Three Sheets Northwest » Boats

Seattle sailors pit themselves against the raging Atlantic, Europe’s best and each other in Mini Transat

Marty McOmber — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 00:01:51 +0000

Seattle-based racing sailors Chris Tutmark and Craig Horsfield grew up half a world apart, but even as young boys, learning to maneuver their dinghies around a course, they shared a dream of someday competing in one of boating’s most extreme tests of solo endurance, the Transat 6.50.

Today, they finally get their chance.

It’s remarkable that Tutmark and Horsfield are two of only six skippers from outside the European Union allowed to compete in this year’s Transat 6.50, a solo, small boat race across the Atlantic from Europe to Brazil.

That they are both based currently in the United States is unusual. That they both hail from Seattle is downright astonishing.

“This is a race that only 20 Americans have finished,” said Tutmark, who Three Sheets Northwest caught up with in Ballard before he left for the starting line in France. “I’m excited and a little nervous, since it is a step into the unknown.”

Horsfield shares Tutmark’s feelings about the race. “This is where all the good single-handed sailors have come from,” he said by phone from France, where he was putting the finishing touches on his boat. “It must be the right place to start.”

The Transat 6.50—known more commonly as the Mini Transat—has inspired that mixture of awe and anxiety since it was first held in 1977. Every two years since then, some of the world’s best sailors have tested their mental and physical endurance by pushing themselves and their boats to the limit across some 4,200 miles of open ocean. Besides the single-handed sailing, what makes this competition so challenging is that the boats can be no longer than 6.5 meters, or about 21 feet—thus the term “mini.”

The 2009 Transat 6.50 course.

This year’s course will take the fleet of 84 boats from the Bay of Biscay to Madeira Island and then on to Salvador de Bahia in Brazil, a stretch of the Atlantic that can offer navigational challenges and wildly different types of weather conditions, from trade winds to the doldrums.

It’s no wonder that the Mini Transat has produced some of the best racing sailors in the world and is a incubator for the big leagues of solo sailing, racing Open 60s.

The Mini Transat was envisioned as a relatively affordable alternative to the increasingly expensive, and professional, world of open ocean racing. The small size of the boats helps keep costs down. Boats are also divided into two divisions—production and prototype. Prototype boats are free to use new technologies, such as canting keels and carbon fiber rigs, while the larger production division must stick to approved designs that help limit expenses and even the playing field.

It was, in part, the relatively low cost of competition that allowed both Horsfield and Tutmark to dive into the race.

“It was something the average guy could afford and still push the limits of technology without having to have a lot of money,” Tutmark said.

Both Tutmark and Horsfield have been fixtures in the Puget Sound racing scene for years, although they took very different routes arriving there.

A crane prepares to splash Tutmark's boat.

Tutmark is a local boy who cut his racing teeth in the Seattle Corinthian Yatch Club’s youth sailing program. He joined the University of Washington’s sailing team while working on a degree in international economics. But instead of putting his schooling to work, he discovered a talent for rigging. That eventually led him to start his own company, Tutmark Rigging, which caters mostly to the local racing community.

He remembers first reading about the Mini Transat in the late 1970s and being intrigued. But it wasn’t until Northwest sailing legend Jonathan McKee nearly won the 2003 race (a rigging failure just 500 miles for the finish scuttled his bid) that Tutmark began thinking seriously of entering.

“I’m not doing it for glory,” Tutmark said. “It’s just something I want to do.”

Horsfield, too, grew up sailing. But his proving grounds were in the waters near his home in Cape Town, South Africa. A software engineer, he was recruited by Microsoft and moved to Seattle about a decade ago. He soon bought an Olson 30 and joined the local racing scene around Shilshole Bay.

In the Northwest, Horsfield found a community of competitors and craftsmen who helped him hone his racing skills and prepare for the grueling Transat race.

“Sailing my Olson 30 helped quite a bit,” he said. “The people you meet here are great. There are a lot of good sailors (in the Northwest) who help you get through the challenges. When I came to Europe, people were surprised that a foreigner could show up and be competitive. Everything about my campaign has been Northwest.”

Craig Horsfield's put his Mini Transat boat through its pre-race paces.

Tutmark and Horsfield have known each other for about 10 years, having met at local racing events. The two described their relationship as a “friendly rivalry,” both happy to help the other prepare for the Mini Transat race, but still planning to compete hard when the racing gets underway.

“Off the water, we are friends and we will help each other other. If he has an electronics problem, I will help him. If I have a rigging problem, he’ll help me,” Horsfield said.

Techncially, the two will be competing in different divisions. Tutmark’s boat is considered a prototype, because fewer than 10 of them have been built. Still, the use of standard equipment and the lack of cutting edge technologies means the boat is better suited for racing in the production division, and Tutmark plans to measure his success against that group.

His French-designed Nacira 6.5 is nearly half as wide as it is long, giving it a very boxy shape that is typical for the Mini Transat.

“My boat, in terms of hull shape, doesn’t look dissimilar to a Volvo 70,” Tutmark said. “It is stable as it heels over, which means you can carry a lot of sail.”

Tutmark took ownership of the boat in April, and has spent much of the time since then in Europe completing the various solo passages and offshore races required to compete in the Mini Transat.

“Overall the boat has been performing really well,” he said. “I’m very happy with it.”

View from the cockpit of Chris Tutmark's boat during one of the Mini Transat qualifying events.

Horsfield, who originally hoped to sail in the 2007 Mini Transat, has had more time to prepare himself and his boat for the challenge ahead. His Spanish-built, French-designed Zero is considered part of the production division. After taking delivery of the boat in late 2006 he had it shipped back to Seattle, where he worked with local businesses such as CSR Marine to get it ready for the race.

“I spent 50 percent of the time working on the boat and 50 percent sailing,” Horsfield said. “The boat has to be perfect for the Transat. It has to be strong, and you have to know it backwards.”

As the race approached, both men expressed confidence that their boats were ready to go. The remaining question each one had to grapple with was—are they? Tutmark and Horsfield said perhaps the toughest part of the race is the mental and physical toll it takes as each of the 4,200 miles pass under the keel. Sailing solo means very little sleep. In the middle of the ocean, sailing hard in a 21-footer, anything can go wrong.

“The mental aspect is the biggest part, in the end,” Horsfield said. “It is not about going very, very fast; it is about making good averages. But that can be hard to do when you haven’t slept for four days, you start hallucinating and the boat goes all over the palce.”

Craig Horsfield says mental preparation is key to completing the race.

Tutmark has gone so far as trying to limit his sleep to just two hours at a stretch to get himself mentally and physically prepared for the race. Asked if people think he is crazy to sink so much time and money into such a risky effort, he shrugged. “Probably a little. But I like a challenge.”

“It’s been an amazing adventure so far, and an amazing adenture yet to come,” Tutmark said.

Horsfield ageed.

“In hindsight, when you know how hard it is and the amount of money and time it requires, I wouldn’t do it,” he chuckled. “But once I commit to something and something tells me not to do it, I go all in.”

And when it comes to the Mini Transat, “all in” is what it takes.

You can follow both campaigns online: Craig Horsfield Racing and Chris Tutmark’s blog, USA 724-Mini.

Slideshow | Passion for the past draws crowds to Port Townsend festival

Marty McOmber — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 02:37:30 +0000

For at least a few days, Port Townsend might as well have been the center of the universe for wooden boat lovers.

And if there was any questions about whether the 33rd annual Wooden Boat Festival would draw an even bigger crowd than usual, it evaporated in the Saturday morning sunshine as a line of people waiting to get in stretched for more than a block down Water Street, the main thoroughfare through town.

