Musings of a Fatigued Mind July 10

Maytag

We set the kite Yesterday for the first time in anger. We'll probably have some sort of colorful sail in front of the boat for the rest of the race, right now we're flying the 2S "Lips of Fire". Mighty fine. But back to yesterday.

We launched the new 2S at 0800. The conditions were good if you discount the lumpy confused seas. The 2S was quickly replaced by the 4S which is a heavier, flatter spinnaker. We now begin the "Mr Toads Wild Ride" part of the race. I hate to keep harping on the motion of the boat down below, but you really have to experience it to know how far you can get thrown inside such a small space. The words "Maytag" and "wash cycle" come to mind. A personal experience may help illustrate. After the set I was down below talking and standing in the main salon. All of a sudden the boat's not under me and I'm flying across the cabin. I'm leaving marks across the cabin ceiling as I try to self arrest. I come up short with my arm looking for purchase up by the windows on the side of the inside of th cabin. I think I have it under control. Oh, did I mention Jeff "Yosemite Sam" Beller was laying on the bunk reading a magazine right under where I was now standing? Anyway the boat's not down with me, or Jeff, just yet. The boat lurches just so and I'm artfully flipped around and positioned just right to sit on Jeff's face. There were no physical damages, but I think Jeff sustained some scarring that he'll have for life. And his reading glasses look kind of funny now.

Outside, the race goes on. But looking up at the main later an observant crew member notices the upper spreader tip is trying its damnedest to poke a hole in the sail. We decide to reef and send a guy up to do a prophylactic repair while continuing to fly the shute. I'd like to say lots were drawn or the deck was cut but it didn't go down that way. Yosemite was down below, possibly still trying to cope with his recent trauma, and not present when the decision was made. Also he's the lightest crew and absolutely loves heights. Jeff suits up in his climbing harness and gathers various bits of towel, sticky back sail repair tape and a couple roles of duct tape and readies himself for the job. We gather at the base of the mast and have short ceremony. Cups of sake are tossed back, Jeff swears allegiance to the emperor and we haul his ass up on the jib halyard. The kite is still flying and Jeff has called for Brian "Buzzsaw" McKenna, The Orical of the Atmosphere, to drive while he is aloft. As he is emplimenting his repair, a cunning combination the towels, tape and sticky back, the boat is doing its best to beat him to death with its mast and rig. Lucky for Jeff the boat fails and down he comes no worst for wear. And the race goes on.

We have 4 crew members on board who haven't had the experience of racing under spinnaker in the trades at night. Andy "Boy scout" Clark, who never met a sail he couldn't trim into submission. Lord Jim, "The Nighthawk" Eisenhart, master of nighttime helmsmanship. Craig "Frogman" Leverault, almost as good as Lord Jim at nocturnal wheelsmanship and Chris "Bigfoot" Thompson the electron whisperer. These guys are about to get their cherries popped.

The sun goes down and the wind goes up and the main gets reefed. All is good. The moon is half full and the clouds scattered and scudding across the starry sky. In other words, there is enough light to see. Sometime before 2400 during a helm change Bigfoot and the Orical do a little dance of death behind the wheel culminating in the boat rounding up and the steering getting forced over to the point of the chain jumped the sprocket and now the top dead center indicator on the wheel is 90 degrees out of wack. I might point out, which I believe I already have, Frog already had crashed the boat earlier in the day so that part was nothing new. About 0130 this same first night, Bigfoot managed to get the kite wrapped around the headstay and the topping lift so tight the whole shebang had to come down. This is the usual fire drill with the entire crew called on deck, eventually, and the shute is repacked and all the strings are sorted out on deck and aloft and the spinnaker is re hoisted. All done at warp speed, we are racing, after all. Did I mention it was dark but we could still kind of see? The reef goes into the main and the reef comes out. And then the moon sets.... Its really dark now. You can't see the sails. You can't see the boat. You can't see the ocean or your cremates. But you can see the instruments. I guess this is where a youth of video game playing would come in handy. We have no such experience and thus the new guys get to learn on the job. Fortunately the rest of the night goes relatively smoothly and other than racing hearts and maybe some knocking knees all nuggets passed their first lessons. More lessons to follow, for all of us.

Oh a sailors life for me.

John