Lol, you're right, thanks, Bill. Enjoyed seeing your picture and reading a bit about your cruising experience in this months latitude. Lovely family.
Dang. Congrats 6 Brothers.
Dang. Congrats 6 Brothers.
-
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LongPac 2017 Tracking and Position Reporting + Chatter
- Thread starter pogen
- Start date
Well done Jim and The Buffalo!! Congrats!!
pogen
Sailing canoe "Kūʻaupaʻa"
Great job Jim!
Reported that JOU JOU is motoring back to SF after equipment issues.
GALAXSEA and RIFF RIDER can be seen on VesselFinder about 4 nm W. of Point Bonita, apparently with no wind.
TORTUGA and NIGHTMARE are both about 35 nm out.
Fleet should be all finished before late afternoon I guess.
Reported that JOU JOU is motoring back to SF after equipment issues.
GALAXSEA and RIFF RIDER can be seen on VesselFinder about 4 nm W. of Point Bonita, apparently with no wind.
TORTUGA and NIGHTMARE are both about 35 nm out.
Fleet should be all finished before late afternoon I guess.
As the last boats are creeping in... a little blow by blow...
Prestart...
Expedition forecast a a quick race... GB finish 8pm or so...just before sunset... based on GRIBS that showed 10-20k on the way out and 15-30k on the return. And the wind being westerly going out - making it hard to go due west - and NW on the return - so coming back from a bit south would be a reach. So for the heavy small rig Cal 40 it would be the upper range of the #1 going out and big jib top coming back. So that was the plan. But it was questionable if it could be done without changing down to the #3 at some point.
Port side of line favored... wanted to port tack start but misjusged the flood and came in a bit late... though late being insude and ahort tacking off crissy paid dividends. Hit the south tower close... so decision time... go out north or south side? There was early ebb and decent breeze at the south side... the route target was 37-25 which is a tad south... the north side looked like lighter air... and the flood would be a lift exiting on the south side (vs a header exiting north side). So south side it was. Almost got out without tacking at the south tower but ended up well inside Mile Rock and a wee bit too close to the bricks. One short tack out and then back to starboard till the turning mark..hard on the wind in 10k-14k for the first 10 miles not laying the mark... and as the wind slowly swung north gradually coming up to the mark. Passed a few miles south of the Farralons now with the #1 on an outside lead with AWA of 40-50 degrees - and stayed that way till 10am Thursday when wind lightened to 10k - so up goes the jib top - knowing it was the right sail for the beam reach home. The #1 was a bit touch and go at times when the wind got as high as 20k but being cracked off 15 degrees made it doable (and changing from the #1 to the #3 alone at night in 20k is to be avoided). The forecast said no more then 20k the first night... fingers crossed.
During the change to the jib top noticed the halyard was a bit chewed up so cut a foot off the halyard and bowline to the jib top head.
Oh...
Changing from a #1 to a 155% jib top quickly is a bit of a wrestle and firedrill. Was soaking wet with sweat by the time I was done.
Thursday was a beautiful blue sky almost warm day. Ate a bit for the first time (though still on the 2 bonine per day regimen).
Rounded the mark at 36-19 at 4pm. My target was 36-25 but keeping up the #1 forced me a bit further south. The router said a 10 minute loss but I wager an hour or two gain by keeping full speed with the #1 - 7k-8k.
The way back was 65-90 AWA till inside the lightship. Wind averaged 24k with gusts as high as 29k. Again top end of the head sail - having to ease the jib top and vang while footing in the higher wind speeds. Steuggling to get north not wanting to end up gard on the wind the last 30 miles.
Friday morning I am woken up from a nap by a "bang". Jib top going up the headstay... did the rack tear out? Lucky me it was just the tack shackle which was likely 30 years old. The waves were sizable and green water on deck from time to time so quick turn south to make biw work easy, run forward, ease jib halyard, hook up tack to spare shackle, halyard up, turn back to course... maybe 3 minutes... time to get back to napping.
Zing.
Now what?
Jib top down and dragging alongside the boat. Broken halyard (that one I had shortened). Best to raise on the spare halyard while going a bit to weather so the jib lightly skidded on tbe bow wave. Got a bit fire hosed... which meant I really did have to finally change my underwear. Hope this halyard makes it all the way home...
Funny feeling sitting below napping watching the boat being pooped a few times (cockpit full of water).
Passed two mile to leeward of the Farrallons at 3pm... just like a SH Farallons race!
And just like two ocean races earlier in the year the wind shut off just before Bonita. Was planning to ride early flood on the south side but saw a bit of wind on the north side so north I want (dodging 5 outbound ships in the process). Though almost no wind, the flood carried me in till near the bridge where the wind filled again to the finish. Last of the ebb in the middle under the bridge but strong wide early flood everywhere else. Debated hoisting the chute but with the shifting wind and good flood decided not too.
Then hearing Ben and Lucy on the radio I just had to finish close to the bricks to give them a F2F.
Now where was Six Brothers? This wasn't really there weather conditions being too much reach and almost no chute. But us SH just love to put the heat on the DH.
As an aside...
Otto (the Alpha autopilot) drove 54 of the 57 hours. The skipper slept 10 hours per day... in 30-60 minute chunks (have a love-hate relationship with the loud kitchen timer made for the hard of hearing).
Only woken up once by the AIS proximity alarm.
I need to figure out what is amiss with my AIS transponder as I had it on the while time... though Vessel Finder doesnt see me... MarineTraffic does.
Prestart...
