2011 NAC Qualifying

Damn, Amy's updates were piling up on me a little. I'll try to do better. Zero excuses.

Today, Monday, (Day 6) started with the sunshine and heat as promised. 80 Flying Scots to hoist into the water. Ten o'clock harbor start, a cast of thousands of volunteers. No problem. But wait -- there is no plan that can't "gang aftly," as the phrase goes. In the case of this morning's start: just add 60 junior sailors. HOLD the PHONE, everybody. There is only so much dock space, and since it was a millpond –– but MILLpond -- on Long Island Sound, the Scots waited for the pram kids to be hauled off to their corner of the water.

Seriously: small, duckweek-covered millpond flat. Skating rink flat. So flat that the haze in the distance obscured any horizon and it looked like a big sheet of whitish poster paper. So flat –– well, I've seen pancakes with more waves. Nice news was that the boat traffic was way down. Must be some poor saps have to go to work this week. That must suck.

Isn't gloating just so unbecoming and vulgar?

On shore postponement lasted until noon and a little. Our first shift: waiting until nearly everyone was in the water before we put the Mighty Majestic into line.

We sailed out to the racecourse in under five knots, making note of the current at every opportunity. I got about an hour of quality helm time (I never drive, but today I needed a little horizon-therapy, until the ginger brew kicked in. Go figure. Flat as all that, and still my sandwich wants to make a reappearance.) The wind faded, streaked, faded some more, and the race committee showed patience and restraint while waiting for the conditions to improve.

The hand-held radio proved entertaining: I am not sure which chase-boat was doing the reporting, but at one point, the report for the race officer went like this: "We are seeing a lot of current out here. It's –– the current is bodacious out here." Later, same voice reports in: "The wind is looking pretty dank over here."

There was a near-heat-stroke moment, but Brian Hayes (on a powerboat) saved the day with a ball-cap full of ice and some cold bottles of water for the sufferer.

Sure enough, the wind eventually piped back up to around five and then a touch more for the first race. The tide was setting downwind, so the starting line was fairly easy to cross on time. The course was W-L-W-L, with a gate and an offset mark. Five minute sequences. We started in the second flight, split sides with John Aras/John Wake, and they put the boots to it: a hundred yard lead that never shortened up much. We finished happy with a second place. Trying to sail conservatively (no over-earlies, and do some smart course-management so that nobody gets too far out of touch), but more often than not choosing the wrong sides, we were delighted with the boatspeed and point. A fairly loose rig and the beautiful new jib felt great upwind. Going downwind, we felt pretty good too.

We were in the first flight for the second race. The RC set us a W-L-W-L-W course, and the wind shifted right during the starting sequence -- enough that it was a challenge to get over the line on starboard. But again. patience prevailed, and the RC blew off that start and reset the line. We'd expected a right shift all afternoon, as the sea-breeze seems to come in at around 240, but the wind built ––maybe 8? We were hiking –– and shifted around a bit both ways, though by the second upwind leg, the RC had moved the windward mark to the right.

Andrew Eagan proved untouchable in our flight, pulling a solid horizon job on the gang. We finished with another deuce, and went to shore happy. Plus Brian Hayes was handing out beers just after the finish, and you know that's bound to put a smile on anyone's face.

On shore, the Dave Perry seminar is happening as I type. The little dog needed some attention, and once back in the Winnie, I found it really really hard to step back outside and take the bike back to the YC. It's less than a quarter mile, but by golly, I think I am done for the night. Time to recharge.

Tomorrow's forecast is for thunderstorms. The race organizers re-scheduled the clam bake on Sprite Island from tomorrow to Wednesday. We'll be using the older jib for tomorrow's one race. Aim for a top-twenty finish and and sail right into the Championship fleet...and then start all over again, like Markie Taylor says.