Boy howdy! If I was ever tempted to do the R2AK it wouldn't be with Morning Star -- that would be a poor choice, even with the engine removed. Instead, I've got an International Flying Junior on a trailer in the back yard. The IFJ was designed as a junior version of the Flying Dutchman, and was the predecessor to the CFJ ("Club Flying Junior") built by Vanguard. I already added oar locks, to be able to get back to the launch ramp dock when the fickle Arizona afternoon wind dies. I would just need to add a spinnaker, batteries, nav lights, solar, some electronics, and I'd be all set. He he.
Lee
s/v Morning Star
Valiant 32
Dura Mater and I tried the Delta Ditch Run. There was very little wind and the heat was very hot. I repeat. Very hot.
It was so hot I thought I’d die of heat stroke. I think maybe I did die. And then I came back as a singlehander in the Delta Ditch Run. I felt all the classic signs: first I was nauseous, then I was dizzy while taking my spinnaker down, then I started getting chills. Uh oh. This is bad. I really am dying. What am I doing out here???!!!
I drank a third bottle of water, took my hat off and poured a bottle over my head, then another one down my shirt. After that I set my Pelagic, looked around, went down into the cabin and laid down. Ooooohhh. Wish I could stay here for awhile. Maybe I did. Next thing, I hear voices. Well, maybe only one voice. “Ahoy!”
I popped my head up out of the cabin and realized that I had drifted to starboard a bit, over to where …. there was a big boat with POLICE printed on the side of it. The young men aboard seemed a bit taken aback when they saw just one person aboard, but the skipper of Dura Mater can quickly revert from surly to friendly when law enforcement is involved.
“Oh! Hi, officers!”
They looked at each other. “Ma’am, you’re not allowed in this area.”
“Oh, really? Sorry!” I turned the boat around and we immediately got stuck in the mud. I waved again, “Don’t worry! I’m leaving! Don’t worry! Carry on!” I went up on Dura Mater’s bow and rocked us out of the mud. We were free but still in this damned race.
Sailed on and on and on until I heard voices:
“Hey! It’s Jackie! Hi, Jackie!” There were Synthia and Nathalie to port on Envolee. Looking happy and not particularly miserable, with a full crew of happy looking people, a huge spinnaker up, passing by with smiles on their sunburned faces. So that’s what it’s like to sail with other people aboard. Huh. Gotta try that sometime. Maybe next year. Wish I had friends, I mumbled to myself, smelling my bad hygiene. Whew!
Well, I should at least raise my spinnaker again, try to look like I know what I’m doing. So I did and we sailed under the Antioch Bridge and it was better that way than without spinnaker, but still slow. Looking ahead I saw that people had lowered their spinnakers. I approached the point in the sailing instructions that read, in bold: AFTER THE ANTIOCH BRIDGE, LEAVE MARK #19 TO PORT. Thank goodness I’ve passed that! Things are good now!
But then. I had a bit of a struggle with the spinnaker and before I knew it DM and I were stuck fast in the mud @ 38.02274, -121.42705. No matter what I did, the tide was falling and we weren’t going anywhere. I kedged, I rocked, I used very bad language. I called my brother, Steve, who promised to come get me, but not until the next morning. He sent me some reading material.
So as the sun set Dura Mater and I settled in for the night. I threw my danforth anchor out and turned on the anchor light. The depth finder read 4.1 feet and I believed it. I boiled water for noodles, heated up my spaghetti sauce, had half a chocolate bar for dessert, then brushed my teeth and turned in for the night. I will confess to being a little rattled, but what could I do? Surely things would look better in the morning.
Woke up in my VBerth when I fell sideways. Huh? Oh, I get it! Dura Mater was heeled 25 degrees to port. I walked over to the open companionway and looked out. The world was on its side at 1:15 am Sunday morning. The water lapped gently against the hull, there were a gazillion stars, and the ½ moon lit up my cabin. Hello, Moon!
I could see Channel Marker #21 blinking green in the darkness and a gentle breeze blew the smell of manure to me. And then, what is this? I hear the cows calling to each other in a field just the other side of that nice deep channel. Yup. I could hear them mooing: “There’s another dumb yachtie come to spend the night with us!” Well, nothing to do about it. I repositioned my sleeping bag ninety degrees so I could sleep with my head elevated in the v-berth and set my alarm for the start of high tide at 5:30 am. Goodnight, Moon!
When I woke up, sure enough the world was right again. I boiled water, made some strong coffee, pulled up the anchor and unfurled my jib. Lordy! Lordy! Hallalujia! There was a gentle Delta breeze and Dura Mater, bless her heart, sailed by jib alone into the nice deep channel, ‘round Channel Marker #21 and slowly on to the Stockton Sailing Club.
Last edited by Philpott; 06-10-2018 at 03:37 AM.
I helped a friend bring his boat down from Pittsburgh to Richmond in April, so he could stay aboard while geeking out at the boat show for a week.
Told him I was going to show him a shortcut.
A channel I'd been up and down several times in the past, and as recent as a couple years ago, with NO problems.
Not a quarter of the way in, and here come the blue lights with the automatic rifles, saying; "you can't go this way!"
We turned right around and went the long way; . . . he now calls me; "shortcut".
Many many moons ago, in a chartered high free board 30' sloop, I anchored in a bad spot near the entrance to White Slough off of Redwood City Creek, and when the tide went out we laid on the mud and could see the anchor on the mud about 50 feet away from the deeper water.
