Maris Stella Yacht Club and Crabbing Society
With two evenings of racing behind us and two to go, the Delta Force were ahead, but it was known that they would miss evening three and so put themselves out of contention. That left things to us, the Matts a couple of points behind us, and Clay a couple of points behind them. (“The Matts,” by the way, are two guys who usually sail together and who both happen to be named Matt.)
It was a tricky evening — another one with strong current and moderate wind that lightened as time passed. With the current against us on the upwind leg, the right side was heavily favored. That’s because the course was set up so that “the right side” constituted a narrow corridor along the Harbor Island shoreline, and the current there was relatively weak owing to friction with the land. You’ve all been there, and so I trust you can picture the very large rocks along that shore. I hope Tom (the Harbor Sailboats owner) wasn’t watching.
Because one side was so heavily favored going upwind (and, for that matter, the other side going down), tactics were reduced to a minimum. You were either on the correct side with clear wind, or you weren’t. Which meant either you got a good start or you didn’t.
We didn’t. No excuse to offer; I just wasn’t reading the line right. To clear our wind in the first race, we initially went left, and every time we tried to go right, someone tacked on top of us and we had to go left again. We battled with the Matts, but somewhere way, way ahead of them and us was Clay. He had gotten to the right. The result: Clay first, Matts fifth, us sixth.
We actually sailed quite well once we got off the line and found some clear air, particularly downwind, which turned out to be a pretty good thing in the second race. Again, a good start for Clay and a mediocre start for us. We were somewhere in the middle of the fleet (eight boats this particular evening, by the way) at the upwind mark, but then we passed boats on the downwind leg. Clay ended in first, but we were second, with the Matts perhaps a foot behind us. Very tense!
Then races three and four were really between Clay and the Matts. Somehow I wasn’t hitting the starts well and that threw off each entire race. But in each, Clay and the Matts were feet apart, doing everything they could to press rules advantages and gain an edge. Both races ended with the Matts first, Clay a hairsbreadth behind in second, and us in comfortable third (not threatening them, but no one else threatening us either).
And so, with one evening’s racing left, we have three boats within one point — the Matts are ahead, Clay is three-quarters of a point behind them, and we’re one-quarter of a point behind Clay. It all comes down to Tuesday!
Friday, May 18, 2007
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Ordinance about ordnance
After removing 1,111 pieces of potentially explosive military ordnance from the sand and surf, the United States Army Corps of Engineers is ready to declare the beaches here (Surf City) and in neighboring Ship Bottom safe and recommend that they be reopened in time for Memorial Day.
So, once the State Department of Environmental Protection approves, the “Beach Closed” signs will come down. But in their place will be new signs prohibiting beachgoers from using metal detectors or digging deeper than a foot into the sand. These “land-use controls” will be posted at every entrance and on every lifeguard stand along the 1.4 miles of affected beach on Long Beach Island.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Better Them Than Me
Those of you who remember some challenging Sunfish conditions last summer may be amused to watch this — Laser racing, San Francisco Bay, 40 knots!
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Whew… That’s More Like It
Our May regatta began back on the 1st, and if last week passing without a blog entry seemed somehow suspect, then you’re right: I chose not to write about a performance with which we weren’t all that happy. Fortunately, we made amends last night, and so I can scribble away once more.
First, the 1st: It was one of those bizarre evenings when there’s massive current and little wind. So little, in fact, that we could only manage to get in two races. What’s more, there is (perhaps was?) another rental organization on Harbor Island that sponsored its own series of Capri 22 races, but it seems to have disbanded, and a couple of their racers have joined our club. So the honor of our club was at stake: We had to put these new guys in their place.
Or not! The Delta Force (ok, we introduced ourselves to them, and they introduced themselves to us, and we forget their names, and they forget our names, but they’re nice guys and they sail in a boat called Delta) managed to pin us a bit at the start, but we held even with them up the first leg. As we converged on the upwind mark, I misread the current and had to make an extra tack. Clay it was who actually reached the mark first; the Delta Force slipped ahead of us; after an uneventful downwind leg, that’s the order in which we finished.
Then came the second race, in which the Delta Force got most of the way up the first leg just as the wind absolutely died. They had enough momentum to round the mark; now the current would carry them to the finish even without benefit of wind, while it pushed the rest of us in the wrong direction. Boats painstakingly worked their way far above the ordinary lay line, turned for the mark, only to have the current, in the absence of any wind, sweep them below the line again. It was pretty funny when it happened to other boats and not so funny when it happened to us. The Delta Force finished the race half an hour before anyone else rounded the upwind mark, Clay finished third, and we ended up (yikes!) eighth.
But that was then and this is now.
Last night, Ross got there early, we talked about things we needed to change, we sailed a bit, judged the wind and current, and mapped our strategy. Once the first race finally started, we got a fine start, and reached the first mark third, with both Clay and the Delta Force well behind us. (Clay, in fact, was trying desperately to stave off an unaccustomed last-place showing, and — forgive me my weakness, but I loved it — the screaming at the top mark between his boat and the other contender for last was, I think, audible in Tijuana.) We sailed a fine downwind leg, passed the two boats, and finished first.
