more sailors, more boats

I'm working on Andrew to represent New England in the 12 - 15 year old category with Cher. we need more boats! well one more anyway. actually went sailing yesterday - it was awesome. that's it that's my report.

new blood

I've been thinking about a plan to encourage the youth movement in the family to participate in the sailing program. Perhaps if we offered a trophy to the winner of the under 20 age group (the Maris Cup?) we might get some interested sailors. For me, it would be exciting just to watch any of those guys/girls race a boat. Hopefully they would graduate and some summer go after the Barney .

June is just around the corner. And then, July.

Hearty Congratulations are in Order!

meanwhile, it remains cold and rainy here in New England :(
pssst don't forget mom's bday this weekend...

am i to believe that you all were soundly and consistently beaten by
a 3 year old baby? ha! i better tell stu to start writing my name on
the gold plaque for 2004.

& did we all enjoy the "ramapo" references on last weeks "sopranos"?

The Plot Thickens

"When life looks like easy street, there is danger at your door...." After our first day's sailing in the new regatta, we seemed to have things well in hand. We had contained Steve McNally, seemingly our major competitor; we had contained everyone else as well; we were ahead. Little did we know that days two and three would bring some serious new competition: Frederic Hayem.

Frederic is a not especially prepossessing man who sails with his wife as crew, and they always bring along their daughter, who is perhaps three or four years old. They give the appearance of being a nice, innocuous couple who thought it would be fun to go out and give sailing a try. That is, they seem that way until you actually race against them: They don't look as if they're trying all that hard or doing all that much, but early in the first leg you realize that they were right there a moment ago but now all you can see of them is their transom. It turns out, as I learned last evening, that in his native France (where they take sailboat racing seriously), Frederic was a professional sailboat racer.

We've sailed against him in the past, and actually defeated him — by one and some fraction points over the course of at least nine races. Even that involved taking advantage of some uncharacteristic mistakes on his part. We were glad to have him back. We view him as our real competition.

So: Day two. Three races among 10 boats (a much better turnout than on the first day). In the first race, we reached the starting line a few seconds early, but there was room to run down it, and we got a good start with clear wind. Near the top of the upwind leg, though, we were on starboard and would need to tack onto port at the lay line. Another boat had positioned itself so that, although a bit behind us, it was to windward on starboard, and we couldn't tack without fouling it. We had to sail several boat lengths beyond the lay line before we gained enough of a margin to cross in front of the other boat, and the extra distance gave Frederic (who was sailing on the other side of the course) the room he needed to reach the upwind mark first. We were second, and after a leg of downwind sailing, that's how we ended: Frederic first, us second.

Then the wheels came off (if you can use that metaphor for a vehicle that doesn't have wheels to begin with). In the second race we got clogged up among several other boats at the start, never got clear air, and came in seventh. Frederic was second. What was worse, a guy named Ricard Simons, who was 1.25 points behind us after the first day, finished four places ahead of us in this race; he now led the regatta. In the third race, we got gummed up at the start once again, but at least were able to use a leeward-boat trick to send Ricard off on the wrong side of the committee boat — he missed the starting line completely and had to come back. We ended fifth; Ricard was ninth; we were once again in the overall lead. Frederic — need I say it? — finished first.

Day three: Once again, three races among 10 boats. In the first, we had a good (although not especially distinguished) start in clear air, sailed well upwind, and found ourselves rounding the upwind mark...once again second, behind Frederic. This time however, we were only perhaps a boat length behind, with a serious chance of catching him. And indeed, we were able to take some of his wind, establish an overlap, and continue to gain, but we ran out of room; he beat us by perhaps a quarter of a boat length.

In race two, another good start, and good position midway up the first leg, but somehow for a time I couldn't point the boat quite as high as others (don't know why), and we lost some ground. Frederic rounded the mark first, another boat second, and we rounded essentially tied with our old pal Steve McNally — we could have reached the mark slightly before him, but in such a way that the rules required us to give him room, and that enabled him to get between us and the mark and catch us. So for us, the downwind leg was a race for third place. Steve stayed on starboard and we gibed onto port; we were to his right. Our boat speed was identical, and he used his starboard-boat right of way to push us gradually farther to the right, not realizing that I had an ace up my sleeve: the more he pushed us, the more he pushed himself to the right of a direct course to the finish. He would have to gibe onto port to fetch the finish line, and once he did, the right-of-way advantage would go to us as leeward boat. That's just what happened; I pushed him farther upwind than he wanted to go; no more than two seconds before we reached the pin end of the line, I turned directly downwind (a move he couldn't make without fouling me) to push my bow over; I'd guess that we beat him by about a centimeter. It was so close that none of us knew which boat had crossed ahead; we had to sail over to the race committee boat and ask. (By the way, guess who took first in the race? Frederic.)