Festival director Kaci Cronkhite, greeting visitors on her boat, Pax, said attendance at the festival, which typically draws about 20,000 people, was around 15 percent higher this year. Indeed, throughout the day, the docks at Point Hudson Marina seemed to groan under the weight of the throngs of wooden boat fans. At times, the boards heeled like the decks of the classic schooners sailing just outside the breakwater in the afternoon’s building breeze.

It was, by all measures, a picture perfect weekend. Boat owners proudly recounted restoration projects and sailing adventures. Experts on a wide range of boating-related topics spoke to large and engaged audiences. Music poured from the large tent. It was a testament to a well-organized festival that has rightfully grown into one of the best maritime events on the west coast, and quite possibly, the entire country.

Two snotters to the wind: sailing the Admirable no simple task

Gregory Roberts — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 22:39:54 +0000

I was introduced to the Bristol Bay gillnetter Admirable in the long, lingering twilight of a balmy midsummer evening in 2008. I’d like to report that it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but my encounters with the Admirable have been more complicated than that, by turns challenging, frustrating, rewarding and even embarrassing—kinda like some human relationships I’ve had.

The Admirable is part of the fleet of historic vessels at the Center for Wooden Boats in Seattle. After volunteering for several years at the center as a dockhand, assisting with rentals of Blanchard Jr. Knockabouts, Beetle Cats and other small daysailers—mostly to earn free sailing time in the boats for myself—I got an email from the center asking if anyone was interested in learning to skipper the Admirable. She could then provide free rides to the public at the upcoming Wooden Boat Festival over July 4th weekend, and on Sundays year-round.

That sounded like fun to me. I knew nothing about the boat but I liked the idea of earning sailing time by actually sailing, instead of by tending dock lines for other sailors. Plus, I thought “Capt. Greg” had a nice ring to it.

Eric, the center’s young, blond, always barefoot rental manager, met me at the dock to teach me the Admirable’s ways. Any notion that she would be like the easy-to-sail pleasure craft in the center’s rental fleet was quickly dispelled when Eric showed me how to rig the boat.

To begin with, the Admirable is a working boat. A 32-foot double-ended open catboat built around 80 years ago with oak frames, cedar planks and fir decks, it was based on a design that originated in San Francisco in the 1860s. The earliest boats were used for gillnetting salmon in the Sacramento River. When those stocks were depleted, fishermen took the boats north to the Columbia River and eventually to Bristol Bay in Alaska.

Until 1952, motors were not allowed in the salmon fishery on Bristol Bay. Depending what source you consult, that measure was intended either to protect the salmon population or as means for the canneries, which owned the boats, to suppress economic independence on the part of the fisherman. In any case, that helped preserve the wooden boats used there. The Admirable bears the A.P.A. marking of the Alaska Packing Association and the lettering NN for Naknek, a fishing village on Bristol Bay.

Each boat carried a crew of two men, who would fish until the boat was full—with up to 10 tons of salmon—and then head in to unload their catch. The men brought a cook stove aboard to prepare meals and often pitched a tent on the tiny foredeck to sleep in. The work was hard and dangerous, with strong winds and currents, shoals and mud flats to contend with, and not every fisherman made it back.

Gill nets hang in the water like a curtain, suspended from floats at the surface and stretched down by weights at the bottom. Once the net was played out, the boat would simply drift with it. Encountering the net, salmon would try to swim through it, but could get only partway through because of the mesh; when they tried to back out, the net would snare them by the gills, until the fisherman hauled in their net and dumped their catch in the boat.

Back to Eric and me on the dock. Most boats I’ve sailed carry a triangular mainsail stretched between the mast and a boom that is permanently attached to the mast near the deck. But not the Admirable. Its big, four-sided main is spread from a short, unstayed mast by a boom and also by a sprit, a second spar that angles up to the peak of the sail above and aft of the mast top.

Neither the boom nor the sprit is permanently fixed to the mast. Instead, each is held in place at its mast end by something called a snotter: a line-and-block contraption that clips onto a metal staple on the mast and is threaded through a groove in the end of the spar, and then cleated off to hang from the mast. The other end of each spar is attached to the sail: the boom, by a simple rope loop at the lower back end (clew) of the main; the sprit, by a line from the peak that is run through a pulley at the end of the sprit to extend the sail.

Needless to say, rigging the Admirable is no simple task, and it takes two people to do it. As to why the boat carries such a strange rig, the best explanation I can come up with is that the setup allowed the fishermen to strike the entire rig quickly (as is done when the boat docks at the center). At sea, while drifting with the net or hauling in the catch, the fishermen could lash the boom and sprit to the mast and bag the sail, leaving them free to work on deck without worrying about all that stuff getting in the way.

Once rigged, the Admirable doesn’t exactly sail like an America’s Cup contender: She’s a garbage truck to the Miatas and Mini Coopers of the daysailers. Like most catboats, carrying a single sail on a mast set well forward, she doesn’t point upwind very well. She wants, to, though, and if you’re not careful, she’ll ease into the wind from a close reach and stall—not a sail-flapping, dead-into-the-wind stall, but a stall nonetheless. Nor does she tack readily, especially with a full load of passengers forward, where the seats are. And here’s the beauty part: She doesn’t like to fall off the wind, either. Fortunately, she’s equipped with oars and oarlocks.

My initial sail aboard the Admirable went fine. In a light to moderate breeze, with only two of us on board, she handled OK, if not exactly nimbly. With the wind from the south, docking her was pretty easy. And most of my subsequent voyages, skippering the Admirable on hour-long public sails on Lake Union, have been similarly uneventful.

But not all.

With the need to focus so much on properly rigging the boat, it’s easy to overlook some other pre-departure considerations—like making sure the removable tiller has been reinserted in the rudder before leaving the dock. I forgot that one once; fortunately, though, I had asked a dockhand to hold onto the stern line until the boat picked up the southerly breeze and sailed away.

So it didn’t seem like a big deal to stick the tiller in its hole—although a piece of wood had somehow gotten stuck in there and had to be pried out with the knife of another dockhand—and sail off, even if the bow had swung to the east and was pointing across the narrow channel to the fancy yachts docked on the other side. It was simply a matter of turning the tiller, now properly in place, to sail to the north, downwind.

Except that the Admirable didn’t want to sail downwind. With the centerboard down—something else I overlooked—she stubbornly tried to pivot around it and head upwind: tiller, schmiller. My volunteer crewman was not quite agile enough to scramble onto the foredeck and fend us off. Fortunately, the damage was slight: Our boom scraped lightly along a yacht’s hull, and there was a bit of crinkling of a metal vent hood. Nothing too serious, though I did have to fill out an incident report at the center.

Then there was the bright, sunny Sunday with a spanking breeze from the north. I looked forward to this sail because there are times, on a beam reach in a stiff breeze, when the Admirable cracks along with satisfying alacrity. Any problem with leaving the marina was resolved when one of the center’s powerboats towed us well clear of the docks.

But sailing on the open lake was another matter. Twice the boat got stuck in irons in the middle of a tack. On one of those occasions she got blown backward, toward a line of yachts docked by the shore. No doubt the passengers were deeply reassured to see Capt. Greg clambering onto the stern to fend off with his feet. The judicious application of an oar on one side of the boat served to get us back on course.

Then there was the matter of returning to the marina. The Admirable drives downwind at a good clip under that big main, which is controlled by a long sheet that runs through a pulley hung off the boom, with one end permanently wrapped around a thole pin and the other held in the hand. Streaming dead downwind toward the center’s docks, I thought it would be a good idea to take some of the power out of the sail before attempting a U-turn in tight quarters to dock her.

