:51:00.000-07:00

As shared in this log previously, I've found the Weta to be a remarkably versatile boat. One weekend I can be bashing around the buoys on the bay pulling the strings for three sails singlehandedly and the next coasting across a lake with two kids belly down on the tramps leaving hand wakes behind. Is it a one-up racer or a family day sailor? This past Memorial Day weekend, four Weta families converged on Whiskeytown to demonstrate that it just might be a family racer.

In an effort to promote more family involvement, the Whiskeytown Memorial Regatta was designated a Weta "Family Class" event. The regatta itself is already family friendly with camping, a beach to play at, and a BBQ dinner Saturday night. Adding to that, we experimented with our class-within-a-class format. The Family Class would be dynamically defined as those boats which sailed with crew but did not otherwise win one of the regular class trophies for the regatta. Basically we'd go two layers deeper with awards to encourage skippers to take on extra ballast, er, I mean family or friends. Well, I guess word got out that the Family Class awards (provided by our man, Dave, at WetaWest--thanks!!) were better than the regatta wall plaques, and everybody showed up with crew! I even think Gordon and Stephen might have been sandbagging so as not to remove themselves from contention for the WetaWest goodies.

Saturday opened overcast and chilly with decent breeze from the West. Three boats made it out for the first start, Gordon with Fiance Heather, Stephan with daughter Maya, and I with son Iain. Just in time for race 3 Yann with wife and daughter, Karen and Isabella, would hit the start line after making the long drive up from the Bay Area. Day one was a challenging introduction to lake sailing. Race two, in particular, sandwiched in between one race in a relatively stable Westerly and a third in a fluky Easterly, was particularly crazy. With the morning Westerly holding a little longer than usual, the race committee sent us off to mark #9 again. I managed to find the quickest route through the shifts and puffs, and Iain and I had a good lead at the weather mark. A gybe-set into a fortuitous Northerly puff and we were on our way to being gone. Stephan and Maya followed us out to the middle of the lake where the pressure had been good on the windward beat while Gordon and Heather, needing something different to get back into it, went looking for advantages down the South edge of the lake. Should we cover? Nah, they are way too far back. Stephan is the one to worry about.

Well, wouldn't you know, midway down the leeward leg the typical midday wind swap started. At Whiskeytown, this means the wind pretty much stops and then restarts with little puffs from every which direction before settling in from the opposite direction. Gordon stuck with his bet down the South edge and was rewarded with a wind that carried him nearly all the way to the mark on a single gybe. Meanwhile, Stephan and I struggled to crawl out of the huge hole that was now the center of the lake. Gordon just scooted on by and was soon as far ahead as he had been behind just minutes before. Nice move! The dominant wind would swap two more time before this race was over, however, and Iain and I hung in there chasing each shift and puff. We eventually pulled up about even one third of the way up the last leg ducking Gordon and Heather, now closehauled again, on the last gasp of Westerly. After ducking, Iain and I went looking for wind in the middle while Gordon went back to the South which had paid earlier. At this time we noticed the keel boat class cutting back across in breeze from their leeward mark on the opposite side of the lake. We crawled out to their wind in wing and wing desperation mode (very slow in this boat, but serviceable), gybed when we got to the fresh wind, and reached right down the layline to the finish as poor Gordon sat helplessly waiting for the next wind gift on his side of the lake.

By race three, the wind was now pretty steady from the East, and the fourth Weta had emerged--Yann sailing with family three-up. Woohoo! Gordon, determined to not get snookered again, sailed a very clean race with unbeatable boat speed off the wind. He consistently sailed lower and faster than us. Very fast--I wish I knew how he does that! Iain and I made some gains on the final beat attempting to inject some prenuptial discord with a flurry of tacks, but Gordon and fiance applied a very effective loose cover to maintain the order of things. With day one finished, we held a one point lead over Gordon and Heather.

The forecast thunderstorm finally arrived as we were packing up the boat for the night, my wife and daughter returned to the lake in a hail storm after an afternoon horseback ride in the sun just a few miles south, crews huddled in cars as the storm blew through, and eventually skies cleared just in time for the BBQ. Nice.

Sunday proved warmer with only patchy clouds in a blue sky, but considerably windier with strong gusts stirring up white caps over the short fetch from Western shore to race start line. With Saturday being just Iain's third time in the boat, he was a bit apprehensive about going out in these conditions. With a throwout coming, should we go to six races, I suggested we give it a try for the first two races and then retire early for some fun back on the beach with sister, Nana, and Granddad (yeah, we had the full entourage with us!) Iain bravely accepted this plan, pulled on his extra foul weather gear, and climbed aboard. Once out in the middle of the lake, we hardened-up onto the wind for a taste. With strong gusts coming in as random 20 to 30 degree shifts it was a rough and noisy ride. Iain held back the tears, but was clearly not ready for this just yet. "I want to go in," he said. "Are you sure?" "Yes." "OK, hang on. I'll crack things off and we'll work our way back nice and easy." "Dad?" "Yeah, Iain?" "I'm sorry I chickened out on you." "You didn't chicken out, Iain. You made a good choice. It's getting a little wild out here."

I dropped Iain off at the dock and he scampered off with a friend while I returned to the course in time for our start. Without crew, I was now officially expelled from the Family Class and, without the extra weight, considerably faster than the others. The big gusts and shifts made upwind work this day considerably more difficult than on Sunday. It was particularly hard to find and stay in the groove for fear of being caught by a blast unprepared--made me, and I suspect the others, very tentative about going bow down for speed.

So, how'd it all turn out? For a first appearance at Whiskeytown by the Weta fleet, I think it went great. Spirits were high despite less than ideal weather, a relatively long drive, and some equipment failures. And what about the Family Class? Well the Wishkeytown Sailing Club, being as generous as they are, gave us our own class with just four boats and went three deep with the trophies! So, Yann, Karen, and Isabella, who managed to get just one race in between late arrival and boat breakages takes the first ever Family Class win! And, thanks to Dave's generosity we had plenty of WetaWest swag to go around. Full results here.

Video summary coming soon. Stay tuned.

25 Plus, What, Me Worried?

2011-05-17T21:26:00.000-07:00

With another Friday afternoon off, it was time to get some more Weta tacking and gybing practice. Iain was back in school; so, I headed for the more wide-open and chillier waters of Carquinez Strait for a nice afternoon solo sail. I had expected maybe 12 knots of breeze, but according to Dean who spied the online wind meters and then came down to see how I was doing, it was 20ish, gusting 25+. Add to that a max ebb (boosted by snow melt) running directly counter to the wind, and it was, um, cranking out there. So much for my plans to work on the subtitles of tacking and gybing. It was time for some go-fast-without-wiping-out drills. Actually, I probably do need to wipe out so that I'll really know where the edge is, but as the only boat on the water I'd leave that lesson for another day.

Upwind was the usual, controlled ride flying above the waves from my perch out on the ama. Nice! The only letdown was the lack of lift from from the "cruising" foils I rigged on this day. The significantly larger and more shapely race foils were laid up in the garage midway through a tuneup. Off the wind was a total rush, or I should say, "gush." The wind-against-tide thing was standing up nearly vertical waves out in the windiest and deepest middle section of the strait. A couple of times I fell out of sync and instead of steering around and over the big ones, plowed right through. The boat just disappeared into a wash of foam before popping out the back side, shedding it off, and rocketing off for the next one.

It still amazes me how manageable and comfortable this 14-foot singlehander is at speed in a good blow. Blasting upwind without hiking and shredding downwind without a thought of deathrolling. Yeah, there are some creative ways to get a trimaran upset, but so far I haven't had any trouble staying out of those modes. Well done Messrs. Kitchen

Reluctantly Delighted

2011-05-13T11:26:00.000-07:00

Everybody likes to sail, right? Of course they do. They all just may now know it, yet. This is the case with my 11yo son. OK, I admit I've done a couple things with him on board that may have been somewhat frightening--a particular gybe, which my wife won't let me forget, comes to mind. Still, the son does seem to enjoy sailing--even tells me so while we're out on the water. He's just apprehensive about getting out there in the first place.

In the interest of injecting a bit more variety and family fun into the Weta fleet, we're trying to promote certain regattas as Friends & Family events. For the fleet here in Northern California, we'll start with the tamer lake events such as Whiskeytown and High Sierra before trying to coerce the reluctant into a wild mid-Summer regatta on the Bay (which, of course, anybody should love to do.)

Now although Iain hasn't officially said, "Yes" yet, he'll be my crew at Whiskeytown. So, he needs some time in the boat to get ready for racing. Last Friday, thanks to a CA schools furlow day, he and I splashed into the local puddle, Contra Loma Reservoir, for some tacking, gybing, and kite furling/unfurling practice. He did great, remarkably well in fact, having never handled the sheets and control lines before. Heck, he even seemed to be enjoying it. We tooled around the lake for a while, up and down, back and forth. The Weta is a bit fast for this pond causing us to change directions often--perfect for our practice session. Eventually, we made our way back to the dock, and as we were pulling the boat up onto its dolly, Iain said, "That was really fun, Dad."

"Cool. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Would you like to go again?"
"Sure!," he replied.
"So then," I asked, "do you want to race with me at Whiskeytown?"
"Umm, I'll let you know on that."

Why We Sail

2011-04-20T19:42:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was the Big Dinghy Regatta at Richmond Yacht Club, first time on the starting line for me since last October. Saturday was a "normal" around the buoys format with four races for our fleet of seven Wetas. Abnormal was sharing a start sequence with the open multihull class. Yeah, I know the Weta technically has multiple hulls, but it definitely ain't no Nacra 20! We would have been better off mixing it up with the training-float-less I14 and 29er skiffs than dodging the cats ripping down the line at nearly twice our speed. OK, enough whining. It was great to be back in the boat chasing friends around the bay. Hanging tough and taking advantage of a few critical opportunities allowed me to overcome a number of my own mistakes and eek out a second place on a tie-break (sorry, Gordon.) Well ahead, showing us all how to do it, was Bob "hide" Hyde. We all knew he had four bullets even if the race committee only actually saw him win two. The scores have now been set straight and posted here.

Truth be told, I felt a little unsettled throughout and after day one. I started out nervous and that continued into awkwardness after being out of the boat for so long. Starting with cats and paddling home when the wind shutdown didn't help the groove any. A day racing usually feels better.

Day 2 at Big Dinghy is a reverse handicap pursuit race around a couple of islands in the bay, and with something like 40 boats entered it was a zoo. Did it feel better than day 1? Well, I . . . er we . . . were 36th of 38 boats that actually finished, thanks to at least one major screw-up on my part, but it turned out to be a blessed day of sailing. Dave Berntsen had sent me some crew for the day, a young woman from Golden Gate Yacht Club with an infectious passion for sailing and the desire to have a go at dinghy racing. Kristen was excited from the get-go, well prepared, and ready to learn whatever she needed to. She got involved early in tending sheets, tracking the competition, and sharing tactical insights. During the slow parts of the race, I learned about her sailing classes, family racing heritage, and efforts to promote more under 30 participation in the sport, especially at her yacht club (she's the youngest member.)

The highlight of the sailing came late in the race after finally rounding Southampton Light. The wind had been steadily building as we made our way South out of the doldrums of Red Rock, and by the time we hit the shoals, the waves were up and the wind was starting to nuke. I moved aft to keep the bows up, as Kristen reached for the furling line. She payed it out just as we'd practiced; I sheeted in; and cashoosh! we were up on a plane and bashing through the backs of the waves. Not wanting to stuff the bows and see bad things happen, I dumped some kite and climbed out over the aft beam to sit on the last little bit of hull next to the rudder, as the more experienced Weta sailors have told me to do when it's honking. I suppose I should have been assessing the mental state of my crew before asking her to climb out to the very aft, windward corner of the trampoline (where there's not much to hold on to). What if this was scaring her, first time on a Weta and at the limits of its stability? Instead, I just asked her to come on back. She did, and, I put the power back on. Whooooosh! Surfing Pikachu was flying now, bows up and leaving a blanket of foam behind. Ten seconds later the first "Woohoo!" came from the very aft, windward corner of the trampoline and a few minutes later as the adrenalin rush continued to surge, "Oh my God, this is so much fun!"

Thanks for crewing Kristen. Your enthusiasm, desire to learn, and pure joy helped me to remember why we sail.

Booms

2011-04-09T16:19:00.000-07:00

Boom. Boom-boom. The Union soldiers, half of them, fired their first volley and then knelt to pour a new powder charge down the muzzle of their muskets while the other half advanced 10 more yards down the hill upon the rebels. "Fire!" Ba-boom. Boom. Three more shots fired. As these three knelt, the rebels appeared from behind their barricades to return fire. Boom. Boom. crack, "ah, come on!" one rebel exclaimed as his percussion cap failed to ignite the powder. This scene continued on for some 20 minutes: men in blue alternately advancing, firing, reloading; their targets firing back from positions backed up to the shore with nowhere to run. It all looked pretty authentic except for the beautiful backdrop of the Golden Gate Bridge on a delightful Spring day.

The kids aren't personally motivated (yet, wishfully) to go sailing without me dragging them aboard. But Angel Island? You bet. They wanted to go there; so hey, let's sail across. Oh my, what a crossing it was. The beautiful clear weather continued from Friday presenting us with mild winds and clear views of the City, the three major bridges, and Angel Island square in our sights.

Upon arriving at Ayala Cove we made our way up the gangway to pay the slip fee. To our surprise, we were greeted by the usual State Park Ranger unusually dressed for battle circa 1863. He recommended we hike our way over to the West side of the island where at 2pm there would be a Civil War reenactment. So we did. Turns out Angel Island has a bit of Civil War history. Cool.

By the time it was time to head back across the bay, the wind had come up nicely. We poled out the jib and the kids took turns guiding Lapras back to Richmond.

Ah Sailing

2011-04-05T19:53:00.000-07:00

Rain and more rain, cold, teaser sunshine midweek, rainy weekend. That's been about it for "Spring" so far . . . until last weekend. Finally some warmth and coupled with a break in the hyperactive personal schedule it was time to get the Weta wet. Surfing Pikachu had been under wraps since October--that's just wrong here in California

70-something, light breeze, fizzy clouds, slack tide. Ah sailing. The Weta trampolines sure make a nice place to just sit or even lie down out in the middle of some quiet water. I dropped the tiller, tweaked the sails a bit, and she just sailed herself for 15, 20 minutes or so. Ah sailing.

About this time, the warm Easterly shut down and the ebb started building. Uh oh, can I find a vector that'll get me in the harbor before being flushed out the Carquinez Strait straight into San Pablo Bay? No problem. A little puff here, a hint of Westerly there. Pikachu just glided across to the North where she found the new wind. Ah sailing.

Cruising with Friends

2011-02-11T18:57:00.000-08:00

It's been nearly two weeks since Fam Cruise II, yet I've felt no real motivation to close it out with the blog update. Maybe that's because it's kind of already done via realtime uploads to Facebook. Turned out to be a much more interactive log with various friends and family joining in with comments along the way. It was fun to have them virtually aboard for the weekend.

Even Bad is Good

2010-10-31T13:53:00.000-07:00

Probably best if I didn't make this post. I'll just sound like a whiner. So, as Kevin, Dean, and I reflected yesterday in the middle of the bay, we're dang lucky to be out sailing in late October. Truthfully, this cold rainy day felt almost more normal than the last time Kevin went sailing with me.

Worst Regatta Ever?

