On the Bounding Main

The NOODs! No, not (thank goodness) a bunch of sailors running around in their birthday suits, but rather the San Diego installment of the National Offshore One-Design regatta.

This series — ten races over a Friday (egad! people actually skipped work!) Saturday, and Sunday — is a big deal around here, at least among those of us sufficiently enlightened to sail. The number of boats entered was easily in triple figures, although there were many classes and (as the name of the regatta would suggest) each boat raced only against its own kind. Skippers spent big bucks preparing their boats — cleaning bottoms, replacing rigging, adding ringers to their crews....

On Valhalla (I'm happy to say) we stuck with all our regulars, which is to say amateurs one and all. Andy (our skipper) did, however, replace his stainless steel backstay with one made of carbon fiber (in the benighted belief that this would make a difference). We were also serious enough about this thing to hold two practice sessions prior to the race.

With so many entrants, there were two race courses, one for smaller boats (20 to 30 feet, say) and the other for larger. We were on the large-boat course, where legs were about a nautical mile and a quarter — just far enough that as you round one mark you can't actually see the next. You have to pick it up as you go. (Typical conversation: "Does anyone see the mark? Does anyone see the mark? DON'T POINT AT IT!!!")

The courses (once again, as the name of the regatta would suggest) were out on the ocean. As you may know, we've had an uncommonly wet winter here in southern California, and the forecast for race weekend was: Friday, rain, Saturday, rain, Sunday, rain. As it turned out, the weathermen were as foresighted as usual: we had, I think, a brief sprinkle on Saturday. But this is hardly to say that conditions were easy. The skies were solidly overcast on the Friday and Saturday, it was cold on both those days, the wind blew hard — up to 20 knots — all three days, and the swell ranged between large and larger, getting up to perhaps eight feet on the Sunday. Kelp (not actually a weather factor, I'll admit) was a bear.

There were times (lots of them, in fact) when we would come about, I would be trimming the genoa on the low side, and having finished I would need to get up to the high side to hike. The angle of heel on those occasions was such that I would need to grab things with my hands just so that I could climb up. My fifty-some-year-old body is not all that happy about climbing. Still, I don't think life gets better.

So, how'd we do? Well, there were moments when snags in sheets would foul tacks, and other moments when the guys on the bow weren't moving the spinnaker pole quite as smartly as they might, and one when we dropped the spinnaker in the water during a takedown and stopped the boat dead. (Do you have any idea how heavy a spinnaker is when it contains water? I didn't either, until now.) Not to put all the blame on the crew, there were also times when a moment's indecision during a start put us at the back of the fleet, or when a mistake in the helmsman's judgment led to a foul and a penalty turn. So...out of ten boats, someone had to come in tenth. Our best finish, in the final race, was a fifth, and although it may may not seem like much, that was really cool against top talent from all over the country.

The NOODs were two weekends ago, but last weekend it was back to Capri 22 racing. (Back to skippering!) Once again, I had the pro from Dover, Emma, as my crew. Ross was not there because he felt he had to work (which may call into question his bona fides as a sailor — or maybe not). There were four races and, to take all suspense out of it, Emma and I finished second, first, third, and third to take first overall. (Typical conversation during a tack: Dave — "Emma, that has to happen faster." Emma — "I'm going as fast as I can!")

No, the true excitement was that this was bumper-car racing. In the first race we approached the starting line overlapped and to windward of another racer, Sheldon. Knowing that I was a bit early anyway, I stalled my boat, fell below Sheldon and, as I crossed the line and simultaneously the gun went off and all was right with the world, I turned up to my proper close-hauled course. Unfortunately, Sheldon didn't. And, sure enough, he banged into me even though I was the leeward, and so right-of-way, boat. No damage, fortunately; he went on to do his penalty turn, and Emma and I went on to take our second. The second and third races were relatively placid affairs. With about three minutes to go before the start of the fourth, however, I approached the line on starboard while another boat (skippered by someone I don't know) ran along the line on port. As we converged, I called out "starboard," and then "Starboard!" and then "STARBOARD!!" but it did no good. He literally rammed me broadside, apparently unaware that I was even there.

No one was hurt, I'm happy to say (the collision was on the low side of our boat, and both Emma and I were on the high side). The collision did, however, take a triangular chunk out of the rail of my boat, measuring about three inches along each leg, with a crack at the apex stretching another six or so inches along the deck.

Once we disentangled ourselves, I did a quick check, decided we were still seaworthy, and continued the race. We arrived at the first mark in third place (having been hampered by the necessarily impromptu nature of our start), then the downwind leg in third place again. On the final, upwind leg we approached the finish line still in third and on starboard while two boats approached on port. This, of course, made me the right-of-way boat, but I could see the two of them yakking away at each other and paying no attention to me. Again??!!! So this time I started with "STARBOARD!!" and then escalated to "STARBOARD!!!!!!" and the boat on collision course, startled to find me there, rounded abruptly into the wind and missed me.