With my right hand on the tiller and my left holding the sheet, I attempted to sheet in the main. But I lost my grip—and in another of those pesky oversights, I had neglected to make sure to tie a stop knot in the end of the sheet. The line ran through my hand and the block, and the main, with nothing to restrain it, swung forward all the way until it was pointing straight ahead over the bow, creating a horrendous snarl of lines and blocks and spars and snotters in the process.

As my former newsroom colleagues can attest, I’ve been known to nut out over relatively minor irritants in the office. But for some reason, on the water I’m the picture of aplomb in the face of adversity. While acutely aware that the Admirable struck an embarrassing profile, I simply steered the boat in a hairpin turn—if nothing else, I had succeeded in drastically reducing the force on the sail—and pointed her upwind. With a little help from dockhands fending her off, I brought the Admirable alongside as she stalled into the wind.

With a hand from a volunteer, I untangled the rig, took it down and set it back up again it record time, ready for another skipper to take her out. And maybe I’d like more scrambled egg on the bill of my cap and less on my face, but we didn’t hit anything and nobody was hurt—which adds up to success in my book. As for those smirking sailors in their simple Marconi-rigged sloops, all I say is, well, look out!

Gregory Roberts is a sailor and freelance writer based in Seattle.

Small boat builders with big ambitions gather for first Home Built Boats Weekend

Deborah Bach — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 19:49:01 +0000

Built your own boat, dreaming about constructing a floating masterpiece or just curious about boat building techniques?

If so, Home Built Boats Weekend is for you.

The event is being held at The Center for Wooden Boats in Seattle this weekend and will bring together more than 30 boat builders and their boats and offer two days of seminars, skills demonstrations and discussions with seasoned builders and instructors.

Attendees can learn about a variety of construction methods, from traditional lapstrake to carvel, glued lapstrake, strip construction, plywood and skin-on-frame.

Organizer Tim Yeadon said he put together the inaugural event to provide a venue for the small boats that aren’t as well-represented at the center’s annual Lake Union Wooden Boat Festival, which includes some boats longer than 100 feet.

“There’s a big community of small boat owners out there that I knew would respond to this,” Yeadon said.

“It’s the ultimate symposium. It’s your peers. You can go and talk to them about, ‘How did you do this? Where did you source the wood? What method did you use?’”

Karl Bischoff and his 15-foot Whitehall dory, Leslie Jean, which was 10 years in the making.

For his part, Yeadon is excited about seeing up close how other boat builders tackled the same issues he grappled with when building his own boat. “I can’t wait to go climb around these boats, look under the thwarts and see how they solved problems,” he said.

Speakers include experienced boat builder Eric Hvalsoe, who will talk about the traditional lapstrake method and demonstrate clench nailing and riveting. Professional boatwright Pat Ford will explain the “roll and tip” paint application methodology and discuss finish work for amateurs.

Sam Devlin and Mark Bunzel will answer questions about their new kit-built design, the Candlefish 16. Amateur boat builder turned pro James McMullen will talk about building his first 50 boats, and Lawrence W. Cheek will discuss his new book, “The Year of the Boat,” about the construction of his Devlin-designed 13-foot Zephyr.

The weekend will feature watercraft ranging from 10-foot runabouts to 19.6-foot yawls. There are shanty boats and pygmy kayaks, dinghies, beach cruisers and canoes. Some will be built traditionally, others will be constructed from kits and still others may use a hybrid of building methods. The event’s two female boat builders, Holly Glaser and Diane L’Heureux, will be showing off their hand built baidarkas, an Aleutian style skin-on-frame kayak.

As individual as the boats is the motivation for building them. For some owners, boat building is prompted by economic necessity: they simply can’t afford to buy a manufactured boat. Others are traditionalists who find appeal in the simplicity and craftsmanship of small, streamlined boats. Some see boat building as an enticing challenge to be tackled.

Sid Skiff, built by Mike Corcoran, will be among more than 30 boats on display at Home Built Boats Weekend.

The desire to build his own boat stirred in Yeadon during a watershed period in his life. A lifelong boater who grew up exploring Puget Sound with his parents and brother on a 17-foot runabout, Yeadon quit his job as a newspaper reporter in North Carolina and moved back to Seattle a few years ago. He needed a new challenge, something to stretch his mind.

He took a boat building class and “it just sort of spoke to me. I decided to just keep chasing this and try to learn everything I could.”

Yeadon spent hours at the library poring through books, analyzing boat features and learning about building techniques. Using offsets (drafting coordinates) he found in a book, Yeadon began building his own boat in the fall of 2006. With no previous experience in woodworking, drafting or reading plans, he started from scratch, learning new skills and testing his tenacity.

“There’s the technical-mechanical side of it—you have to go out with your hands and do it,” Yeadon said. “But there’s also an emotional side of it. Are you going to sit down and figure out how to solve this problem, or are you going to walk away from it?”

By June of 2007, about seven months after he started building, his 15-foot Peapod— once the choice of craft for Maine lobster fishermen who liked its double-ended design—was finished.

Big Food, with its beautiful lines and crisp blue and white paint, was soon cruising the waters of Puget Sound. Yeadon likes to pack the boat with camping gear, sail it to a pretty spot in the San Juan Islands and camp out with friends.

“It’s luxury kayaking. That’s how I would describe it,” said Yeadon, 36. “The idea of a four-hour ferry wait is really foreign to me. I can’t even imagine that.”

Tim Yeadon built his Matinicus Peapod, Big Food, from drafting measurements found in a book at the library.

John Watkins came to boat building via a different path. He’d been sailing Snipe boats for about five years and found them cramped, wet and too heavy to pull up on a dinghy dock singlehandedly. Watkins decided to design a boat that would use the rigging and sail from his Snipe, but weigh less and have a roomier cockpit able to hold up to four people.

With advice from experienced boat builders and a good deal of reading, Watkins came up with a simple design for a flatiron skiff that was lighter and more comfortable than his Snipe. Borrowing space in a friend’s garage, he built the boat in five months at a cost of about $1,500.

In response to friends who were skeptical about the undertaking, Watkins christened his boat Black Swan, a reference to the term “black swan event,” used to describe highly unlikely and unforeseeable occurrences. “I figured it I succeeded, it would be a black swan event,” said Watkins, the owner of Twice Sold Tales bookstore in Seattle’s university district.

Cost was a critical issue in deciding to build a boat, said Watkins, 56, wryly noting that booksellers “exist in a world of genteel poverty.” Still, the experience was a gratifying one.

“I’m very happy with it,” he said. “I look at it and think, I designed it, I built it and I sail it.”

But though the recession may be prompting boaters to scale back their budgets, Yeadon acknowledged that few boaters, even he and his small craft aficionados, would turn down a roomier boat if the opportunity arose.

“I think people will still walk down to the dock, fall in love with a 30-foot boat and buy it,” he said. “I don’t think we can help ourselves.”

Home Built Boats Weekend runs from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Saturday and 10 a.m. to 3:30 Sunday. The full schedule is available here. There’s no admission charge, but donations to help support the CWB are appreciated.

Boat builders who want to participate but haven’t yet signed up can email Yeadon at tim@timyeadon.com, call his cell phone at 206.853.5184 or just bring their boats down to the CWB docks with an extra fender for rafting up, if need be.

For Seattle crew, the 2,700 mile Transpac race was its own reward

Admin — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 19:19:45 +0000

Editor’s note: Nigel Barron is a crew member aboard Artemis, the only Seattle-based boat to take part in the legendary Transpac open ocean race from Los Angeles to California. Nigel managed the preparation of the boat and crew for the race. The following is his take on the effort and his thoughts on why victory isn’t the only way to measure success.

