When I was growing up, a Blue Chip invite in E-Scows meant you have made the big time. You have performed well enough to win place or show in sanctioned regattas, or maybe top 5 in an Easterns or top 10 in nationals. It's a regatta where everyone there is a great sailor that can win any race or place last in any race. Since I was a teenager I wanted an invite. As a skipper I never got one. As a crew I was on a few boats that received invites, but we never went. I'm 47 years old now and never got to go to a Blue Chip.
A few years ago I borrowed a boat for the local regatta and won the regatta. On the way to the first start was the first time I set foot in an MC-Scow. I received a Blue Chip invite for that. But I had no boat, no money, and absolutely no confidence I could sail an MC-Scow.
Flash forward to 2010. I sailed 3 regattas and failed to qualify. OK, fine. I get it.
So this year I set a few goals as you can see in prior blog entries. I wanted to win a regatta, (failed at that), place top 10 in Nationals (success), place top 3 in the local regatta (failed), and qualify and attend the Blue Chip and not get last (succeeded), and rank in the top 10 nationally (failed). Last year a couple people outside the local fleet learned who I was. This year I wanted become a more recognizable name by doing well and sailing with the "A-Fleet" boys.
Well I think many of them know who I am now.
So I'm driving 9 hours to Spring Lake, MI, Friday afternoon. I'm nervous, a really excited nervousness. I'm coming off a nationals where I got second in a clean hard fought race and won a local knowledge race. Yes, I tanked a race. But I'm stoked. I know I can sail with the top national level sailors. I'm listening to a book on tape and eating my wife's secret stash of candy. All the way across Ontario I'm getting more of a swollen ego than ever. I'm going to win this thing. I have the boat, the sail, the talent, and...well maybe not the fitness level I need.
Whatever. I carry my crew with me between my belt and chest.
I pulled into Spring Lake Yacht Club about 10 PM just as the last folks were leaving for the night.
Spring Lake: Seven miles of beautiful lake. Unfortunately it is not in my view. There must be more around the corner. It looks like I can clear this lake with a 3-iron. Hmmm.
The next morning I set up my boat and meet lots of really nice people. They jokingly explain the sailing area is somewhere between the 9th green and the 10th tee...right in front of the club. Oy.
I did something I hadn't done ever with my boat. I measured the rig. Rake was 2 1/2, and 3/4 inch difference between sides. Oh my. For non-sailors, it was like I had a car with a carb that was running rich and wheels out of balance. It may be fast but not a winner. I fix it.
Skipper's meeting: interesting black flag modification that if you are over you won't get called but you CAN restart. And if someone flips you back upright you can keep racing. I get it. This regatta is to be SAILED, not won or lost on technicalities.
There are something like 7 past national champions in the fleet, the current Junior Champion, and various regatta winners and age classification winners. I have sailed against about half at one time or another. The fleet is small though, only 23 boats. But the water hazard, I mean lake, probably couldn't handle more than 30 or so.
RACE 1 - CONFUSION
"Wind" was 2-8 from the NE-WNW all at the same time. It was a washing machine of directions. I poke around the lake checking shore effects and such. Easy peasy. Poke in this cove, hit that point, avoid that bay...etc.
The starting sequence kicks in and I have to poop. Now now. Easy there.
I think 20 of the 23 boats hit the line right and off we go. Tack, cross, duck, tack, in phase. Good. I'm sailing great! Speed is good, point is good, sail adjusted just fine. 3/4 up the first leg I'm in about 7th place playing with the big boys. I'm on starboard heading to a port layline 100 yards from the mark. I'm thinking of the pack and where I can slip in between other boats to get around the mark. Header - tack. Perfect. Right on the mark. The pack to the right is toast.
Header. Low on the mark. That's okay. I'll go to the starboard layline and cruise in. Not as much advantage but still good. More header. Hang on. Why would I tack 50 yards short of the layline? People seem to be though. I'll pick them up on the shift back, the inevitable oscillation. More header. Crap. Time to cut my losses.