Second race, we were in position for another good start, but apparently crossed the line about a second early. At least, the race committee thought so. Two other boats did as well (cross early, that is), one of them Clay. We came back, cleared the line, sailed a solid upwind leg and, by the time we reached the upwind mark, we were back in the thick of things. Perhaps a little too thick. We approached on port, another boat approached on starboard, we judged that we could reach the lay line just in time to tack, but we found that a third boat was pretty much head to wind at the upwind mark, stalled. Bozos!
We had no choice but to halt our tack to keep from hitting him, and the only legitimate boat of the three struck us, his bow banging our outboard engine. (And why does that count? I don’t want that stinking thing on my boat anyway!) Yet we were third around the upwind mark, easily passed the head-to-wind laggards, and bore down on the leaders — the Delta Force. As we neared the finish line, we were gaining seriously and you could see panic on their faces. But then, at the last minute, we did our penalty turn and dropped from second to fourth. We probably didn’t sail best in the first race; we unquestionably sailed better than anyone in the second. First and Fourth. Go figure.
On to the third race, the last and a three-legger. We approached the first (upwind) mark in third place — Delta Force in first, and Clay rounding the mark as we approached. He’d had a horrible night — tenth and eighth so far. Every time we were in earshot of him, he was calling a foul on someone. Anger will vent itself. Now it was our turn. He was on starboard and we on port, and although we were well clear of him, he turned in our direction, turned away, and called a foul. The putz.
But this isn’t the American judicial system (if, in the Bush era, we still have one). When you’re accused of a foul, you have to prove yourself innocent. So what a thing it is to have Houdini on board, working his escape artistry. As we sailed downwind on the second leg, Ross noticed that Clay’s inexperienced crew, while winging the jib, had extended his leg outside the lifeline. Oops! That’s a foul. You call one on us, we’ll call one on you.
So, at the downwind leg, the Delta Force were first, Clay was a close second, we were a close third. No one else (out of, I don’t know, ten boats total) mattered. DF and C went right; we went left. Their mistake. It was as if we were sailing in a dream. At one point Ross asked if I wanted to change the sail trim, but I knew all he really wanted was to hear me say (as, in fact, I did), “No, this is perfect!” We crossed in front of them and finished first.
So now we’re in good shape. We were first on the night, and although the Delta Force remain a few points ahead of us overall, they will miss next Tuesday’s racing (I genuinely regret to say it) and so put themselves well out of the running. That leaves us and Clay, and we’re comfortably ahead. More news next week!
First, the 1st: It was one of those bizarre evenings when there’s massive current and little wind. So little, in fact, that we could only manage to get in two races. What’s more, there is (perhaps was?) another rental organization on Harbor Island that sponsored its own series of Capri 22 races, but it seems to have disbanded, and a couple of their racers have joined our club. So the honor of our club was at stake: We had to put these new guys in their place.
Or not! The Delta Force (ok, we introduced ourselves to them, and they introduced themselves to us, and we forget their names, and they forget our names, but they’re nice guys and they sail in a boat called Delta) managed to pin us a bit at the start, but we held even with them up the first leg. As we converged on the upwind mark, I misread the current and had to make an extra tack. Clay it was who actually reached the mark first; the Delta Force slipped ahead of us; after an uneventful downwind leg, that’s the order in which we finished.
Then came the second race, in which the Delta Force got most of the way up the first leg just as the wind absolutely died. They had enough momentum to round the mark; now the current would carry them to the finish even without benefit of wind, while it pushed the rest of us in the wrong direction. Boats painstakingly worked their way far above the ordinary lay line, turned for the mark, only to have the current, in the absence of any wind, sweep them below the line again. It was pretty funny when it happened to other boats and not so funny when it happened to us. The Delta Force finished the race half an hour before anyone else rounded the upwind mark, Clay finished third, and we ended up (yikes!) eighth.
But that was then and this is now.
Last night, Ross got there early, we talked about things we needed to change, we sailed a bit, judged the wind and current, and mapped our strategy. Once the first race finally started, we got a fine start, and reached the first mark third, with both Clay and the Delta Force well behind us. (Clay, in fact, was trying desperately to stave off an unaccustomed last-place showing, and — forgive me my weakness, but I loved it — the screaming at the top mark between his boat and the other contender for last was, I think, audible in Tijuana.) We sailed a fine downwind leg, passed the two boats, and finished first.
Second race, we were in position for another good start, but apparently crossed the line about a second early. At least, the race committee thought so. Two other boats did as well (cross early, that is), one of them Clay. We came back, cleared the line, sailed a solid upwind leg and, by the time we reached the upwind mark, we were back in the thick of things. Perhaps a little too thick. We approached on port, another boat approached on starboard, we judged that we could reach the lay line just in time to tack, but we found that a third boat was pretty much head to wind at the upwind mark, stalled. Bozos!