The passing of time has afforded me the opportunity to look back over the race and think about what worked and what we might have done differently. Clearly, the biggest success for me was the boat getting here in one piece, with nothing to repair. We sailed roughly 2,700 miles, in all sorts of conditions, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. We all know the marine environment is harsh on boats, but this was testing everything to its limits.

Before I start to look at what we could have done differently, I want to talk about everything that went well. First, the crew was awesome! You hear all these horror stories about people melting down when they realize the closest land is now straight down, or getting sick and tired and not being a lot of fun to be around on the 2 a.m. watch. We had none of that. Aside from a certain crew member’s desire to find his “inner Zen” by seeing how long he could go without bathing, we had no issues. Everyone fell right into their roles. People took turns cooking and cleaning, and checking out the boat and systems.

Crew members Christopher (left) and Nigel are dressed for arrival in Hawaii.

It’s on these sorts of long trips in close quarters that you get to know a lot about your friends—sometimes too much! Scott would start each watch by sharing what his dreams were and what they could mean. If you know Scott, you can guess what most of the dreams were about. Andrew would come on watch and immediately set about coiling lines and re-folding sails. Bob would come on watch, sail 20 degrees higher than we wanted and quickly remind us why we named him “Super Turbo.”

Ian got a lot funnier as he ran out of cigarettes. I am positive there is no tobacco on the boat, because Ian cleaned the boat four times in order to be sure. Christopher would come on deck and sing that lyric from the Talking Heads, “Same as it ever was. Same as it ever was.” Steve would come on deck and start trimming instantly. It was his way to wake up. Lou was a trooper. He was on watch with Scott. That alone gets you a gold star and a free trip to therapy.

The provisioning went really well. The last day we were out of food except freeze dried, which is how you want to get in. We caught a huge mahi-mahi that last day and Bob did an amazing job of preparing it. Lou was a little concerned about how long the fish took to die and the amount of blood Bob was able to get all over the back of the boat, but those concerns were quickly forgotten after we had some fresh fish. The new kite was stunning. Rock solid, easy to sail to and still in one piece.

A squall rears its head on the horizon. The weather modeling and forecasts didn't give the Artemis crew its hoped-for edge.

In thinking about what we could have done differently, I am left wondering what was wrong with the weather models. We kept all the files and with time on my hands, I have looked it over and would still do the same thing. We might have turned to Hawaii about 12 hours earlier, but that’s it. Everything showed there should have been less wind to the north and a header as we got closer to Hawaii. I think the boat could have been lighter as well. It is hard for me to say this, but I think we could have brought fewer sails. I say this only because we did not use two of them. The boat will be going on a diet on when we get back to Seattle.

So here I am, sitting in Hawaii after leaving Seattle on June 14. The delivery crew for the trip back arrives Tuesday and Wednesday, and July 23 we look to leave to head back to Seattle. The weather for the trip back is looking pretty nice and we plan to leave after the bars close, so most likely it will actually be early on July 24 when we leave. The first five days are going to be the worst part of the trip, as we have to sail to weather to get over the high. Basically, you leave Hawaii and sail as close to north/northeast as you comfortably can. I suspect it should take about 15 days give or take to get back, so we look to be in Seattle around August 8. We plan to arrive at the dock at 5 p.m. and go straight to the Sloop. I will still be able to send updates on the way back, but we won’t have the GPS transponder this time.

The new spinakker pulls Artemis toward the finish line.

"Same as it ever was." Another watch on the open ocean.

Instruments show Artemis clicking away the miles.

A mahi-mahi meets its fate as Artemis nears the end of its journey.

After 2,700 miles, the finish line comes into view.

Read more about the boat and crew, check out the boat’s daily log and follow its course across the Pacific on an interactive chart at www.threesheetsnorthwest.com/artemis/.

Whidbey Island Race Week wraps up with sunshine and solid races

Admin — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 16:12:39 +0000

Sunny 75-degree weather ushered in the warmest day for the fourth and final day of racing in the ‘Ohana Harbor Coffee Whidbey Island Race Week regatta.

Two solid races for each of the 10 classes were run by the Corinthian Yacht Club of Seattle race committee Friday afternoon in a 6-9 knot westerly. The committee’s big red boat led the fleet to the race course in Penn Cove on Friday morning, blaring the Pat Benatar song “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” while decked out in yellow caution tape, a not-so-subtle taunting of the Cookson 12 Meter, White Cloud, who had attempted to impale herself on the committee boat’s bow while barging the P0 start of Thursday’s first race.

The final outcome of the hotly contested P0 class wouldn’t be known, however, until the finish times of Friday’s two races for the nine PHRF-rated boats in class P0 were calculated and announced at the evening’s results party in the rum tent of the grounds of the Oak Harbor Yacht Club. Once the throw-out was factored in, it was Greg Slyngstad’s beautiful blue J/125, Roxanne, taking second for the day and first for the week with a total of 22 points.

Even without placing among the top three for the day, John Hoag’s relentless 1D35 slid into second place. Edging out the Cole family Melges 32, Ballistic, for third place was Geoff Longenecker’s San Diego-based Melges 30, Nemesis, which had made the drive up the coast for its first Whidbey Island Race Week.

For some of the 94 competing boats, Friday’s gybe mark was set close to the Coupeville dock, much to the delight of the spectators lining the rails. Well-performed gybes earned loud cheers from the crowds—or jeers for those maneuvers that “earned the ugly award,” as one energetic fan put it.

A definite crowd favorite was class P1 as the seven Flying Tigers had a tendency to round the marks in a cluster and whose asymmetrical spinnakers allow them to knock out quicker gybes, adding to the suspense. Eric Nelson’s Gardyloo, the lone Henderson 30 in the level-rated class, nipped at the heels of the FTs, as did David Cohen’s J/90, Eye Eye, but by week’s end it was all Flying Tigers on the podium: Chris Winnard’s Dangerous When Striped (aka, Tigger) in first; followed by Kirk Leslie’s Navy named Prowler, down from West Vancouver; and Mark McCuddy’s Tiger Lilly, up from Portland, Oregon.

The top three spots in the 12-boat P2 class proved that solid sailing can overcome challenging ratings. Race week veteran Wayne Berge’s J/35, The Boss, took third place for the week behind Stuart Burnell’s J/109, Tantivy. But it was Charlie Macaulay’s familiar black-and-yellow 1-Ton, Absolutely, that scraped her way to the front the fleet.

The firefighters aboard What? A Tripp! also fought hard to climb to the top of their class, P3. Over recent years, the deep blue-hulled boat has ridden the learning curve in the right direction to become the boat to beat. Gary Morgan and Chris Yob’s Tripp-designed Peterson 37 squeaked out a win over Don Will’s Peterson 40, Shoot the Moon, by just half a point, no small feat as the smart money every year has been on Will’s venerable red boat. Tom Kerr’s J/33, Corvo, landed in third. This year’s Broken Bone trophy, fought over like dogs between two Baltics campaigned by local orthopedic surgeons Byron Skubi and Mac Madenwald, was snatched up by Skubi’s 37-footer, Skookumchuck.

Class P4 was one of two one-design classes at this year’s ‘Ohana Harbor Coffee Whidbey Island Race Week. Nine J/105s scuffled all week, with Erik Christiansen’s Jubilee winding up in third behind JP Peterson’s Last Tango, and in first, with five bullets, Mike Schlitz at the tiller of his Money Shot.