Tack. Header. What?! 40 degree shift. Jeesh! The right comes in, the left comes in, the entire fleet rounds the mark and I'm stuck straight leeward of the mark in a hole. I finally get there 2nd to last, and significantly behind the leaders.
In 3 minutes I went from a big emotional high to total confusion. I did it right! I sailed the way you are supposed to. It didn't work.
Next to me is this kid that is singing and carrying on like it was his birthday. He was wearing multi-colored shorts so I mentally called him Happy Pants. I recognize him. He sat on me at the nationals for my first 2 miserable legs of the first miserable race. I'm thinking about redemption. But he's kind of funny carrying on and such.
I sailed the remainder of the race trying to pick up one boat at a time. I eventually picked up about 6 to lose 3 at the line doing the same thing, finishing 19th out of 23. But mostly I wanted to beat Happy Pants. He got last. Woohoo! There was a race going on up front but I couldn't tell you much about it. I couldn't see that far. But my arch nemesis Chris Craig finished well. Goal #1 of beating him was going to be tough.
RACE 2 - HUMILIATION
My bad race was out of the way. My butterflies are gone. Okay this is it.
Wind was the same - all over the place.
I start mid-line with a really good aggressive anti-sag push and a good kick. I smoke the person above me and drive. Well I wasn't quite good enough. I'm lee bowed by the guy below. I have to clear. I tack, take stern or two, find a hole, tack back, get tacked on, and try to clear out again. I'm third row, in the middle of the course and in a hole. In 1 minute this race was shot.
In this fleet every boat is about as fast as they can be. The winner is tactically smarter, handles the boat better, and extends their lead in clean air. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer.
I'm 19th at the top mark (counting from the back), and about there at the bottom mark. Here is where someone in last has an advantage. The fleet is all over the lake, working both shores. I can see all the wind on the lake and exactly what is happening. Right is dying out, left is filling in, the pack left is laying the mark half a leg ahead. I go left.
Left dies, right comes in. The 6 of us left behind by the pack on the first rounding are now 2 at the top mark. I'm dead last with one guy ahead. As I round the mark I see the leaders about 1/4 of the way back up to the finish. I still have 2 legs to go.
I'm dejected. I'm crushed. For the first time all year I show some bad mojo. I'm standing (bad form in light), slouched, and just don't care. With each inevitable crap shift I'm more confused, cursing under my breath and pouting.
I catch Mark downwind. We round and split. I KNOW left will pay this time. Right pays better and I fall 10 lengths behind. The wind dies. We are the only two remaining boats on the lake. The time limit is now very much in play. Mark finishes. They give him a horn. Lunch is served, I'm still trying to drift over the line.
100 feet short of the line I hear a whistle and my number. The very generous race committee finished me, probably with little or no time on the clock.
Chris Craig had another top 10. Gap is now insurmountable. Goal #1 is fading away.
I go in for lunch. 44 points in 2 races in a 23 boat fleet. How much worse can it be? Chris has 16. Justin Hood won both races.
Lunch was tasty - lasagna, garlic bread, salad (eew), beer, etc. I meet Happy Pants. His name is Chris Lopez (C-LO). Good kid. We vow to fight to the death for last place if it comes to that. I'm sitting in second to last right now. He's a couple ahead of me.
RACE 3 - REDEMPTION
We sail out on the same air. We gather near the start and the wind dies. For about an hour we float around waiting for wind.
I stew. I'm a joke. Why did I think I could even compete here. These are the big boys! I can't start, can't beat them on boat to boat tactics, can't even pick the shifts. This can't get much worse.
It rains.
Wet, cold, depressed, old, worn out, and beaten, I draft the Craigs List note in my head: " 2008 MC-Scow lightly used, never won anything - cheep." I can probably save some money by leaving tonight.
The wind starts to fill from the opposite direction (generally) from before. It's nice, maybe 5-8 with a bit more at times. The race course is set up. The starting line boat is 3 lengths off the yacht club dock. It was like the old days as a kid in Jr. Sailing starting off the end of the dock. Getting the timing for that end was going to be tough. Right is the way. I'll start middle and work right.
