S'agapo was making her first Windjammer's Race last Friday. On the delivery up the coast I had a long slow slog as the little 18hp motor was not really up to the task of shoving
S'agapo to windward against the large cross seas created by a hurricane off of Mexico interacting with the typical NW swell of the N. Pacific. Fortunately, there was only ten knows of wind so the sails could help a little but the rolling was more like a ride at an amusement park than a pleasure sail. The brightest spot was to turn the corner at Land's End and see the foiling Trimaran Hydroptere sailing out of San Francisco Bay. The speed and power of that ocean going racer is stunning!
For more than 60 years the San Francisco Windjammers has sponsored a race on the Friday before Labor Day Weekend from the fog of the San Francisco summer to sunny and warm Santa Cruz. Decades ago all manner of gaffers and even a few square topsail schooners raced the eighty miles south to anchor off of the main beach and row ashore for classic '20s style revelry. They started after a leisurely lunch at the St. Francis Yacht Club and were certain of a night at sea in the long tall swells of the Pacific, slatting was a real possibility. Once sailboats got fast enough to cover the course in a day, the start was moved up to Friday morning and the faster boats got to finish before the wind died in the evening. A terrific idea is todays "modern" racing boats which are utterly bereft of real "accommodations" below decks.
After enjoying a quiet evening at the StFYC docks aboard, the crew arrived at eight to get us out on the water for our nine o'clock start. The wind within the Bay was building from the twelve knots we found when leaving the dock to gusts of eighteen, so we set the heavy #1 and flattened out the mainsail a bit. We were fortunate that the strong flood tide of over 3.5 knots pushed the competitors down the starting line and I was able to put us on the starboard end of the line at the gun following some egregious barging. With the momentum of hitting the pin from a broad reach, we were able to hang with the large boats for a bit but slowly their greater size started to pay off and we assumed our place as the smallest and slowest boat in the "A" fleet. Using our small size and shallow draft, we hugged the shore of Chrissy Fields and found some terrific counter currents all the way up to Fort Point, with over a knot favorable showing on the instruments as we passed Blackhaller.
As we arrived at the flood, or should I say FLOOD at the South Tower of the Golden Gate Bridge the adverse current was measured at 3.8 knots and
S'agapo struggled to find every bit of relief down current of the Tower. Eventually, there was no place to hide and we had to simply slog through it and leave the Bay. One amongst us, Sharon, hadn't been under the Bridge expect on an aircraft carrier and enjoyed the ride from near sea level tremendously, wet as it was. This year Mile Rock and her lighthouse were a mark of the course to be left to port so we hunted down the current relief from that obstacle and were free of the tide for a few hundred yards. From the Rock to Lands End and then south towards Pacifica the in coming tide was unrelenting with between two and three knots of adverse current and a fading wind. Some relief was found by sailing further west onto the relative shallows of forty feet atop the South Shoal and staying out of the deeper South Channel were some of our competition found even stronger adverse tides.
Once south of Pacifica the wind died down to under ten knots and veered to due west allowing us to set the Code Zero and get
S'agapo moving again. In ten knots of wind at sixty degrees apparent wind angle, she'll make six and a half knots through the water, so we were still making good time. Sadly, the much larger "A" class sloops were fading into the fog ahead with large overlapping headsails and much longer waterlines. Eventually, the wind diminished to between five and eight knots and stayed there for a long long long time.... zzzzzz...... It is always hard to keep the crew focused when the wind is light, and more difficult if it's a San Francisco or Santa Cruz crew that spends most of our lives sailing in wind speeds over eighteen knots. We tend to think anything under ten knots is a reason to either delay or abandon a race. Here Synthia keeps
S'agapo moving in the light stuff with the Zero in tight and the boom on center-line.
Eventually, about ten miles south of Half Moon Bay, all our assumptions were proven wrong as the wind backed to the southwest and we were forced back to the 105% light #1 jib. This jib is the largest we can carry with
S'agapo's large spreader rig and it was painful to watch an Express-37, who we own more than 25 second a mile to, sail past us with their 150% genoa catching the five knot puffs. The only compensation for this was that a J-109 which had hunted us down in the light right reaching was attempting to stay ahead of us beating. Each time they came out from the beach on port tack they would tack ahead and to windward of us only to be unable to point with
S'agapo and slide back to leeward. We had similar boat speed but
S'agapo was out pointing the J-109 by at least fifteen degrees. Late, in Santa Cruz, the crew of the J-109 were to hunt us down and ask how we could sail so high. "Well, we don't go all that fast, but we go high." was one crewman's answer. Our only option given our sail plan.