We had no choice but to halt our tack to keep from hitting him, and the only legitimate boat of the three struck us, his bow banging our outboard engine. (And why does that count? I don’t want that stinking thing on my boat anyway!) Yet we were third around the upwind mark, easily passed the head-to-wind laggards, and bore down on the leaders — the Delta Force. As we neared the finish line, we were gaining seriously and you could see panic on their faces. But then, at the last minute, we did our penalty turn and dropped from second to fourth. We probably didn’t sail best in the first race; we unquestionably sailed better than anyone in the second. First and Fourth. Go figure.
On to the third race, the last and a three-legger. We approached the first (upwind) mark in third place — Delta Force in first, and Clay rounding the mark as we approached. He’d had a horrible night — tenth and eighth so far. Every time we were in earshot of him, he was calling a foul on someone. Anger will vent itself. Now it was our turn. He was on starboard and we on port, and although we were well clear of him, he turned in our direction, turned away, and called a foul. The putz.
But this isn’t the American judicial system (if, in the Bush era, we still have one). When you’re accused of a foul, you have to prove yourself innocent. So what a thing it is to have Houdini on board, working his escape artistry. As we sailed downwind on the second leg, Ross noticed that Clay’s inexperienced crew, while winging the jib, had extended his leg outside the lifeline. Oops! That’s a foul. You call one on us, we’ll call one on you.
So, at the downwind leg, the Delta Force were first, Clay was a close second, we were a close third. No one else (out of, I don’t know, ten boats total) mattered. DF and C went right; we went left. Their mistake. It was as if we were sailing in a dream. At one point Ross asked if I wanted to change the sail trim, but I knew all he really wanted was to hear me say (as, in fact, I did), “No, this is perfect!” We crossed in front of them and finished first.
So now we’re in good shape. We were first on the night, and although the Delta Force remain a few points ahead of us overall, they will miss next Tuesday’s racing (I genuinely regret to say it) and so put themselves well out of the running. That leaves us and Clay, and we’re comfortably ahead. More news next week!
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Friday, May 04, 2007
Bobby "Boris" Pickett, One-Hit-Wonder
Bobby "Boris" Pickett, whose dead-on Boris Karloff impression propelled the Halloween anthem to the top of the charts in 1962, making him one of pop music's most enduring one-hit wonders, has died of leukemia. He was 69.
It was October 31, 1987, the 25th anniversary of the Monster Mash. John's band, of which I was a tangential member, J.T.'s Mardi Gras Band and The Lawnchair Ladies, was playing at a dive bar in Cambridge. Paula learned that Bobby was in town (he hailed from Somerville, Mass.) for the occasion and somehow tracked him down and convinced him to sing at the gig. He agreed on the condition that we provide an open bar for him and his girlfriend "Bree". Which we did. What a time it was.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Monday, April 30, 2007
Training for You Know What
Yesterday I ran the James Joyce Ramble 10K. My goal was to finish under the 10 minute mile and I accomplished that. My other goal was to partake in the free Harpoon Ale at the finish line and I accomplished that too. Interesting to note that the very last finisher on the results page is also the first in her age group. So that's def something to look forward to! (you can click the title of this post for the complete results page... Next year I will have to run a little harder to beat that Stuart Christie!)
Sunday, April 29, 2007
They're Done!
Let’s see… Three races on the third day of a three-day series, times two boats in contention… Doesn’t that equal — 666?! Isn’t that — diabolical??!!
The first race went in our favor. A good start, first at the first mark, followed not all that far behind by Clay’s wife Lisa, who has been sailing her own boat throughout the series. Clay himself was way behind. We’d done well on the right side of the course going upwind, so we thought the same side (now left) going downwind would favor us. Wrong! Lisa and another boat went off to the right and steadily gained in better wind.
At the finish: Lisa first, the other boat (mea culpa; I forget who) ahead of us by about a foot, and us third. But Clay, having apparently had a horrible start, reached the upwind mark in the middle of the fleet, went off to the left just as we did, and had just as much trouble. Neither Lisa nor the other boat had any hope of winning the series, and Clay finished three boats behind us. For the three-day series, he still led, but we were now only half a point behind him.
Satan, get behind me! Call it what you will — pride, hubris, ambition, greed. We thought we had him.
In the second race, we had a good start, but so did Clay. We were upwind of him, but he was slightly ahead of us, and by the middle of the upwind leg, his lee-bow advantage began to tell. Standard strategy called for me to tack, and so I did, even though my tactician (that would be Ross) emphatically disagreed. Ross turned out to be correct; although the boat seemed to move better on the new tack, when we tacked back we had lost not only several boat lengths, but also several positions. In the end, Clay finished first, and we finished fourth, giving back everything we’d gained in the first race (plus a quarter point).
Note to self: From time to time, listen to your older brother.