I'm stuck right with a minute to go. The crowd is low of the line with a good right shift helping them accelerate late. I ride over 5 boats, 3 more. With 30 seconds to go I'm too close to the line. I look for an escape. None. Eric Hood (EHood) below me pushes. 20 seconds, way too close. Slower, stop the boat. Dan Fink (Blaze) is above me driving down. 10 seconds. Oh hell. 8 seconds, still too soon to go - way too close. 6 seconds and I go. EHood carries his speed from behind to a nice lee bow and Blaze drives down. I'm slower than both, sandwiched and totally screwed.
I have to get spit out the back. I wait, finally tacking to duck Blaze. I look and see I am now taking every stern. I can't clear anyone. I'm toast. Last place start. I'm headed right. The fleet is headed left. Left looks like good wind.
I'm deflated. I'm beyond deflated. Someone sucked the last bit of air out of the balloon making it all wrinkly and wet.
Whatever. I get lost in thought. The Devil on the shoulder kicks in:
Pack it in. The club is RIGHT HERE! Maybe nobody will notice I'm even gone. No. I can't do that. That would be more humiliating than the gutter ball last place trophy. Beside Happy Pants would beat me.
Maybe an injury. No. Nobody would believe it in a drifter day. The only possible injury is chapped lips.
What do the Japanese do? Hairy Carry? But no sword. Besides I wouldn't be able to spell it in the blog. But I have a knife. It's probably too short to get all the way to my heart. But there is a saw thingy in it too. I can cut away ribs.
I was sailing by feel. I look up for the first time in awhile. My sail is luffing. The shore is closing in. Whatever. Tack. Who cares.
I tack, trim in, look straight ahead and see the windward mark. Whoa! What? Yup I'm on a layline, and I'm hiking out in a breeze! How is this possible. I look through my window and see the fleet pounding up the left shore going like gang busters. That makes sense. This lift won't hold, they carry the oscillation back across and I get last like I should.
Hmmm it's holding. EHood calls out "tack or cross?" "Cross!" Absolutely cross. I'm on a layline!
Still on a layline. EHood tacks on my back hip in clear air.
I get a LIFT! What?! I peek through the window at the fleet. Looks good! Hike! Hike! You are IN THIS RACE!
I round first, EHood second, and there is a gap to third of about 100 feet. We both sail low and fast. I hold the lead at mark 2. Upwind I make a couple too many pokes into the right and lose EHood. He leads, I'm right on his transom, and Andy Molesta is on mine. Downwind I split from them, come back and slide right through them still all three of us bow to stern. That was cool. I lose Andy to an inside overlap.
Off the bottom mark I want right. Both guys ahead are hold. I'm in bad air. Andy tacks out. I have breathing room. I work to point, clear a width to EHood's left to reasonable air. He tacks to chase Andy. I go farther right. When we come back together, I'm a length in front of Eric.
I got...well let's just say I was very excited.
I went on the win the race holding off both EHood and Cam McNeil who caught Andy. Last in race 2 to first in race 3. And now with this entry everyone knows it was total dumb luck. Even a blind bird gets a worm sometimes. Take down the for sale sign. I'll stay another day.
Nemesis Craig got a 20. Happy Pants got a 16. The plot thickens.
We are sent to shore because of thunder. We soon realize the storm will be here for awhile and further racing for the day is cancelled. I'm 16th overall, out of gutter ball trophy contention. Time to party.
DINNER
Eric Hood was nice enough to arrange with Jamie Kimball for me to stay at their incredible house on the shores of Lake Michigan. We all go there. I don my jacket from 20 pounds ago, and what appears to be a child's tie. Off we go to the restaurant.
Nemesis, aka Serge (according to his name tag) buys me a drink. I realize I forgot my wallet. Uh oh. Dinner is great. Lots of laughs. But I pretty much stayed sober. I wasn't driving. I knew there was no way I could find Kimball's place ever again on my own.