Expedition forecast a a quick race... GB finish 8pm or so...just before sunset... based on GRIBS that showed 10-20k on the way out and 15-30k on the return. And the wind being westerly going out - making it hard to go due west - and NW on the return - so coming back from a bit south would be a reach. So for the heavy small rig Cal 40 it would be the upper range of the #1 going out and big jib top coming back. So that was the plan. But it was questionable if it could be done without changing down to the #3 at some point.
Port side of line favored... wanted to port tack start but misjusged the flood and came in a bit late... though late being insude and ahort tacking off crissy paid dividends. Hit the south tower close... so decision time... go out north or south side? There was early ebb and decent breeze at the south side... the route target was 37-25 which is a tad south... the north side looked like lighter air... and the flood would be a lift exiting on the south side (vs a header exiting north side). So south side it was. Almost got out without tacking at the south tower but ended up well inside Mile Rock and a wee bit too close to the bricks. One short tack out and then back to starboard till the turning mark..hard on the wind in 10k-14k for the first 10 miles not laying the mark... and as the wind slowly swung north gradually coming up to the mark. Passed a few miles south of the Farralons now with the #1 on an outside lead with AWA of 40-50 degrees - and stayed that way till 10am Thursday when wind lightened to 10k - so up goes the jib top - knowing it was the right sail for the beam reach home. The #1 was a bit touch and go at times when the wind got as high as 20k but being cracked off 15 degrees made it doable (and changing from the #1 to the #3 alone at night in 20k is to be avoided). The forecast said no more then 20k the first night... fingers crossed.
During the change to the jib top noticed the halyard was a bit chewed up so cut a foot off the halyard and bowline to the jib top head.
Oh...
Changing from a #1 to a 155% jib top quickly is a bit of a wrestle and firedrill. Was soaking wet with sweat by the time I was done.
Thursday was a beautiful blue sky almost warm day. Ate a bit for the first time (though still on the 2 bonine per day regimen).
Rounded the mark at 36-19 at 4pm. My target was 36-25 but keeping up the #1 forced me a bit further south. The router said a 10 minute loss but I wager an hour or two gain by keeping full speed with the #1 - 7k-8k.
The way back was 65-90 AWA till inside the lightship. Wind averaged 24k with gusts as high as 29k. Again top end of the head sail - having to ease the jib top and vang while footing in the higher wind speeds. Steuggling to get north not wanting to end up gard on the wind the last 30 miles.
Friday morning I am woken up from a nap by a "bang". Jib top going up the headstay... did the rack tear out? Lucky me it was just the tack shackle which was likely 30 years old. The waves were sizable and green water on deck from time to time so quick turn south to make biw work easy, run forward, ease jib halyard, hook up tack to spare shackle, halyard up, turn back to course... maybe 3 minutes... time to get back to napping.
Zing.
Now what?
Jib top down and dragging alongside the boat. Broken halyard (that one I had shortened). Best to raise on the spare halyard while going a bit to weather so the jib lightly skidded on tbe bow wave. Got a bit fire hosed... which meant I really did have to finally change my underwear. Hope this halyard makes it all the way home...
Funny feeling sitting below napping watching the boat being pooped a few times (cockpit full of water).
Passed two mile to leeward of the Farrallons at 3pm... just like a SH Farallons race!
And just like two ocean races earlier in the year the wind shut off just before Bonita. Was planning to ride early flood on the south side but saw a bit of wind on the north side so north I want (dodging 5 outbound ships in the process). Though almost no wind, the flood carried me in till near the bridge where the wind filled again to the finish. Last of the ebb in the middle under the bridge but strong wide early flood everywhere else. Debated hoisting the chute but with the shifting wind and good flood decided not too.
Then hearing Ben and Lucy on the radio I just had to finish close to the bricks to give them a F2F.
Now where was Six Brothers? This wasn't really there weather conditions being too much reach and almost no chute. But us SH just love to put the heat on the DH.
As an aside...
Otto (the Alpha autopilot) drove 54 of the 57 hours. The skipper slept 10 hours per day... in 30-60 minute chunks (have a love-hate relationship with the loud kitchen timer made for the hard of hearing).
Only woken up once by the AIS proximity alarm.
I need to figure out what is amiss with my AIS transponder as I had it on the while time... though Vessel Finder doesnt see me... MarineTraffic does.
From a small boat
From a small boat
I was really glad to actually sail after all the preparations. It was almost like going to Hawaii but with less water and food. Family also gave me half way packages, drawings and pictures to open every day.
Had a good start and heard Al’s “Good Luck” from the race shore. That was nice to hear! Stayed out of the flood, few tacks as possible and see the scenic Marin coves. Quincy hit the South Tower a bit before I hit the North Tower. Single crew Express 27’s have a lot of leeway unless you sail them almost flat so I wanted to zig-zag the Marin headlands and make that last starboard tack at Pt. Bonita toward Farallones. Six Brothers had the same idea and sailed past me before the Bonita.
I was still carrying the #1 about midway to Farallones before changing down to #3. I had Crazy Rhythm (Santa Cruz 27) on my starboard quarter close enough to see his red foulies in the cockpit. My friend would remain within visual sight all the way to the turnaround point. John and I would do an 8:30 vhf checkin twice a day all through the race. Meant a lot and helped keep me going.
Day 1 was pleasant sailing out, only 1 head sail change from #1 to a #3, no Foulies needed, no water over the bow, dancing in the cockpit to B-52’s, good spirits. Mild winds and mild sea state. I could visually count 12 boats with the naked eye to the north, west and south & only about 5 miles apart. Quanci was way ahead and with 2 other tall masts possibly Don's Wiley 30 and Greg's Wilderness 30sx, two slow movers below were probably Tortuga and Daniel's "Imperial Cruiser". Six Brothers and another larger boat seemed to be high north above a Farallones track. Charles on Cal 40 Riff Rider passed me around the Farallones I believe. Before dark, took first reef and change down to #4. Must be approaching 20 knots.