In the event’s other one-design class, nine Melges 24s spent the week swarming Penn Cove. Top spot was dibbed early in the contest by Seattleite Dan Kaseler’s pTeron, which finished the week 25 points ahead of the next closest boat. The remaining two slots in class P5 remained a mystery until the finish of race 12. Rod Buck’s Myst came up from Oregon to take second place, followed by Bill Checkley’s newest boat down from Canada, Bula Bula.

The P6 class raced with a 31-second ratings spread but it was the “slow” boat in class that took first for the week. Jim Meteer’s handbuilt 6 meter, Fokus 3, sliced an elegant line through the water while relishing the perfect conditions for the narrow, pinched stern boat. Former Race Week Boat of the Week winner, Pat Denney’s J/29 Here and Now, took second. One of two Rocket 22s in the class took home third, Mike Mechaelis’ South Lake Union Trolley.

Dennis Muri travels from his home in Montana every summer to call tactics on Ken Chin’s Olson 911, Kowloon, in class P7. By the end of Thursday’s racing, Kowloon was so far ahead “we don’t even have to race on Friday,” said Muri. “But what fun is that? We’re going to go back out there and kick some more butt!”

And kick butt they did. Kowloon and her loyal crew earned bullets in both of Friday’s races, as well as taking top honors for the week in class P7. On top of that, Kowloon took home for the second year in a row the Performance 30 pennant, one of several in-class trophies—which range from rum bottles to bones to love pigs—for personal vendettas run renegade-style in addition to the officially sanctioned races. In class P7, Frank Roger’s Santana 30/30 took second, while the S2 9.1, Rubicon, held on to third.

More renegade shenanigans were evident Friday morning when many of the racing boats showed up on the course sporting imaginative new names, including ones bestowed by other crews. Those included Doug Ullmer’s Laser 28, Imzadi, trailered from Eugene, whose moniker for Friday was “I’m Dizzy,” to “Marijuana” for the San Juan 24 Magic Juan, “Scrotum” for the T-bird Factotum and Adam Korbin’s J/109 Astral Plane, which for Friday was simply known as “Bob.” Some crews, apparently unamused, removed the new monikers from their boats.

With 14 registered entries, class P8 was the largest in the fleet. Four Moore 24s added their unique competitive nature to the mix, including Anthony Devita’s Frecklebelly Madtom, Chris Rosinki’s Moore-On and Ray Poorman’s hot rod, Amore, with Ben Braden’s Moore Team Uff Da taking second. But it was the two Hotfoot 27s in the class that took spots one and three. Not surprisingly, though, it was Moore 24 sailor Andy Schwenk at the helm of Steve Trunkey’s Hotfoot 27, Egress, who took the lead. Mick Corcoran’s Blackfoot secured the number three position for the week.

Event organizer Gary Stuntz of Clear Ahead Marine Productions bestowed Boat of the Week honors on Bill Stange’s 40-year-old Columbia 26, Tuesday, which earned straight bullets in class P9. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree when it comes to sailboat racing in the Stange family. Bill handed the helm on Friday to his teenage son, who, like his father, managed to put the boat in the right place on the race course and earned Tuesday two more bullets. Duking it out for second and third all week were Shannon Buys’ San Juan 24, Magic Juan, and Oak Harbor locals Jim McAlpine and crew aboard McAlpine’s J/24, Lucky Jim.

Mark your calendars and start preparing for next year’s ‘Ohana Harbor Coffee Whidbey Island Race Week, scheduled for Sunday, July 18 through Friday, July 23, 2010.

Sharpened skills and no shortage of drama on fourth day of Race Week

Admin — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 20:40:52 +0000

The fourth day of Whidbey Island Race Week out of Oak Harbor saw the third day of actual racing.

With a minimum of three races shot off each day so far for the 94 classes in 10 starts, this event, 27 years in the running, is an opportunity to immerse oneself in sailing and hone racing skills. Sailing for multiple, uninterrupted days is like going on a skiing vacation, where by the last day of the trip double diamonds aren’t nearly as daunting.

In the same vein, four or five days in a row of sailboat racing make one a much better sailor than four or five Wednesdays in a row of beer can races. By day three of this year’s race week, it was apparent that the quality of racing had already improved.

On land in Oak Harbor, the temperature had reached 70 degrees by 10:30 Thursday morning and the thermometer was climbing quickly. In Penn Cove the day had dawned sunny, yet still. By start time the breeze had built to a comfortable 8 knots, though to get to the race course it was safe to keep a bow watch out for the wayward red-and-white buoys bobbing in Penn Cove as dozens of crab pots posed a navigational challenge for those heading out the channel from the Oak Harbor Marina.

By noon, Corinthian Yacht Club Seattle had set the courses for the fleet and Thursday’s races were on. It was not all guns and roses, however, for the men and women on board the boat from So Cal, as the Melges 32 with articulating pole, Nemesis, found a formidable foe in John Hoag’s Seattle-based 1D35, Shrek, as well as the rest of the “1Ds” in class P0. Going into Thursday’s races, Shrek had played the consistency card and rose like cream to the top of the reader board, even with just one first place in its quiver.

Racers' skills were getting fine-tuned by Thursday, the third day of racing.

That move works best, however, when there are no throw-outs involved. When throw-outs come into effect, those boats that tanked a race can simply pretend it never happened. That’s what Hoag will do with his boat’s first race of Thursday, which, to put it kindly, wasn’t its best. Regardless, Hoag was selected as Seattle Yacht Club’s Sailor of the Year for 2006 for a reason, and losing isn’t it. That was the same year his Beneteau 40.7, Snake Eyes, was selected as Seattle Yacht Club Boat of the Year. The prior year, Shrek won the West Coast 1D35 Championship.

Shrek’s pit boss, Bob Combie has raced with Hoag on just about every boat Hoag’s ever campaigned, beginning with Hobie cats and including multiple Offshore Championships. At the 2001 U.S. Offshore Championship, Hoag and his crew posted a winning performance aboard Navy 44s in Chesapeake Bay.

Combie offers up no secrets about their gold medal tactics. “Sail fast and win. Or at least have fun. That’s our usual strategy,” said Combie, fresh from a morning bike ride around Penn Cove.

Thursday’s three races (four for the one-design classes), were not without drama. In the start sequence of class P0, the Cookson 12-Meter, White Cloud, messed it up with YC5, the big red race committee boat. White Cloud’s bow caught the anchor rode of the race committee boat, struck the bow with a sickening thud and yanked out a stanchion. White Cloud quickly withdrew to analyze her damage at the Coupeville dock, but was back on the start line—at the pin end—for race two.

Said the race committee, busy with firing off starts for the remaining nine classes, “At the moment, if we’re not sinking, we don’t care.” The rest of the fleet was busy returning to the starting area (around the ends because the “I” flag was on display) as they had democratically earned themselves a general recall.

Next, class P1 saw the first individual recall of the day when the J/80, Eye Eye, was called “on course side” at the start of the day’s first race. Both classes P2 and P3 were called “all clear,” though What? A Tripp! was the first of the day to unfurl its red protest flag in response to a double-dog-dare-ya during the prestart of class P3. Subsequent classes saw their fair share of recalls as well, though the usually aggressive J/104s in class P4 were uncharacteristically hesitant to begin Thursday’s contests, finally crossing the line about 10 seconds after the horn sounded.

The wind provided some cooling relief as the mercury climbed in Oak Harbor.

Rod Buck’s Myst and Chris Johnson’s Wiggle Room were the two Melges 24s called over early, but that’s not always a bad thing, as it forces one’s hand—being the first to port tack and head toward the north beach in search of clear air and a clean lane sometimes pays off if the wind and currents are in one’s favor. Myst and Wiggle Room instead chose the wiser move by quickly tacking back to starboard to hitch a ride up the strong current flooding up the center of the cove.

