Race Two

What could be more different? Gray, overcast, drizzly skies where the previous race day was sunny; light (almost no) wind when before there was plenty; and in place of the experienced Kyle, a jib trimmer who, it turned out, would be stepping into a sailboat for the very first time. Still, my lucky hat remained the same; let’s see what it could do for me.

First, the new crew (to introduce him) was Tyler Olmstead, a fellow Aikido student. After working out with him for several years, I knew that he possesses considerable stores of balance, timing, and natural physical ability, so despite his inexperience, I was confident. And by the end of the day, I was not at all disappointed.

We sailed another random-leg course, but because the wind was light, this course was considerably shorter than the first one (a fact that will resonate later in the story). The course meandered here and there through San Diego Bay, and, in an unusual touch, ended right off the Harbor Sailboats dock. This meant leaving the wide bay and traversing relatively narrow passages around the western tip of Harbor Island and then down its northern side.

Unlike the first race, this one decidedly favored a starboard-tack start, and we got the best of it. Midway up the first leg, though, we had a little “crew training” moment, which was enough to allow one boat, skippered by a guy named Dennis Burks, to reach the first mark just before us. That first mark was red 20, quite close to what is at that point the southern bank of the bay (called North Island; go figure). As so often happens, Dennis and I focused on one another, reaching out toward the middle of the bay, and let a third boat sail off on another heading, along North Island, to pass us. That would be our old pal Steve McNally. But before he could go too far on his own, I broke off to cover him while Dennis continued on to the left. The result was that Steve was first to the second mark, I was a close second, and others were farther behind.

Rounding that second mark (red 22, once again in case you have a chart), I managed to turn inside of Steve, and we were neck and neck. From here it was a long dash to the finish, close-hauled most of the way. (There was another mark along the way, but the course to the finish made it almost impossible to miss, so we pretty much ignored it.) At times, I was ahead of Steve; at times, he was ahead of me; and as we focused on one another (do I never learn?), Dennis came up into contention. As we approached that narrow passage around Harbor Island, they were both a bit ahead of me, but I was farther upwind and so narrowly in first.

When, doh! I tacked toward the passage around the tip of Harbor Island and discovered that I had miscalled the lay line. Needing therefore to make two extra tacks, I watched both Steve and then Dennis go by me.

But it wasn’t over yet. Close reaching around the western tip of the island, Steve and Dennis took each other a little wide, and I gained. Then broad reaching down the northern side of the island, I seemed to get my sails set a little better than the others. I didn’t have a chance to catch Steve (who ended up finishing first), but as I approached the finish line, I heard a voice from Dennis’s boat — “Oh no!” — as I came along side him with much better speed. And it ended .... with Dennis about a foot ahead of me. If the race course had been ten yards longer, I would have taken second. But I got an exciting third instead.

And so, with two races down and two to go, it’s McNally with three points, Christie with four, and the next nearest competitor with eight.