2010-10-29T17:44:00.000-07:00

Race 1 abandoned 3/4 of the way through--not sure if it was because of the ship approaching or the race committee forgot we were still racing and pulled the weather mark. Three to four knots of ebb by the end of the day. Starting was treacherous with one 505 getting pinned to the bow of the committee boat, capsizing, and nearly getting sucked under. Fleet held up by chase boats on multiple occasions mid leg to let large commercial traffic through. Oh, and it rained. That was day one at the St Francis Fall Dinghy Regatta.

Day two promised to be . . . um . . . worse, and it was--a truly nasty day on the bay. Dave Berntsen rigged up, went out, inverted, and returned. Stephan and I rigged up and then before leaving the dock, watched the carnage (like the big puff that knocked over a whole gaggle of Lasers.) We decided to stay put. The race committee abandoned on account of excessive carnage without getting any races in.

Of course it wasn't all bad. On both days there was plenty of hot water in the showers, free beer, and bar grub afterward. The Weta fleet continues to strengthen under the leadership of local distributor, Dave. Eleven boats signed up (eight braved the weather and made it to the line.) Dave has us well organized and provides endless pre-race support and boat handling tips ashore. What with all the weather and shipping challenges, the racing was kind of lame, but hey, we sailed; we raced, and we had a good time chatting Wetas in the parking lot and at the club.

As for my day: I was leading race 1 with one mark to go when it was abandoned; I just couldn't get in sync in race 2, finishing 4th; race 3 was crazy with commercial traffic. On the upwind leg, an ocean going barge towed 100+ yards behind a huge tug cut through the course (OK, the course cut through the shipping channel.) I had a nice lead at the time, but the St. Francis chase boats made it clear that I would need to hold up. On the downwind leg, a container ship emerged out of the fog--crap. I gybed to port and set a course for the monster's transom. The size of the wake off the bulb was really a surprise--must have been 6 to 8 feet. I went up and over the leading one without much fuss and then started to worry about how to get over the backside of the other one. With a sort of zigzag move, I got over the top and then "dropped in". As I outran the wind, all the sheets went slack, and I had to make a fairly tight bottom turn to get powered back up again. About this time, a 5o5 crested the wave behind me. It looked just like a scene from Big Wednesday as they came ripping down the face. Wild! I dodged the surfrider and sailed on for the win.

OK, so it wasn't my worst regatta ever. With a 4-1 I did win it after all on the tie break.

A bunch of photos at Ultimate Yacht Shots including this one of Dave Berntsen demonstrating what fast looks like.

Boys and their Toys

2010-10-21T16:49:00.000-07:00

A few weeks back, Iain had the opportunity to meet Chris Kitchen, 1/2 of the design duo responsible for the Weta, and show him the mini Weta raingutter racer. Turns out Iain is not the only kid in this world to build his own. A boy in Austria built a remarkable 1:18 scale model with his grandfather. Full story here.

Starting Over

2010-10-19T17:23:00.000-07:00

Initiate roll with strong "cheek press", stay low, take one big step across the cockpit while dumping a foot or two of mainsheet, sit down, switch hands, hike flat and sheet in. Oh Wait, that was the old boat. Now it's something like (I don't have it all figured out, yet): put the helm down initiating quick turn, scooch across boat, release old jib sheet, switch sides while trimming new jib sheet (not too tight), flip tiller extension around the back, climb out to weather ama, power up and sheet jib in rest of way. That's tacking, I think, and what about gybing? Well, that totally different.

Friday was absolutely beautiful on the Oakland Estuary--clear skies, seventy-something, light Northwesterly. Made for a good opportunity for some tacking and gybing practice out the narrow channel to the bay proper and back. I had this weird feeling of having done this all before--same water, same beautiful day. This time, however, I had three times as many sails to manage and three times as many hulls to swing through each maneuver. With practice days like this, I was actually getting pretty good with handling the old Megabyte. Combined with some general improvement in race tactics, I was almost able to get to the front of the fleet (OK, I admit it, that one point loss to Charles at the Megabyte North American Championship bugs me.) So, here I am starting all over again in a new boat. Yeah, that's kind of a pain, but learning is gud.

Two Climes, Two Boats

2010-10-03T16:32:00.000-07:00

I thought I could handle it. I nice little family cruiser for . . . family cruising and a rippin' little racer for my own enjoyment. Sounds like a good idea. Two different kinds of boats for two different kinds of sailing. No conflicts, right? Well, it doesn't work out quite like that. Seems I've had this problem before only this time it's even more mixed up since I started racing the cruising boat and the family likes sailing on the racing boat more than anything. Now what. Hmmm.

While pondering that for a few months, it was time to get down to the marina to check on Lapras (and make a "to do before selling" list?) And hey, why not take Surfing Pikachu along for a little sail out Potrero Reach. That'll be nice. Lapras was still nicely tucked in her berth looking ready to go if a bit slimy on the bottom. Time for another haul-and-scrub, I guess. One of the "joys" of owning a bigger boat. After sitting in the cabin for a bit and feeling weird about being on such a nice boat without going sailing on the nice boat, it was time to get the Weta wet.

They say the San Francisco Bay Area is a region of many micro climates (I sometimes wonder if a bunch of theys say that about wherever theys live.) The so called Richmond Riviera in one such. It can be blowing freezing snot out in the middle of the Bay and toasty warm off Point Richmond. It was hard to tell what was what on this day. At the Marina (East end of the Riviera) it was windy but warm. I rigged the boat for a good blow and once out on the water was glad I did so. Just fifteen minutes later, however, I tacked around the Liberty ship, Oak, opening a view all the way down the reach--nobody heeled over down there. The farther West I went, the warmer and calmer it got. By the time I cleared the breakwater there was barely enough wind to power the boat through the Bay chop. The return trip was the exact opposite beginning at two knots and topping out at 13.

Also on the topic of two boats, there seems to have been a lot of chatter lately on the Weta forum regarding the relative speed of the Weta to the Laser. It would seem that some are having a hard time beating Lasers in the local mixed fleets. That's weird. While I don't have much experience in Lasers, I spent a lot of time in Mr. Bruce's 30 year afterthought, the Megabyte. In most conditions, the Megabyte had no problem overhauling the Lasers especially downwind. Now, I've never put the Weta up against the Megabyte, but I know I certainly never did 9 knots to weather in the Megabyte. And 13 knots off the wind, as I did this day (without the reacher, even), would have been unthinkable in the Megabyte.

Of course, to compare these boats is sort of pointless, and one would choose their ride for a variety of different reasons. Regardless, with the Weta class growing as it is, mixed fleet racing will be a thing of the past (as it almost always is for the Laser) and the only thing that will matter is how fast one can make their Weta go relative to their buddy's Weta. That's good racing.

Enough about all that (I got sick of all the back and forth on the forum after a while--wanted to scream, "just shut up and go sailing!!") Oh, one more thing. The Marina Bay ramp is not such a good place to launch from when the Rivera is rippin'. Well, I guess launching was OK. Getting back was no fun, though. The wind angles were just all wrong for making a nice controlled docking maneuver. Took about four tries to get it right--must have looked like the noob that I am.

How Slow is Fast?

2010-09-30T19:36:00.000-07:00

2.2 knots, 2.3, 2.1, this is boring. Maybe I'll just unroll the gennaker, screacher, reacher (what the heck's the right name for this sail anyway?) and scoot off towards the Benicia Bridge. 3.7, 3.8, 3.9, ah that's better. Hmmm, I wonder how high I can go with this thing? Up, up, sheet in a bit more, up, up, up. 3.2, 3.3, 3.1, not bad.

On a light air day, a 50% increase in speed sure feels good, but is it? It appeared that I was making better progress up river, and I was certainly sailing "to windward" albeit with some pretty fat tacking angles. I swapped back and forth a few times, low and fast, high and slow. Subsequent informal analysis of the GPS tracks revealed anywhere from a 10 to 25 degree disadvantage in sailing angles with the big sail set, most often at the wide end of that range. Plots suggest that if I can keep it in the 10 to 15 degree range this just might be the fast way upwind in super light air. Of course, I'll need some better data collection to confirm this. I'll have to see if I can get my GPS to project a waypoint way upwind and then monitor VMG. Gennaker, screacher, reacher? Hmmm, maybe it's a "code zero". Sailors and their terminology . . .

One Plus Twelve Equals Five

2010-09-22T16:51:00.000-07:00

Davo, our delightfully active, fleet promoting, local distributor, managed to get the Wetas invited to the Richmond Yacht Club Multihull Invitational last weekend. That might not sound weird, but in many ways, the Weta is more like the skiffs racing next weekend at the Big Dinghy regatta than like the catamarans duking it our for the Area G berth at the Alter Cup. Anyway, we went. We looked good. We raced hard. And, we may have just poached some Hobie sailors over to the Weta fleet, too. Seemed to be an awful lot of interest in our speedy little singlehanders.

On Saturday with very moderate conditions on the bay, 5 to 10 maybe 12, efficient boat handling and sound tactics seemed to rule the day. This was a nice switch, albeit less exciting, from the just-hang-on-and-bang-the-corners strategy at the 25 knot NOODs. I had decent starts, mostly remembered to keep the bow down (hard to correct years of the pinching habit), and made some decent tactical decisions to record a 3-1-1 for the day. Race two was particularly interesting tactically. The usual strategy here on Southampton Shoal is to work the South side of the course both upwind and downwind to escape Angel Island's wind shadow, and that was certainly the case in race one (I know because I broke that rule on the first downwind leg and gave up two or three places.) But for race two, the wind had started to let up. Was this just a temporary ease or the sign of a change on the way? Bob, Dave, and one other guy got excellent starts at the favored end left of me and opened up a good lead. Unfortunately for Bob, he hadn't noticed that with the let up in wind pressure the race committee had significantly shortened the first beat, and he overshot the layline with the other two speedsters in tow. I tacked early and got to the mark first. That's when the weirdness started. Within about two boatlengths of the starboard layline, the wind suddenly clocked right about 30 degrees. This wasn't just some random shift. It was a whole new wind. All I could think of was, "get around that mark as fast as possible and do a gybe-set." So, that's exactly what I did. Gordon rounded close astern and must have thought I was nuts shooting off to the North as he setup to lead the parade down the South side. Well, on that new wind with the 30 degree advantaged course I was quickly out of sight. At the leeward gate, I must have been nearly half a mile ahead of the rest of the fleet who had all gone the "right" way. Unfortunately, Saturday was the end of the fun as I had other commitments to attend to on Sunday. Three DNCs at 12 points each dropped me back to 5th for the regatta.

What's really cool about this is that 5th was top half. In the Megabyte, 5th (if we were lucky enough to have that many boats) would have been last. I love my new boat, and apparently a bunch of other people love it, too. It's great to be part of a growing fleet.

Spoil 'em Early

2010-09-10T08:39:00.000-07:00

It was a typical Summer day on San Francisco Bay. Sunny, low 70's. A gentle breeze blowing in the Gate, bending around Angel Island. Just a wisp of fog cutting through the towers in the financial district. Delightful. Typical. Hah!

I finally got my neighbor our for a sail on Lapras last week. I didn't realize he'd never been on a sailboat before, and I wouldn't have known if he hadn't told me so. He did great. I passed him the helm just a couple minutes after hoisting the main. Within about four sizable oscillations he found the correct tuning constants, and we were soon gliding down Potrero Reach headed for the open bay. Once clear of the breakwater we came up hard on the wind for Angel Island. Time to break out the beer and sandwiches. Thirty minutes later we were leisurely trading tacks with a couple of other cruisers through Raccoon Straits. Delightful. Did I already say that?

Typical? I tried to convince my nooby crew that all of this was not normal. For a Summer day on the bay in a relatively tender and pudgy boat we ought be spilling our beer, losing our sandwiches, ducking the spray, avoiding Raccoon. Of course, as I had no evidence he didn't believe me.

He loved it. I think he'll be getting a boat soon.

Mini Mini Tri

2010-08-21T16:20:00.000-07:00

What's smaller than a small trimaran? A model of a Weta designed to run down a 4 inch rain gutter, that's what. Iain has had quite the Cub Scout sailing career winning the design contest in his first two years before moving his sights to the racing classes. Last year his rule-beater 'superskiff' won the monohull division, and this year he stabbed the pointy end right into the hotly contested multihull fleet.

Having recently converted to trimarans in the real world of sailing, it was natural for him to give that form a try down the trench. So, we build a mini Weta--a reasonable facsimile of our own Surfing Pikachu--and, sure enough it dominated the catamarans with bursts of speed not seen before in the Raingutter Regatta. Congratulations, Iain!

Natural Born Trimaraners

2010-08-20T08:11:00.000-07:00

Dad, "So, how'd you like the new boat?"
Son, "That was awesome."
Dad, "Would you like to go out again?"
Daughter, "3000 times!"

Yes I've dreamt of, but never expected, that kind of response. Taking the kids sailing has been like taking them to BevMo--sure, they get a little something out of it (like a fancy root beer), but we're only going because Dad wants to. So, how come the enthusiasm all of a sudden? Well, the Weta is like this: a bunch of comfy places to sit or even lie down, no tipping over, water rushing by within a kid's arm reach, and fast. Bottom line is a very high fun factor without feeling scared.

We have a winner.

Pace

2010-08-12T17:30:00.000-07:00

Last Friday was only the fourth time this season I've made it out with Feet 76. The keel boat has only left the slip 6 times this year. The new Weta has been sitting dry in the boat yard for seven weeks after getting wet five times in her first week. Dinghy Delta Ditch was yesterday, and I didn't show up. The dory skiff? Forget about it. Despite all the sailing I do do, the thought of not sailing, the challenge of scheduling more sailing, induces a strange anxiety. Is it wrong to have a perfectly good boat sit unused? At least the boat yard at the side of my house doesn't yet look like one of those hoarder lots seen every so many miles along the rural interstates. OK, maybe it does a little. And financially, of course, none of this sailing stuff makes sense. It never has. Overall costs are relatively low--Lapras' slip being the bulk of it. Still, somehow the thought of "I have boats (and friends with boats); therefore, I must sail them." leads to tense shoulders, a little twing down the the spine, and the desire to go lie down for a bit. Screw that. Let's go sailing!

I promised to take my neighbor sailing on The Bay. I want to go cruising again. I'd like to try an overnight trip on the Weta. Racing singlehanded on Lapras to Vallejo would be cool. There are at least three more regattas this year with chance for a good Weta fleet. The 76ers are out every Friday night. And and and . . . Relax! This has got to be, already, one of the best sailing years of my life.

Big boats--little boats. Cruising--racing. Singlehanded--with friends. At home--on the road. Salt water--fresh water. Big wind--no wind. It's all been good. It always feels good, feels right, to be on the water . . . in a boat. So why the anxiety?

Maybe everything else in life is too frantic, too hectic, too fast paced. We frantically try to escape, to fill our "free" time, every last minute of it, with something not so hectic. OK, sailboat racing can be very hectic, but that's a good very hectic. I'm reminded of three long, heavy air days on the City Front for the Vanguard 15 Nationals. Afterwards, it occured to me that the period on the water was the longest continuous block of time I'd experienced in quite some time without a thought of work or other stressful things. How to keep the boat shiny side down, moving fast, and getting by competitors was all I "worried" about. So, I guess I need to just do more of that but without worring about doing more of that. A steady pace of sailing goodness.