Some where between Evening 1 and Day 2, naturally conditions got rougher with wind and seas, so progressively changed down to 2 reefs and #4. Must have been 20-25 plus knots. Close reaching to stay upwind and keep Archimedes stable. Sea sickness was worse than usual even with the Scopolamine patch. The sea state was jostling my insides not just the usual up/down but the more sudden left/right. Puke Festival 2017 just started.
But, not a problem, I prepared by hydrating and nourishing two days before so I was functional despite only eating one Mtn House spaghetti meal, one package Trader Joe’s turkey jerky, two tubes of crackers and ginger ale & water. But, I had to keep things simple. Not racing, just good seamanship.
From Day 2 forward, Staying dry, warm and rested meant little time on deck as possible. Only reefing, lookout and main sheet control with AP driving. I kept two reefs and a #4. Once in a while thought about changing down to storm jib because it felt like 25 knots plus, but cracking off was better than walking the dark fore deck in the un-patterned waves.
I made out Crazy Rhythm’s red bow light and mast strobe near the turnaround point and heard Carliane on Kyntanna was close by. I was rooting for her not just to finish but to do well toward Hawaii eventually. Long ago, she impressed me with her character. After a long solo sail from Hanalei and a tired evening arrival into the tricky Nawiliwili Harbor, she impressed me how she led others putting Archimedes away. She took care of her like her own and with familiarity. Making sure sails were properly folded, lines coiled, and nothing left amiss. Listening to her interact with the other SHTP vets, I told George Lythcott to keep an eye out on her, she will be significant competition in future SHTP’s, because she is not just a racer but a true sailor.
Thank God for Auto Pilots. My Ray Marine ram is named “Rachel.” She has tanned to a gold/brown over time and has cradled me over 3000 miles safely. God bless her and the Hungarian hands who assembled her. Only a few times did she need my company in the worse winds and sea states. She drove and I trimmed the main in and out with puffs and waves.
Sometimes, driving topside in the evening was beautiful. The moonlight on my starboard lee side, the beam reach speeds and the occasional roaring breaker. But, I had to keep my eyes in the back of my head so that I could crouch into a “wave body tuck” position and lessen the impact of breaking waves. I did not want to get body checked to the lee side, so mostly retreated to the cabin during the real nasty stuff. One thing that I always remember about overnight ocean races is that just like visiting a city, each quadrant of the sea is like a different city block with its changing feel and character. Most of the wind gusts seemed to stay below 30 knots, so happy to have no “howling sea desert” to morphi-phrase Mark Twain.
My biggest concern was how much did I need to go upwind to return to SF versus how Archimedes wanted to sail. I ended up close reaching the early part of the return leg and beam reaching the rest. All possible since the wind lived up to forecasted shift left as we worked toward home.
My second concern was squeezing between a night SE Farallones and western approach shipping channel during my most tired state. I stayed awake thru it and crashed slept once safely inside the light ship and well south of the return channel. When I got up in the dark morning, I was surprised how little progress I had made but too tired and nonchalant about unreefing the main, so back to sleep. By daylight morning and better rested, I wanted to get home so un-reefed, chuted up wind in light air and finally changed to a #1 on starboard tack from Bonita to the south tower. I was so focused on my drive that I scared a small fishing boat out of the way and in return a whale scared me by spouting a boat length off the starboard stern. The tail was curled about 10 feet away.
Approaching the Red Gate, starboard beam reach to South Tower and into the security of the Inside Bay. I could let most of my guard down and be at ease. VHF Greetings from Brian on RedSky and visual greetings from the RC was nice. It was nice to see them on the way out, monitoring our progress, and to see them at the Finish. Thank you, Guys and Gals!!
This race was different from other Long Pacs and the start of the 2014 Transpac. 2011 was frustrating, 2013 was scary windy and this one… fun to tolerable leg 1 and queasy, moony, jostling leg 2. It’s a tougher race that SHTP and is suppose to be. I trailed just behind Kyntanna and just a few hours before my friend John on his SC27 Crazy Rythm. Congratulations to you both, I see SHTP 2018 in your futures.
I am still a little queasy on Sunday morning, so more “west & welaxation” as Elmer Fudd would say!
Glad everyone is back in Safely, Can’t wait to hear the stories from the Other Nuts!
P.S. John on the Santa Cruz 27 Crazy Rythm's is actually crazy (but hardcore) for going thru this gauntlet. A soaking, dodger-less ride and tight cramped quarters for a 6'2"
From a small boat
I was really glad to actually sail after all the preparations. It was almost like going to Hawaii but with less water and food. Family also gave me half way packages, drawings and pictures to open every day.
Had a good start and heard Al’s “Good Luck” from the race shore. That was nice to hear! Stayed out of the flood, few tacks as possible and see the scenic Marin coves. Quincy hit the South Tower a bit before I hit the North Tower. Single crew Express 27’s have a lot of leeway unless you sail them almost flat so I wanted to zig-zag the Marin headlands and make that last starboard tack at Pt. Bonita toward Farallones. Six Brothers had the same idea and sailed past me before the Bonita.
I was still carrying the #1 about midway to Farallones before changing down to #3. I had Crazy Rhythm (Santa Cruz 27) on my starboard quarter close enough to see his red foulies in the cockpit. My friend would remain within visual sight all the way to the turnaround point. John and I would do an 8:30 vhf checkin twice a day all through the race. Meant a lot and helped keep me going.
