Champagne Sailors
by Pat Nowak
There he was, looking prosperous, standing on the wharf at the Boston Yacht Club. He had asked me to come out to the Marblehead races to crew on his boat, a new Colgate 26, purchased just a week before. With tousled hair and an infectious grin, he reminded me of John Kennedy. We hailed a motor launch to take us across the bay to the regatta headquarters at the Eastern Yacht Club.
The new owner had persuaded the sales lady from the Long Island marina where he bought the boat to come up to Marblehead to show him how to race it, and she decided to bring one of her guys along to help. I was recruited through a mutual friend to fill out the crew. I raced a Colgate 26 back in Michigan with some success and was willing to spend a few bucks to see what it was like to race against other Colgates out on the Atlantic.
We took the new boat out for a practice sail and sorted out who would do what during the races. The lady was kind of cute, probably in her early thirties. I must have set off her lecher detector because she mentioned that her boyfriend would be arriving later.
Three races were to be held on Friday, three on Saturday, and at least one on Sunday. There were only four Colgates in our fleet, while some of the larger fleets had as many as twenty-five sailboats.
On Friday we placed third, third, and fourth. One of those thirds missed out being a second place by less than half of a boat length. It was a heartbreaker, as we were overtaken right at the finish line.
That night we returned to the Eastern Yacht Club for dinner. I met a crewman from another Colgate that had taken three first places on the first day, and he was only too happy to tell me how well they were doing, and what we were doing wrong. He concluded with, “After we rounded the windward mark and headed for the finish for our first win, you guys were still at least a hundred yards from the mark and you tacked twice between there and the turn. How many times did you tack on the first leg?”
“I can’t say for certain but I guess it was eight or ten times.”
“That’s what I thought. We only tacked four times. Every one of your tacks cost you at least a boat length.”
“Another thing,” he continued, “Your boat is heeled way over. That’s slow. Put your traveler down, get more weight on the rail, so the heel is no more than 12 to 15 degrees.” I didn’t believe they tacked only four times, but he was right about our excessive heeling.
Saturday’s results were no better, and actually worse - three fourth place finishes. After we got back, I ran into the guy from the previous night, whose team had taken three more firsts, and he rubbed some salt in the wounds.
“I don’t think you were listening last night. I watched you guys today, and you’re worse than yesterday.”
“I’m not running the show,” I countered.
“Doesn’t look to me like anyone is. Let me give you a little more unasked-for advice. Your sails are over-trimmed. Bear off; build speed, and then trim. You’ll never beat us but you shouldn’t be finishing last either. And you’re still tacking too often.”
Later that evening I had dinner with the owner and shared that intelligence with him. He had sailed on cruising boats for at least ten years but had never raced. He was tired, disappointed, and might have been having second thoughts about this racing deal. His only comment was, “I sure don’t like getting beat this badly.”
On Sunday morning he brought a magnum of rather expensive champagne on board, saying it was for our victory celebration. We should think positive, but this was clearly the triumph of hope over experience.
A good start in a sailboat race is a combination of tactics, luck and precision timing. You want clear air, meaning no one is to windward, or upwind, from you, blocking your wind. You want room to leeward, or downwind, to be able to bear off for speed and to move parallel to the starting line in case you’re early. You want to be on starboard tack to have the right of way over boats on port tack, and at the favored end of the line, if there is a favored one. So does everyone else.
The other three boats were trying to put each other at a disadvantage and ignoring us. We were off at the far end of the starting line. We were in clear air, and we were making good speed. I was sure we were going to be over the line early. It was going to be close. We sailed parallel to the starting line, almost on top of it. I looked at my stopwatch, counting loudly, “5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0. Go! Head up! Trim!”
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We had made a great start, crossing the starting line at top speed, just a half second after the starter’s gun. We had a lead of about four boat lengths, almost unheard of in sailboat racing starts. Our competitors quickly recovered, however. All three were closing fast.
I looked over at the owner. His face was flushed. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. Suddenly, he exploded in anger.
“Damn it, I’m tired of the way this boat is being handled. We’re going to do this my way. I want the jib sheet eased two inches, the traveler all the way down, the main sheet trimmed about four inches, the boat kept at 15 degrees of heel, and do not, I repeat, do not tack unless I give the OK.”
Hey, what happened to our soft-spoken, gracious host? He must have been listening to my purloined advice after all, and decided to assume the roles of Master and Commander.
We gained a little speed and kept our lead of about two boat lengths over the closest boat, the undefeated boat. We were tempted to tack when the wind shifted a bit to the right but footed off instead, trading greater distance for speed. Resisting the temptation to tack every time the wind shifted a little was paying off. We still had to tack three or four times, and after each tack we footed off with eased sails, building speed, and then we trimmed hard and pointed higher, keeping the speed up. I wondered what my buddy on the other boat was thinking.
We beat them to the windward mark, but not by much. Now everything depended on how quickly we got the big spinnaker up and how we managed the jibes, the downwind turns, on the way back.
The spinnaker and its pole are controlled by five lines: the halyard to hoist and lower it, a sheet and a guy to trim and ease it, and a downhaul and topping lift to keep the pole horizontal. Lots of things can go wrong launching it or dousing it, and often do. And during a jibe, the spinnaker is rotated from one side of the boat to the other and everything except the halyard is unhooked or adjusted and then reattached, often under daunting conditions.
We came through with a great spinnaker launch that just snapped into place, with the big multicolored kite filling immediately. The boat nearest to us seemed to be gaining though, as they made no mistakes with their spinnaker. They were now just a boat length or two back, sitting right behind us, taking our clear air away, and slowing us down. We could hear their bow wave.
We needed to change the direction of our boat somewhat to clear our air so the spinnaker and its pole had to be moved to the other side. The wind was increasing to over twenty knots so we only wanted to do this once. The other boat was nearly along side. Our new Master gave the order to jibe. The other boat would jibe as well but if we were quick enough, we might get away and clear our air.
Our jibe caught them by surprise and we got some breathing room. The boat speed increased to 9 or 10 knots, almost surfing. We could still hear the bow wave of the boat behind us, as they were flying too.
We were starting to hope, grins beginning to show. We remained ahead, by just a little, with a quarter mile to go. If we didn’t hit a lobster pot, which were floating everywhere, we could win this race. As we crossed the finish line, the committee boat’s big cannon boomed, declaring our victory.
Excellent champagne!
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Pat's latest book "Forty Cars That Owned Me", is a collection of war stories about forty unique cars including an Aston Martin DB-5, three vintage Jaguars, road racing cars, Pro Rally cars, most of the domestic brands, and the author's all time favorite, a 1962 Triumph TR-3B roadster. |
Pat Nowak |
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Check out his Web site at: http://www.fortycars.com/
Thanks Pat for the story... John Wolf