By the time the next classes were setting up for their first race of the day, the J/125 Roxanne was legging out on her nearest competitor in the big boat class and approaching its first spinnaker drop. It took only about 40 minutes for Roxanne to reel in the first two legs of the double windward-leeward course. Behind her were the two Melges, Ballistic and Nemesis, and John Leitzinger’s Kahuna, the first of the five 1D35s in class P0 (like his rival, John Hoag, Leitzinger has also won the U.S. Offshore Championship).

Meanwhile, most of class P6 was charging across the start line. Bill Sheldon’s Humboldt 30, Opposition, and Ed Snyder’s triple-handed Laser SB3, Back Marker, exchanged some choice words before forcing each other to peel off the race committee boat and take another stab at crossing the start line properly. Hinting at the aggression that the rest of the day had in store, even the usually sedate starters in class P9 posted a premature start when the sail numbers of Gabe Murphy’s Thunderbird, Factotum, were called out over the VHS for all to hear. However, Bill Stange’s Columbia 26, Tuesday, which looks like the kind of boat Bill Murray would sail, pulled off a clean start in the middle of the line.

Like an elaborate nautical square dance, the final few classes in the fleet were beginning their first race while classes 2 through 6 were all rounding the Z mark—set just upwind of the start line—and the Flying Tigers were running down the north shore while the J/109s chose the south shore for their downwind attack. It wasn’t long before Roxanne showed up again, screaming all alone downwind in a sliver of a back eddy on the north beach (a gutsy move, as she’s been known to get a little too cozy with some of the beachfront waters off Oak Harbor).

It was definitely a day for horizon jobs as John Peterson’s J/105, Last Tango, was so far ahead of her sisterships in class P4 one would be hard-pressed to guess they were even racing in the same class. After rounding the leeward mark for her second douse for the day, Roxanne was on her way to the finish. And finish she did—before the next boat in class had even made it to the leeward mark. Roxanne crossed the finish line a full leg ahead of her nearest competitor. It was a drubbing.

Lightening up after an intense day on the water, racers do their thing.

Continuing the day of big leads, Adam Korbin’s Canadian J/109, Astral Plane, which had a rocky start to the week but crawled back up the reader board by posting a 1-5-2 in class P2 on Wednesday, was also way ahead of the J/35s and other J/109s in her class. But if it was a day of big leads, the first race had some other surprises in store, as well. Rounding the leeward mark first in class P1, Tiger Lilly, Prowler and My Tai stomped on class leader Tigger, who was uncharacteristically helping to bring up the rear.

Race one on Thursday was just the first of what was to be a total of three each for the fleet, plus a fourth race for the one-design classes. By the time the first race was in Thursday’s pocket, crews were busy tallying the myriad mathematical possibilities that a throw-out now added to the equation.

The thing about throw-outs is that they don’t favor consistency. It skews the outcome more if one gets to throw out a double-digit fiasco than if one is required to toss out a 1 or a 2.

The day’s second race was not as blown up as the first, but it was no less exciting. The first weather mark rounding for class P1 was the tightest of the week. The entire class, which consists of seven Flying Tigers, one J/80 and a Henderson 30, hoisted their chutes within 10 seconds of each other. Within moments, the J/105s rounded en masse. Their collective hoists were equally as awe inspiring. Who says sailboat racing isn’t a spectator sport?

For the final races of the day, a gybe mark was set for the asymmetrical boats off the Coupeville dock. A historic town used as backdrop for movies thanks to its spectacular waterfront location and charming period buildings, Coupeville draws its share of the tourists who come to Whidbey Island. Those lucky enough to have paused near the “red barn” at the end of the town’s dock were treated to the sight of nearly 100 sailboats racing up and down Penn Cove.

A well-placed gybe mark makes the railings on the Coupeville dock the best seats in the house and brings the action on board the boats close enough for the crowds to hear the heated exchanges between rivals, as well as see the intense action that, from a distance, only appears to be quiet and without effort.

The fleet had plenty of on-the-water support and encouragement, as well. A dozen photo boats zipped up and down the cove, documenting the competition. IFB, the event’s press boat, managed to cover much of the action while going about the same speed as free falling from an airplane. Some of the more colorful maneuvers captured forever on film included Avalanche’s unintended sideways spinnaker hoist, and Symbiosis’ port tack start in the third race, which was not at all a bad way to end the day before finishing out the night doing the limbo at the Navy-hosted tropical bbq to live music by Andy-O.

Speaking of symbiosis, a word about sponsors. The reality of the times is that sponsors are a necessity, and not an evil one. The support of those companies and organizations who understand the mutual benefit of such a relationship must be nurtured if the symbiosis of economics and adventure is to continue. So support your sponsors. Please.

P.S. Massages are just a dollar a minute in the rum tent.

Funky winds and course lines make second day of racing a hodgepodge

Admin — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 16:46:15 +0000

Wednesday, July 15, the third day of the five-day ‘Ohana Harbor Coffee Whidbey Island Race Week regatta, brought the total number of starts fired off for the 94 boats so far to 64.

Ranging from the J/125, Roxanne, with a PHRF rating of 6, to Tom Black’s US25, Blackie, with a PHRF rating of 244, each of the entries in the regatta’s nine classes has accumulated six races—just one more race is needed to allow each boat a mulligan and to throw out its worst performance for the week.

This year’s event is a week earlier than those of some other years, which makes the weather more of a crapshoot, though the marine layer bubbling over the strait to the west on Wednesday morning signaled the imminent arrival of the familiar westerly in Penn Cove.

And a crapshoot is what the sailors faced in the day’s first race. For the first four of the nine classes competing, they saw their initial race—a longish windward leeward—abandoned because of a 90-degree wind shift at the leeward mark set in Saratoga Passage. Whereas the westerly in Penn Cove was consistent and true, the wind outside the cove shifted to a northerly after the race began.

The convergence of both winds created a hole, coincidentally just where the big yellow triangle was set. An hour earlier the breeze was stable, but as the sailors aboard the nearly 100 racing boats have learned, anything can happen weatherwise in early July.

Though temperatures did not reach into the 70s, sunscreen was still a necessity. When the sun comes out in the Northwest, even if a northerly bent to the breeze keeps it cool, sunburns arrive quick and hot. When it comes to sunblock application, mid-July racing at sea level can be uncannily like spring skiing in the Cascades.

With a day of three races already under the collective belt of the fleet and another couple of days slated for more competition, one day doesn’t necessarily make a regatta. The decision to abandon the race was made in the best interest of running fair races. Unlike some weekend races when there’s only one chance at running the course and that’s it, a regatta such as this, with the possibility of perhaps 11 races total, the choosing to run—or abandon—a race is made in the best interest of holding the fairest race possible.

Those who may have felt it was the right decision included the Melges 32, Ballistic, whose Tuesday starts were a little more on target. On board is rigger Chris Tutmark, who is taking a breather from campaigning his Mini TransAt. Follow his progress at http://usa724-mini.blogspot.com/

The level of competition picked up on Wednesday, the second day of racing at Whidbey Island Race Week.

Because the wind was a bit breezier on Wednesday, the current a little messier, and opening day jitters had given way to more cutthroat competition, starts were more aggressive as well. The “Performance 30″ boats in Class P7 even managed to rack up a race week rarity—a general recall. Unfortunately, in some classes, not all boats that were on course side when the horn sounded went back to dip the line, resulting in some unhappy campers, literally. Plus, an additional finish line created some confusion to those who didn’t keep track of the courses as best that maybe they should, as a start line violation results in automatic disqualification.

