CONGRATULATIONS CHAMP! You and Sean did it. Like I said, it all came down to the last race. What a squeaker. Ok, we need a full report.
It was fun to see
Philpott camped here at Inverness YC beach in her tent facing the full moon rise. Jackie was in the thick of things to report for
Bay and Delta, and was camping with her new coffee press, which came in its own brief case. We have come to expect no less.
Friday, 8/12/22 Seventh and Concluding Race of 2022 Int. 110 National Championships on Tomales Bay Wind 280m-305m, 16-22w knots. Chop = 1 foot, clear skies, 21 boats. Windward/Leeward/Windward/Leeward/Windward with finish at the windward mark 100 yards off Killkenny Beach.
Sean and I knew from the afternoon before that it would all come down to the last race, who ever won between us and Ross and Attila on the yellow BANANA from Bristol, Rhode Island. No one else could mathematically win. Match race tactics against Ross, a former National Champ, would seem to be required. But was complicated by congestion traffic from the fleet on a short start line, as well as by the quick turns and acceleration of 110's. With 1:30 to go, we managed to push Ross off the line to the right and lead him back. We got a good start at the starboard, committee boat end, with Ross a length astern.
Ross points very well, and lifted out to weather, sailing with his genoa ("we don't have a smaller jib") while we were sailing with our converted Mercury Class jib, which just happens to be a perfect fit for a 110. The first weather leg set the tone for the rest of the race: Ross and ourselves were never more than 2 lengths apart upwind, with the rest of the fleet in the rear view mirror.
Ross rounded the first weather mark half a length ahead and just held that downwind to the first gate mark. We turned just inside, missing his stern by inches, and tried to climb out on port tack. But Ross pinched us off and forced a tack to starboard, which he followed immediately.
Our tack was a little better, and both boats were even on the second weather leg. We both arrived on the port layline at the same time, Ross still a length to windward. I had a brain fade and made one unnecessary quick tack to keep him from driving off over the top and keeping us from tacking for the mark. That made us overstand slightly and Ross lead at the second windward mark by 3 lengths.
Ross chose to jibe set, while we did a faster bear away spinnaker hoist without a pole. We then jibed, sailing deeper without a pole, both boats sub-planing DDW going 8-10 knots. Bren 3rd and closing. Poleless, we could sail by-the-lee, while Ross stayed slightly higher, sailing a few extra lengths further. At the last leeward gate it was critical to hold the spinnaker until the last second, as well make a clean drop and rounding.
Both boats made a clean drop and rounding, us half a length ahead. We were on port tack with Ross in our backwind. We knew he had to tack and we would instantly follow to stay between him and the finish.
Ross tacked to starboard and we followed, a length to windward. This pinned him to leeward and he couldn't tack back to port. We were happy with that, although glancing under the boom, we could see he was outpointing us. Then happened one of those odd things we'd noticed all week: the wind went from 18 -20 to zero for about 2 lengths. I cannot explain it weather wise nor see it coming. Our boat straightened and Sean on the trapeze got T-bagged and off the boat to windward. Somehow, when the puff resumed, Sean popped out of the water and back aboard. How he did that I do not know, but it saved our bacon.
Ross was now ahead by half a length and just off our leebow, not yet quite backwinding us. I knew we were close to the port layline over my right shoulder and prayed we could hold Ross from tacking for the finish for a few more seconds. Our boat, SMART SHOES, responded, knowing she had to do this. We carried on 3 more lengths and tacked to port on the layline.
Ross held on starboard just a second too long and made a slightly slower tack with his bigger genoa. We were now on the port layline to the finish, 300 yards dead ahead, with Ross 2 lengths astern and a length to windward. It seemed a commanding position for us. But, but....
With 10 lengths to go to the finish I glanced back at Ross. Holy shit. He'd eased sheets enough to get his yellow, BANANA, up on a plane. A 110 planes on a tight reach? I didn't know that. But here we were going 6-7 and Ross was planing at 10, closing fast.
We were a length from the port finish buoy with Ross 5 feet astern and closing fast. No overlap, so he couldn't claim room.. At the finish mark I threw the boat into a quick luff. Ross finished 3 seconds behind us,
Sean and I erupted into a loud cry, shout, expression of exhaustion and elation. It had been one of the most intense inshore races I'd sailed. Our heart rates and breathing must have been off the charts. We were the 110 National Champs.. Doggies.