Steve takes the helm...
De Race Report, comin' just now:
There were more than fickle wind gods at play last night, although it was they who set the tone.
Confident that the zephyrs would suit the light #1 at best (overhead in pre-race conversation at the men’s urinal, Graham wasn’t confident there would even be a race), the sail bag was on deck, the light sheets run…and then the leaves fluttered and the breeze came up. And up. And up. But the wind would quickly subside, predicted substitute skipper Steve, so we hoisted the light canvas anyway, and watched it stretch and balloon and reshape – 14, 17, 18 apparent – it didn’t burst!!! – and after a race with wind in the mid-teens and Circe dipping the rail, well, Ron, it should now serve nicely as a small spinnaker. Actually, that’s not quite how it went. What really happen:
It was a gorgeous evening for a race, sunny and almost warm with low-flying cumulus scudding by. On board were Kathleen (the walking wounded, bravely back from oral surgery; on foredeck), Nansi (on main; barely back from foggy Newfoundland hockey arenas), Audrey (taking a break from studying; foredeck), Mike Erdle (shanghaied from Veloce) and Ian (in his first QCYC race) grinding, and Steve (one very reluctant skipper aka OVRS). We won’t list the absentees. They know who they are. The engine stalled as we hauled out of the slip, Circe's bow turned only slightly embarrassingly toward the Algonquin bridge, we restarted the engine, turned the boat in the right direction, and off we went. Already, OVRS' confidence was soaring. And the light #1 was indeed on deck.
And, yes, in a complete reversal of the usual Wednesday night story, the wind picked up from nothing, from nowhere, shifting 40, 50 degrees and more in the substantial heeling gusts and lulls. Out came the big #1 (no complaints heard because Steve wasn’t grinding; we had the considerable combined muscle of Mike and Ian for that!) and all race we alternated between a bit too light to on our ear; more often the latter. The race committee reset the start line, which alternated between not-quite-square to impossible-to-cross-on-starboard with a port-tack beat to the first mark of the 4x triangle.
Our start was not entirely stellar. Admittedly, not being sure exactly when our start even was – is that 4 minutes? no, they haven’t even gone yet? what’s that countdown? what horn was that? where’s Susan??? – we had a little trouble with the timing. And OVRS refused to tell anyone, least of all Kathleen, expert line sighter, the plan because there was none; the wind was shifting too dramatically. Eventually, we went for it on port tack aiming for the pin, steaming over the line a few seconds late but moderately fast and in good position. Blue Streak and Veloce were over early; to leeward, Alpha Omega got the jug and was going like a train; Abra was to weather and well ahead. It was an inauspicious leg, however, as OVRS got reacquainted a tiller while attempting (an exercise in futility) to see around the big #1.
The race had only a few off moments. Like when OVRS brought Circe head-to-wind too quickly and accidently tacked when he thought we might hit a leeward boat that was not as close as he thought. That RBM (Really Bad Manoeuvre) cost us dearly and the fleet disappeared over the horizon. It even allowed the restarted Veloce to catch up and pass. Oops. And then there was the near collision as we barely ducked Don’t Think Twice at a windward mark when she – on port tack and with no rights – drove in on us. I’m painting out the name on their boat to just Don’t Think. Otherwise, however, we did okay. Nansi was terrific on both main and humour; Audrey and Kathleen were flawless on the foredeck. Mike calmly helped out bigtime as Ian gamely learned the winch. And Circe decided to sail fast despite the wandering helmsman. We worked the shifts, which were becoming predictable, and caught Alpha but couldn’t get past, rounding the third mark a few boat lengths to her stern.
But when Alpha tacked after rounding, we instead hardened up and opted for a long run to the northeast, overstood for safety, tacked once and handily (gloriously) laid the mark ahead of Alpha. Still, she was faster on the reach and held far too close on our transom. (We also passed Veloce, politely thanking her for the loan of Mike as we rounded outside and blanketed her at a mark.)
Next time around, Alpha tacked again. The rule book says, “Cover thine enemy,” so instead we took a risk and headed once again for the corner. This time OVRS lost the distant mark in the sun, but found the expected huge knock, tacked and then swore all the way, knowing that he’d under stood and would have to put in a couple of deadly quick tacks to round. All hail, the wind gods had mercy and at the last moment we got a blast and a massive lift and cleared the mark at full speed with room to spare. Alpha, eat our dust!! She was far behind.
The rest of the race involved constantly playing the jib and main through the violent changes in wind speed and direction. OVRS was heard to sound far too much like, in fact, to exceed, Skipper Ron, as he, uh, exhorted the trimmers to move more quickly. Get it out! Get it in! (He used the cheat sheets to know the lines.) Without grinders used to Circe (and one not familiar with self-tailers), it seems the skipper was (loudly) calling the trim when he maybe should have been paying more attention to steering. Still, Circe flew along as she should and could. Final leg, Alpha was no longer closing the gap. Kathleen called committee boat closest as we approached the finish, so OVRS contrarily headed for the mark. (In his defense, he couldn’t even see the committee boat for the sail.) We crossed. We finished. Blue Streak won with a horizon job. On corrected time, Abra was ahead of us by 1:10 (which OVRS can directly attribute to the start, the aforementioned accidental tack, and the first leg). The good news is we came third, an exhilarating 3 seconds on corrected time ahead of Alpha. Post-race, crew dispersed variously to the art exhibit at the Rectory, dog duty, and the Great Hall.
We must have done something right. Despite the hollering from OVRS, Mike has said he’d love to join us again if Veloce doesn’t make it out or heads off on vacation. Even Ian, bruised, although non-committal may be game for another go. And the regular Circe crew was kind and tolerant, even forgiving, and declined to mutiny or throw OVRS overboard.
Hah, caught you, Skipper Ron! You looked here to the last paragraph first to see the results! What about the actual act of racing? Shame on you! The result is buried somewhere above in the only mildly overstated prose.
Thanks from the bottom of my heart, Circe crew!
Who’s here next week?