For those who did manage to keep track of their prescribed courses throughout the day, they were lucky. Of course, there are those who say that luck is when preparation meets opportunity. And then there were those who went into Wednesday’s racing with some unanticipated issues, such as DSQs from the protest hearings in the morning. Wednesday’s interesting results simply added to the hodgepodge, indicating that the regatta is far from decided.

Those who were seeming to be the clear front-runners Tuesday in class P4, Erik Kristen’s Jubilee, and Mike Schiltz’s Money Shot, were shadowed by the performance of Lorenzo Migliorini’s Allegro Vivace on Wednesday, who pulled a reversal of fortune. “There are a lot of good sailors in our class,” said Kelly Martin, emphasizing “a lot.” A crewmember aboard Bifrost III, Martin acknowledges that the talent among the one-design J/105 class is not lacking.

There are plenty of distractions, however, to keep racers from dwelling too much on missed starts and rules infractions. Crabbing (with a license) is legal Wednesday through Saturday in the waters around Oak Harbor, and in addition to sails and foulweather gear, and sandwiches and beer, several boats also carted crab pots out to the race course. Planning to pool their catches of Dungeness crab, the racers of ‘Ohana Whidbey Island Race Week seem to be channeling the Deadliest Catch.

Back at the docks, the plethora of hotel boats make sure that the instant community that has sprung up on the Oak Harbor Marina guest docks is full of like-minded sailors who play as hard as they race.

On dry land, REI tents have sprouted like mushrooms in tent city on the Navy base, just a stone’s throw from the marina—and the rum tent. A misnomer, the tent is actually an area on the beachfront grounds of the Oak Harbor Yacht Club that’s surrounded by vendors and drink stations. A covered stage at one end hosts a live band during each evening’s festivities and results ceremony. It’s been some years since the party grounds were indeed held in a true tent, not unlike a circus big top, but the name stuck.

Additionally, the handle “adult summer camp” is also a misnomer, as there are half as many kids at Race Week as adults. In fact, some adults were at one time the kids at the regatta. Those still making the transition between the two include Clara Koch, who, at the age of 12, is at her 13th race week. Koch was just three months old when she attended Whidbey Island Race Week for the first time.

Brenda Stuntz, racing in P5 her all-women Melges 24, Cool Beans, and her husband Gary Stuntz, organizer of Whidbey Island Race Week, have brought along for his first race week the newest member of their family, three-week-old Christian James.

Competition heats up during second day of Race Week

Admin — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 16:48:59 +0000

For the 94 boats competing in the nine classes of ‘Ohana Harbor Coffee Whidbey Island Race Week, the crew’s watches could be set by the noon-sharp start of Tuesday’s first race, one of three races completed successfully during the second of five race days scheduled for the 27th annual regatta.

Making up for the event’s first day, which was sat out in non-wind, day two of the five-day regatta chalked up a total of 27 starts plus finishes, and more than 100 mark roundings.

Ranging in PHRF ratings from 6 to 244, the fleet kept PRO Charley Rathkopf and his crew from Seattle’s Corinthian Yacht Club busy deciding which marks to assign to which class in order to give the nearly 100 boats enough room to maneuver within the waters of Penn Cove. The race committee’s fleet of five vessels ran three solid races between noon and 5:00 p.m., testament to why the club was awarded the US Sailing One-Design Club Award in 2001 for its outstanding performance in support of sailboat racing.

New this year was a decision to increase communication between the race committee and the fleet, including calling countdowns for the start, and attempting to hail those boats “on course side” at the starts. The philosophy of this courtesy being that those seasoned enough to not need the reassurance could take it or leave it, but those newer to the sport would find the assistance a help to their learning curve. For the race committee itself, it is hoped that over-earlies would be reduced—a benefit to all involved.

Regardless, and thanks to the still-flooding current, premature starts were still seen in about half the starts earlier in the day. However, and thanks to the increase in communication, those that were over early were alerted to their infraction and restarted, rather than having to spend an entire race competing only to find at the end that it was all for naught. Nearer the end of the race day, as the tide turned and the currents rushed back out the cove, over-earlies became more rare, though of course there were a fair share of protests, and a collision or two, including one involving the head committee boat itself.

But with a refreshed Corinthian spirit, the fleet began Tuesday’s competition under clearing skies, a freshening breeze and mild temperatures looking to reach the low 70s. Still pushing the last of the lingering low out the door, the winds were a bit fluky for the day’s first race. Conventional wisdom says head to the northern beach and hop aboard the elevator. But go too far in too early on Tuesday and one would find themselves languishing in the calm waters of a still undecided breeze as the wind, unsettled and restless, coaxed the racers to the northern shore like Greek sirens.

One thing was apparent – banging the corners was a Penn Cove rule that still held true for Tuesday’s three races. When the waters rush up Saratoga Passage and find themselves pinched out as Skagit Bay constricts into an increasingly narrower outlet, the water doglegs into Penn Cove and flushes through the bay in a counter-clockwise rotation, creating what’s called “the toilet bowl.” When the tide turns and comes spilling back into Saratoga from the Skagit Bay northern spigot it again finds refuge in the nearest outlet: Penn Cove. So whether coming or going, the water rushes up the north shore and back down the south shore. But there are several shifty shoals, and if the wind shuts off, even this can’t save you.

A quick look at the regatta’s first day results shows how it all shook out, and how well boats, skippers and crew were able to negotiate the myriad challenges of the Penn Cove playground:

Making the short trip up Whidbey Island from his current home in the artist town of Langley, Soling world champion and Olympian medalist Jeff Madrigali joined the crew on Tuesday of the fleet’s scratch boat, the J/125 Roxanne. A solid performance wasn’t enough, however, to keep her ahead in the ratings game. Instead it was WIRW first-timers from San Diego who took top honors for the day. The Melges 32, Nemesis, goes into Wednesday’s racing top of the reader board ahead of the Melges 30, Ballistic. Essentially similar hulls with modifications, the Melges 30 and the Melges 32 fight like siblings. The top 1D35 in class, John Hoag’s 1D35, Shrek, rounds out the top trio. Bob King, tactician aboard Roxanne, explained some of the strategy behind how a J/125 is to compete against two Melges and a boat load of 1D35s. Without giving away too much, suffice it so say that King firmly believes in not only knowing your own strengths and weaknesses, but those of your rivals as well.

Designed by Robert Perry (who coincidentally lives on one of the islands in the local archipelago to which Whidbey Island belongs), the seven Flying Tigers in class P1 were pestered relentlessly by Eric Nelson’s Henderson 30, Gardyloo, though the top three boats for Tuesday in this level-rated class were all FT10Ms: Prowler, Dangerous When Striped and Firecracker. Gardyloo’s inadvertent lassoing of the leeward mark in the day’s second race – and consequent exonerating spin – was enough to put her out of pickle dish territory for the first real day of racing.

By about 2:00, as race 2 got underway in a breeze that had picked up but still not broken double digits, Adam Korbin’s J/109, Astral Plane, added her own unique handicap to the P2 class when she crossed the start line in the day’s second race three minutes late – under a wee #3 jib, putting her out of contention for the day’s top three places, which were earned instead by the J/109s Tantivy and Illusionist in first and third, sandwiching Wayne Berg’s stalwart J/35, The Boss, in second. Not windy enough to qualify as a “sailmaker’s stimulus package,” Tuesday still threw the sailmakers a bone or two as several entrants returned to the stalls after the day’s racing in need of repairs.