Man Cruise II

2010-08-06T12:37:00.000-07:00

Well, unfortunately Jorge couldn't make it this year, but Mitch and Dean were back to join me for the second, now annual, Man Cruise. (In case you Googled your way here looking for something else . . . this is about sailing.) With Lapras now stationed on The Bay we had many more options for our destination. We chose a 2-day full bay tour with a stopover in Ballena Isle on Alameda. Nice place. Walking distance to fun stuff to look at, and a decent restaurant with a view of Lapras snug in her guest slip. Not much more to say here. I'll let the video tell the story:

Check out the long version of the video.

High Intensity Regatta

2010-07-15T21:41:00.000-07:00

"Foot, foot, foot! Let's get up some speed and start figuring out how to get out of here!" After 7 miles of dogfighting up and down the lake, Marcel had rounded the last mark inside of us and Chris with a tight rounding astern was now up on our hip. With a half mile to go, we had two boats to fight through. Not good. "Go fast, go fast." "OK . . . If we go now we can mess with Chris." Bam! Good tack.

"Starboard!" Chris chose to tack right in front of us. Interesting tactic, but it worked perfectly for us. Marcel had no choice but to tack and cover his two trailers, and as soon as he did that, bam!, we were back onto port and breaking cover. Now, how close to the shore dare we go? A good starboard tack lift can often be found over there, but at risk of sailing in less pressure. "Watch it, watch it, watch it." "Is that it?" "Let's sail into it. Yep, that's it. Let's go!" Back onto starboard and stomping up the beach still in good pressure. "Huge gain. Sail fast!"

It didn't take Chris long to see what was up. He managed to break Marcel's cover (not sure how) and come get a piece of our advantage on the right. We let him pass through behind us and then set up for a series of lee bow tacks each time he came across on Starboard forcing him back on port and deeper each time into the wind hole close to shore. Meanwhile, Marcel was still moving fast in good, clear air on the left side. Had we caught him? Too hard to tell at this distance but we would soon know as he made his last tack onto the port layline for the pin end of the finish. Converging from the right but below the line now, we had to make one more tack to take the short route to the committee end. "Uh, uh, oh no, is that a header? Are we gonna make it? Careful! Don't pinch." "Uh, it's gonna be close! Crap, here comes Marcel!" Do we tack, do we pinch, do we tack, do we pinch, and just then as the race flashed before my eyes, Dean dropped the helm and shot the line. Whoosh, we nipped Marcel by half a boat length. And, Chris was only a boat length or two behind that.

Crazy thing is, that's the way the whole High Sierra Regatta went this year. Three Vanguard 15 dudes from Benicia banging it up and down the lake never able to shake free and make a run out front. In the end, Marcel and crew's sound tactics, crisp boat handling, and superior offwind speed would win out. Dean second. Chris third. What a great experience. It was certainly the most intense racing at High Sierra that I've been part of, and also my best sailed.

In spite of how great the sailing is on Huntington Lake, of course the High Sierra Regatta isn't really about the sailing, it's about the family fun on the beaches and around the campsites. This year was no different. Iain made the trip with me (girls had a girly girl weekend at home), my Mom and Bill joined in the fun, and we made all the usual rounds including the Folsom Lake Yacht Club annual potluck. Yum.

Thanks to Peggy for the great photos!

Fast and Stupid Fast

2010-07-05T21:35:00.000-07:00

Having survived day one, it was time to push it a bit on day two. One thing I was learning quickly about multihulls is that there is a big difference between fast and stupid fast. The trick is to find the groove maximizing the percentage of time spent at stupid fast. Today, I focused in particular on upwind speed. I stopped staring at the telltales (a nasty monohull habit) and just felt the boat. Stupid fast feels distinctly different from fast. When I found the groove, it was more like flying than sailing. Sitting out on that windward ama just skimming over the wave tops as the leeward ama dug in, I imagined I was a pelican doing that thing they do.

Here's what it looks like from off the boat.

That's me at 3:17 and 4:13.

And hey, increasing my stupid fast percentage paid off as I climbed into 4th place for the regatta. I love my new boat.

Lots of regatta pictures here including the photo of the year here--That's Bruce from San Diego--very nice guy.

Just Don't Hit Anybody

2010-07-04T18:29:00.001-07:00

A fast boat. A new boat. A big regatta. A typically windy Summer day on the Bay. Sounds like a recipe to break something or somebody. Order of the day, then, was sail smart (get around the course efficiently) and don't hit anybody. I'm the noob in this class with just one week of experience in the boat prior to the start of race one on Saturday. Yes, the tacking and gybing practice was very helpful, and the "training floats" would provide a margin of error against capsize. Trouble is these dinghies are twice as wide and nearly twice as fast as what I'm used to racing. And those floats? It's not obvious how forgiving they are. Everything feels fine, but what if I stuff one into the back of a wave or something or somebody?

Well, everything turned out just fine. We had a bit more wind than I might have asked for in a first regatta, but I managed to keep the shiny side down and the pointy ends ding free. The Sailing World sponsors like my hat and had me posted in the gallery. Of that shot, Dean said, "You look way too relaxed. You ought to be hiking out or something." Of course, I was relaxed--I was sailing from a hammock! Actually, though, it was kinda scary. I was reminded of that popular '70s t-shirt, "Keep your tips up!" Several times downwind, I stuffed three bows into the back of a wave. At full speed, this was quite a dramatic experience as the entire boat was covered in white foam and the skipper's momentum nearly launched him over the bow. Before the weekend was over, I would learn to make the bottom turn a bit earlier and/or blow off some kite pressure.

These Wetas smoke both upwind and downwind as long as you keep them powered up. That means on the edge. We started six minutes or so behind the Melges 20s and usually caught and passed them before the race was done. The poor Melges crews were on their edge, too. We had to be careful not to setup to windward of them on the downwind legs as they had a propensity to wipe-out. As Bob put it, those Melges guys were probably thinking "they should have bought four Wetas instead--one for each crew. Be a lot more fun than hiking all day."

By the end of day one, I'd be at the front of the back half, 6th place. On day two, I'd start to learn some new tricks . . .

Enough Weta Wonkiness - Time to Race

2010-07-03T21:47:00.000-07:00

Well almost. One last practice session just fit in the schedule on Friday before NOOD . . . last weekend. (Yeah, I'm a little behind here with the ship's log. I vacated to Monterey for the week immediately following those two days of ripping around the bay on the new boat. Now, I need to get caught up before High Sierra happens next weekend . . . and Man Cruise II the weekend after that . . . and . . . Summer sailing is in full swing!)

Practice was pretty uneventful. I had just enough time to throw down a handful of tacks and another handful of gybes. OK, I basically know what to push and what to pull and when. The remaining question is can I do it, and generally keep the boat moving fast, when it's blowing like the forecast says it will? We'll have to wait another day to find out. Time to pack up and get across the bridge to the St. Francis to get registered . . . hey, nice swag!

Weta Winged

2010-06-23T22:08:00.000-07:00

A shot for Doc just before launching at Benicia this evening. Those "wings" sure provide a lot of places to sit for a 14 foot boat. Tonight I practiced my tacks and gybes. It's not hard to get the boat through the wind, and gybes aren't scary like they often were in the Megabyte. Still, with those floats out there I have to wonder if I just have a false sense of security. I'm not sure yet how far I can bury one before I should be worried. A couple of big puffs had the leeward ama underwater a couple of times, but no loss of control. It just popped right back up. Top speed 11 knots so far. Fun. One more chance to practice on Friday before the big race.

Weta Wetted

2010-06-22T18:37:00.000-07:00

Flip the tiller around the mainsheet, then tack and tend to the jib sheets. No, just put the helm down, literally, go tend to the jib, and then pick the tiller up on the other tack. Flip the jib sheet forward before you furl the kite to keep it from fouling. Don't even try furling with a load on the kite. Steer up if the big puff comes from forward of abeam. Steer down if abaft. Don't oversheet the jib. Sheet just an inch to get top telltale streaming. Yikes, there is a lot to remember in this three hulled, three sailed gizmo boat, but with all the tips flying from Bob and Dave last Saturday, I was soon feeling comfortable. Well almost comfortable. It's going to take some time to reach basic competency with the Weta. I'll squeeze two more practice days in this week and then it's trial by fire at the Weta West Coast Championship on Saturday and Sunday at the San Francisco NOOD.

Wish me luck.

Weta Waiting

2010-06-12T19:36:00.000-07:00

Picked her up yesterday. Felt weird--never owned a brand new boat before.
Rigged her up today. Felt good--can't wait to get it wet.
Covered her up for the week. Felt sad--too busy to sail.

Launch day Friday.

Newbie Night

2010-06-05T21:13:00.000-07:00

"OK, now everybody stand up and move over one seat." Strange Fleet 76 night--not a single regular driver at the helm of any of the four boats. Gus drove Jamie's boat, Rich his own boat (but he's new to that), Mark (?) Josh's boat, and I helmed Dean's. Heck, Dean wasn't even there, man. How nice of him to let me take MOE out for him. I picked up newbie crew, Jon, to tend the front half of the boat. He did amazingly well for somebody who's only been in a sailboat a handful of times. I think his surfer skills paid off as he had remarkably good balance in the boat. Most newbies are very tentative and can't get their weight in sync with what's going on--everything is a surprise to them. Jon settled into the rhythm right away and after he figured out that the jib sheet handling technique I had given him was all backwards, he found a way to get the jib across cleanly on each tack. I hope he joins us more often. It was fun sailing with him, and he could get good at this sport fast.

Thanks again for the loaner, Dean.

Half Cruise

2010-06-01T19:32:00.000-07:00

If you don't actually go anywhere is it still cruising? We went sailing. We slept on the boat. Just not in that order. I had no idea Richmond had so much freight train traffic in the middle of the night--at least the kids slept through it. Daybreak arrived as a beautiful clear morning on the marina. Now, one thing about being on a small boat is that there's really nothing to do but go sailing; so, after some coffee and a quick breakfast, we headed out the channel. First sailboat out accompanied by the last fishing boats. We didn't sail far, what with the light wind and flood, or for long--maybe an hour or so before we turned. By this time the rest of the sailors were starting out for what would become arguably the most beautiful sailing day on the Bay this year. As it was still early, they must have thought we were returning from a long overnight passage. Nope, just wrapping up a half cruise, the first overnight adventure for the family. Good practice for future more ambitious trips.

Soaking Wet Grin

2010-05-08T08:22:00.000-07:00

Rich didn't have much to say as he stood there at the top of the ramp gazing over the contraption that had rocketed him allover the Carquinez Strait. "So how was it?" He just bobbed his head in a Chevy Chase kind of way mixed with a Cheshire Cat grin as his sailing gear drip-dried into a puddle around his boots. Rich was the lucky odd man out tonight--no empty crew slots in the Vanguard fleet, but a friendly Weta evangelist happened by. So, while the rest of us banged out three races on an unusually long (for Vanguard weenies, that is) windward-leeward course, Rich banged about every corner of the Straits with Bob Hyde aboard the Weta.

The Vanguard 15 racing was good despite only three boats on the line. Good aggressive starts, clean sailing, a few lead changes, and all close at the finish. Marcel and Rachel had their boat moving really well, especially downwind, and their boat handling was superb as evidenced by our inability to shake them off in a vicious tacking duel in race one. And hey, that Robby kid can drive! The high-school team skipper took the helm of Josh' boat and had them in the mix all three races.

As we finished the third race transmitting all the usual hand and arm gestures to gather consensus--one more race or beer time--we could see Rich and Bob blasting back across the Strait, a cloud of spray behind, and disappearing down the Benica Marina entrance.

Sailing in 2025

2010-04-27T05:49:00.000-07:00

The future of sailing? It's here right now:

Advanced materials
Engineering first, art second
Multihulls

Oh, and the Laser -- after all, tradition and resistance to change are sailing's strongest forces.

Back to you, Tillerman.

Season 4

2010-04-17T08:08:00.000-07:00

No, it's not some box set of reruns to help you waste hours and hours on the couch watching other people pretend to be other people. No, the only way to see it is to do it. Fleet 76 is back at it, racing Vanguard 15s Friday night out of Benicia. The fleet is looking as healthy as ever with one new boat and several "new guys" looking for a crew spot. Rich is going to skipper an underutilized boat this year which means David is back in the crew training business. And hey, the owners even have a new old outboard on the way to replace the one that was stolen off the committee/chase boat last year.

I missed the first racing night of the season (had to get my speed rest before Corinthian), but made it out last Friday for day 2. We were blessed with perfect conditions--enough current to make some break from the parade downwind to look for an advantage and enough wind to get even us big boys in the hiking straps. Other than feeling a little awkward with boat handling it felt like we just picked up where we left off last October, except that I hate Dean's new tiller extension--sorry, Dean.

The parking lot post race camaraderie also flowed right in from last year with renewed pressure from some for me to buy and campaign my own Vanguard now that the Megabyte is gone. They are not going to be too happy with me when they find out what I did at the boat show last weekend . . .

Corinthian Survival

2010-04-14T19:50:00.000-07:00

OK, right out with it: we were the last boat to finish in our class. But hey, the keyword there is "finish." This race turned out to be more of a real fiasco than the real fiasco--about a third of the boats in the fleet never made it to the finish. Heck, with 38 mph gusts at the start, some never even started the race. We made a reasonable show of it, getting our pudgy little cruiser around the bay tour race course, but being on your ear all the way up wind (we ran out of reefs) and wiping out several times downwind (despite being in the non-spinnaker class) ain't exactly fast.

Other than being well outside our optimal conditions, we probably had at least 15 minutes worth of slow start, extra tacks, misjudged laylines, uncoordinated sail handling, etc. That's the difference between finishing 5th and 8th. It was tough on everybody, but especially so on the little guys and those of us with basically cruising sails and such. In that kind of weather Lapras probably can't sail to her rating, anyway, but with a little more help from her humans she could have a closer look at the front.

Last or first, it was still a ton of fun. We got around the course on a really rough day, one if not for the race we would have spent at home watching TV or something.

More here: Blustery SSS Corinthian Race

Are We (They) Having Fun, Yet?

2010-03-21T20:41:00.001-07:00

Video games, play dates, excessive homework--seems these days there are just so many things better to do than go sailing. And even in the off chance that there really was nothing else to do, for the non-sailors out there, what's the attraction? How can sitting around on a bobbing hunk of plastic (or whatever) moving no faster than most of us can jog actually be any fun? Man, does that sound lame. Maybe I'll just sit here and do nothing instead.

OK, those of you with kids know where I'm going with this.

"Hey, kids, want to go sailing today?"

"Ummm, well, umm . . . not really, Dad."

"Well, what if we go get some nice sandwiches and eat them on the boat. After that we can walk around the marina to the playground."

"OK, maybe that would be fun."

I loved to go sailing when I was a kid. Couldn't get enough of it. Big boats, little boats, all day in my sabot, racing with Dad around the buoys or over to Catalina. All good. This is my perspective. So why would my kids not be begging me to take them sailing? As I think on that, though, I remember that my siblings weren't all that jazzed about sailing either. They usually did have something better to do (stay home and party while the rest of us went racing for the weekend.) They put up with it as the "family sport", and I know they usually had fun when dragged along. It just wasn't always their choice. I wonder why. I'll ask--stay tuned . . .

So what of my family? Did the lunch and park bribe work. Of course it did, and once aboard for lunch it made perfect sense to slip the dock lines and go for just a little sail, right? Yeah, there was a little grumping, but in the end all enjoyed themselves. Would they do it again when given the choice between video games on the couch and sailing on the bay? Maybe we're not quite there, yet.