Day 1 was pleasant sailing out, only 1 head sail change from #1 to a #3, no Foulies needed, no water over the bow, dancing in the cockpit to B-52’s, good spirits. Mild winds and mild sea state. I could visually count 12 boats with the naked eye to the north, west and south & only about 5 miles apart. Quanci was way ahead and with 2 other tall masts possibly Don's Wiley 30 and Greg's Wilderness 30sx, two slow movers below were probably Tortuga and Daniel's "Imperial Cruiser". Six Brothers and another larger boat seemed to be high north above a Farallones track. Charles on Cal 40 Riff Rider passed me around the Farallones I believe. Before dark, took first reef and change down to #4. Must be approaching 20 knots.
Some where between Evening 1 and Day 2, naturally conditions got rougher with wind and seas, so progressively changed down to 2 reefs and #4. Must have been 20-25 plus knots. Close reaching to stay upwind and keep Archimedes stable. Sea sickness was worse than usual even with the Scopolamine patch. The sea state was jostling my insides not just the usual up/down but the more sudden left/right. Puke Festival 2017 just started.
But, not a problem, I prepared by hydrating and nourishing two days before so I was functional despite only eating one Mtn House spaghetti meal, one package Trader Joe’s turkey jerky, two tubes of crackers and ginger ale & water. But, I had to keep things simple. Not racing, just good seamanship.
From Day 2 forward, Staying dry, warm and rested meant little time on deck as possible. Only reefing, lookout and main sheet control with AP driving. I kept two reefs and a #4. Once in a while thought about changing down to storm jib because it felt like 25 knots plus, but cracking off was better than walking the dark fore deck in the un-patterned waves.
I made out Crazy Rhythm’s red bow light and mast strobe near the turnaround point and heard Carliane on Kyntanna was close by. I was rooting for her not just to finish but to do well toward Hawaii eventually. Long ago, she impressed me with her character. After a long solo sail from Hanalei and a tired evening arrival into the tricky Nawiliwili Harbor, she impressed me how she led others putting Archimedes away. She took care of her like her own and with familiarity. Making sure sails were properly folded, lines coiled, and nothing left amiss. Listening to her interact with the other SHTP vets, I told George Lythcott to keep an eye out on her, she will be significant competition in future SHTP’s, because she is not just a racer but a true sailor.
Thank God for Auto Pilots. My Ray Marine ram is named “Rachel.” She has tanned to a gold/brown over time and has cradled me over 3000 miles safely. God bless her and the Hungarian hands who assembled her. Only a few times did she need my company in the worse winds and sea states. She drove and I trimmed the main in and out with puffs and waves.
Sometimes, driving topside in the evening was beautiful. The moonlight on my starboard lee side, the beam reach speeds and the occasional roaring breaker. But, I had to keep my eyes in the back of my head so that I could crouch into a “wave body tuck” position and lessen the impact of breaking waves. I did not want to get body checked to the lee side, so mostly retreated to the cabin during the real nasty stuff. One thing that I always remember about overnight ocean races is that just like visiting a city, each quadrant of the sea is like a different city block with its changing feel and character. Most of the wind gusts seemed to stay below 30 knots, so happy to have no “howling sea desert” to morphi-phrase Mark Twain.
My biggest concern was how much did I need to go upwind to return to SF versus how Archimedes wanted to sail. I ended up close reaching the early part of the return leg and beam reaching the rest. All possible since the wind lived up to forecasted shift left as we worked toward home.
My second concern was squeezing between a night SE Farallones and western approach shipping channel during my most tired state. I stayed awake thru it and crashed slept once safely inside the light ship and well south of the return channel. When I got up in the dark morning, I was surprised how little progress I had made but too tired and nonchalant about unreefing the main, so back to sleep. By daylight morning and better rested, I wanted to get home so un-reefed, chuted up wind in light air and finally changed to a #1 on starboard tack from Bonita to the south tower. I was so focused on my drive that I scared a small fishing boat out of the way and in return a whale scared me by spouting a boat length off the starboard stern. The tail was curled about 10 feet away.
Approaching the Red Gate, starboard beam reach to South Tower and into the security of the Inside Bay. I could let most of my guard down and be at ease. VHF Greetings from Brian on RedSky and visual greetings from the RC was nice. It was nice to see them on the way out, monitoring our progress, and to see them at the Finish. Thank you, Guys and Gals!!
This race was different from other Long Pacs and the start of the 2014 Transpac. 2011 was frustrating, 2013 was scary windy and this one… fun to tolerable leg 1 and queasy, moony, jostling leg 2. It’s a tougher race that SHTP and is suppose to be. I trailed just behind Kyntanna and just a few hours before my friend John on his SC27 Crazy Rythm. Congratulations to you both, I see SHTP 2018 in your futures.
I am still a little queasy on Sunday morning, so more “west & welaxation” as Elmer Fudd would say!
Glad everyone is back in Safely, Can’t wait to hear the stories from the Other Nuts!
P.S. John on the Santa Cruz 27 Crazy Rythm's is actually crazy (but hardcore) for going thru this gauntlet. A soaking, dodger-less ride and tight cramped quarters for a 6'2"
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Ah! I feel for you as I can relate to that being 6'6" in an Olson 30.
Great report, thanks for posting and congrats!
Nice report,a nd w well sailed race (with headaches). Thanks, Jim!
Thanks for the report!
JouJou Longpac Report
This was my first multi-day offshore race, my first time beyond the Farallones, and the first time managing myself and my boat over a much longer period of time and distance. My goal was to qualify for the SH Transpac and learn as much as possible in the process. In the end I had a disappointing finish to the LongPac. However, I feel that I accomplished all of my major goals in entering the race. Here follows a short re-cap of my experience on JouJou.