At least you had waves gently lapping your hull...
June 11, 2018 In Port Townsend, Washington for the Race To Alaska (R2AK) on Monday and it's not yet a hoppin' place. The Race starts at 5 am Thursday morning, and yes the coffee bar Velocity is open early that day. I have enquired and been told by the young woman behind the counter that she will being serving up pastries and lattes etc at 4am. There are still rooms available at the Swan Hotel and Port Townsend Inn, so hurry and get your reservations.
What? You say you are busy preparing for the 2018 Singlehanded Transpacific Yacht Race? Well, of course you are. Meanwhile, consider this a diversion where you can pity someone else for a few moments instead of yourself.
I visited here back in March and am back wandering around waiting for the racers to arrive from Ohio and Connecticut and France and Colorado and various places from "up north". In conversation with two nice young women, Nahja and Megan, I learned that "up north" refers to people from Canada. We laughed when I said that, in California we refer to the state of Washington as up north, and Megan, from Florida, admitted that we are all, out here, referred to as "out West". So, perspective is everything.
The fella with a Moore 24, the sole entrant from Southern California, cancelled. Larry of Humdinger from the Bay Area is registered with an Olson 30, but he's not here yesterday. In the meantime I'm here with my IPhone, prepared to pester people into talking to me. Sort of like when I pester singlehanded sailors in the bay area.
There is no qualifier for this race, no inspection for safety equipment and NO RULES except that people get to Alaska first for $10,000 and second for a set of steak knives. Maybe that's why NO ONE IS HERE YET.
So, while I walk around admiring the beautiful boats, here are some photos for you to look at. Consider me your own, private travel guide and send cash accordingly to: Jacqueline.Philpott@gmail.com
Put CASH in the subject line so I know it's from you.
Last edited by Philpott; 07-15-2018 at 10:45 AM.
I once took friends Robert and Anne out sailing on my first boat, my Cal 20. We sailing around Redwood Creek and then tried sailing up Westpoint slough. I'd been up that way before and thought I knew where the "deeper" water was. This was many years before it was dredged for Westpoint harbor.
Anyway we putzed around for a bit and sure enough, squooosh into the mud the keel went. I tried everything...hanging out on the boom, rocking back and forth. I even put my biggest anchor on two lifejackets and swum it 150 feet out into the channel. Nothing. We spent the night there, four adult on a Cal 20.
Best quote of the evening, though...which Joan STILL remember, is Anne screaming at her husband...
"Robert, DO something! Alans' doing something!"
1968 Selmer Series 9 B-flat and A clarinets
1962 Buesher "Aristocrat" tenor saxophone
Piper One Design 24, Hull #35; "Alpha"
June 12, 2018 Still up here in the Pacific Northwest and who do I find while walking up and down the docks but our own SSS doublehander Larry Olsen, he of Humdinger. Seems he's bought himself an Olson 30, tricked it out with one of Russell Brown's peddle contraptions via Skip Allan, and here he is ready to tackle the R2AK. Waaaaahhh? He seems so normal but apparently he is not, because, did I say this already? He's in the R2AK. With crew, including two sons in law and a ringer from Brooklyn.
https://r2ak.com/2018-teams-full-rac...dreamcatchers/
Here they are: The Wild Bunch
Last edited by Philpott; 07-15-2018 at 10:43 AM.
Here at the R2AK is Marjorie and her crew, Teresa, hailing from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. They bought a pretty little Balboa 20 and here it is, complete with an almost ready, almost attached peddle mechanism. Yes, they are an example of sailors still preparing their boats in the 24 hours before the race. The boat is 1600#, Marjorie and Teresa sail on Lake Michigan, and what is their goal in this race? They laughed: "To finish!"
Team Reliance: https://r2ak.com/2018-teams-full-race/team-reliance/
Last edited by Philpott; 07-15-2018 at 10:36 AM.
Here's the story about Team Lagopus. They entered the R2AK with an Olson 30 named Ptarmigan. A Ptarmigan is a type of bird, a "hardy grouse of barren ground in the high arctic, well adapted to harsh surroundings" [Audubon Field Guide]. This is the perfect name for a boat doing the R2AK, right?
They were excited about the race, well prepared and polite, the way Canadians are expected to behave. Except that the Race Boss told them that another boat had already registered with that name. A bigger boat. A large multihull named Ptarmigan that hogged a huge portion of the dock space, right next to their Ptarmigan. What are the chances?
And so, even though monohull Ptarmigan couldn't be called Team Ptarmigan, they cloaked their identify and registered as Team Lagopus, which is latin for Team Ptarmigan. Is that confusing? Well, like I said, they are Canadians, and Canadians don't get rude or behave badly. They remain civil, even in the face of adversity. Like an unmitigated effort to strip their boat of its rightful identity.
I interviewed two of the four crew members and learned that, although they are civil and polite, they have healthy self conceptions. I asked what are the qualities that might make them win this race? They admitted to me that they have more charm and are smarter than the competition. What about their boat? I asked.
Oh, their boat. Well, they said, that other boat (Larry Olsen's Olson 30) is a way better prepared boat. But did I write down that they have charm and are smarter than the competition? Yes, I already wrote that. So here they are, two of the four: Christopher Tarling and Joseph Hyde Lawton. Which is which? I don't know. They were so darned charming I forgot to ask.
https://r2ak.com/2018-teams-full-race/team-lagopus/
Last edited by Philpott; 07-15-2018 at 10:34 AM.