As Pigeon Point slowly crawled up under our lee side the wind finally veered to a gentle ten knot northwesterly and we were able to set first the Code Zero and then after an hour the S2 symmetrical chute. Once able to set the symmetrical we immediately reeled in the Express-37 that had passed us earlier and started to slip along well. At this point we made a major strategic error. The wind had veered to almost north by northwest and we were able to gybe to port. Following much discussion I decided that the wind was certainly going to die before we made it to Santa Cruz. Also, the weather forecasts had been almost entirely wrong all day, but everyone of them had shown more wind and northwesterly wind off shore. So I made the call to gybe out when we were at Año Nuevo rather than carry on down the shore. That was a bad choice, more on that later.
As you can see in the picture on the right, one wonderful advantage of having a boat designed with the cockpit in the center of the boat is that the crew can actually use it while racing. There's no need to hover on the side decks as those are actually too far forward for the weight. In the picture Paul is keeping us moving and Warren is trimming. The over-sized S2 was a wonderful sail for this race.
Sun started to break through the gloom as we moved offshore and I rationalized that this was an indication that the "normal" northwesterly winds were coming. They are typically strong (over twenty-five knots) and accompanied by clear skies. Wrong again, when the sun got to us the wind stayed light and we gybed back to port pole to avoid doing any more unnecessary miles. The race course from San Francisco to Santa Cruz makes a slow and steady left turn around a series of points with the early part taking sailors out on a south by southwest course followed by a turn to southwest, south, southeast and finally east southeast. As a result, any distance sailed to the west puts one on the outside of the curve and the shift that follows the coast line and costs many more miles than you want to pay for unless there's stronger wind offshore. There wasn't.
As we sailed the new rhumb line to Point Santa Cruz (aka Lighthouse Point), we noticed that the boats on shore were starting to move, darn! The wind had filled along the shore. With the boat now settled into a grove and moving well we were committed and decided a dinner of Synthia's wonderful pepper and goat cheese appetizer and cold but tasty sandwiches was in order, along with an entire bag of Fig Newtons. It was getting dark but the wind was building rather than dying as it normally does. Things were looking up.
Then the moon came up!
None of us had remembered that this was a Blue Moon. It lifted up over Point Santa Cruz and hung orange and full just over the land and below the shoreline cloud layer - we were stunned! None of us had seen anything like this. The moon shining below the clouds ahead and the sun setting behind the offshore clouds astern - it was breath taking. It nearly made up for being so far behind, nearly.
With it truly dark, we started to sail on port gybe with ever increasing winds. I snapped this iPhone picture when the wind was reaching fifteen knots and things were starting to get interesting. Once the moon was over the clouds and had climbed just a bit more than where it's shown in the picture,
S'agapo was sailing right up the silver highway of light and our blue spinnaker was illuminated as if it were day time. Then the wind built!
I couldn't stand it any longer and played the "It's my boat, so I get to steer." card. It was just one of those once in a lifetime situations. The swell was about six feet high, the wind had built to twenty knots and was still climbing,
S'agapo was moving along at ten to eleven knots surfing, and it was time for the Davenport Pressure Zone to kick in! Kick in it did!!
Over the next hour the wind built to thirty two knots and the chop came up atop the swell so that
S'agapo could hop on the waves and just stay on them. We were now regularly holding ten knots and the surfs were taking us to thirteen and fourteen. This was all in beautiful moonlight under a canopy of stars. At one point Paul, who was trimming the chute and grinding it as we hopped on the wave, said: "We really should trim in the main a little but I don't know if we'll spin out." "Trim on," I responded "Paul, I'm steering with two fingers, we can take a lot more that this." We ground the main in hard, vanged it down and hit a few fifteen and sixteen knot wave rides. Even more fun, a nice thirty eight knot gust arrived along with a flat spot and
S'agapo took off plaining. "We're going over this one!" I announced to everyone and sure enough we climbed the back of the wave ahead and thundered down the face of the wave ahead. When we got to the dock the instruments said we'd hit
twenty one knots, it must have been that ride! All this with Sharon standing the hatch just watching and most of the crew calmly sitting in the cockpit.
All great rides end, and this one did just west of Point Santa Cruz. The wind dropped, then veered to the north northwest and eventually to the north, dropping to two knots. We set the Code Zero again and were able to lay the finish line off the pier. Our last mile took an hour and a half.
After stowing
Sagapo and putting her in her slip, we headed up to the Santa Cruz Yacht Club for the traditional clam chowder. That and a few Dark-n-Stormy drinks made all those hours in the light wind fade away and only the outstanding run in the moonlight remained. We even told those who'd finished hours ahead of us that they missed the "Best part of the race". We even believed it despite our second from last corrected time finish.
There are only a few moments when sailing reaches the level it did sailing up the silver highway of moonlight at twenty knots with a great crew and a good boat. I'm thrilled that I got to live through one of them.
The Crew:
Synthia Petroka - bow, helm, trim, appetizers
Sharon West - trim and grind
Paul Zupan - main and chute trim, helm
Warren Pelz - jib and chute trim, grind, and helm
Charlie Roskosz - trim, pit, superb advice that I didn't listen to
Beau Vrolyk - MFO