Final race, and we needed to win by four positions. That wasn’t to happen. We tried to foul up his start, but he thwarted us, oddly enough, by reaching the line way too early. To have any effect on him, we had to go with him, so we were early too and just ran down the line with him, having essentially no effect on him. Turns out that messing with a guy at the start is pretty tricky.
It was a pretty standard upwind leg; Clay got there first, and we were a close second. On the downwind leg, both Clay and we stretched out on the rest of the fleet, but we gained nothing on Clay. Not that it mattered, since we needed to be not just ahead, but ahead with several boats between us. A final upwind leg saw no changes, so the final race mirrored the series as a whole: Clay first, us second.
In the end, he could match our speed upwind but point a degree or two higher. That’s just sail trim. We’ll make adjustments, and the May series is coming up. In the meantime, contrats to Clay!
P.S. Just Another Working Stiff: Last Friday, Emma spent her first day on the job as a stockroom employee of a clothing shop called Talbot’s. She got the job on her own, or at least with no prodding from me. We have an Aikido friend, a young woman named Bailey, who works at the store, knew of an opening, and suggested to Emma that she apply. Asked how her first day went, Emma said that it was ok, but she was really tired and her feet hurt. Welcome to the working world, babe! Only forty-four years until retirement!
The first race went in our favor. A good start, first at the first mark, followed not all that far behind by Clay’s wife Lisa, who has been sailing her own boat throughout the series. Clay himself was way behind. We’d done well on the right side of the course going upwind, so we thought the same side (now left) going downwind would favor us. Wrong! Lisa and another boat went off to the right and steadily gained in better wind.
At the finish: Lisa first, the other boat (mea culpa; I forget who) ahead of us by about a foot, and us third. But Clay, having apparently had a horrible start, reached the upwind mark in the middle of the fleet, went off to the left just as we did, and had just as much trouble. Neither Lisa nor the other boat had any hope of winning the series, and Clay finished three boats behind us. For the three-day series, he still led, but we were now only half a point behind him.
Satan, get behind me! Call it what you will — pride, hubris, ambition, greed. We thought we had him.
In the second race, we had a good start, but so did Clay. We were upwind of him, but he was slightly ahead of us, and by the middle of the upwind leg, his lee-bow advantage began to tell. Standard strategy called for me to tack, and so I did, even though my tactician (that would be Ross) emphatically disagreed. Ross turned out to be correct; although the boat seemed to move better on the new tack, when we tacked back we had lost not only several boat lengths, but also several positions. In the end, Clay finished first, and we finished fourth, giving back everything we’d gained in the first race (plus a quarter point).
Note to self: From time to time, listen to your older brother.
Final race, and we needed to win by four positions. That wasn’t to happen. We tried to foul up his start, but he thwarted us, oddly enough, by reaching the line way too early. To have any effect on him, we had to go with him, so we were early too and just ran down the line with him, having essentially no effect on him. Turns out that messing with a guy at the start is pretty tricky.
It was a pretty standard upwind leg; Clay got there first, and we were a close second. On the downwind leg, both Clay and we stretched out on the rest of the fleet, but we gained nothing on Clay. Not that it mattered, since we needed to be not just ahead, but ahead with several boats between us. A final upwind leg saw no changes, so the final race mirrored the series as a whole: Clay first, us second.
In the end, he could match our speed upwind but point a degree or two higher. That’s just sail trim. We’ll make adjustments, and the May series is coming up. In the meantime, contrats to Clay!
P.S. Just Another Working Stiff: Last Friday, Emma spent her first day on the job as a stockroom employee of a clothing shop called Talbot’s. She got the job on her own, or at least with no prodding from me. We have an Aikido friend, a young woman named Bailey, who works at the store, knew of an opening, and suggested to Emma that she apply. Asked how her first day went, Emma said that it was ok, but she was really tired and her feet hurt. Welcome to the working world, babe! Only forty-four years until retirement!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Nyuk! Nyuk! Nyuk!
I think I know what happened: Somewhere out on the water on day two of our spring regatta, aliens implanted the spirits of the Three Stooges into our bodies. At least, when I woke up the next morning I felt as if my body had been used badly (I admit — the post-race tequila may account for that), and when I recalled the racing it seemed like slapstick humor.
Actually, the first race went fine. Ross arrive late-ish, as he had let me know beforehand that he would, but he made up for it by bringing Kyle with him. For my part, I had talked to the race committee beforehand, and he (a committee of one?) was kind enough to stall things a bit until we got out there.
So, we had a good start and went off to the right; Clay had a good start and went off to the left; about two-thirds of the way up the first leg we met in the middle of the course — Clay on port and we on starboard — and it was just close enough that he had to duck us. We probably should have tacked on top of him, but didn’t, and so at the next crossing (we were now on port, Clay on starboard), we had gained some, but not quite enough, and we needed to duck Clay. After a little more sailing, he reached the mark first, but we were only half a boat length behind.
