Hooke Log

May 5^th 2007 Vallejo Race

Flood tide

Wind N-NE 15-30 Knots

Crew: One cement contractor, a psychologist, programmer, physicist, geologist, two marines and a pastry chef.

The offshore breeze looked like it was shaping up to be a beat to Vallejo. We sailed around the starting area with eight other I 36’s and our hopes were high; this would be the first race with our new sails.

As we discovered last year, barging in this fleet is not a good idea, starboard tackers in perfect position almost always close the "door" at the committee boat. Never the less we find ourselves too early at the line and have to cut speed in the barging area to blow off some time. I studied the situation at the committee boat and decide to go for the barging start; I thought we had room. Diana thought we didn’t and soon there was a red flag waving in my peripheral vision. A quick poll on board said we made a legal start and so I didn’t do a penalty turn. I tried to shake the protest off as soon as possible and just focus on sailing the boat, but this is easier said than done.

At the weather mark we were basically still overlapped and without thinking we round the mark and tack toward Berkeley. Much to our surprise Diana and some others just keep going, out to the deeper water. We lose our cover. This was mistake number two for us. We always turn at this weather mark to head for Vallejo but this year with the current running to Vallejo and the wind from the north it probably paid not round the mark and just keep heading for the deeper, faster, water. When we cross tacks with Diana 15 minutes later they were ahead by four boat lengths, and so were several other boats. We’re not thinking.

Then at the Richmond Bridge we decide to go deep and tack through the shipping channel. Other boats went on the East side of Red Rock, I’m not sure but I think that paid off for them. Next was the decision about the Brothers, whether to stay deep or try and cut between the Islands and the shore, as we always do in the Vallejo Race.

We decide to cut between the Brothers and the shore and hope for a lift on the other side. We would drift through the bad air from the Island on momentum and the current, then pick up a favorable shift and save some distance on the others. But the shift, if any, was to the East and we have to tack and get in trouble with other boats, it was a small disaster. A deep subconscious desire to have the wind return to normal undoubtedly made me think the breeze would shift to the west and lift us past the mark. Or was it ignoring that penalty turn?

All of a sudden we’re crossing tacks with Cassiopeia. Where did they come from? Pacific High is 200 yards in the lead and it looks like it’s a single port tack all the way to the Napa River. Pacific High is way in front and Cassiopeia is right on our weather quarter. After fifteen minutes of beating neck and neck we can’t shake Cassiopeia, by even one inch. We’re locked together. We finally pull ahead, somehow, and break the weird magnetism that boats have toward one another. We increase our lead.

Now it’s just Pacific High ahead. Luck was with us and they get in too shallow, before Point Pinole, and have to tack for deeper water. This put us within striking distance. We close the gap and decide to try a pass to leeward. We foot off a few degrees and even farther in the puffs. Our speed increases over a half knot and we start slowly passing them to leeward, about two or three boat lengths away. Wind and waves increase and we pound into the short chop. The foredeck people are wet and cold. I hear something fall down below, "What’s that?" David goes down and checks, everything is okay. We sail overlapped for about half an hour before we are in position to start pinching up, trying to interfere with Pacific High’s airflow, to gas them. That took another fifteen minutes. Finally, our turbulence gets too them and Pacific High falls back. I feel sad as we pull away and think maybe we should take a penalty turn now, say we just forgot about it, and let Harry win? He’s a nice guy. We are basically unworthy. They deserve to win. Nah. They can win later.

We kept our nose clean tacking up the Napa River, anticipating trouble and staying out of it. We sail a conservative last leg into first place. The longest weather leg I’ve ever raced. The crew was ecstatic, doing high fives, I’m stunned and can’t remember where I am, or even stand up. I just want to cry and take a nap. My brother David is below on his knees. I thought he was praying but he was looking in the bilge instead. He’s pushing aside a dripping spinnaker turtle. We’re taking on water!

David and I motored a leaking Hooke back to Richmond early the next morning on the ebb and when we got into our berth brother David swam down and looked at the bottom; it’s the smile crack all right. I spend the night on the boat and we hauled out the next day. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, or was it a dream, I think it was at the spring racing clinic, I remember Lou Zevanov saying something about cracking a smile using the hydraulic backstay tensioner. I grinned, what a coincidence, I also thought it was great fun to pump-up the backstay tensioner.