Race three: A not-so-good start. We were to windward of Steve, who tried to use his leeward-boat position to push us over early (and very nearly succeeded). When things settled just after the start, we seemed to be in perhaps fifth or sixth place and in foul wind, so we tacked onto port. So did four other boats, of which two went back onto starboard and crossed ahead of us. (Other boats that hadn't gone onto port to begin with were ahead of us on the other side of the course.) We tacked onto starboard a little while later, found ourselves alone (Steve was to windward of us at one point but tacked away; thanks Steve!), finally tacked onto the port-tack lay line expecting to be way behind, and were astonished to discover that everyone else was approaching the line on starboard and we were in position to cross ahead of every one of them except Frederic. It was magic, I think. Ross and I literally looked at each other and asked, "How did that happen?" And second is where we stayed until the race ended. (Guess who won?)

Scoring technicalities: For each race you miss, you are given all possible points (10 in our case, because the largest number of boats competing in a given race was 10) plus two. Because Frederic had missed the first day of racing — the first three races — we technically finished ahead of him (I think by one point). However, there was no way we were going to accept a first-place trophy ahead of a guy whom we had not beaten and who had taken five firsts and a second in his only six races. So before the awards presentation we had a quiet word with the race committee and were happy to accept a second place for the May series. What's more, we discovered that Harbor Sailboats decided to combine the April and May racing into a single Spring Series, and we had no qualms about accepting the first-place trophy for that. Here it is:

The race, It was a bust

The people of New England are by nature patient and forbearing, but there are some things which they will not stand. Every year they kill a lot of poets for writing about "Beautiful Spring." These are generally casual visitors, who bring their notions of spring from somewhere else, and cannot, of course, know how the natives feel about spring. And so the first thing they know the opportunity to inquire how they feel has permanently gone by. -- Mark Twain

Now if I only understood half of what you were talking about in your previous post I would be in good shape....

Over the Bounding Main

So there we were, having snatched defeat from the jaws of victory in our last series, aching for vengeance. Last night was the first of three in a new regatta — on this night three races among a disappointing five boats (there having been as many as fourteen in races last summer). Ah well, you take what you can get; at least our new nemesis, Steve McNally, was there.

But the wind was tricky: puffy all over the course and particularly weird at the starting line. Overall the wind blew at us on the first leg (as it should have), but there was a pronounced shift midway up the leg. As a result the port tack was decidedly favored at the starting line. Before the start, as a test, we approached the line close-hauled on starboard and discovered we were moving almost parallel to the line. On port, we were almost pointing at the mark.

However, on port we would be at the mercy of every boat on starboard. And no racing sailor has ever been known to be merciful. So we started on starboard tack at the committee-boat (right) end of the line, got caught eating the foul wind of all the other boats, broke free only when we went so far afield as to put ourselves almost out of the race, and came in fourth. So much for vengeance, it seemed.

I do, though, try to learn from my mistakes. In race two, a port-tack start it would be, now at the pin (left) end of the line. We (I) mistimed it ever so slightly, however, and one boat, skippered by Denny Chapman, approached us on starboard. We would have missed crossing ahead of him by perhaps a foot, so we tacked underneath him onto starboard. Denny had more speed than we and so rolled us; another boat (that damned Steve) was now off to our right, preventing us from maneuvering; we were eating Denny's bad wind again. Moments later we decided we had to tack no matter what and planned to fall beneath Steve. Yet when we tacked onto port so did he; a mistake on his part leaving us a clear lane; Denny went too far off on the left side of the course; and come to find out, we led at the upwind mark. Going downwind we managed to extend our lead from perhaps two boatlengths to about five and took a first place.

For race three the wind hadn't changed, port tack was still favored at the start, and astonishingly we were still the only crew who knew it. (Well, I knew it; Ross demurred. As I recall, when asked his opinion, he said something like "We'll be f***ed, but do it if you want to, just tell me what to do," and so I did.) This time we timed it better — once again it was Denny approaching us on starboard, the other three boats astern of him, but we crossed easily ahead and discovered, ten seconds into the race, that we were at least five boat lengths ahead of the nearest boat, pointing toward the mark on port while everyone else pointed away on starboard. All we had to do to win was sail competently, which we did, turning the helm over to Midshipman Krabby Kyle toward the end of the third leg to bring us over the finish line. Actually I think he won the race for us; I probably would have blown it.

So here we are, leading but only 1.25 points ahead of the second-place boat at the end of the first day of racing. Stay tuned for more. Linda, how did you flying scot racing go?

whose name?

Speaking of 'whose name' will be the 2004 entry on the Barney this year (what a co-incidence, that just happens to be the nickname of a certain body part....), seriously, do we have any new contenders this summer? Rosemary? Emma? Graham? Mom?

Any changes in racing format?

Well, whatever, the next name on the trophy will be....Ross

The one the only the decidedly phallic Barnegat Light Regatta Trophy. Whose name will appear in 2004?  

skippers! looks like i will be crewing in a race this sunday (flying scot).

here's another ebay possibility: ????
located in poor little rhode island.

Update: new england weather being what it is, alas the race was not held.