We had ideal weather for the sail out, and looking back at the tracker I seemed to hold my own and then some. My rudder started to clank alarmingly and periodically bind up on the first day and I considered retiring before the Farallones. I alerted the race committee to the potential rudder problems and decided to keep going and to monitor the situation. My first night was a struggle as I could not sleep. This was my first night at sea in JouJou and between the adrenaline and the anxiety of barreling along in 18 kts of wind in total darkness I just could not settle in. I finally found a spot on the floor of the cockpit (!) where I could get comfortable. I got perhaps 30 min of sleep total that night. Not good.
The second day was in a word: glorious. Perfect sailing conditions for hours and hours. I ended up close hauled for the last 50 miles to the turn-around point, hitting the mark at 8:00 PM. This was four hours behind Green Buffalo, with whom I had crossed tacks two hours earlier. I waved as we passed, but apparently Jim was down below sleeping one of his 10 hours that day, or mixing cocktails, or whatever else he does on these races. I knew that he was going to kill everyone in the race, but he could at least try to make it look a bit harder.
On the second day it felt like my rudder had stabilized, but in retrospect I think I had just become accustomed to the stiffness of the steering and that we were sailing in pretty benign conditions.
On the third day things began to unravel. The wind went from 15-18 knots overnight to 25-27 knots, gusting to 30. My target course back to SF had me at ~90 AWA, and beam-reaching in the growing seas got more and more difficult as the day progressed. There seemed to be two wave trains, one dominant train that I had to fight against, and a lesser train that actually helped a bit. It is where they mixed chaotically that there were problems. By mid-day I was getting smacked around like a toy. The biggest problem was with the dominant train on the beam where I would periodically get hit by the breaking wave crest, filling the cockpit and spinning me helplessly into the wind. This happened 6-7 times before I gave up and bore off. At 110 AWA it was much better, but this put me on a course for Monterey, not SF. My autopilot under these conditions was completely useless, so I hand steered for 12 hours straight. And my rudder was binding up so much that It was getting more and more difficult to make the sharp moves necessary to avoid wiping out. At this point I resigned myself to running downwind to spare the boat and to avoid catastrophic rudder failure. Looking back at the tracking data from other boats, it looks like if I had just held on for a couple of more hours things would have improved and I would have been able to head up to SF. Oh, well. Always easy in retrospect.
Having borne off, by midnight I was on course for Monterey with 10+ hours ahead of me. My foggy brain finally began to explore other options. The wind was down to 18 knots by then and I realized that I could head up to HMB at 60 AWA and that the autopilot could actually handle the conditions. So I sailed for a couple of hours on that tack, managing to sleep a bit. I further realized that by heading up to 40 AWA I could make SF, which was ~50 nm away. In retrospect, I realized that I could have beat back north and finish under sail, but the constant anxiety about the rudder took its toll on my judgment and I just wanted to get the boat back home in one piece. So I dropped the jib, started the engine, and motor-sailed back to SF. Of course, the moment I started the engine the wind dropped to a lovely 15 knots, the seas disappeared, and there was a full moon and clear skies and a dome of stars above. Utterly predictable.
In conclusion, I am disappointed in not finishing the race, particularly as it now clear that it was possible. I the process though, I learned an enormous amount about myself, the boat, and longer-term race management. In that respect, the race accomplished exactly what it was designed to do: serve as a stepping stone to the SH Transpac. According to my tracker data, I sailed 415 nm before retiring, so I believe that I managed my Transpac qualification. And I have a year to implement all the lessons learned. Meanwhile, I will be hauling out the boat and having a look at those rudder bearings. A job I clearly should have done before the race. And I plan on only mellow day sails on the Bay, perhaps a trip up the Delta – I am done with the ocean for a while.
This was my first multi-day offshore race, my first time beyond the Farallones, and the first time managing myself and my boat over a much longer period of time and distance. My goal was to qualify for the SH Transpac and learn as much as possible in the process. In the end I had a disappointing finish to the LongPac. However, I feel that I accomplished all of my major goals in entering the race. Here follows a short re-cap of my experience on JouJou.
We had ideal weather for the sail out, and looking back at the tracker I seemed to hold my own and then some. My rudder started to clank alarmingly and periodically bind up on the first day and I considered retiring before the Farallones. I alerted the race committee to the potential rudder problems and decided to keep going and to monitor the situation. My first night was a struggle as I could not sleep. This was my first night at sea in JouJou and between the adrenaline and the anxiety of barreling along in 18 kts of wind in total darkness I just could not settle in. I finally found a spot on the floor of the cockpit (!) where I could get comfortable. I got perhaps 30 min of sleep total that night. Not good.
The second day was in a word: glorious. Perfect sailing conditions for hours and hours. I ended up close hauled for the last 50 miles to the turn-around point, hitting the mark at 8:00 PM. This was four hours behind Green Buffalo, with whom I had crossed tacks two hours earlier. I waved as we passed, but apparently Jim was down below sleeping one of his 10 hours that day, or mixing cocktails, or whatever else he does on these races. I knew that he was going to kill everyone in the race, but he could at least try to make it look a bit harder.
On the second day it felt like my rudder had stabilized, but in retrospect I think I had just become accustomed to the stiffness of the steering and that we were sailing in pretty benign conditions.