At dinner the next night, I pushed the topic.

"So, how did you like sailing yesterday?"

"It was OK."

"What would you think if I decided to sell the boat?"

"NO, don't do that. WE LIKE SAILING!"

Well OK, then.

Soup's On!

2010-03-07T19:28:00.001-08:00

Somewhere between the end of the Fiasco and home port (the lights off the starboard bow.) Gotta get out there again . . .

First Race, First Fiasco

2010-02-03T21:50:00.000-08:00

Start in any direction. Go around the three marks (under or at the three bridges on the bay) in any order, any direction. Finish before 7pm. That's the Fiasco. Simple, huh? If not for 349 other other boats out there, big current, big wind shifts (and big wind holes), and every boat just single or doublehanded.

And did I mention it's a reverse handicap pursuit race? Being one of the slowest boats entered, that meant we got to go early in clear, albeit hardly a puff of, air. It also meant we had to pick our start direction and first mark without the benefit of watching others' mistakes.

This was the first time I've ever raced my own keel boat. Wait, what's this racing the cruising boat? Well, with Feraligatr gone, Lapras is pressed into double duty, and with Dean as crew we were ready. So, first time for Lapras, and save for a race/cruise across across San Pablo a few years back on Don Holden's boat, I hadn't raced anything bigger than a dinghy since high school. Incidentally, it had been that day on Don's boat out in the middle of San Pablo that I had one of those epiphany things and decided to get back into sailing after being away from the sport for . . . well . . . a long time.

Having started at the front of the pack, I almost feel bad that we made it look relatively easy getting out west and around Blackaller Buoy just East of Ft. Point. Our plan was to get Blackaller crossed off early so that we would not have to risk getting swept out The Gate on the afternoon max ebb if the wind never filled in. Before the start, we'd discovered a nice little eddy to counter the morning's flood tide. And it worked. "1.8, 2.2," I called off the the speed over ground as we crawled east from the start in a very fickle morning breeze. And even when the wind fully shutdown within spittin' distance of the mark, "0.5, 0.6", the eddy washed us along. By staying inshore, we had made the most of this and passed all the boats that started in front of us and went offshore looking for wind.

Oh yeah, back to making it look easy. Turns out about half the fleet decided to follow us to Blackaller first, the other half taking Yuerba Buena first-minus a few oddballs who chose Red Rock first. With this mass of a hundred or more boats bearing down on us we were sure to be overrun in no time. Then, the weirdest thing happened. A little puff from the East carried us and the four other little boats rounding the mark just behind us out into the middle of the channel while the mass of boats behind sailed into, perhaps created by their own, um, massiness, one giant hole. Once into the full strength of the flood mid-channel, the breeze filled in further from the Southeast and we were making eight knots for Angel Island. "Wahoo! See ya suckas!" Here's a good picture of the parking lot behind (I think that's us in the upper right of the photo ripping out to Point Blunt.) And here's a report from the ugly mess back there.

After rounding Angel Island to port (wanted to stay in that nice Southeast wind) we noticed a big honkin' boat, well more honkin' than Lapras anyway, coming directly across from San Francisco with no spinnaker flying. "Are they racing? Surely they must have a spinnaker on a boat like that. Heck, I bet they have more spinnakers than anchors on that thing." Check out the report from Valis for the other side of the story and the "spirited race with a Catalina 22". Er, um, that would be a Catalina 250.

After that it was pretty much just a nice sail around the bay. We rode the flood to Red Rock arriving just minutes after slack. Mixed it up with a bunch of the speedsters coming around the other way from Yuerba Buena (including Eight Ball, the eventual overall winner), rode the newly formed ebb South to Berkeley, crept by YB in a now failing wind with the South Bay ebb now on our nose, sailed backwards for a while, caught a big blast of wind under the Western span of the Bay Bridge and ripped on home on that huge ebb.

Finished at 4:44. Not bad, and looking good.

Other firsts in a long time? Navigating a boat at night during the two hour trip back to Richmond after the race, and eating a good pot of stew on board. Brought back memories of many nights like that aboard Scotch Mist (that Dasher built by the father of the guy who won the Three Bridge Fiasco this year. Weird, huh?)

How'd we do? I think we were the only boat in our class to go clockwise and actually finish before the time limit. We were 4th of 19 in our class, 7th of 43 total non-spinnaker class boats, and 123rd of 282 overall starters.

Doublehanding and Oreos. A Fulton-Anderson tradition

Light Air Doublehanded?

2010-02-02T20:25:00.000-08:00

Dean and I used to do that all the time.

3BF report coming soon . . .

Got Crew?

2009-12-31T11:03:00.000-08:00

Now that the little boat is gone, sailing requires a bit more planning and coordination. Yeah, I could singlehand the 25 footer but it's a lot safer and easier with company. So, when it came time to deliver Lapras to her new berth in Richmond, a 22 nautical mile trek across San Pablo Bay, I put the call out for crew. Holiday week, everybody's just sitting around the house with nothing to do, right? Surely I'd have more crew than I could affordably feed. As responses started to come in, however, it wasn't looking too good: the guy with the new job had to work; more than one was out of town for the holidays; one was consumed with dad responsibilities; another was closing the books for the year; and the family as crew was not a good option for a cold day on the water with the little one just recovering from a Winter cold. What to do?

So, what about Iain? He's old enough now, 10, to cover the basic crew requirements, right? Right. Iain would have cabin boy duty--managing all the food and communications responsibilities (hourly check-in with Mom), spell the captain at the helm occasionally, and keep a general lookout for ships and high speed ferries. I would stay clipped in with the harness all day and had Iain practice shutting down the motor several times. Off we went . . .

And what a great trip it was. Brought back memories of helping my Dad transport Scotch Mist to Ventura for the start of the Sledgehammer race. We swapped watches as we motored on through the night. Only hit one unlit tanker mooring buoy . . .

Forecast says rain, but it looks OK to me.

2009-11-27T15:55:00.000-08:00

Turned out to be very nice on the water this afternoon--for November, that is. Clouds blew off, sun came out, and wind settled in at about 8 kts. Sailed around for a couple of hours with the fam in the big boat. Got her tucked away just as the hail started to fall. Nice.

Our little (censored)

2009-11-24T07:07:00.000-08:00

I guess I had better be more careful with my blog titles. Seems the last one encouraged some cross linking that wasn't exactly about the same kind of "old (censored)". Our latest sailing adventure also being about (censored), little (censored), I'll be more careful this time. Dean and I both needed to do some sailing, and both of our big (censored) needed a little break without our little (censored). So, time for Father-daughter sail day. Wind and tide chose not to cooperate making our outing more of a father-daughter motor-sail, but it was delightful nonetheless. Dads chatted about dad stuff up in the cockpit while little (censored) played little (censored) games down in the cabin. Fun time. We"ll have to do it again.

Thanks to Peggy, who was enjoying some quiet time along the river bank without little (censored) in tow, for the picture. First live action shot taken from off the boat. That's us to the left furling the mains'l before returning to the harbor.

My Old Girls

2009-10-16T14:05:00.000-07:00

Mothra has been gone for some time now. She was a great little boat--just needed a little more love. Well, she's found it. Current owner, Jim, is doing just what I had imagined doing, but didn't quite get to. He's continuing the restoration process, taking lots of friends out for fun days around Santa Cruz, and taking advantage of the easy trailerability to extend his cruising grounds--all the way to Puget Sound, for example. If you squint, you can just see the little lady waiting her turn among the big boys to get lifted into the chilly Northwest waters.

And, the latest news: Feraligatr has a new home. Another Jim towed her on down to the peninsula last week. Seems he's starting his own little Megabyte fleet. He bought one a few months back, and he and his buddies liked it so much they went looking for another. Hey, local fleet building! Maybe I ought to think about getting a Megabyte?

Farewell, ladies.

Family Big Boat

2009-10-15T20:42:00.000-07:00

Yep, definitely more room on here than on the little boat. Great time out with the fam, sister Carol, bro-n-la George, and best bud Dean.

And capped off with a great dinner at Asian Confusion. Funny story there. Carol and I had gone over to BevMo and while picking out beer for our day cruise, a man approached and asked what kind of beer we liked to drink with spicy Asian food.

"Well, I like the Sapporo that comes in these big cool cans, and Singha is pretty tasty, too." "What kind of food are you having?"
"We just got the liquor license for the Asian fusion restaurant I'm opening. It's called Asian Confusion. You should come try it."
"Um . . . (who is this guy?) . . . OK."
"Call me in the afternoon before you come and I'll make you my special black bean crab. Do you like crab?"
"Yeah, sounds great!"
Well, we called, we went, we tried to order crab. It wasn't on the menu. No problem. He made is special just for us. Best crab ever.

And surprise surprise, had had my favorite Japanese beer chilled and ready.

Thanks, Fleet 3

2009-09-26T09:03:00.000-07:00

It was just over two years ago that I crewed for my longtime sailing buddy, Dean Fulton, in the Vanguard 15 Nationals on San Francisco Bay. The boat was just a few months old, and neither of us had done any competitive sailing since when we were teenagers banging around in a Lido 14 having outgrown our Naples Sabots. We didn’t do well that regatta, but the intensity of the competition and the pure thrill of punching through, planing over, and occasionally crashing into the tortured waters off Crissy Field had me hooked on dinghy racing again. Gotta get me a racing boat.

A Laser would have been the natural choice, but after seeing how much money people wanted for their old ‘70s beaters, I started to look elsewhere. Poking around the Internet, I stumbled upon the Megabyte. Now that looks like a good boat—maybe what the Laser would have evolved to had it not been a one design (turns out Ian Bruce was responsible for creating both of them.) I discovered a boat for sale in Seattle and luck would have it I’d be up there on business in a couple of weeks. A quick email to the captain of Fleet 3 was promptly returned by Dean Eppley with info about the local fleet and some tips on what to look for in an old boat (the plastic bailers were the only concern). Saw the boat, bought it, shipped it home, and two weeks later I was on the starting line for the Lake Washington Turkey Shoot. I met Fleet 3 that day--very welcoming and enthusiastic about their fledgling Megabyte fleet.

All told, I think I hooked up with Fleet 3 for about seven different regattas, and from the time Dean introduced me to the rest of the guys at that first Turkey shoot right up to the end when they all knew I was on the way out of the class with my boat up for sale, they made me feel most welcome. A chest bump from Mack, a warrior’s grip handshake from Charles—I always felt included. It’s not always like that in sailing. My family often came to watch the races—usually my Mom and her husband, Bill. In other classes/fleets I might have felt a bit silly with the full entourage—maybe more “appropriate” when I was a kid getting shoved off the Mission Bay beach by Mom and Dad for the Sabot Nationals. But, they were welcome, too—invited to pull up a chair at Whiskeytown or join the potluck at Huntington Lake. My sweet Mom reciprocated with her famous shortbread boat cookies customized with sail numbers for each competitor. Of course, other Fleet 3 family were integral to the onshore camaraderie. Sharon and Daria were always there providing encouragement and shore support for all of us.

It’s not all hugs and kisses with these guys, though. On the race course, every one of them will fight hard to get to the front. That’s a good thing. Have you ever sailed against people who don’t try hard? It turns out that it’s not much fun. Give-it-your-all competition is what makes this sailing such sport. I’m grateful for that challenge. It was almost always Charles out front for us all to chase, but everybody had a good look at the front at least a few times. The finishes have been more mixed than ever this year, proof that the skills of the whole fleet have improved, and if Dean had only started droop hiking a year earlier, we might all have been chasing his transom by now! I’ll miss racing with these guys but hopefully will cross paths in the future as I find my way back to the typical regattas as crew on that Vanguard 15 or who knows what.

I picked the Megabyte North Americans as my final regatta before switching my sailing focus to adventures aboard the family cruiser. Dean did a great job getting the event on the West Coast and very well organized. Mack and Charles were ready to go having arrived the previous day and gotten in a test sail on the venue. John who is always a delight to sail with could only stay for Saturday, but it was great to have him out there. Fleet 3 was ready! One might think that the North American Championship would be a huge event, but in reality there just aren’t that many of us Megabyters to go around. Nobody from the West went east for last year’s championship, and this year the opposite was true. We did, however, finally get to meet “Big Joe” from Arizona and also discover that Chuck Hawley had been hiding out in Santa Cruz with a Megabyte for some time. These two guys flew the retro rig and competed well in both the light and heavy air. Back at the dock, they were both full of great stories to share, the likes of which we don’t hear too much of in Fleet 3—like singlehanding a 24 foot boat to Hawaii or “cruising” to Catalina in a Megabyte! I hope Chuck will find the time to fit in another regatta here and there and I like Joe’s idea of a California/Arizona event swap starting with a big regatta in January.

Well with the Megabyte up for sale, it’s off to keelboating with the family. (Geez, this is sounding like a sappy retirement speech!) I’m looking forward to that. If I’m lucky, my kids will take to sailing as I did growing up on my dad’s boat.

I will miss Fleet 3. It’s been a great two years on the Megabyte circuit. I wish each of them best of luck as they continue to build the fleet, connect with other regions, and attempt to reel Charles in! Go for it!

Close

2009-09-21T17:41:00.000-07:00

We got it all: 20 gusting 30 to end Saturday and 2 gusting 3 to start Sunday. I won both those races; so I guess I can't make excuses as just a heavy air guy or just a light air guy. I really only had one bad race and one significant mistake all weekend if you don't count the capsizes on Saturday (everybody went upside down and/or broke something that day.) After sailing my throwout in race 5--a lot of little screw-ups just made me slow--I still had a one point lead with just one race to go. Charles would hold the tiebreaker if he won the last race, and since he and I had collectively claimed the first 5, it all came down to who would take this last one.

Pin end of the line was favored as it had been all weekend, and the wind had built enough to make boat speeds a bit more normal. With the rest of the fleet bunched up at the boat end ready to run the line with about 30 seconds to go, I came in from the left looking for just the right spot to slot in. Ah, there it was. I tacked in to leeward of Charles. All looked good except for Big Joe to leeward of me and the pin coming up fast with the clock ticking down slow. As I tried to stall, Big Joe came up to leeward forcing me to sheet in and move out. Joe finding that he was now early and out of room gybed around leaving me right at the pin (where I wanted to be) . . . and praying that my watch was slow. Was it the perfect start in the do or die race? I was the left most boat on a left favored line, and I'd been successfully outpointing the other boats already this day. Two boat lengths after the gun came the dreaded, "OH FIVE OH OVER EARLY." Ugh. Circled back and took up my spot at the back of the fleet. I managed to climb back to third, but that was it.

Three bullets in all to close my final Megabyte regatta, but it wasn't enough as Charles collected the other three and his 2-2 (after one throw out) edged my 2-3. Yeah, it's disappointing to have been that close to winning the North American championship regatta, but I know it was the best regatta I've sailed and I finished just one point behind a truly great sailor.

I'll miss Fleet 3. More on that later . . .

Wind Wind Wind Wind

2009-09-19T20:04:00.000-07:00

My little chant this morning to change the conditions in my favor. It worked. Forecast said 8 to 10. We got this instead.