But then he went left and we went right, and left was the way to go. He gained about five boat lengths before we realized our error and jibed, but he stayed those five boat lengths ahead until the finish line, and we were second.
We sailed that first race in bright sunshine, but as we waited for the second race to begin, a dense cloud cover overcame Point Loma and moved in from the west. I now know these were not clouds at all, but rather camouflage in which the alien mother ship lurked.
We were in position for a good start to the second race, at the right end of the line, approaching on starboard, when I saw Clay coming in on the left side, on port. It was as if he had put up a sign reading, “Hit Me!” I thought, “Why Not?” I altered course. It was then that Moe took the helm from me. At the same time, Kyle’s page-boy hair turned dark and, suddenly, he was Shemp! Ross’s hair turned frizzy and…Larry sat where Ross had sat before! And Moe (I) let Clay get by, flopped over onto port, realized he (I) would soon run afoul of other boats, flopped back onto starboard, by this time had almost no speed, and got a horrible start near the back of the fleet. I’m not sure but I think someone tried to poke him (me) in the eyes.
We recovered. I exorcised the spirit of Moe. Shemp and Larry resolved themselves back into Kyle and Ross. And we sailed a fine upwind leg reaching the mark third (out of eight boats). Clay was in first and, by this time, untouchable. The other boat ran down the middle of the course while we reached off to the right, he hit a dead spot while we flew along, and although we closed the gap between us hugely, we had necessarily sailed a longer course and finished, perhaps, two feet behind him. Clay first, us third.
Exorcism, it turns out, does not come cheaply. The Stooges returned in full force for race three. Moe had another horrible start and we crossed the start line in — dare I say it? — last place. We crossed the start line — dare I say it? — minutes after the race started. By this time we were poking eyes and wielding truncheons, and Curly wasn’t even there but he was slapping his head anyway.
And the wind was dying. And the current was strong, and against us. And there wasn’t going to be any repeat of the second-race comeback. We did finally reach the upwind mark, but we almost died of old age before it happened. At one point we were to the left of the “upwind” mark, about twenty yards away, and the wind was no longer so much dying as RIP, but the current was robust and, I swear, it was what pulled us off to the right and around the mark.
Of course, no one else was going anywhere either, apart from where the current was taking them. Except that damn Clay, who by the time we were midway down the “downwind” leg had rounded the downwind mark and was making his way to the finish, when…the race committee canceled the race for lack of wind.
Nyuk! Nyuk! Nyuk!
So, with one day left to sail, we’re now three and a half points out of first. Wish us luck!
P.S. After pretty much every Aikido class, the Aikidoko repair to a local pub — the Bull Pen — for a few beers and a little conversation. Last night, a few tables away, a young woman was wearing an LBI sweatshirt. My camera was in the car. I was thinking — HUGE POINTS!! Alas, I’m cursed with the ability to imagine what other people might think. So the idea of a middle-aged man walking up to a young woman, unknown to him, and saying, “Hey, could I take your picture an put it on my blog?” seemed too open to misunderstanding. I expect no points, but nevertheless, Emma’s my witness — we encountered an LBI sweatshirt in Encinitas!
Actually, the first race went fine. Ross arrive late-ish, as he had let me know beforehand that he would, but he made up for it by bringing Kyle with him. For my part, I had talked to the race committee beforehand, and he (a committee of one?) was kind enough to stall things a bit until we got out there.
So, we had a good start and went off to the right; Clay had a good start and went off to the left; about two-thirds of the way up the first leg we met in the middle of the course — Clay on port and we on starboard — and it was just close enough that he had to duck us. We probably should have tacked on top of him, but didn’t, and so at the next crossing (we were now on port, Clay on starboard), we had gained some, but not quite enough, and we needed to duck Clay. After a little more sailing, he reached the mark first, but we were only half a boat length behind.
But then he went left and we went right, and left was the way to go. He gained about five boat lengths before we realized our error and jibed, but he stayed those five boat lengths ahead until the finish line, and we were second.
We sailed that first race in bright sunshine, but as we waited for the second race to begin, a dense cloud cover overcame Point Loma and moved in from the west. I now know these were not clouds at all, but rather camouflage in which the alien mother ship lurked.
We were in position for a good start to the second race, at the right end of the line, approaching on starboard, when I saw Clay coming in on the left side, on port. It was as if he had put up a sign reading, “Hit Me!” I thought, “Why Not?” I altered course. It was then that Moe took the helm from me. At the same time, Kyle’s page-boy hair turned dark and, suddenly, he was Shemp! Ross’s hair turned frizzy and…Larry sat where Ross had sat before! And Moe (I) let Clay get by, flopped over onto port, realized he (I) would soon run afoul of other boats, flopped back onto starboard, by this time had almost no speed, and got a horrible start near the back of the fleet. I’m not sure but I think someone tried to poke him (me) in the eyes.