On the third day things began to unravel. The wind went from 15-18 knots overnight to 25-27 knots, gusting to 30. My target course back to SF had me at ~90 AWA, and beam-reaching in the growing seas got more and more difficult as the day progressed. There seemed to be two wave trains, one dominant train that I had to fight against, and a lesser train that actually helped a bit. It is where they mixed chaotically that there were problems. By mid-day I was getting smacked around like a toy. The biggest problem was with the dominant train on the beam where I would periodically get hit by the breaking wave crest, filling the cockpit and spinning me helplessly into the wind. This happened 6-7 times before I gave up and bore off. At 110 AWA it was much better, but this put me on a course for Monterey, not SF. My autopilot under these conditions was completely useless, so I hand steered for 12 hours straight. And my rudder was binding up so much that It was getting more and more difficult to make the sharp moves necessary to avoid wiping out. At this point I resigned myself to running downwind to spare the boat and to avoid catastrophic rudder failure. Looking back at the tracking data from other boats, it looks like if I had just held on for a couple of more hours things would have improved and I would have been able to head up to SF. Oh, well. Always easy in retrospect.
Having borne off, by midnight I was on course for Monterey with 10+ hours ahead of me. My foggy brain finally began to explore other options. The wind was down to 18 knots by then and I realized that I could head up to HMB at 60 AWA and that the autopilot could actually handle the conditions. So I sailed for a couple of hours on that tack, managing to sleep a bit. I further realized that by heading up to 40 AWA I could make SF, which was ~50 nm away. In retrospect, I realized that I could have beat back north and finish under sail, but the constant anxiety about the rudder took its toll on my judgment and I just wanted to get the boat back home in one piece. So I dropped the jib, started the engine, and motor-sailed back to SF. Of course, the moment I started the engine the wind dropped to a lovely 15 knots, the seas disappeared, and there was a full moon and clear skies and a dome of stars above. Utterly predictable.
In conclusion, I am disappointed in not finishing the race, particularly as it now clear that it was possible. I the process though, I learned an enormous amount about myself, the boat, and longer-term race management. In that respect, the race accomplished exactly what it was designed to do: serve as a stepping stone to the SH Transpac. According to my tracker data, I sailed 415 nm before retiring, so I believe that I managed my Transpac qualification. And I have a year to implement all the lessons learned. Meanwhile, I will be hauling out the boat and having a look at those rudder bearings. A job I clearly should have done before the race. And I plan on only mellow day sails on the Bay, perhaps a trip up the Delta – I am done with the ocean for a while.
Good read!
I enjoyed reading about your adventure and tribulations. "Failure" in the 2011 Long Pac did not feel good either, but it paid huge dividends later. I think you did Well! The decisions made seemed like wise prudent seamanship to me.
I am done with the ocean, too - for at least a month. Somehow I am reminded of that scene in Clockwork Orange where the antagonist is adversely conditioned to violence by forcing his eye lids open and being subjected to many TV images. Well, I get queasy just looking at the sea or my left over food now. Damaged goods I am!
Someone mentioned the results at the end of an email today and I really didn't want to know. Can someone put my boat away?
JB
I enjoyed reading about your adventure and tribulations. "Failure" in the 2011 Long Pac did not feel good either, but it paid huge dividends later. I think you did Well! The decisions made seemed like wise prudent seamanship to me.
I am done with the ocean, too - for at least a month. Somehow I am reminded of that scene in Clockwork Orange where the antagonist is adversely conditioned to violence by forcing his eye lids open and being subjected to many TV images. Well, I get queasy just looking at the sea or my left over food now. Damaged goods I am!
Someone mentioned the results at the end of an email today and I really didn't want to know. Can someone put my boat away?
JB
Jim, you ride that Buffalo well and reading your playbook is great! Thanks for sharing!
Is the Jib Top configured more for reaching and what's that % compared to the #1.
Also, can you elaborate on the lifting exit flood at the south more. I don't quite follow.
Is that what Expedition can do. Provide latitude points to aim for based upon forecasted grids and best (least) sail time.
JB
Daydreamer
SAILOR
2017 LongPac Report
It’s Monday afternoon and I just got home and finished unpacking from the race. Even after writing in my log, it is all a bit of a blur but writing helps.
This was my first LongPac and a lot of other firsts along with it. Hopefully it will all fill in.
I camped out in SF the night before, arriving after the fireworks, and managing to get a good rest. Exciter and nervous I stowed the outboard below and mounted the e-rudder cassette. 09:30 I pushed off and sailed out for my 10:00 start. Checked in with the race committee and crossed the line on port in good order carrying main and #3 jib. Headed for the north tower to work my way out from that side but tacked early to avoid an inbound freighter. South side it is. Other boats opted for more sail and it was paying off. After getting past the lightship I changed up to my 125% which is my #1 and carried it until just before dark. I did manage to get my first nap down below on the port bunk. Things are definitely LOUDER below, with the hull slamming over the waves the reverberations were astonishing. It would rouse me regularly so I could pop my head out for a look around and check AIS.
Seasickness wasn’t too bad but had me pretty lethargic. My first check in Wed. night, trying to text on the Delorme was pretty brutal though. Barely got a very short text off to R/C and home. Maintaining a regime of Dramamine helps.
Changed down to the #3 jib and put a few more layers on as night came and it got cooler. The moon made things beautiful. First night proceeded as the day with regular naps and and lookouts, keeping an eye on AIS. After the moon went down I saw the phosphorecence in the bow wave, absolutely amazing!
Thursday morning brought a new set of issues, the solar system wasn’t charging. After checking in I tried resetting the charge controller through the app in my phone, but trying to focus on that really brought on the seasickness. After a rest I decided I needed to get into the wiring. We hove to for some relief from the swell and dug out the tools and multimeter. After some periods of rest, work, purge, the problem was solved. Aimed west again I went below, dosed up on dramamine and took a nap. Evening check in completed, kept getting a little more food and fluids in me.
About 50nm from turn around I heard Kyntanna on the radio. I called to say hello, and started to chat. Got scolded by USCG Station Long Beach. Oops. at 02:56 Friday I made my turn. Woo hoo!!