I'm fast in big air. Guess all that weight I've put on is good for something. 2-1-1 today before the race committee called off race four on account of too much carnage on the course impeding safe navigation. I only capsized twice :-)

Three more tomorrow. Wind Wind Wind Wind

Last Practice

2009-09-17T16:34:00.000-07:00

I know I'm going to miss racing the Megabyte. It's a great boat after all, and the competition is always good. But I also can't help feel a near euphoria as the Megabyte era draws to an end. With one last regatta just days away, I went out mid-week for one last practice session. Practice is good. Better than simply "day sailing" in many ways. Practice is purposeful. It makes perfect sense to tack sixty times in an hour if that's what you're working on. Capsize the boat on purpose? Sure, if that what it takes to eliminate the fear of doing it accidentally. And, where you go only matters relative to how it supports your particular training objectives that day. Well, this day I didn't tack sixty times, flip, or go to my usual venue. Instead, I just sailed hard on the wind on The Bay working the boat around, over, and sometime through the chop. A deep meditative breath, a face full of spray, and a minute or two to lock in the rhythm soon had me hollering out loud. "Whooop whooop whooop, %$*# yeah, this is sailing!"

I'll be back at this spot Saturday noon ready for whatever The Bay serves up. Two days of racing--the purpose for the last day of practice.

Fleet 76

2009-09-12T07:14:00.001-07:00

A stolen outboard engine, more crew than boats to go around, one boat upside down. Might have been a bummer night if not for the seven Vanguard 15s out with perfect racing weather. Nice to be back in the crew spot on Dean's boat. Racing from the front of the boat is different from the back. Same intensity, different responsibility. And compared to singlehanding in the Megabyte, same level of tactical chatter, but with two extra ears on the boat, my lips were moving. These 76ers are tightening up the ranks,too. Other than poor Jorge who was sailing injured, everybody had a good look at the front and was in the hunt at least half the races creating just enough inter-boat proximity to raise the on-course yelling to the serious-but-fun level. It's great sailing with these guys--in a matching boat. Maybe I won't miss the Megabyte so much after all.

And the Loser Is . . .

2009-09-08T20:31:00.000-07:00

. . . Feraligatr. After a most excellent sail on The Bay yesterday in the Megabyte, I've decided it's time for her to go. I appreciate all the votes I got on this topic, and it was looking like Lapras (the "lead mine") was about to get voted off the balance sheet, but despite my wonderful time in the little boat navigating the bay chop on a 75 degree day with the Golden Gate Bridge as a backdrop, I realized I was missing something--crew. Yeah, the MB can carry a passenger, but it's really a one man (or big woman) boat. I want to share the experience with my family, with my friends. That's the same reason I unloaded all the windsurfers and bought my first sailboat so many years ago--so that I could take my girlfriend with me. Time to dedicate my precious few sailing days to the big boat, and that girlfriend who eventually married this sailor is still game.

Of course, even single-handed sailing isn't an entirely lonely pursuit. I will miss all the great friendships among the other racers both on the course and in the bar or around the campfire afterward. Then again, maybe I can beg Dean for my Vanguard crew spot back and talk him into hitting a regatta or two on the inland lake circuit.

Feraligatr is on sale here.

Time in the Boat

2009-08-30T14:45:00.000-07:00

Somebody ("they"?) said to be proficient in handling a boat one needs "time in the boat." That sounds right to me and makes any time in the boat, whether it all comes together as planned or not, an opportunity to learn more, to improve one's skills. So it was last Friday.

With the Megabyte North American Championship now just three weeks away, I've been trying to find a time to get down to the venue for some practice driving the boat in a good blow over some steep Bay chop. Last attempt was thwarted by a little two much of the good stuff. So with Friday afternoon free, I checked the wind indicator at RYC and saw that the wind strength was steadily building. Add to that a lot of heat east of the foothills where I live, and things were shaping up. I guess I should have checked the temperature on the Bay, too. As I dropped down to sea level on Richmond Parkway, It occurred to me that my air conditioning was still humping. That's weird. Let's see . . . whoa it's 95 degrees here by the Bay. And, hot equals still. Crap. This is going to be a waste of time. Or, maybe time in the boat is time in the boat?

So, no, I didn't get to practice driving in waves, but I did get to calibrate my senses that will come together in some way to help me when I do see waves. I felt the spring in the carbon mast as I raised and stepped it; I measured the all up weight as I walked the boat down the ramp into the water; I learned where the boat catches itself when rolled deeply to one side; I saw the effect of fore and aft trim on my wake; I discovered the asymmetrical technique required to quickly turn the boat with rudder alone; I recalibrated the tug required to set the outhaul just so; and I built on the excitement of sailing this boat on that water.

Of course, in the more typical summer conditions on the Bay, the dynamics of all this will be different. Then again, maybe the North Americans will be a sloppy drifter, and I'll be perfectly prepared. ;-) Either way, I can't help but think I know my boat a little better than before.

Fastest Shape?

2009-08-28T12:43:00.000-07:00

Aerohydrodynamically balanced or skinny and low wetted surface? The Megabyte will steer itself downwind with just a slight heel to weather. Feels fast without any drag induced by corrective rudder action. With that slight heel, however; there's still a lot of flat aft section dragging along the water surface. Would it be faster to crank the boat way over to weather like the Laser sailors do? This would indeed reduce the wetted surface of the hull, but the asymmetrical shape would then need some rudder to keep on course. Last Friday, I decided to give "excessive" weather heel a try while out chasing the Fleet 76 Vanguards around. First challenge was learning the balance point with the boat that far over and close to capsize. The boat is definitely more prone to rolling when positioned up on its edge like that, but of course that's an indication that those big flat sections are no longer dragging water. I found that putting some firm pressure with my hand on the lee rail would quickly suppress a roll to weather. Good to know. As for speed differences? Don't really know--only had V15s to run down, and a Megabyte can do that without much trouble no matter what the boat's attitude.

An unusually strong ebb tide running counter to the prevailing wind, meant that the downwind legs were effectively much longer than the upwind legs. That worked to my advantage as I beat the Vanguards round the windward leeward course two out of three times.

Somebody's got to go

2009-08-22T20:50:00.001-07:00

Too many boats.

Which one goes?

Sail to Live Another Day

2009-08-22T09:20:00.000-07:00

The trees were already bent over by 8am. No worries, it's just a morning blow. Should ease up by mid-day. And no problem finding a place to park the trailer at the office complex I was visiting for my meeting Tuesday morning--a consequence of the recession, no doubt. Turns out the guys I was meeting with where sailors, too, and more than accommodating to move the dialog along quickly and allow me to get out on The Bay for a good practice session in Feraligatr. By one O'clock I was around the corner at the marina anticipating the thrill of punching through and surfing over the chop on the open bay. But wait, how come the wind is still howling? Shouldn't there be a little letting up before the afternoon fog comes back in? Whatever the cause, it was blowing hard through Richmond's Marina Bay. Do I go out and get some high wind practice? Learn to manage an already overpowered boat in overpowering conditions? Not via this marina, and not by myself. A quick mental zoom through at least four things that could go really wrong, given the wind strength/direction and the particulars of the marina layout, and leading to visions of damaged property and reputation, convinced me that this was not a good day to go sailing by myself.

So, I packed it in, and got back on the road for home. Disappointment and second guesses filling my brain, I cranked some Metallica to help sour my mood further. But then halfway up I-80 it occurred to me that a slight detour would have me presently in Benicia, another Bay Area micro climate. What the hey, let's go check it out.

And, it was perfect. Warm weather, moderate breeze, slack tide. OK, none of the waves I had hoped to get some practice on today, but perfect otherwise. Out I went. Just a few days before, I had finally installed my tactical compass and was looking forward to what it might tell me. Instead of the typical down the strait, today the wind was dropping in over the South bank hills making for very shifty conditions as each gust dropped to the water and decided which way to scatter. Recognizing that a shift has occurred is not hard to do in these conditions. Each seemingly random switch is a recipe for a capsize either to weather or to leeward. But with the compass, a repeatable pattern emerges. 3 3 3 3 6 -tack- 6 6 6 6 3 -tack- 3 3 3 3 6 -tack. (Yes, it really was shifting 30 degrees--not unusual when Benicia gets this Southerly wind.) After syncing up, it's easy to determine just which wind you are in at any given moment (and anticipate what is coming next and when.) Stay in phase, and the absolute tacking angles are only 60 degrees--a huge advantage on the way to a weather mark. Out of phase, and it's effectively 120 degrees. For you geometry buffs, in these big shifts, the out of phase boat sails 1.7 times as far as the in-phase boat. Wow.

Excuse Me. I'm Going to the Front, Slowly.

2009-07-31T09:23:00.000-07:00

2009 Dinghy Delta Ditch: The 2009 DDD was one for the record books but not the sort one usually shoots for. After the regularly scheduled breeze failed to develop the boats were towed about 4 miles up river from the launch site before starting in a weak northeasterly breeze. It took nearly two hours for the wind to clock around to its normal southwesterly direction. Add to all this that the flood tide was late in arriving and it made for the longest DDD in history. The majority of the fleet finished well after dark and the last boat arrived at the finish well after 10:30 PM. It was one for the record books...

That was the official report. A weird year for a very weird race--30 miles one way up the deep water shipping channel to Sacramento. Not normally something you would think of doing in a dinghy, or any boat for that matter.

After a great start I managed to run aground, catch some weed, and do other bonehead things that had me slowly moving to the back of the pack. Then, thanks to Banshee Bob, a favorable current was revealed on the South side of the slough. With the morning easterly shutting down, I crossed the river and put the boat into that fast water. Ah, back in the mix. As we approached the confluence (I swear, this is the only context that that world sounds just right) of the Prospect and Miner Sloughs (Yeah, this was the route to the Gold Country), the wind completely shutdown. Figuring that I was now the river expert after finding the eddy after the start and taking a ride up the South shore as the tide switched, I spied an unusual current line and slid the boat across it certain that it would be another favorable eddy. Oops. Whirlpool! I guess a confluence does this sort of thing. Lost all steerage and just bobbed around watching boats go by. It took some rather vigorous sculling to get myself free. That was the end of bad times, for me anyway.

About this time was when the guy on the Force 5 started yelling at the chase boat, "Hey, this sucks! Shorten course!". They ignored him. Yeah, sailing in crappy wind and swirling current pretty much does suck, but this is racing. Get your boat through it as fast as you can. As most of the fleet was bobbing around in the confluence (a pair of Thistles and a pair of Flying Dutchmen had made it into the shipping channel before coming to a halt), hints of the typical afternoon westerly began to show. A puff from astern, a whisper from abeam. Gotta catch these, and with my big twisty sail, I did. I was sitting in the forward cockpit cross-legged around the dagger board. Westerly puff--yank the board up and ease the sail. Northerly puff--push the board back down, trim in fast, and hang my upper body over the side. Walked right through the fleet passing Lasers (who had started 10 minutes ahead), C15s, and a bunch of other stuff like they were standing still. "Excuse me. Coming through. Pardon me." I soon had all the little boats behind and was gaining on the big guys ahead who couldn't take advantage of their spinnakers in the light, shifty winds.

Eventually, the westerly "filled in" (maybe 5 to 8 knots) and it was a near dead run for a few hours. With spinnakers now flying, the big boats pulled away, but the damage was done. That transition period is where the race was won--stayed in contact with the fast boats and gapped the slow boats. From that point, it was just a few more hours of focus, trimming the mainsheet directly off the boom, fine tuning the attitude of the hull, and sliding left or right to stay in the wind groove down "The Ditch" to Sacramento. All paid off with an overall (and surprising) corrected time win.

But before I finish, I need to express my thanks to the race crew from Lake Washington Sailing Club. What an amazing bunch of volunteers. This is an exceedingly difficult event to coordinate with the shuttling of skippers and trailers, unpredictable finish times, and wide range of boats entered. Sure, some folks were frustrated by the lack of wind, but the chase boats took great care for us all and the shore crew stayed into the late evening to make sure we all made it back safely and had a good party at the end. Thanks, LWSC!

And some High Sierra Regatta pictures.

2009-07-30T20:16:00.000-07:00

From 2009 High Sierra Regatta

Megabyte Fleet 3

Like Tarzan. Well maybe George O'Jungle

2009-07-29T19:13:00.000-07:00

Huntington Lake is a tricky place to sail. Easy to make a lot of mistakes without really trying hard. Good speed up the lake depends, apparently, on a lot more than just local "knowledge." After all, Charles' knowledge has been posted on the regatta web site for all to see, and yet nobody has beaten him, not even a single race, in like, forever. Why is he so fast? Well, first, he's just plain fast on any water, but he really seems to have the feel and instincts for this particular lake. After being mostly frustrated by what seemed to be just screwy winds last year at the High Sierra Regatta, this year I caught some glimpses of what it must feel like to grok the winds, to understand that they are not screwy, they're just a little complex. (In case you're wondering, I'll get it out right now: No, I didn't beat Charles. Not even close, but at least this year I was close enough to see the color of his boat!)

After finding several ways to mess up an otherwise fine regatta at Whiskeytown, I was determined to keep it simple at Huntington. No fancy strategizing, just good clean tactics. Let others beat me. Let the lake beat me. But, don't let me beat me. After a good fast downwind leg to recover a 2nd in race one, race 2 started with a long beat all the way up the 7 mile lake. Without trying to get fancy, I just focused on the wind patterns revealed by the texture of the water and the sailing angles of all the Lasers who had started with us. It was about half way up the beat that I stumbled upon a rhythm, a strangely graceful feeling that I can only describe as swinging from vine to vine. The puffs behaved just as Charles had described them--they sort of fan out to the sides. Catch a lift up the right side of one, watch for the next, tack over and catch a lift up the left side of that one. Repeat. Holy cow, this is how to make tracks up this lake! Huge gains, that is until you miss one, and then, "watch out for that . . ." Wham! Sailed right into a header or a hole. Back to hunting and grasping for that next vine.

So, the racing was good, but what made the weekend great was the same as last year--fun with family and friends on a beautiful mountain lake. I was blessed to have the full entourage: Mom (with her now famous sailboat cookies), Bill, Kecia, and the kids. This year we stayed in the cabins. Ah, beds and showers (Thanks, Mom and Bill!!) Only problem was figuring out which party to go to. The Folsom crowd had their usual great spread at lake side, and this year Vanguard Fleet 76 out of Benicia made the trip and had quite the campsite cuisine themselves. Didn't want to miss out; so, we went to both!

So that's it. Definitely an annual event now. Racing gets better every year, and the fellowship is always second to none.

Father's Day Shakedown

2009-07-27T09:34:00.003-07:00

Dinghy Delta Ditch was epic, but that entry's gonna have to wait. Deano has been waiting for this cruise video for a long time. Way out of date here, but this is what 4 dads did back on father's day weekend instead of . . . racing in the Catalina 250 Nationals. As explained earlier, Lapras is a cruising boat and we already have other boats for racing. So, cruising we went. In fact, this was the shakedown for young Lapras (for the new owners anyway.) Benicia to Pittsburg and back. Wow, that's exciting. Actually, it was.

Four adults on board was very doable. Plenty of room in the cockpit. Decent sleeping arrangements. Got a little crowded down below trying to get bunked down, dressed in the morning, etc. Food was great. Potluck worked well. Snackmaster Mitch brought all six of the tasty snacks Trader Joe's sells, Jorge a bucket of meat, and Dean all the normal food. I just brought the beer. Next time, more Racer 5, less heifer. Walking into town for dinner and finding great Mexican food was perfect. Could have definitely sailed deeper into the Delta. With favorable tides and strong winds, we made both passages with plenty of sunshine to spare, and the crew felt like sailing some more. Next time . . . Overall, the boat performed beautifully.