Several classes have their own traditional rivalries, the Furniture 40s in class P3 being one of them. Mac Madenwald’s Baltic 39, Pangaea, took third for the day, throwing down the first gauntlet in the perpetual race for the “broken bone trophy” between him and colleague, Byron Skubi and Dr. Skubi’s Baltic 37, Skookumchuck. (In the day’s third race the two actually tied.) Another race week regular, Don Wills’ Shoot the Moon returned for her 27th year, and took second for the day. Don’s son, Andrew – age 27 – once sailing as a baby by Don’s feet, now sails by his side as co-captain. But it was the firefighters aboard the Peterson 37, What? A Tripp, who took top honors for the day in class.

There’s something satisfying about seeing a stable of similar steeds charging the start, and the nine one-design J/105s in class P4 do just that. First place went to Mike Schiltz’s Money Shot, which sports a tiller rather than the famously oversized J/105 wheel. Rounding out Tuesday’s triumvirate were Erik Kristen’s Jubilee and Jerry Diercks’ Delirium.

Three bullets were to be expected by Seattle NOOD champion Don Kasele and his crew aboard the Melges 24 pTeron, fifth-place winners in last month’s Melges 24 U.S. National Championship held in San Francisco Bay. But the play of the day belonged solidly to Chris Johnson’s Wiggle Room, who port tacked the start in the last race of the day, rolling over the entire class, including pTeron. Says Wiggle Room crew Lynn Gleason, “We didn’t really plan it. Bruce (the driver for that race) saw a lane and bang! We went for it.”

The seductive lines of the two 6 Meters in class P6 do more than just look good. When the breeze picks up and the water’s flat, they glide around the course like a knife through warm butter. Jim Metteer’s stunning hand-built Fokus 3 stayed far enough ahead on time of Mike Mechaelis’ Rocket 22, South Lake Union Trolley, and Chris White’s J/80, Crazy Ivan, to stay in first place for the day.

Another classic rivalry is the friendly competition among class P7. Dubbed ‘Performance 30′ for their relative similar waterline length, the assortment of boats ranges from the scratch boat in class, Ken Chin’s Olson 911, Kowloon, to the two J/30s, Allen Roberts’ Jayhawk, and Grady Morgan’s Slingshot. Throw in a Laser 28 and a C&C 33 and you’ve got a spodie-odie of sailing styles. By week’s end the winners may have changed several times, but after three good races on Tuesday it was perennial favorite Kowloon followed closely by Lance Staughton’s S2 9.1, Symbiosis in second, and Doug Ullmer’s Laser 28, Imzadi in third.

The noisiest start of Tuesday also belongs to the regatta’s biggest class. With 14 boats jostling for one of three daily spots, class P8 is bound to mix it up all over the course. Throw in a bunch of Moore 24 sailors and you’ve got a recipe for raucous racing. Conspicuously absent from the front of the fleet at the beginning of the day’s contests, Ben Braden and his Team MUD Moore 24 exhibited a more expected performance in the day’s second and third races. It wasn’t enough to earn them a top spot for the day, however, but perhaps Team MUD was simply getting their throw-out out of the way early. Beating the Hotfoot 27, Blackfoot, in a tie breaker for second place, Moore 24 racer Stephanie Schwenk and her all-women crew on her new Santa Cruz 27, Wild Rumpus (p.s. the movie comes out in October), gave the first place boat, Egress, the other Hotfoot 27 in class P8, a run for their money. Steve Trunkey’s Egress is being campaigned by yet another Moore 24 sailor, Schwenk’s husband, Andy.

Consistently crossing the finish line first in class P9 is the second “slowest” boat in the fleet, Bill Stange’s classic Columbia 26, Tuesday. Local Oak Harbor boats Lucky Jim, Jim McAlpine’s J/24, and Shannon Buys’ San Juan 24, Magic Juan, took second and third.

By 6:00 pm on Tuesday, as the fleet began their half-hour mosey back to the protection of the Oak Harbor Marina, the earthy smell of cattle was carried down on the back of warm thermals to the water below Blower’s Bluff, promising more wind and sunshine in the days ahead.

Protests in some classes were pending as of Tuesday night, to be settled soon after dawn on Wednesday. None, however, affected the top three spots in any of the day’s classes. But with three solid days of racing still in the forecast, any ding to one’s results could be damaging. For those so affected, chances are they are hoping for at least 7 races for the week to toss that scarlet letter as a throw-out.

Race Week sailors take slow start in stride

Deborah Bach — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 18:26:13 +0000

Monday was no wind, no worries for Sunny Kerr.

Despite traveling from Victoria, B.C. to compete in this year’s Whidbey Island Race Week, Kerr shrugged off the lack of wind that prevented any races from being held the first day of the regatta.

Undaunted, Kerr and her crewmates on the J/109, Astral Plane, headed out of Oak Bay Harbor Monday morning with the Lumberjack Song—”we call it our battle song”— cranked up on the boat’s stereo, then danced to Michael Jackson tunes, encouraging other racers to get their groove on.

“Today was a really good chance for us to show off our dancing skills,” said Kerr, smiling. “It’s an open dance party on our boat all the time.”

Most of the 500 or so racers gathered in Oak Harbor for Race Week were similarly chill, knowing all too well the capriciousness of the sailing gods. Race organizers called it a day around 3:00, after several hours of winds hovering around 2 to 3 knots.

Despite the disappointing conditions, the mood on the docks was festive as boats returned in the late afternoon after tooling around Penn Cove to test out the race courses.

Crews sat in their cockpits drinking, socializing and listening to music. Annie Johnson, sitting on the Anderson 30, Gardyloo, with her crewmates and a cold beer, took it in stride.

“It’s part of sailing—you show up and sometimes there’s a breeze, sometimes there’s not,” said Johnson, who lives in Seattle. “It’s just part of the game, I guess. At least it’s not raining.”

Steve Meyers, also crewing on Gardyloo, came from San Francisco for his inaugural Race Week and was undaunted by its snoozer of a start.

“I like racing, I like camping, I like partying,” he said. “This is all those things mixed into one. There are going to be more days of sailing. Five days of sailing is a lot. If one gets blown off, it’s not the end of the world.”

Rum and high spirits were plentiful at Monday's Race Week party.

A few hours later, sailors gathered on the lawn of the Oak Bay Yacht Club for live music and a party. The rum flowed freely while sailors noshed on barbecue and mussels, played volleyball and caught up with friends they hadn’t seen since last year’s Race Week.

The regatta, considered the largest buoy racing event on the West Coast, drew at least 500 sailors on 94 boats. Race Week is also known for the hospitality extended by the town of Oak Harbor, the marina, the yacht club and the Navy, which is throwing a Thursday night fete for the racers.

Malcolm Orendurff, who came from Portland to race on the Melges 24, Myst, said he appreciates the welcoming atmosphere, along with the regatta’s unique mix of fierce competition and camaraderie.

“There’s a strange juxtaposition,” he said during Monday evening’s party. “On the race course, everyone’s your enemy. And then when you get back here, everybody is your friend.

“A lot of people travel to get here. People put in lot of effort to get here and everybody’s here to have a great time.”

Orendurff’s buddy Jeff Jaeger traveled from Honolulu for Race Week. Aside from finding the weather too cold for his liking, Jaeger was enjoying himself.

“This is my first time here and I’m loving it. I’ve met people from all over,” he said.

For Sky Cunningham, commodore of Portland State University’s sailing team, the appeal was largely about the boats. Cunningham, who’s used to sailing on smaller boats such as Martin 242s, Lasers and Flying Juniors, was stoked about crewing for the first time on a Flying Tiger, Firecracker.

“It’s awesome boats and free booze,” Cunningham said of Race Week. “I’m on a Flying Tiger—where do I go up from here?”