Family Class

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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.