Friday things continued to improve as far as seasickness, appetite, and energy level. Communications became easier. Running with the swell helps a lot for me.
Wind began to increase throughout the day with the first reef in midday and apparent wind passing 18 knots, later I tucked in the second after we were hitting 22 plus.
Around 19:00 the tillerpilot ram gave up. Something inside, I‘ll have to take it apart to see if I can fix it. I have and ST2000 for a backup but it couldn’t keep up with the swell and wind waves that were building. With check in I alerted R/C and home I would heave to later for rest. 22:00 I did just that, dozed for a couple hours when a big wave slammed the side and startled me, all was ok so I tried for a little more sleep. Saturday 02:00 I set to getting to the finish, hand steering in that cross sea the last 100 miles.
I tried the backup pilot a couple times when I just couldn’t keep my eyes open but only got a very short nap. As the sun came up it became easier to keep alert. 08:00 check in had me just west of the Farallone Islands with a thick haze keeping them obscured until I was within 2.5 miles. I considered the lee shore for a moment but felt ok passing to the north in the conditions at hand.
Approaching Point Bonita I was pleased to receive Red Sky’s welcome back call on the radio. The wind died and I jibed back and forth to keep apparent wind going, keep us in the flood and between the inbound and outbound shipping traffic, up to the Gate, where the breeze filled in, put us on starboard to the finish. I ran all the way to the breakwater to give R/C a big wave and THANK YOU! Altogether a great race, challenging and exciting!
Sailed back to Richmond, called my wife on the way, and slept hard. Ate and slept some more. Cleaned and stowed the boat on Sunday. Returned the liferaft and headed home on Monday. Whew!
I’m sure there is plenty I’ve missed, hopefully this will suffice.
Oh, I didn’t mention the groover, or bucket and chuck it, as I’ve heard it called.
That was a first under a seaway. We’ll skip the details.
Greg Ashby
S/V Nightmare
It’s Monday afternoon and I just got home and finished unpacking from the race. Even after writing in my log, it is all a bit of a blur but writing helps.
This was my first LongPac and a lot of other firsts along with it. Hopefully it will all fill in.
I camped out in SF the night before, arriving after the fireworks, and managing to get a good rest. Exciter and nervous I stowed the outboard below and mounted the e-rudder cassette. 09:30 I pushed off and sailed out for my 10:00 start. Checked in with the race committee and crossed the line on port in good order carrying main and #3 jib. Headed for the north tower to work my way out from that side but tacked early to avoid an inbound freighter. South side it is. Other boats opted for more sail and it was paying off. After getting past the lightship I changed up to my 125% which is my #1 and carried it until just before dark. I did manage to get my first nap down below on the port bunk. Things are definitely LOUDER below, with the hull slamming over the waves the reverberations were astonishing. It would rouse me regularly so I could pop my head out for a look around and check AIS.
Seasickness wasn’t too bad but had me pretty lethargic. My first check in Wed. night, trying to text on the Delorme was pretty brutal though. Barely got a very short text off to R/C and home. Maintaining a regime of Dramamine helps.
Changed down to the #3 jib and put a few more layers on as night came and it got cooler. The moon made things beautiful. First night proceeded as the day with regular naps and and lookouts, keeping an eye on AIS. After the moon went down I saw the phosphorecence in the bow wave, absolutely amazing!
Thursday morning brought a new set of issues, the solar system wasn’t charging. After checking in I tried resetting the charge controller through the app in my phone, but trying to focus on that really brought on the seasickness. After a rest I decided I needed to get into the wiring. We hove to for some relief from the swell and dug out the tools and multimeter. After some periods of rest, work, purge, the problem was solved. Aimed west again I went below, dosed up on dramamine and took a nap. Evening check in completed, kept getting a little more food and fluids in me.
About 50nm from turn around I heard Kyntanna on the radio. I called to say hello, and started to chat. Got scolded by USCG Station Long Beach. Oops. at 02:56 Friday I made my turn. Woo hoo!!
Friday things continued to improve as far as seasickness, appetite, and energy level. Communications became easier. Running with the swell helps a lot for me.
Wind began to increase throughout the day with the first reef in midday and apparent wind passing 18 knots, later I tucked in the second after we were hitting 22 plus.
Around 19:00 the tillerpilot ram gave up. Something inside, I‘ll have to take it apart to see if I can fix it. I have and ST2000 for a backup but it couldn’t keep up with the swell and wind waves that were building. With check in I alerted R/C and home I would heave to later for rest. 22:00 I did just that, dozed for a couple hours when a big wave slammed the side and startled me, all was ok so I tried for a little more sleep. Saturday 02:00 I set to getting to the finish, hand steering in that cross sea the last 100 miles.
I tried the backup pilot a couple times when I just couldn’t keep my eyes open but only got a very short nap. As the sun came up it became easier to keep alert. 08:00 check in had me just west of the Farallone Islands with a thick haze keeping them obscured until I was within 2.5 miles. I considered the lee shore for a moment but felt ok passing to the north in the conditions at hand.
Approaching Point Bonita I was pleased to receive Red Sky’s welcome back call on the radio. The wind died and I jibed back and forth to keep apparent wind going, keep us in the flood and between the inbound and outbound shipping traffic, up to the Gate, where the breeze filled in, put us on starboard to the finish. I ran all the way to the breakwater to give R/C a big wave and THANK YOU! Altogether a great race, challenging and exciting!
Sailed back to Richmond, called my wife on the way, and slept hard. Ate and slept some more. Cleaned and stowed the boat on Sunday. Returned the liferaft and headed home on Monday. Whew!
I’m sure there is plenty I’ve missed, hopefully this will suffice.
Oh, I didn’t mention the groover, or bucket and chuck it, as I’ve heard it called.