We recovered. I exorcised the spirit of Moe. Shemp and Larry resolved themselves back into Kyle and Ross. And we sailed a fine upwind leg reaching the mark third (out of eight boats). Clay was in first and, by this time, untouchable. The other boat ran down the middle of the course while we reached off to the right, he hit a dead spot while we flew along, and although we closed the gap between us hugely, we had necessarily sailed a longer course and finished, perhaps, two feet behind him. Clay first, us third.
Exorcism, it turns out, does not come cheaply. The Stooges returned in full force for race three. Moe had another horrible start and we crossed the start line in — dare I say it? — last place. We crossed the start line — dare I say it? — minutes after the race started. By this time we were poking eyes and wielding truncheons, and Curly wasn’t even there but he was slapping his head anyway.
And the wind was dying. And the current was strong, and against us. And there wasn’t going to be any repeat of the second-race comeback. We did finally reach the upwind mark, but we almost died of old age before it happened. At one point we were to the left of the “upwind” mark, about twenty yards away, and the wind was no longer so much dying as RIP, but the current was robust and, I swear, it was what pulled us off to the right and around the mark.
Of course, no one else was going anywhere either, apart from where the current was taking them. Except that damn Clay, who by the time we were midway down the “downwind” leg had rounded the downwind mark and was making his way to the finish, when…the race committee canceled the race for lack of wind.
Nyuk! Nyuk! Nyuk!
So, with one day left to sail, we’re now three and a half points out of first. Wish us luck!
P.S. After pretty much every Aikido class, the Aikidoko repair to a local pub — the Bull Pen — for a few beers and a little conversation. Last night, a few tables away, a young woman was wearing an LBI sweatshirt. My camera was in the car. I was thinking — HUGE POINTS!! Alas, I’m cursed with the ability to imagine what other people might think. So the idea of a middle-aged man walking up to a young woman, unknown to him, and saying, “Hey, could I take your picture an put it on my blog?” seemed too open to misunderstanding. I expect no points, but nevertheless, Emma’s my witness — we encountered an LBI sweatshirt in Encinitas!
Thursday, April 12, 2007
They're Off!
A weird realization: A few years back, if I could have written “Out of thirteen boats, we finished tied for first,” I would have written it in all uppercase letters and thrown a couple of exclamation points behind it. These days, I think, “Well, that was fun, but we’ve got some work to do in the rest of this series.”
With the advent of daylight savings, the Harbor Sailboats Tuesday evening racing has started up again. Missing from the competitors were some old favorites: Steve McNally, that servant of the people, needs to attend SD city council meetings on Tuesdays (he’s the principal aide to a city councilman), and Traci Miller was who knows where? There were lots of new racers.
There was also serious competition: First, Harbor Sailboats itself put a boat in this race, skippered by Logan McDuffy, an actual professional captain. (A twenty-something kid as well, a refugee from New York, and an absolute delight.)
Perhaps more important, there was the new nemesis — Clay Karmel. He entered the fleet fairly recently. We’ve beaten him (“we,” of course, being Ross and me), and he’s beaten us — the latter (if I remember correctly) when we were penalized severely for missing races while attending to more important things on Long Beach Island. Most recently, he beat Steve in a series in which Ross and I were unable to race. Our principal goal — BEAT CLAY!!
As we sailed before the first race, we felt that the right side of the course was favored early — on starboard, immediately off the line, we were pointed almost directly at the upwind mark — but midway up the leg, a serious header set in. So as long as a boat stayed right early, it would be in a commanding position midway up the first beat. Or so we thought, but others didn’t — both Logan and Clay went left off the start. Turned out we were right — we got a good start, and our only company on the right side (although quite close company) was a boat sailed by one of the regulars (a guy named Arnaud). After some tussling, we established a lee-bow advantage on him and pulled ahead. Logan — the leader over on the left side — tacked and came at us, but we crossed ahead, tacked to cover him, tacked again and reached the mark first. THERE’S NO BETTER FEELING!!! (Oh, wait, control yourself.) If starboard early is favored going up, then port late is favored going down, so we reached off to the right side initially, gybed about midway down, and finished first. Logan was second, and Clay was third.
The strategy worked so well the first time, we tried it again in the second race. Worked just as well, even though the race committee decided, in mid race, to recognize the “funkiness” of the course and change the location of the finish line. (Mid race course changes are done all the time, by the way.) This time we were first and Clay was second.
An incendiary aside: As we milled about between races, a guy from another boat dissed my hat. My Sunfish hat. He said I’d worn it last year and it was time to give it a rest. DUDE, I BELONG TO MSYC AND THAT’S THAT!!!!!!!!! (Whoa, calm down….)
So — the wind changes, the tide changes, the course changes, and racers should change with them, and so we did, but not quite enough. At this point, we had not been behind any boat at any point in either race, and again we reached the first mark ahead. This time, though, Clay was close enough that the rounding involved some comments about room-at-the-mark rights. The wind was now rather fluky at that upper mark and it had cost us. Even so, we rounded ahead and lost it on the downward leg. Ross was gracious enough to say that there were perhaps some irregularities in the crew work, but in fact we were ahead and Clay sailed faster and that was either a very bizarre wind effect or, more likely, the combination of my steering and mainsail trim. Result: Clay first and us second, by about a foot. It was a really fun race.