Damn, I have to find a fleet where I can steer and yet other sailors actually know what they're doing.....

My Tax Dollars at Work

And glad I am of it, I guess...

An Update

As time has passed, the hill has kept sliding. You can see the deep, vertical brown patch above the black tarp; that's all newly exposed earth, and the black tarp marks the fence that used to be at the top of the hill.

You can also see a large pile of loose dirt between the two houses, dwarfing the man standing in front of it. It's there because the City of Carlsbad has moved in to put things right, apparently on a "remove dirt until there's no dirt to remove" plan. They started about 2:30 yesterday and have been working round the clock since then, filling large dump trucks that parade in and out.

(Raven's a little put out by all this, the poor puppy.)

There are vast new neighborhoods being built behind the rim of the hill, and some time ago the early phases of construction involved a lot of dynamiting, followed by the movement of a great deal of earth to create new hills and new flat areas upon which to build roads and houses. Everyone I've talked to in my neighborhood is not merely suspicious, but absolutely certain that all that work played an important part in precipitating this slide. I suspect there'll be some lawyers involved in all this before long.....

If Life Gets Any More Exciting, I May Explode

What a winter! First there was the Christmas sinus infection, then the broken rib, and now this.

As you no doubt know, I live near the top of a hill. You may not have realized without thinking about it, though, that that all the neighborhoods hereabouts are literally carved out of the hillside. Sometime back when, developers cut terraces into the hillside and built houses on the resulting level spaces. And so streets here tend to end in very steep embankments.

As you've no doubt heard, it's rained a lot here lately. Soggy, steeply slanted earth here results in mudslides and, sure enough, the very steep embankment at the end of my street is beginning to slip.

Here's what it looks like:




You can see the tarps spread over the hillside in the hope that they will cause any new water to run off rather than soak in, as well as the sag in the fence (near the top of the embankment, to the left of the house roof) where it has been undermined by the sliding earth. You can also see one of several tractors that have been feverishly digging away the mud that has already slid (at a rate, apparently, of about one inch per hour) and the rented moving van in which Russel (the unlucky owner of the most exposed house, who has lived here since the neighborhood was new) is loading his furniture in the process of moving away. What you can't see (in this admittely amateurish photograph) is the break in the vegetation near the top of the embankment behind Russel's house — a roughly four-foot (top to bottom) strip of vertical brown earth that shows not only how much has already moved, but also how much more below it has yet to come down.

I believe that my house is far enough away to be safe. But we'll see what happens over the next week or so.

Rats Redux

Racing! Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!!! San Diego Bay! Nine boats. My first time skippering a 'big boat'. Kyle (Krabby) as my krew. Dave was skippering another boat with his friend Seth (& Seth's 2 young sons on board for tactical advice) as crew. Race#1; K & I are very nervous but we get a good start and half way up the first leg we are in first place on starboard tack with all other boats below us on port. Time to tack...we come about, set the jib sheet and it doesn't want to hold. The wind is pretty strong and Kyle just can't handle the jib. Consequently the lead slip slides away as we flounder on mainsail power alone until I jump forward and bring in the sheet. How did all those boats get ahead of me that quickly? We sail out the course and finish in 7th. Ouch! At least we didn't finish last. I think Dave finished fourth. Race#2; Another good start but with the wind a little too strong for us we (I) don't sail the boat so well and some boats get past me. Still we reach the upwind mark in 3rd place. We get passed at the finish and settle for a fourth. We've improved. We are happy. Dave finished first. Race#3; A pretty good start but I stink at steering. I turn the tiller over to Kyle and suddenly we are moving better. We take a fifth as we are passed again on the downwind leg. But, we are o.k. with fifth. Dave takes a second or third. Race#4; We go for a pin-end port start as the wind has shifted and now favors that start. Dave also recognizes the port start advantage and follows us. Twenty seconds after the gun we are way ahead of the fleet but with me at the helm again and steering poorly Dave passes us from underneath and sails off. I turn the helm over to Kyle again and look at us go! We round the upwind mark in third place. This is a 3 leg race with the finish being at the end of an upwind leg. We round the second mark in fourth place and just inches ahead of the fifth boat. Dave has fallen to a close second place and splits tacks with the first place boat in an effort to challenge it for first. But by going to the left side he has opened an opportunity for the third and fourth place boats to pass him. With Kyle steering we don't catch the third place boat that has now climbed into second but we do hold off the fifth place boat and we cross in front of Dave who is now on a port tack! We need to tack to cross the finish line and barely cross the line in front of Dave who is finishing on starboard. Third place us, Fourth place Dave who yells out "Rats" as he crosses the line. On the day, Dave/Seth & boys take 3rd overall...Ross/Kyle take 4th.