For a first trip up the Delta, I think we got really spoiled: great weather, strong wind, fine Mexican food ashore. Gonna be hard to top that. We ate well and sailed well. Sitting at home the next day I had the urge to get right back out there. Alas, racing the little boats is consuming weekends again. Late Summer Cruise #2. That sounds about right.

I am Alive!

2009-07-09T20:28:00.000-07:00

I know because I've spent way more time sailing than blogging lately. Remember when I almost gave up Megabyting? Well, I decided to do one more season. And not that anybody actually keeps up with this blog, but if you did, you should be wondering what happened at the Catalina Nationals. I have no idea. I wasn't there. Turns out I had an epiphany sometime during the long drive back from Whiskeytown. It didn't say, do more Megabyting or race Lapras. It said, "Go cruising in Lapras. That's what you bought her for." Damn right. As for the Megabyte, I was so frustrated after my regatta screw-ups that my first inclination was to sell the boat and check-out of the racing scene by diving exclusively into cruising the big boat. After some time I came to my senses. Cruise Lapras. Race Feraligatr. There it is. Even the names make sense--if you know your Pokemon.

So we went cruising instead of racing on the weekend of the Catalina 250 Nationals, but I'm not going to get into all that right now. (I promise, Dean, I'll post something, video, etc. before I blog about Huntington.) Where was I. Oh yeah, I am alive! Just got back from one last Megabyte practice session before this weekend's High Sierra Regatta. I can't say I'm now nailing all my roll tack and gybes, but I just felt so alive out there. It was windy enough to get into a full hike, choppy enough to require some boat man-handling, and just scary enough to nearly dime my attention. This is something my non-sailor friends have a hard time understanding. How can something that is barely faster than walking be so invigorating? It just is.

And, it feels good.

Balance Update

2009-06-20T07:12:00.000-07:00

As I'm preparing to head out for the weekend to generate blog content, I'm realizing just how far behind I am. I think I did some racing. What day was that? There's a broken tiller on my workbench. Where did that come from?

It's starting to back to me. Two weeks ago. Crewing on Dean's V15. Warm and windy. Two bullets, three seconds, otherwise unremarkable. Wait, except for that funky current. The tide had just started to switch and an unusual current line developed right down the middle of the course. To the right, slack. To the left, strong ebb. It was like stepping on and off one of those moving sidewalks. Express lane right to the weather mark. We found it first. By race 3 the others had discovered our trick.

And that tiller? A different kind of balance problem. Had the Megabyte out for a practice session with the Vanguards (thank goodness). Big wind. Big gybe. Big crash. No problem. Had the shiny side down again in a minute or so, but wait, something's missing. Crap! Where did my tiller go? Must have fallen on it and broke it clean off. Thanks to Jamie for pulling Big Red off station to render assistance, and apologies to the V15 fleet for the delay incurred.

All good. A day sailing can balance out just about anything.

Have You Ever Been Boarded? Uh . . . No

2009-06-04T20:28:00.000-07:00

Didn't really know what to expect as the bright orange rigid came screaming up along side apparently to conduct a training exercise, er, I mean a safety inspection. Actually, the Vallejo based Coast Guard was most courteous, save for the muddy boot prints left on my white cockpit cushions, and did a very nice and speedy job of making sure we were prepared for a safe outing on the water.

Just five minutes clear of the Benicia breakwater we had settled in on a close hauled course to check for sea lions sunning on buoy G25. My Cousin, Caroline, whom I hadn't seen in about 15 years was at the helm and her delightful, but nonswimmer husband, Jon was looking about for just the right spot to sit to minimize any chance of falling overboard. The port side "princess seat" was commanded by six year old, Olivia, from where she could issue commands had she known which commands to issue. A great beginning to a midweek adventure on the Carquinez Strait.

"Uh, better let me take the helm," I said as the Coasties came along side. "Good morning, Sir. Have you ever been boarded?" "Uh . . . no . . . and good morning." After granting my request to tack away from the near shore before being boarded, the skipper of the pursuit vessel backed down to leeward. "Does this happen often?" Caroline asked. Visiting from England, this might be a daily occurrence for all they knew. "Um, actually, this is my first time." "Do you have any firearms on board?!" came the next shout. "No, sir." I guess I should have checked with my guests before answering, but turned out I was correct anyway. Two men then jumped aboard--I didn't get their rank--and proceeded with the inspection. "Are you the owner?" "Registration, please." "May I see your horn?" and so on. Actually, the one doing the questioning had to refer to his official book a bit more than I would have thought. Made me nervous at the time--what question might he find in there that I wasn't ready with an answer for? Over beers later we concluded that we must have been the easy target for a training exercise. But hey, if that's what we can do to help train our Coast Guard to help keep us safe, that's cool. The two men went about their work quickly, were very polite, and just chatty enough to keep us at ease.

Inspection complete, the big orange boat came along side again and the two men jumped across. With a wave, they were off and we put Lapras back on the wind. We had a bit of work to do to climb back up to G25 having been set quite a ways to the West while hove-to, but before long we were within flipper waving range from the princess seat.

Four Successes at Whiskeytown

2009-05-29T21:35:00.000-07:00

Alrighty, Dean, I'm finally gettin' to the good stuff, the good racing stuff that is (the bad stuff probably makes for gooder blog reading.) I know you've just been dieing to know since Saturday "what I learned about the wind on the South side". And after I gave my self a lashing for being "too strategic", you must think I'm losing it--bet our call the other night didn't help much either. You see, this particular regatta was such a mix of really good and really bad that I got things confused. So here are the good things I can remember:

My first beat strategy actually paid two out of four, not just one as previously reported. (The second one was quickly forgotten as it preceded the course screw-up.) That practice session on Friday did give me the insight needed. I had found that there was significantly more pressure in a band down the South edge of the lake. Venture just a few hundred yards "offshore" and it would really drop off. On Saturday, we appeared to have the same pattern. This is why I was happy to duck starboard tack boats at the start to get to the right (South) first. In the two races Saturday, I was first and second at the top mark. I also used the extra pressure on the downwind leg of race 2 to catch one boat and almost two others after my course blunder. (This pattern was gone by Sunday, but I didn't recognize that . . .)
I was fast in light air. I was fast in light air. I was fast in light air! WooHoo. I usually suck in the light stuff. My two best finishes, a first and a second, were actually in the lightest air races. Being really diligent about good boat trim, staying quiet in the boat, and playing the sheet all the way really seemed to help.
I was fast down wind, too. A similar focus to the upwind sailing along with proper positioning relative to the fleet helped me catch a boat or two after screw-ups and hold off pursuers after the good beats. Maybe my downwind tactics are better because I'm not distracted trying to figure out the more complicated upwind strategy.
And finally, this had to be the best Fleet 3 Megabyte sailing, yet. A couple of other Megabyters made similar observations. The racing was much tighter with more mixed places than usual. I think this is the most boats, six, we've had finish all races in a regatta, and we found a new guy. Don from Lake Shasta who bought a Megabyte last year from somebody in Arizona showed up probably figuring he was going to be the only Megabyte there and subject to sailing in the open class. He was as surprised as we were. Hope to see him again soon.

Well, Huntington Lake is next. Hopefully I can create more successes and fewer screw-ups.

Thank You, Phil Bolger

2009-05-28T19:56:00.000-07:00

With great sadness, I learned yesterday that Phil Bolger had committed suicide. It's been said he "went on his own terms." That's troubling for me to try to understand, and I can't help but think he wasn't really "done", yet. After all, he was still producing some of the most deceptively innovative boat designs and continuing to share his remarkable insights through his writings. Here's the scoop.

Today, blogger Thomas Armstrong of 70.8%, a rather interesting continual boat ramble, has called for "readers who have built, bought or commissioned a Bolger boat to send me an email with your story and some photos." Although I have built four boats, none was designed by him. But, two were certainly influenced by him. After all, I've read Bolger's "Boats With an Open Mind" through and through many times studying his words carefully, skipping from chapter to chapter to compare related designs all the while thoroughly enjoying the read. Those who know Bolger know that he had a remarkable ability to make what would normally be a truly ugly boat beautiful and not just in a utilitarian way but in an absolute way. His "square boats" are perhaps the most recognizable example, but the skill shows up in other types, as well. His portfolio was particularly broad

I spent countless hours rereading his descriptions of what made good boats from flat panels--the kind easily assembled in garages from plywood, translating what I learned into creations of my own using rudimentary design software, building and testing scale models as described by "Dynamite"Payson who is responsible for teaching thousands of us how to build to Bolger's designs, and ultimately building two at full scale. The first, was a sort of box boat, warped to get the aesthetic I was after. It was commissioned by my Mom and her husband Bill to fit exactly in a virtual box, the space just behind and no higher than the roof-mounted air conditioner on their motorhome. Twelve and a half feet long, thirty inches or so wide, and fifteen inches deep. Stable with capacity for two. The result was a modifed punt.

The second boat shows the Bolger influence perhaps a bit more directly. Ironically, I ended up strip planking this boat despite its design for sheet construction and with no beveling required on account of the plumb sides. In fact, I glued up the strips in panels on the floor and then wrapped them around a jig as if they were plywood. The result was an "Electric Slipper Canoe." Dig it.

Mr. Bolger's influence will surely carry on for many years to come and thousands more will build, buy, or just noodle on the wonderful boats he designed. Bye Phil.

Four Screw-ups at Whiskeytown

2009-05-26T20:35:00.000-07:00

First, in response to Tillerman's musings on list posts, yeah, I do think they're kind of lame. Play to both the lazy blogger and the lazy reader; but whatever, I'm going to do another one anyway. Second, I'll do this in two parts. A list of lists? I suck.

So, on with the Four Screw-ups at Whiskeytown

Too much (attempted) strategy, not enough tactics: I focused too much on picking (guessing?) the best strategy for the fickle lake winds and then trying relentlessly to execute. I started each race with an all-in bet. It only paid once. Only way I recovered was to dump the ill fated strategy and start picking my way back through the fleet with a sharp tactical focus taking every opportunity as presented rather than seeking ones that really weren't there.
My starts suffered for the same reason. I kept trying to make my own start, thinking I had some kind of strategic advantage. For example, I would run the line on port ducking boats as needed to get the the right first. Would have been better to make a more tactical start, driving others back, and staying in the mix instead of committing early to what would ultimately be a bad choice. Get a strong start, hold my lane, and see how things start to play out.
I misread the course chart. Race two was one of those lake tour courses where they send you off all over the place. From the weather mark three quarters of the way up the lake we were to angle off somewhere towards the upper corner of the lake. The hand sketched "not to scale" chart wasn't much help, and small white marks were impossible to pick out at such a distance. Charles rounded first and headed off on a close reach to the corner of the lake. I pursued, but by the time we were half way cross I could tell there was no mark there. I then spied a mark up to weather. Hoping that was it, I hardened up, sailed into a nice puff, and and soon had the rest of the fleet astern. That is, until I saw Charles, now down to leeward, gybe. He had seen the class behind us, Snipes and Lasers, cutting directly across the lake on a beam reach apparently lead by some locals. Extrapolating their course, the speck of a white mark appeared along the shore half a mile dead downwind from my current location. After letting fly some salty language, I headed off to take up my position now at the back of the fleet. I manged to climb back to fourth, but that score doomed me.
I blew a close cover on the last leg of the last race giving up second place for the regatta. I had Dean to leeward when a Snipe from another class tacked right on me. As I was sucking bubbles, Dean started to get away. I chose to tack out of there and hope for the best. Bad move. Dean got into the right hand shift to the right of me and that was the end of it. In hindsight, I should have footed off out of the lee of the Snipe and down over Dean’s bow to maintain cover even if it would have put me right on top of him.

OK, enough of the ugly stuff. Good stuff in the next post . . .

Four Things My Dad Did That I'm Too Chicken To.

2009-05-23T21:18:00.001-07:00

Here you go, Tillerman.

1) Take the family cruising down the West Coast of Mexico in a thirty-two foot boat for seven weeks. Wow, what an amazing trip that was. I was about eleven or so, but still remember so many parts of it as if we did it yesterday. Would I do this with my family? Hard to imagine. Too soft. Too busy. Too I don't know.

2) Take the family (save for my sister) on the Guadalupe Island Race--a notoriously wild one. This was the three leg version: San Diego to Guadalupe, Guadalupe to Ensenada, Ensenada to San Diego. On the first leg we managed to blow out both the three quarter and the ounce and a half chutes. One just went bang, the other managed to shred itself on the masthead instruments somehow. On leg two, most of the other boats broke something and/or dropped out, and we filled the boat with so much water that I was floating in the lee quarterberth.

3) Send my son, me, 12 or 13 at the time, the smallest of the crew, up the mast to retrieve the bits of the blown out spinnaker. I made it about to the spreaders before just about crapping my pants when I looked down to see the boat swinging to and fro in the heavy seas.

4) Leave my daughter, my eighteen year old sister at the time, home alone while the rest of us were gallivanting around some rock three hundred miles offshore. Upon returning home, little brother found all the evidence of what all had happened. From stories leaked by the neighbors years later it sounds like it was quite the party.

My sister still won't say how the banana ended up smeared on the ceiling.

Worth the Drive

2009-05-23T20:49:00.000-07:00

It just felt like it was time for a road trip. Whiskeytown is three and a half hours away. It's a beautiful lake, and their annual regatta is this weekend. So I made The Drive. I made it up here early enough yesterday afternoon to get out for a practice session on the lake. 85 degrees, clear sky, clear water. truly beautiful. I sailed nearly up to the end of the lake, and on the way back, sitting comfortably in the boat downwind, I had the feeling that if I just packed it in and drove all the way back home it would still have been worth it. Just perfect.

Of course, I did stick around for the regatta, and what I learned about the wind on the South side of the lake yesterday paid off today :-)

One Sheet, Two Sheets, This Way, That Way

2009-05-21T21:57:00.000-07:00

I guess sailing a boat doesn't seem all that complicated until you try to do it in the most efficient way. I had thought through, even written down, all the various boat handling moves prior to hitting the water for our first race practice session in Lapras, but that all changed once we got into it. What had played so well in my mind just looked whacked as Dean tried to execute each maneuver on the foredeck. But no problem when you have a mechanical engineer up there. He just re-engineered the process, ran a couple of tests to check it, and then moved on to the next problem. By all was said and done, we'd switched to a 2:1 jib sheet obviating the need to fuss with the winches, extended the whisker pole considerably, changed its attaching point at the clew, and reworked the whole cane dance gybe thing.

With the Catalina 250 National Championship Regatta fast approaching, we'll need a couple more days of practice to at least feel competent if not fast. Still trying to line up an extra crew or two. If need be, Dean and I can double-hand it, but better to have help.

No practice in the big boat this weekend. Off to Whiskeytown to defend my title in the Megabyte. More on that later . . .

Rethinking Sail Shape

2009-05-12T15:36:00.000-07:00

The Megabyte has an identity crisis. No, I'm not talking about some sort of wannabe Laser complex--not worth going there. It's a case of two rigs on one boat. The Megabyte was first introduced in 2000 with a Laser-like sail--it was even designed by the same guy. OK, not exactly Laser-like with its full length top batten and cut for a much more flexible carbon mast, but not radically different either. Then, in 2007 PS 2000 introduced a new skiff-like rig for the boat with all full length battens, an even more flexible top mast, and a big fat roach (no, not that kind!). I've sailed both for a while now usually suiting up the old sail for fun and practice preserving the new sail for racing.