Last race, three legs, and some newbie had the race of her life. Don’t even know her. After finishing last in the first race, ninth in the second race, and seventh in the third race, she improved considerably in the fourth: she led at the first mark and she led at the second mark and she looked real comfortable on the third leg. We were second at the upwind mark, and Clay a close third, but after some downwind fumbling those positions were reversed at the downwind mark. On the third leg we engaged Clay in a tacking duel in the hope of passing him; he covered us exactly as he should; and unfortunately Newbie reverted to form. In the end, Clay passed Newbie a foot or so before the finish line, and we came in third.
So in the end, Clay and we were tied exactly: 6.5 points apiece, and each with two finishes ahead of the other. Logan was in third, and no one else close.
OUT OF THIRTEEN BOATS, WE FINISHED TIED FOR FIRST!!!! Calm down? Hell no, it was too much fun.
With the advent of daylight savings, the Harbor Sailboats Tuesday evening racing has started up again. Missing from the competitors were some old favorites: Steve McNally, that servant of the people, needs to attend SD city council meetings on Tuesdays (he’s the principal aide to a city councilman), and Traci Miller was who knows where? There were lots of new racers.
There was also serious competition: First, Harbor Sailboats itself put a boat in this race, skippered by Logan McDuffy, an actual professional captain. (A twenty-something kid as well, a refugee from New York, and an absolute delight.)
Perhaps more important, there was the new nemesis — Clay Karmel. He entered the fleet fairly recently. We’ve beaten him (“we,” of course, being Ross and me), and he’s beaten us — the latter (if I remember correctly) when we were penalized severely for missing races while attending to more important things on Long Beach Island. Most recently, he beat Steve in a series in which Ross and I were unable to race. Our principal goal — BEAT CLAY!!
As we sailed before the first race, we felt that the right side of the course was favored early — on starboard, immediately off the line, we were pointed almost directly at the upwind mark — but midway up the leg, a serious header set in. So as long as a boat stayed right early, it would be in a commanding position midway up the first beat. Or so we thought, but others didn’t — both Logan and Clay went left off the start. Turned out we were right — we got a good start, and our only company on the right side (although quite close company) was a boat sailed by one of the regulars (a guy named Arnaud). After some tussling, we established a lee-bow advantage on him and pulled ahead. Logan — the leader over on the left side — tacked and came at us, but we crossed ahead, tacked to cover him, tacked again and reached the mark first. THERE’S NO BETTER FEELING!!! (Oh, wait, control yourself.) If starboard early is favored going up, then port late is favored going down, so we reached off to the right side initially, gybed about midway down, and finished first. Logan was second, and Clay was third.
The strategy worked so well the first time, we tried it again in the second race. Worked just as well, even though the race committee decided, in mid race, to recognize the “funkiness” of the course and change the location of the finish line. (Mid race course changes are done all the time, by the way.) This time we were first and Clay was second.
An incendiary aside: As we milled about between races, a guy from another boat dissed my hat. My Sunfish hat. He said I’d worn it last year and it was time to give it a rest. DUDE, I BELONG TO MSYC AND THAT’S THAT!!!!!!!!! (Whoa, calm down….)
So — the wind changes, the tide changes, the course changes, and racers should change with them, and so we did, but not quite enough. At this point, we had not been behind any boat at any point in either race, and again we reached the first mark ahead. This time, though, Clay was close enough that the rounding involved some comments about room-at-the-mark rights. The wind was now rather fluky at that upper mark and it had cost us. Even so, we rounded ahead and lost it on the downward leg. Ross was gracious enough to say that there were perhaps some irregularities in the crew work, but in fact we were ahead and Clay sailed faster and that was either a very bizarre wind effect or, more likely, the combination of my steering and mainsail trim. Result: Clay first and us second, by about a foot. It was a really fun race.
Last race, three legs, and some newbie had the race of her life. Don’t even know her. After finishing last in the first race, ninth in the second race, and seventh in the third race, she improved considerably in the fourth: she led at the first mark and she led at the second mark and she looked real comfortable on the third leg. We were second at the upwind mark, and Clay a close third, but after some downwind fumbling those positions were reversed at the downwind mark. On the third leg we engaged Clay in a tacking duel in the hope of passing him; he covered us exactly as he should; and unfortunately Newbie reverted to form. In the end, Clay passed Newbie a foot or so before the finish line, and we came in third.
So in the end, Clay and we were tied exactly: 6.5 points apiece, and each with two finishes ahead of the other. Logan was in third, and no one else close.
OUT OF THIRTEEN BOATS, WE FINISHED TIED FOR FIRST!!!! Calm down? Hell no, it was too much fun.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
My Favorite Racing Rule
Rule 47.2: "No person on board shall intentionally leave, except when ill or injured, or to help a person or vessel in danger, or to swim [italics mine]. A person leaving the boat by accident or to swim [italics still mine] shall be back on board before the boat continues in the race."
