A few more words from another small boat
I was at least 30 seconds late to the line for my start. Probably not a huge deal in a long race. But it's always good for moral to have a nice start. I worked my way up the shoreline before heading across to take the North side out the gate. I had the #3 up so I would not have to do a head sail change to early in the day as that is a recipe for mal de mer for me. I could gauge how much this was hurting by watching Archimedes slowly pull away.
Once out on the ocean I was able to keep up with Archimedes and Joe and I would spend the rest of day one in close proximity. Green Buffalo was another story as that gorgeous boat disappeared so fast. Impressive.
Things went well in nearly ideal conditions for the rest of the day. And it was nice to hear the wishes for safe voyage from the folks on the Farallones as we passed by. I finally got ahead of Joe on Archimedes as night fell. But this would not last.
At some point after falling asleep around midnight, the CPA alarm went off and in my fatigue induced stupor, after failing to make contact with the approaching ship (CPA estimate was .18 miles, too close for me) I elected to sail due South for 30 minutes to get clear. In retrospect I should have hit the call button to try a DSC call to the ship. In any case, that was an expensive excursion from desired course.
At dawn on day two I could no longer see any of the fleet and I would remain visually alone until the finish. the second day was only a bit windier than the first and I made good progress towards the magic line. Still not feeling much like eating, although cookies and Gatorade are tolerable and have calories.
By nightfall on day two I am watching the miles toward the touch line evaporate. I'm over powered with the #4 and double reefed main and in the dark elect to just secure the jib on deck and continue under main alone. I swear the closer I get the slower those miles disappear, even though I am still making 6.5 knots. I finally turn around at 10.41 pm.
Friday was noticeably windier and rougher, with the boat getting bounced around pretty good. I tried to sail hard for a few hours but fatigue set in and sometime around mid-day I let the AP take over again and napped down below. Still under double reefed main alone. Later on I try the storm jib and triple reef in the main. I've never used that "long pac reef" before. The boat moves pretty well like this but I have a feeling I should be more powered up. I know Joe is, somewhere out there.
By the time it starts to get dark on Friday, things are getting seriously lumpy and irregular and I opt to take the storm jib down and sail under triple reefed main alone. I should have at least taken one reef out of the main but just wasn't feeling it.
Things continued to deteriorate through the night and after a couple of hours I realize that beam reaching straight for the finish is not the most prudent course of action. Heading up about 20 degrees helps the situation noticeably. But Crazy Rhythm and I are still taking a pounding with frequent waves crashing over the boat causing water to gush in through the closed companionway like a fire hose. We had a couple of really hard hits by breaking waves that pushed the boat sideways, a strange sensation. Took one hit that must have knocked us down the face of the wave, with one hard hit on the port side of the boat, then a sensation of falling followed by an even harder hit on starboard as we landed back in the water.
My sleeping spot on board is the cabin sole and at 6ft 4 I have two positions that work: on my back with my lower legs on to of the cooler/step, or on my right side with my lower legs wrapped around the cooler. In the side position my feet and lower legs are resting on the hull and the amount of movement and flexing I felt was quite surprising. I spent some time wondering just how much abuse 40 year old polyester could take. (Apparently it can take a lot.)
When I went back topside at dawn on Saturday I was greeted with much better conditions and a gorgeous moon set (
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0EcWc8-do4A). After a quick bite to eat I set to increasing sail and heading for a finish. The Farallones were impossible to see until just four miles away due to the back-lit hazy conditions. From there I had some fun double digit surfing until things began to go light a few miles West of Pt. Bonita. At some point in the Gulf of the Farallones I heard Joe on Archimedes calling the RC announcing his approach to the finish line several hours ahead of my eta. Well done, Joe.
Crossed under the bridge on starboard and headed down the city front past the feeding whales just inside the South tower. They were eating there when I left. Those are some hungry whales. I do not have my prescription glasses (lost down below somewhere) so hard to make out the line. Plus there are a lot of boats in here. Kind of scary sailing so close to other boats! I manage to find the finish line and hear a horn from the RC. Thanks, guys.
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Joe, that first day sailing in proximity to Archimedes was great fun. And I want to say thanks to the other folks I chatted with, or just listened to, on the VHF. It was nice to hear another voice and note your positions. I do think Jim on Green Buffalo should be required to slow down a bit so the rest of us can enjoy the view of his beautiful boat a little longer. (And yes, I would love to hear more about your exit strategies and Expedition etc. sometime. We should set up a class.)
Among the things I learned that I should have already known: you should never leave your feet in wet sea boots for 3 days, even if you change to dry socks at the turn around. It's really bad for your feet! And it takes almost as long to put the boat away and clean up the stuff at home as it does to sail the race.
Thanks to everyone who made this possible.
John
Crazy Rhythm