My initial thoughts had been that there wasn't all that much difference between the two rigs (maybe more speed downwind in light air with the new rig, but without any side by side testing hard to really tell), but that was before I saw the new coaching video that Ian Bruce put together for the Megabyte's little sister, the Byte: http://byteclass.org/ (click on "technical" link.) Watching that made me realize I was sailing the new rig in the old style. So, time to experiment and see what this new rig can really do.

I went our last Friday afternoon for some testing. My focus was on observing the sail with the traveler pulled all the way to weather and working out the mechanics of the sheet and traveler controls when tacking. I found that tacking the traveler isn't that big of a deal as long as you don't try to do everything at once--just as described by Ian in the video. As for the sail shape, yeah, sheeting to weather allows the sail to really twist, so much so that the top weather telltale is spinning circles while the lowers are streaming aft. When I'd observed this during early experiments with the sail, I thought it was a bad thing. Now, I'm not so sure. Despite the telltale direction, the leech ribbons all looked good, and the boat felt powered up and fast. I think next time I'll take a GPS with me and try to measure any speed and VMG differences between twist and no twist.

More to come . . .

But We'll Get Wet

2009-05-08T11:00:00.000-07:00

"Of course we will. We always get wet when we go sailing."

Five guys standing around the parking lot drinking beer on a rainy evening. "What, no sailing today?" I guess all they needed was a sixth to fill the third boat and make it obvious that sailing was still a good idea despite the weather. I've found that rigging and unrigging in the rain is a bit sloppy, but once out on the water, you don't even notice it coming down. Kinda weird actually.

Since the races for the night had already been called off, we decided to just go out and mess around so as not to tick off those who had packed it in and gone home. Turned out to be great fun. We had an unusual and shifty southerly whispering across the Strait and a rather strong flood. Made for some interesting tactics as we chased each other over to the Martinez Marina and back. The return trip was particularly strange. As the wind begin to wane it was nearly impossible to make any real progress out in the middle of the river. So, we footed off to the North shore where we found some current relief, maybe even a little eddy, and scooted on back to Benicia. Didn't even notice it was raining until we pulled the boats out. :-)

No Going Back?

2009-05-01T07:00:00.001-07:00

You know what they say . . . Well, I tried a trimaran last weekend . . . or, was it a skiff with training wheels? The Weta is a fourteen foot by eleven foot three-sailed fun-machine. After a quick tutorial, Dave at WetaWest let me solo this tri on Potrero Reach--my first time on any sort of multihull on any water. Three first impressions: 1) It's weird to sail a small boat without any thought of tipping it over. 2) Forget ease/hike/trim. This boat doesn't load up. With any puff, it just squirts forward. Almost makes the boat feel slow and then you look down and realize you're rippin'. 3) This fourteen footer is three feet wider than my twenty-five foot keel boat. In close quarters, wouldn't want to forget that ama is out there, but the width allows a ridiculous amount of lounging space. I found a couple of positions on the tramps that felt just like sailing from a hammock. Nice.

For what you get--a stupid-fast, fully rigged on custom dolly, ready to sail right out of the box tri-skiff thing--the Weta seems reasonably priced. But, it's still about three times what my Megabyte would sell for. Do I bite? Hmmm.

To Megabyte or Not to Megabyte

2009-04-25T09:32:00.000-07:00

Have to admit the thought of getting out of the Megabyte has crossed my mind. Is it the psychological impact of the sick economy (I'm still employed after all) or wanting to devote more sailing time to the big boat or maybe just reconsidering the kind of racing I want to do. Whichever, and until I decide, I've got some good racing planned for this Summer: Whiskeytown, family fun at Huntington Lake, and capped off with the Megabyte North Americans (10 boats would be a huge turnout, whoohoo!) in September on The Bay. The NAs is something to look forward to and at the moment is one thing keeping my interest in the boat--dedicate one more summer to improving my skills in the boat and then see what I can do. There's also the hope that having the NAs local will boost interest in the class here.

Well, either way, had a great time a week ago mixing it up with the Vanguards. I started late, kept to the edge of the course, and took wide mark roundings to avoid screwing with the boats actually racing. Still good fun and good to get some tacking and gybing practice after being out of the boat for quite a while. I was reminded that the Megabyte is a great boat to sail. Responsive, challenging, and comfortable. Maybe I'll keep it another Summer . . .

Opening Day Take Two

2009-04-22T21:02:00.000-07:00

Six eight-minute races around some weighted down hippity-hops aint much to brag about on Sir Robin Knox-Johnston day on the web, but that, plus downing a few beers and arguing about season scoring methods, is all that we accomplished for the Vanguard 15 Fleet 76 2009 Opening Day re-do (the first attempt was blown out with 40 knot gusts--Sir Robin's seen worse.) It was great to be back among a crowd of sailing friends. All were eager to get the racing started--Dean a little over eager with two over earlies to start things off--and the post-race parking lot banter picked up right where we left it when daylight wasting time put an end to last season. Should be a great new season with opportunity to improve our skills, learn the new rules (some of us are still a couple of decades behind), do a lot of yelling, teach some kids to sail, and otherwise just have a blast racing small boats. Only one can be the first to circumnavigate singlehanded nonstop, but the rest of us still can thrill from chasing our buddies around a short course to beat them by a nose at the line--nice move there, Dean.

Remembering

2009-04-20T19:24:00.000-07:00

Gee, can't remember exactly when it was we last sailed Lapras. I know it wasn't that long ago, but with a lot of other distractions lately, the memory has blurred away. Let's see. My mom and Bill were aboard. We motored East against the strong ebb in very light wind until the Easterly kicked in and whipped up a steep chop over the sand bar entering Suisun Bay. Hmmm . . . maybe I remember more of this than I thought . . . With the chop making the ride uncomfortable, we ran away with the jib poled out for a quick ebb-assisted sail home.

I remember that the last time out with me mum aboard was the day before her mum passed away. Last night, I wrote this to be read by me mum at me mum's mum memorial service this week in Manchester, England.

“Hi ya” Meant

Do you remember, “Hi ya”?
That thing Nana used to say . . . with a curl in her smile . . . a glint in her eye.

“Hi ya” meant “I’m glad to be here. I’m enjoying just being with you.”
“I’m me. You’re you, and that’s just right.” That’s what “hi ya” meant.

Sometimes the “Hi ya” was silent with just the curl and the glint to hint it was there. I’m sure that was the look she had when I first tried on the browny-greeny shorts she had made for me when I visited at the age of four. What made those shorts special was the matching marble bag she had crafted from the fabric offcuts. When I got back to the states, I was probably the only boy in the entire US of A with matching shorts and marble bag. Not something to be proud of, but I was.

“Hi ya” meant “how are you?” “I’m interested in what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling”
“Hi ya” meant “come talk to me. We have all the time in the world.”

A cup of tea, some “mmm, lovely” biscuits . . . Living half a world away, I don’t have a lot of memories of Nana, but characteristic phrases and images have stuck. Something about “me frock” or “me hat”. (Which like my shorts and bag, often matched, too.) Always loving. Always tender. Always Nana.

“Hi ya” meant “hi.”
“Hi ya” meant, “I love you.”

I remember Nana. I remember “Hi ya”.

“Hi ya,” Nana.

Little Big Dinghy

2009-04-05T20:37:00.000-07:00

"Hey watch out for us little guys out there," I chirped across to the I14 crew rigging up next to me in the parking lot after learning at the skippers meeting we'd have quite the diverse "open" class at the RYC Big Dinghy. "How long's your boat," came the reply. That's when I realized, "oh yeah, I guess my dinghy is bigger than yours." Still, an International 14 at speed with two on the wire is a scary site to a guy bobbing around in the "bigger" 14 foot, 3 inch Megabyte. All turned out well, however, and as far as I know there were no collisions among the Wetas, ICs, I14s, Lightnings, Johnson 18s, Osprey, Musto Skiff, Contenders, Wing Dinghy, Force 5, or the two Megabytes.

Mack piloted the other Megabyte, and we both got some great practice on the venue that will host the Megabyte North Americans in September. By race 4, we had a good blow with 15 to 20 knots gusting 25+. Keeping the boat up to speed to weather through the steep Bay chop was the biggest challenge. I could generally finesse the boat over two or maybe three big ones in a row, but more than that and I'd loose the rhythm and come slamming down off the top of one killing all speed. Off the wind, I was happy to keep the shiny side down, but not comfortable enough to really work the boat down the waves for maximum speed. A different feel/technique is required compared to the lakes where the Fleet 3 Megabytes usually congregate for regattas. Will need to get some more practice time in on the Bay . . .

Lapras Digs In

2009-03-21T12:22:00.000-07:00

Well, Dean and I finally got Lapras out for a higher wind test sail. Previously, 5 to 10 knots is about all we'd experienced with the new boat, and given some of the reports of how relatively tender these Catalina 250s are, I was eager to see what she would do. The nearest wind station trend shows that we were facing 20 knots gusting 25. Didn't seem that heavy, but it did have us on our ear a couple of times. The boat handled great. I'd read reports of Lapras' sisterships spinning out of control when they get past a certain angle of heel. We sheeted in hard and let her lay over past 35 degrees, and she just kept punching forward. Yeah, loaded up the helm a bit, but never felt like a wipe-out was imminent. Nice. Thirty-five degrees isn't particularly fast, though, nor comfortable; so, we tied in a reef (new dual line jiffy reef works great!), settled her down, and kept chuggin' West.

As the sun dipped near the horizon, the wind eased up. We shook the reef out, turned back up river, and had a beautiful evening run for home.

Overall pretty happy with how Lapras handled a decent blow. Still, a few minor tweaks to add to the project list: put a couple more turns on the lower shroud turnbuckles to take the sag out of the mast, rig an adjustable backstay to take the sag out of the forestay, and overhaul the main halyard clutch so it doesn't slip.

It's all relative

2009-03-03T18:54:00.000-08:00

A recent post about going nowhere, but fast, by my fellow sailing blogger over at Love and Coconuts (love that name) reminded me that I hadn't yet shared the latest sailing outing on my local river. I'd been off the boat for a month what with bad weather and other commitments; so with a Friday forecast break in the weather I put the call out for would be crew hoping to find at least one person not wanting (or needing) to work that day. Joel answered the call and by two o'clock we were sailing, I mean pointing, upwind upriver bucking a max ebb. "I think I'll just crack off and duck that barge." "Uh, never mind, we ain't gonna get anywhere near it." With a wind speed on par with the current, we merely crabbed our way cross river relative to the land, and the barge. Our "tack" at the deep water side of the river resulted in another hundred yard loss. We were scooting through the water and going backwards. We were sailing and that's always better than working.

As I have one of those tank atop screwy things that O Docker describes, I wasn't too worried about progress, and we turned downriver downwind towards what looked like a stronger breeze. Now, I should describe the venue just west of Benicia. First Street bottoms out at a point around which the river hooks slightly North with the silt accumulating beyond in what otherwise looks like a beautiful open body of water. Check the charts and you'll see that you could get out and walk. Or, go clamming or something. After getting flushed halfway past this wide spot, and not finding the wind we'd seen prior, we decided to poke our nose back into it and see what we could do. Well after about three hitches of that and three times within anchor chucking distance of the same channel marker I was ready to fire up the iron breeze and bust out another beer. But Joel, the one was-be crew who doesn't need to work stopped me short and hollered, "Hey, let's bang the beach and see if we can make it." "OK, let's try it." We tacked back and headed for the shoals with a watchful eye on the sounder. "Four feet under the keel. That's enough for me," and we tacked back out into deep water and current. After a couple of tries at this and still no progress, my confidence in the sounder and trust that silt behind a point lays down in a nice smooth arc led us to progressively go farther on each successive hitch until we were tacking within a foot and a half of literally banging the beach. That was the ticket, and with a couple of lucrative wind shifts we were soon skirting the two foot contour and riding a nice eddy back home. And, busting out that beer--Joel will know what I mean.

Mom's Still Got It.

2009-01-13T16:49:00.000-08:00

Bad knee and all she hopped aboard and couldn't wait to get out into open water. Only little puffs of wind coming in from the East, but with 70 degree temps (in January!) we couldn't complain. "This is just lovely," she remarked as she put the helm down and brought Lapras up onto the wind. It's been years since she's done that, but you'd never know.

That was Saturday. This morning, Mom called with sad news: 99 years, one last cup of tea, and her mother, my dear Nana, drifted off to be with the Lord.

We love you Nana.

Farewell to Mothra

2009-01-13T16:18:00.001-08:00

Well, Mothra went on down the road to Santa Cruz
today with a happy new owner. I had a lot of fun with that boat and
satisfaction from fixing her up and getting her sailing again. She
was just the right boat to introduce sailing to the family in a
relatively low cost, low risk way. Turns out, the family really liked
it. You know what happened next--Lapras is here.

Sailing buddy, Dean, wanted to know if I need to change the address on this blog now. Nah, Mariner #1460 was the boat that got me back into sailing again and sharing these small boat adventures with family and friends.

Farewell, Mothra!

Does she look upset with me?

One More Best Day?

2008-12-30T17:53:00.000-08:00

Is it OK to have two best days? Maybe it was the peace after motoring for an hour and a half. Maybe it was just the break from Christmastime frenzy. Or maybe it was the memories of pottering about Alamitos Bay with my young bride. Whichever, the first time in many years sailing alone with Kecia has to count as a best day. With the kids safely tucked away at Gung Gung and Po Po's, we ventured out into a strong flood tide aboard Lapras, and perhaps suffering from the need for some kind of year-end accomplishment, we set the goal of making it to the Carquinez Bridge and back. Wind and tide conspiring against us meant we would have to motor the three and three quarter nautical miles to pass below the new span. A nice little trek, actually, out past the old C&H suger plant, and the feeling of busting out of the Strait and kissing the waters of San Pablo Bay made it worth it, I guess. With the day wearing on, however, it was time to spin around and motor back up the Strait. Now with the current at our backs and the cold East wind at our faces, we made quick but very chilly time. "You know, we had better shut the motor down and unfurl the jib so that we can say we went sailing today," I said as we pulled abeam of Port Costa. 20 seconds later, the engine was off, jib unfurled, and peace was found.

As we approached Benicia Point the wind "built" to about four knots. Added to the nearly two knot flood we had enough wind for a gurgling wake. And that was it--not another sound on the Strait this chilly weekday day.

Best Day

2008-12-16T18:14:00.000-08:00

At last count, I'd sailed 30 days this year--a little better than once every two weeks. Now with just two weeks left in the year and waiting for a break in the rain to get out again, I'm thinking back on the best days sailing in 2008. It's been a good year, really, with great days on Mothra, Feraligatr (the Megabyte), Dean's Vanguard (Moe), Lappy the dory skiff, and the new Catalina 250, Lapras.

So, which was most memorable, most 'worthwhile'? Was it the racing? Bay Champs with Dean, winning my first regatta in almost 30 years, returning to the High Sierra Regatta after 20 something years? All great days in their own way, but not the best. No, the ones that make me tingle just thinking about them were just simple days out sailing with family and friends, the best of which came in my favorite time of year, late Summer. The return of Mothra was a turning point in the year reminding me that sailing with family is one of the greatest joys in life. Then a couple weeks later piling on three more to make seven might just have been the best of all days, certainly the most crowded. I called it perfect at the time. The weather was great, the scenery fun, and everybody had a good time. The best day in the Megabyte was also a day out with friends. Dean and I grew up with Mitch on the same street, but I can't remember if we'd ever sailed with him before. Well, we did this year, and is was a blast. Two in the Vanguard and one in the MB chasing each other all over the Carquinez Straight. Fun! Definitely the best video of the year.

