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Mother Nature 2, Catamarans 0
This year's Newport-Ensenada race started off in good winds as a small storm
front passed over the race course. It was raining as we finished preparing the
boats on the beach, and it looked like the wind would hold out for at least 24
hours. I was sailing in my 4'th race, along with Ken Fox who had sailed with me
last year. In that race, we had medium winds of 8-12 knots right up until the
end of the race, coming in about 10'th out of 430 entries. This year, with more
experience and better preparation for the night portion of the race, we were
eager to see how many of the bigger boats we could beat.
The multihulls were the 3rd start this year, starting 20 minutes after the 70
foot sleds. We started off doing about 9 knots on a reach, with the wind slowly
building into the high 'teens. We were doing quite well, having passed most of
the big half-cats that started 20 minutes ahead of us, and all of the multihulls
except Afterburner (we kept them in sight for a couple of hours, but when the
wind built they accelerated a lot more than we did).
We quickly lost sight of Brandon/James on the black boat, who chose a more
inshore route about 5 nmi offshore, while we headed on a broad reach about 10-15
nmi offshore. As the wind built, we were broad reaching at full power under
main/jib. The interesting thing was the wind chop - after a couple of days of
strong winds from different directions (first south, then west), it was at least
twice as big as any I've ever seen before (and I've done lots of catamaran ocean
sailing in the SoCal area).
We were cooking along averaging about 15 knots. Combined with the chop, this
caused us to get soaked big-time at least once/minute, with water coming down
our necks, up our pant legs and inside our wrist cuffs (we were wearing wetsuits
under 1-piece spraysuits). It was much like being in a washing machine set to
"agitate". After a while, it the chop became so big that I could not steer and
trapeze at the same time, since I kept getting body-slammed by the waves, and
the boat would go all over the place when I got thrown around. We settled for
Ken single-trapping while I drove, facing backward to keep the majority of the
firehose out of my eyes.
Periodically, a certain combination of gusts & waves would dig in the leeward
bow, causing a sudden deceleration from 15 knots to 5 knots. Lacking chicken
lines, Ken would scamper along the hull to the bow until he could stop and
return back aft. On one wave, the hull dug in quicker and deeper than before.
I could hear Ken going forward (I was still facing backward to steer), followed
by a loud crack, and suddenly saw Ken trapezing by the leeward shroud! He had
gone "around the world" on the wire, breaking the spinnaker pole in half as he
passed the bow. As we parked the boat, I went up forward to clean up the mess.
I took us at least 1/2 hour to get things back onto the tramp and packed away
before we could get moving again. Fortunately, the spinnaker itself was
undamaged, and we had not lost the $350 TackTick compass that was mounted on the
pole. Unfortunately, by this time we were both getting quite cold due the
frequent dousings, which our clothing was not doing enough to control. We were
OK for the present, but it kind of felt like those times you aren't wearing a
wetsuit and really wish that you were. However, we were already wearing all of
our technical clothing, and it was only midafternoon. Since we had lost the
spinnaker and were facing the possibility of a long, slow, and very cold night,
the coldness wone out and we decided to abort the race at Mission Bay, San
Diego, about halfway down the track.
Since we had lost sight of Brandon/James soon after the start, there was much
speculation on board our boat as to their position and situation. We figured
they had to be at least as cold as we were (it kept getting colder as the
afternoon wore on and more gallons of water went down our suits). By the time
we entered Mission Bay, we set the odds at about 98% that we would see the black
boat on the shore when we arrived. And, as we rounded the last point, there it
was, already cleaned up, with the owners coming out of the bar looking dry and
toasty, each with a drink in their hand.
James and Brandon reported that they encountered even more wind on their inshore
route than we had found further offshore. They encountered winds in the 20-25
knot range, so much that they were forced to drop their spinnaker (we had never
even launched ours). This matches the the reports of some of the monoslug
sailors I talked to, who reported many boats blowing out spinnakers in the
gusts, leaving nothing but shreads behind. One of these gusts also got the best
of the black boat, which capsized early on in the race.
After getting throughly soaked in the capsize and worried about getting colder
as the race progressed, Brandon and James decided to call it a day also.
In hindsight, we were doing pretty well on our boat except for 2 points. (1)
Lacking chicken lines, what should have been a non-event (digging the bow in)
ended up breaking our spinnaker pole and taking a serious bite out of our speed
potential later on in the race. You can be sure that I'll get these set up for
next time, and for other ocean sailing/racing that I do. (2) While I've always
had good luck wearing a wetsuit under a 1-piece spraysuit, this combination was
totally inadequate for the weather we had in the race. Next year you can be
sure that we'll be wearing breathable drysuits, with plenty of insulating
clothing underneath. While the wetsuits worked well in the three previous N-E
races I've done and in numerous trips to Catalina, if you get soaked frequently
enough for long enough, the cold water wins out.
While it was a bummer to not be able to finish the race this year, each year we
enter we get more experience. Next year we'll be even better prepared and even
more eager to finish at the front of the fleet.
Alan Thompson
I20 - San Diego