That was a first under a seaway. We’ll skip the details.
Greg Ashby
S/V Nightmare
Last edited:
Daydreamer
SAILOR
Here is a shot of Jaqueline after the start, or maybe just before.
And Riff Rider as we headed for Miles Rocks
And Riff Rider as we headed for Miles Rocks
First - thanks for the kind words!
On the jib top... its a 155% genoa with a high clew (maybe 5 feet off the deck) that trims near as far aft as the spinnaker sheet. Used when the AWA is between 50 and 85 degrees (and at time as deep as 130 degrees when its too windy to fly a chute). Yes the perfect sail for most of the second half of the race. It sort of works like a "last century's" version of a Code zero (though its heavy material so can be flown off the wind in over 30k). See pic of what looks like a great jib top (but is actually a code zero) - https://www.quantumsails.com/Quantu...ges/code-0-misconceptions-header.jpg?ext=.jpg that clearly shows how high the clew is - or a picture of the Buffalo's jib top - but because of the angle is not so clear how high up the clew is - http://pressure-drop.us/imagehost/images/20949950040810783649.jpg
On lifting exit flood...
When its flooding and the wind is from the NW... when you are exiting the bay...
On the north side as you get past the Bonita Channel buoy the flood sets you N to S. With the wind from the NW the current is dragging you away from the wind -- so you see a drop in wind speed equal to the Flood which is also reflected as a wind direction header (you cannot sail as high as you could if there was no current). When exiting the south side in a flood, the flood is carrying you S to N - toward the NW breeze - so you see both a wind velocity increase as well as a lift (you can sail higher then if there was no current). Its the mirror effect that has us favoring the north side exit in an ebb in a NW wind. This all gets reversed if its a southerly wind like we see in the spring from time to time. Might take a white board and some vector diagrams to really grock what is happening...
On Expedition...
Given good "as you can really sail" polars for your boat (not theoretical polars which are more about boat trim and speed optimization), you can use Expedition to figure out the "shortest time" turning point for the race. Its a bit iterative... moving the turning point up and down the 126-40 longitude line and rerouting to see which turning point is optimum (shortest time). Using Expedition to do this takes a significant investment in time (and money) learning the tool, learning its quirks - plus developing reasonable polars for your boat as sailed singlehanded (I have developed polars for sailing the Buffalo SH, DH, fully crewed, flat water, big waves... taking into account things like I am not flying the chute in 30k SH but am when fully Crewed). Once you get familiar with Expedition... it only takes 10 minutes to rerun the routing analysis using the latest weather forecast (what I did the last 4 nights before the race and then Wednesday morning before heading to the boat).
Anyone interested in learning more about exiting the bay strategies or routing using Expedition... just reach out. Happy to walk you thru it F2F. The exiting the bay learning curve is short... 10 minutes and you should have it. Using Expedition is not... warning... plan on investing 50+ hours learning and using Expedition before you are no longer dangerous - but not yet an expert (assuming you already have a reasonably good handle on interpreting weather forecasts and patterns).
On the jib top... its a 155% genoa with a high clew (maybe 5 feet off the deck) that trims near as far aft as the spinnaker sheet. Used when the AWA is between 50 and 85 degrees (and at time as deep as 130 degrees when its too windy to fly a chute). Yes the perfect sail for most of the second half of the race. It sort of works like a "last century's" version of a Code zero (though its heavy material so can be flown off the wind in over 30k). See pic of what looks like a great jib top (but is actually a code zero) - https://www.quantumsails.com/Quantu...ges/code-0-misconceptions-header.jpg?ext=.jpg that clearly shows how high the clew is - or a picture of the Buffalo's jib top - but because of the angle is not so clear how high up the clew is - http://pressure-drop.us/imagehost/images/20949950040810783649.jpg
On lifting exit flood...
When its flooding and the wind is from the NW... when you are exiting the bay...
On the north side as you get past the Bonita Channel buoy the flood sets you N to S. With the wind from the NW the current is dragging you away from the wind -- so you see a drop in wind speed equal to the Flood which is also reflected as a wind direction header (you cannot sail as high as you could if there was no current). When exiting the south side in a flood, the flood is carrying you S to N - toward the NW breeze - so you see both a wind velocity increase as well as a lift (you can sail higher then if there was no current). Its the mirror effect that has us favoring the north side exit in an ebb in a NW wind. This all gets reversed if its a southerly wind like we see in the spring from time to time. Might take a white board and some vector diagrams to really grock what is happening...
On Expedition...
Given good "as you can really sail" polars for your boat (not theoretical polars which are more about boat trim and speed optimization), you can use Expedition to figure out the "shortest time" turning point for the race. Its a bit iterative... moving the turning point up and down the 126-40 longitude line and rerouting to see which turning point is optimum (shortest time). Using Expedition to do this takes a significant investment in time (and money) learning the tool, learning its quirks - plus developing reasonable polars for your boat as sailed singlehanded (I have developed polars for sailing the Buffalo SH, DH, fully crewed, flat water, big waves... taking into account things like I am not flying the chute in 30k SH but am when fully Crewed). Once you get familiar with Expedition... it only takes 10 minutes to rerun the routing analysis using the latest weather forecast (what I did the last 4 nights before the race and then Wednesday morning before heading to the boat).
Anyone interested in learning more about exiting the bay strategies or routing using Expedition... just reach out. Happy to walk you thru it F2F. The exiting the bay learning curve is short... 10 minutes and you should have it. Using Expedition is not... warning... plan on investing 50+ hours learning and using Expedition before you are no longer dangerous - but not yet an expert (assuming you already have a reasonably good handle on interpreting weather forecasts and patterns).