But the best of all? Just a couple of weeks ago . . . one hour in the smallest boat with barely enough wind to push it . . . the eleven foot dory skiff that's been in the stable longer than any other--since I built her in 1997 . . . and my boy who a few weeks earlier, in tears, talked me into not selling her, at the helm. Iain has steered boats before, but this was the first time he really sailed one. He took the mainsheet in hand and trimmed the sail as naturally as he handles the tiller. Unlike previous times, he didn't want to give the controls back or turn back early.

He was sailing his boat.

First Sail Redo

2008-11-22T09:24:00.001-08:00

A couple of weeks back, I reported on our first official family outing on the new boat. While certainly not matching what one might envision as the perfect day on the water, it was none the less a day on the water and as a few of my readers have reminded me, that's more perfect than most days. Well, we made up for it this past weekend with a proper perfect day on the water--in November no less. The high pressure that settled in over the West last week gave us an extra week of summer-like temperatures mixed with anti-Summer-like light easterly winds. Perfect for a comfortable crawl against the flood tide with the jib poled out and a quick current-assisted beat home.

Notables from this day:

Managed to get the boat out of our awkward end slip without scaring ourselves. The trick is to be patient and wait for the boat to fully pivot after shoving off the dock before applying power with the outboard.
Sail handling was more comfortable as I'm finding the rhythm of this boat's mass and loads. I have a few thoughts for rigging improvements, but overall things work pretty darn well in the as-built configuration.
Iain continues to amaze me with his natural feel for the helm. "Would you take the helm and steer for that hill over there?," is all the instruction needed.
We have some very nice new nextslip neighbors in the Marina. They have a 20-something foot outboard powered dory cabin skiff thingy. Pretty nice looking little cruiser, actually. Just returning from a two night trip to Angel Island. Turns out they are long time sailors who recently decided on a stint with a power boat (yeah, kinda weird timing for that.) I'll have to invite them out for a sail sometime.

Oh, and the boat has a new name:

Now that would be a crazy party!

2008-11-18T20:22:00.000-08:00

I've never considered myself to be all that into heroes. Impressed with certain human endeavors, yes. Respectful of great accomplishment, of course. I just don't recall ever saying, "so-and-so is my hero." OK, Tillerman didn't say we had to invite our heroes to dinner, but as I've been thinking these past few days about who would be on my sailor or sailors, living or dead, real or fictional dinner party list I started to realize that I might just have quite a long list of sailing heroes. As the list grew, I also realized that this would likely be one totally out of control bunch. Party on!

Despite having grown up in Southern California I've never sailed a beach cat or surfed standing up (I do it Obama style). Still, I have to have Hobie Alter on the list as a serial water sport innovator.
OK, I guess some have disputed that he wrote the book by himself, but he certainly sailed the boat on his own. Wouldn't it be great to have Joshua Slocum at the party? No, really.
While we're talking authors, let's invite Richard Henry Dana Jr. Now that dude had some stories to tell!
Olin Stevens, William Garden, L. Francis Herreshoff (yeah, I like his stuff better than his dad's), Joel White (let's invite his more famous dad, too), and Phil Bolger. Hmmm, that's an eclectic bunch and I go through stages every year or so of who's my favorite. As of this moment, Mr. Garden gets the nod (Dang, that's a bad pun.) And what the heck, I love boat design so much that I'm inclined to invite a few more designers. Let's include Bill Lapworth (after all, I spent 18 years of my life sailing aboard his Dasher design) and Bill Tripp (amazing how good he could make an ugly boat look.)
Whoa, almost forgot C. Raymond Hunt. For all his contributions maybe he deserves his own bullet. Doesn't it seem unnatural for one person to be responsible for the 110 (another amazing beautiful ugly boat feat), the Boston Whaler, the deep-V power boat hull, and my favorite 12 meter--Easterner (or News Boy as I new her as a boy-huh?)
I was in the junior program with him at BYC when we knew him as Nicky "Scandonee". Now Nick Scandone is an Olympic champion, and dying. We're almost exactly the same age. He's done so much already. Inspiring and sad.
Edward Teach. I don't really know why. Certainly wouldn't call him a "hero", but a guy with his beard on fire has got to spark some kind of dinner conversation, no?
My Dad. One of the great things about my dad was that he never showed a hint of fear. Looking back now, I can remember some sailing circumstances that should have been absolutely terrifying for me yet seemed perfectly normal like the time 150 miles off the coast of Mexico with the bilge so full of water that I floated up out of my lee side quarter berth every time the boat rolled over a wave. My dad had a way of staying in complete control (or at least giving the impression that he was) and keeping the crew's confidence high. We just pumped the bilge and kept on pounding our way to a first place finish in the Guadalupe Race.
And finally, I would have to invite my longtime sailing buddy, Dean. It seems all my sailing adventures have involved him in some way. As interests and circumstances change independently we keep connecting back together for a new chapter in the sailing life.

Looking back over this list, I see that many of these heroes are dead. Perhaps those living wouldn't accept my invitation to dinner, but that doesn't have to stop me from reaching out to tell them how much I appreciate what they've done.

Expect More

2008-11-18T09:24:00.000-08:00

With all the new boat activity, some travel, and a bunch of other stuff, I'd only managed to get the Megabyte wet once since High Sierra. I certainly wasn't well prepared, then, for the annual Turkey Shoot regatta hosted by Lake Washington Sailing Club the weekend before last. No matter; I had to get out there as this regatta represented coming full circle on my first year racing a singlehanded dinghy since I was a teenager. Prior to the racing, I reflected back on my experience on Huntington Lake. I had determined that my performance had been most hampered by poor starts and generally pathetic first beats putting me too far back to have any hope of catching the leaders. So, I set the expectation that I would focus my energy on getting off the line with speed, finding just the right height/speed groove, and making good decisions up the first leg.

Well, guess what? It worked. I was first around the top mark in each of the first three races. the problem was that in only one of those three races did I manage to hold onto the lead. In the other two, I managed to find other ways to screw up and dropped to third. Dang. Maybe I should expect to win every leg? hmmm . . . That used to work when I was a competitive runner. I would visualize every detail of the race from a quick start all the way through to a strong finish. Then I just had to replay it for the real event.

How much of winning is simply expecting it?

Better than the Hornet

2008-11-13T21:02:00.000-08:00

I was about to say that last Thursday was the first time that I had slept on a boat in some 20 years, but then I remembered our overnight adventure on the USS Hornet the year before last (Yeah, it was on that same ship that the Apollo 11 astronauts had their first earthbound snooze following their space cruise.) Well, enough about the Hornet, this is about sleeping on the new boat. Just about froze my buns off but overall quite comfy, especially compared to a WW II aircraft carrier. The best part? The morning. As the sun rose up over Mt. Diablo it flickered yellow in through the companionway. A pot of water on the stove and I soon had nice cup of coffee to warm my hands. All was dead quiet in the Marina, and from my end slip I could see out across the old railroad berm and onto the river. Still water, crisp air, beautiful.

Update: just realize this blog post trailed off into some blissful whatever, and I forgot to mention that we actually got out for a nice sail that day, too. After warming up a bit, I got to work on the boat installing a track and car on the mast to support the new whisker pole. Dean came down to visit a bit later and convinced me that we needed to go out and test it. We did. It worked great.

Mabye Just a Little Thing

2008-10-28T18:07:00.000-07:00

Hmmm, I wordled my blog:
Or, Clearly Like a Family Racing Boat?

First Sail?

2008-10-25T21:44:00.000-07:00

Hardly worth recording the event as we had more current than wind on the Strait today. Still, had a nice little motor cruise up to the Benicia Bridge and back and lunch aboard in the marina.

We Done and Gone It

2008-10-16T19:54:00.000-07:00

Mothra is officially ticked especially since I started salvaging some of the equipment off of her for the Catalina 250 we brought home last week. Yep, new (used) boat.

With help from Dean and Marcel we stepped the mast and launched her Sunday afternoon. All went well if a bit slow as we checked and double checked everything. Yes, I did remember the masthead fly! We put her in at the steeper of the two Benicia ramps--only had to kiss the water with the rear axle on my truck to get the boat to float. After splashdown, we motored up the Straits to the marina and tucked her into her new berth.
So what's next? I missed the Tillerman's bucket list writing project; so, how about a "fun things to do with a new boat" list?

Teach the family how to really sail, to be able to handle the boat without me.
Go cruising!: Up the Delta for the 4th, marina hopping, Ayala Cove, the same fun places that I went when I was a wee little dude on the family boat.
In general, just enjoy sailing a really comfortable boat that isn't simultaneously a restoration project.
Do a little PHRF racing: maybe The Delta Ditch, a beer can or two, Vallejo Cruise, Three Bridge Fiasco, fun stuff like that. And hey, I think the Catalina 25/250/Capri 25 Nationals are going to be on the Bay next year!
Occasionally venture away from home waters. At 4200 lbs., I wouldn't call this thing a trailer-sailor, but it is trailer-able. A week on Monterey Bay would be nice or maybe haul her all the way to Newport Beach and help Dean cross off a bucket list item--sail to Catalina.

Don't Tell Mothra

2008-10-03T06:29:00.000-07:00

I've had my eyes on another girl. There, I said it. Even when my mother asked me about it a few nights ago (scary how mothers can sense these things), I flat out denied it. I feel so ashamed. It's time to be open and honest about my passion, my desires, my needs. blabber, blubber, blah, blah, blah. Enough drama.

It seems a photo from a recent outing aboard Mothra caused me to reflect on why I sail anyway, how I purchased Mothra, and what comes next. Mothra was picked up as a low investment fixer-upper with which to tryout this sailing thing with the family. If the kids had hated it, no big loss. Well, two years later it's clear that we all like sailing and are starting to imagine other fun things to do with a boat like some cruising up the delta or even just camping out at the marina Saturday night, and that leads to dreams of more comfortable floating accommodations.

Mothra, an O'Day Mariner, is a fantastic day sailor with a little cabin we can squeeze into. In fact, this is exactly what George O'Day had in mind when he sculpted a new deck mold for the successful Phillip Rhodes designed R-19. If it were just one or two of us headed out for a nice cruise (like these folks), it might be perfect, but 4 is pushing it, especially when two of them are sleeping over the potti. So, time to consider making the step up from a day sailor that one could sleep on to a proper little cruiser that a small family can still easily manage.

Recently, we've looked at one of these Catalina 250's, and the family seems quite excited:

The Racecourse is No Place for Schizophrenia

2008-09-30T18:09:00.000-07:00

I have to wonder if this is somehow related to that "what would Ben do?" thing, maybe the opposite of it. Good sailors know what they need to do, adjust that to what they can do, and then execute, maybe pushing the limits a bit. Through our haphazard Vanguard 15 foray into PHRF racing last week I learned that it is also very important to make your intentions clear to others. Being the dedicated bunch of dinghy sailors who launch every Friday night just down the other end of the marina from Benicia Yacht Club apparently we'd been casually invited to join in the BYC Thursday night beer can races, but (apparently) unbeknownst to that night's race committee. Or, maybe they had figured we'd join in some way other than showing up with our own boats? :-) In any event, the race committee wasn't keen on having us officially entered (something about "liability"), but they hinted that if we were to happen to cross the starting line they wouldn't try to stop us. In my opinion, that was the beginning of a bad idea.

In order to avoid messing with those officially racing, we chose to start one minute after the first class (the slowest of three) and get well clear of the line before the next class started four minutes later. This maneuver plus the fact that not all of our class chose to cross the line "properly" was the beginning of the confusion we caused for all the real racers. "What are those little boats doing out here? They're not racing are they?" I believe this contributed to a couple of right of way incidents following. The first was a simple port/starboard thing except the 15 foot Vanguard on starboard, not wanting to mess with the real racers, attempted to relinquish it's rights to the 33 foot keelboat on port. This just confused the big boaters and it got messy ending in shouts of "Hey, we're racing here!" and "So are we! (sort of)" The second was a clear leeward mark overlap case again with the 15 footer with rights over the really big boys from class A who had by now caught all the slow boats ahead. With an appropriate amount of yelling, the little guys likely could have defended their position without incident, but being insecure about the not-really-racing thing, they just bailed out and didn't bother rounding the mark. OK, still might have been the right thing to do, but I wonder if our big boat friends would have shown a bit more respect for us had it been clear that we were racing just like them.

I hope the nice folks at BYC invite us out again, but I somehow doubt it.

Megabyte Mk II Reaching Fun

2008-09-16T06:24:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Mitch scribbling on my Facebook wall, we got out for a little fun time in the racing boats. No high intensity short course racing stuff, just a Vanguard 15 and a Megabyte Mk II chasing each other across Carquinez Strait, stopping in for a blow in Martinez, then down around the mothball fleet only to get chased off by the floating rent-a-cop. A good breeze made for some fast reaching fun. After our Martinez stop, I swapped places with Dean. First time in the Megabyte for him, and he looked like a champ.

It was great to have Mitch along. I could tell that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. It's hard to sail fast and catch up on old times at the same time, but it was all good and leaves me eager to get back out there again soon. Seeing each other once every year or two is clearly not enough.

7 Humans in a 19 Foot Boat -- Perfect

2008-09-10T19:45:00.000-07:00

Well, after not having Mothra in the water for 11 months, she's now gotten wet twice in 9 days. This time, she faithfully carried three adults and 4 happy kids for a trip down around the mothball fleet. With Dean aboard, I decided to try the bigger spinnaker. Wow, it's quite a bit broader than the old one. Turned out to be too hard to handle on the tight reach we needed to sail to get under the bridge. Should make for a great ride on a dead run, though.

All in all, a pretty nice afternoon sail with friends. I'm amazed at how many people can find a comfortable place to sit on such a small boat. It's also nice to have such a variety of places to sit and enjoy the ride. Down in the cabin, standing through the foredeck hatch, to leeward with the water sloshing by a few inches away, atop the cabin, on the weather coaming, all the way aft, . . .

Feeling the Start

2008-09-03T09:37:00.003-07:00

Trying to get caught up on the sailing log here, and I have to admit that I'm a week and a half behind--not that my bevy of global readers would know anyway. Come to think of it how would anybody know if this blog were really all just made up? If it were fiction, would it still be a blog? Sorry, so much chatter about social computing at work these days, it's starting to mess with my humble blog.

OK, what was I was going to log here? Oh yeah, Fleet 76 a Friday and a half ago--the last one for me before the Benicia boys shutdown for the season? Starting among other aggressive sailors was the learning opportunity of the night. Key learning: don't get to the line too early thinking you can just sit there and defend your spot (especially with a strong current running.) With the small fleet, there was plenty of room to maneuver around, and the aggressive skippers who kept some speed up were able to quickly drive around--above or below--those who tried to camp at the favored end. It made me think back to a particularly poor start at Whiskeytown a couple of months back. I was really tired and just kind of lolled around until about 20 seconds before the start. I had managed to position myself at a good spot on the line, but when it came time to get serious, it seemed like I had lost all sense of timing and boat speed. I was late crossing the line, in a funk up the first beat, and last around the top mark. Intellectually, I had a good start planned, but brain, body, and boat had fallen out of sync. It would seem that knowing how to start was insufficient without feeling how to start.