Uh... Skip?..... I know this race is close, dude, but I'm kinda really workin' up a sweat, so I'm gonna take a little dip, ok? You know, cause, like, it's in the rules.....
Uh... Skip?..... I know this race is close, dude, but I'm kinda really workin' up a sweat, so I'm gonna take a little dip, ok? You know, cause, like, it's in the rules.....
Saturday, April 07, 2007
News From Surf City
SURF CITY, N.J., April 2 — Much of the sand along this popular 18-mile barrier island had washed away, leaving sections of beach with barely enough room to spread a towel.
April 3, 2007
When sand from the ocean floor was used to replenish the beach at Surf City, military fuses and adaptors turned up.
After battles with surfers fearful of shifting wave patterns and homeowners concerned that their expensive ocean views would be blocked by sand dunes, the United States Army Corps of Engineers got started, leaving behind a renourished 200-foot-wide beach in the middle of Long Beach Island.
That is not all it left, however. About a month ago it was discovered that mixed in with the 500,000 cubic yards of sand dredged from the ocean floor were several unexploded military fuses, and now the Corps of Engineers is racing to make sure that Surf City’s 1.4-mile stretch of beach — the lifeblood of this borough — will be safe for bathers when the season begins in two months.
“We have to verify if they’re dangerous, and then call the proper organizations out to clear them out, ” said Keith Watson, project manager from the Philadelphia office of the Corps of Engineers. “Depending on what we find, it could go from a little time to more than we want to know.”
April 3, 2007
When sand from the ocean floor was used to replenish the beach at Surf City, military fuses and adaptors turned up.
After battles with surfers fearful of shifting wave patterns and homeowners concerned that their expensive ocean views would be blocked by sand dunes, the United States Army Corps of Engineers got started, leaving behind a renourished 200-foot-wide beach in the middle of Long Beach Island.
That is not all it left, however. About a month ago it was discovered that mixed in with the 500,000 cubic yards of sand dredged from the ocean floor were several unexploded military fuses, and now the Corps of Engineers is racing to make sure that Surf City’s 1.4-mile stretch of beach — the lifeblood of this borough — will be safe for bathers when the season begins in two months.
“We have to verify if they’re dangerous, and then call the proper organizations out to clear them out, ” said Keith Watson, project manager from the Philadelphia office of the Corps of Engineers. “Depending on what we find, it could go from a little time to more than we want to know.”
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
This & That
Another Aikido Test: My turn! I told you about Emma’s test, but last Wednesday I stood at the shomen. It’s a blur. The salient point was being asked to do hanmi handachi (you’re on your knees, but your attacker is on his feet and fully mobile). I hadn’t practiced it in quite some time, but I knew that there’s a built-in advantage: The attacker has to come down to you, so you’ve automatically got him off balance. Of course, Sensei knew how to take that away: After some standard attacks, he said, “Ok, kick him.” Aaaaahhhhh!
But it all worked out. I didn’t get hurt (neither in the physical sense nor in the embarrassment sense), and I did advance two levels. I’m still a brown belt, but I’m at the highest level you can be without being black. If you’re at all interested in seeing pictures of this august event, go to http://www.sneakyfeetaikido.com/, then click on the Pictures link, and then on the Dave’s 1st Kyu Exam link (all the way at the bottom).
Your Government at Work: I received a letter from the IRS (be still my heart!). Gradually, I worked up the nerve to open it. “We changed your account,” it informed me. “The nerve!” I responded, although not out loud. Turns out they chose to investigate my 2004 tax return and discovered that I owed — gasp! — 86 cents.
Really. They sent me a letter to tell me that a two-year-old tax return was off by 86 CENTS.
They (And why “they”? They called themselves “we,” but the IRS is one thing, an “it”) concluded that the amount was too small to be considered, and ended their letter thus: “Please don’t send a payment.”
Ok.
But it all worked out. I didn’t get hurt (neither in the physical sense nor in the embarrassment sense), and I did advance two levels. I’m still a brown belt, but I’m at the highest level you can be without being black. If you’re at all interested in seeing pictures of this august event, go to http://www.sneakyfeetaikido.com/, then click on the Pictures link, and then on the Dave’s 1st Kyu Exam link (all the way at the bottom).
Your Government at Work: I received a letter from the IRS (be still my heart!). Gradually, I worked up the nerve to open it. “We changed your account,” it informed me. “The nerve!” I responded, although not out loud. Turns out they chose to investigate my 2004 tax return and discovered that I owed — gasp! — 86 cents.
Really. They sent me a letter to tell me that a two-year-old tax return was off by 86 CENTS.
They (And why “they”? They called themselves “we,” but the IRS is one thing, an “it”) concluded that the amount was too small to be considered, and ended their letter thus: “Please don’t send a payment.”
Ok.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
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