So I became "DD" for a few people, 7 to be precise. We piled into a tiny car, blasted the country music and debated the virtues of Taco Bell back to the house. Great people. And Connor Davis is my hero.
RACE 4 - FUN
I wake to rain. Lots of rain. And lots of wind too. The forecast is for it to blow a lot and increase to blow snot.
I swap out the new sail for the club race sail. No sense blowing out the brand new sail. I'm not in contention for anything. I'm just going to go out and have fun.
The wind turned out to be much less than predicted, about the same as race 3 but from the opposite direction. We go down into this cove and start between someone's dock on one side of the lake and someone else's on the other side. I can't see the windward mark that is up the lake around the point. Apparently if you stand up and look between docks and such it is there somewhere. Needless to say the point is in play. In fact winning either end means tacking VERY SOON or hitting something.
I pull a hole pop start, mid line. This means I came behind everyone on port going fast, tacked into a hole, accelerated out of the tack and jumped off the line. It takes a lot of luck to have to timing fit the hole.
I have clean air, work the shifts and round the top mark top 10. I play all race anywhere from 7th to 12th or 13th. but every time I get out on a nice shot, there is 2549 again! EHood and I were always close. I think he was following me, or was I following him?
Right at the line I miss a shift and lose three boats to finish 11th. Very cool. I can actually count the boats ahead of me. In fact I was in touch with the lead pack most of the race.
Nemesis was 16th and Happy Pants 12th. Progress.
RACE 5 - MORE FUN
Same wind. More rain.
I abort another hole pop start because the pin is wide open. One boat there is early. I drive down and round up maybe 1 second early. Pin boat was over early. The Race Committee starts yelling numbers. I go back immediately and restart. As I'm restarting I realize they did not call my number. I won the pin and let it go. Oh well. I don't care.
Advantage me. The fleet is showing me the wind again. I get in phase and climb. I'm about 15th by the top mark, the same back at the bottom, and climb to about 10th on the next leg, right with EHood...again. Two legs later I lose a couple few at the finish and end up 12th. This is cool! I'm sailing pretty well!
Happy Pants pulls a 2nd. Wait, what? Nemesis and Brian Fox dog fight the last leg to not be last. Brien wins that last place with Chris just ahead. Up front Justin Hood locks up the regatta, for all intents and purposes.
RACE 6 - EVEN MORE FUN
Same wind, more rain, I'm hungry, cold, and I have to pee. I don't care. I'm loving every minute of this. The racing is tight, clean, VERY competetive, and intense. Risk reward balances are tough. Corners don't necessarily pay. Good sailing goes a long way.
I start mid-line sag with clean air and speed. Blaze is right with me. We work upwind staying front row with another 6 or 8 boats.
Dan Fink earned the name Blaze at Keuka. He wore this blazing bright orange jacket, which he was wearing again this day. You can't miss him. You can see him through your sail!
I round the top in the lead pack, like 6th and totally in touch with the lead. There's EHood, Blaze, Justin, Richard Blake, Ted Keller, ... This is so cool.
I mess around, play, take some chances and stay with that lead pack. On the last leeward gate I round right, Blaze rounds left with others. Coming together I'm within a length of him. We bot hare headed right in phase. I hard duck 2 boats. I lose 3-4 lengths on Blaze. If I had 1 more foot I could have crossed, sailed in phase and stayed with him. He went on to win. I finished on EHood's transom but three places behind him with Ted Keller and Justin Hood sneaking in between us. It was that close for 5th to 8th in that race.
Regatta over. Pack it up (in the rain).
At the trophy ceremony I collected my 10th place mug, the hardest earned and most rewarding mug of the year.
Gas, lunch, road. I went 400 miles of the 500 non-stop. I pulled in at home about 11:30. The car stunk (still does), everything was soaked (still is), I smelled like a rotted hot sweaty wetsuit. But I was still happy.
First time at Spring Lake (lots still to learn about that place). First time to a Blue Chip. First time I was last place in a regatta race since I was a kid. First Blue Chip race win. First top 10 in a Blue Chip.
It was a good way to end the year. Time to put the boat in storage.
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