Posted by Steve...
Yo, Circe Crew, since we haven't yet had a race report from the Exalted Skipper – he's probably too busy gargling, soothing those strained vocal chords; lotta hollering last night – I felt someone should leap into the breech. Hi, I'm the Anti-skipper.
First and foremost, it was a GREAT race night. De bess. Even better, nobody died. The evening was launched in fine fashion by Audrey, who came bearing a tub of thirst-quenching chilled orange wedges. (Audrey, perhaps for next week you could inject the orange with a little vodka (or rum) before slicing it. I believe this is nautically correct behaviour, properly referred to as "splicing the main brace.")
Speaking of fine fashion, Nansi appeared in fashionable heat-seeking black. Stylish babe. Meanwhile, Pam and Steve practiced wrapping sheets around the still-sparkling self-tailers, Ron remembered to hug his daughter, and we all watched Kathleen blaze a contrail as she cycled at warp speed across the bridge to meet Circe. (Careful, Kathleen; Bob Delouse will say his jets are slower than you and therefore legal by precedent.)
Much tooth gnashing over headsail selection. (So what else is new?) Steve the Lesser cast a vote for the number 2, if only to counter the Exalted Skipper, whose tendency to underestimate wind strength and overestimate the power ratio of even his new winches borders on legend. Without the Lesser's vote he'd have probably gone for the light #1 and the light sheets. Pam the Stalwart was seen rolling her eyes as a couple of gusts hovered near 20. As it turned out, the big #1 was the perfect call.
The start. Well, never mind. Got a little work to do here. Perhaps visions of winning the jug were clouding Circe's collective vision. That, or the less indistinct possibility that someone on the race crew has clouded vision, put us in front of the fleet at the gun but sadly also in front of the line. Oopsie! The Anti-skipper still hasn't figured out how Circe got turned around and out of that mess. Suffice to say that Neptune was with us and Circe's new tack and course caught us up substantially to the rest of the fleet.
After that, it was merely superlative foredeck work, blindingly fast grinding by the winch wench (with less fumbling than usual by Steve the Lesser), a flawlessly Susan-set main (a size 12EE feat given the gusts) and brilliant if somewhat creative calls by the Exalted Skipper. The clever ruse to head for the wrong mark worked a charm, confusing the hell out of the rest of the fleet as their own tactics went to hell in a hand basket and Circe quickly passed some of the competition and steadily reeled in the rest. Clever suggestions to the crew – "Get it in, get it in!" and "Get the pole up, get the pole up!" – were equally effective, as they both got it up and got it in.
At one point, the Anti-skipper noticed Kathleen demonstrating the virtues of PFDs (Audrey, you listening?) as she stuck one foot on the deck underwater and one leg off the deck in the water. This was very exciting. She also took first prize for bruises and abrasions. Chris should take note and practice bleeding before he returns. Audrey claimed to have been pinched by the whisker pole, but this may just have been wishful thinking. Susan did not shred her palms, and is blaming her colourful new traveller for this. Nansi – still stylish in black – decided that Circe's foredeck is at least as much fun as the renos on her street.
Post race, there was cold beer, no rum (uh, Ron?), snacks, and Steve the Lesser attempted to bribe the crew with illegally smuggled (you mean there's legal smuggling?) Grenadian spice necklaces.
The final tally? Second only to Blue Streak, whose rating is B.S.
And so, racing on Circe continues to be de bess.
I'll leave it to the Exalted Skipper to do the role, uh, roll call for next week.
--the Anti-skipper