Solomons Race and Screwpile Regatta

The Solomons Race and Screwpile Regatta has happened, and it did come with a few surprises. Mainly, I wasn't quite prepared, in spite of having been exposed vicariously to marathons and triathlons by my wife, (see her blog, http://nancytoby.blogspot.com), for the fact that this sailing event is an "endurance" event.

What do I mean? Well, let me provide an account of what happened.

The long "ocean" race, 45 miles long, from Annapolis to Solomons, started at 7:30 PM. We had to leave St. Michaels, the boat's home port, a little after 1300 to make the start. I arrived at St. Michaels in good time, had lunch with Nancy and the babies, and was at the boat on time. It was about 85, but very humid -- my glasses fogged over when I got out of the car. There was no wind and a little rain had just stopped falling: not an auspicious start.

But, by the time we'd rounded Bloody Point and were motoring the last 7 miles to Annapolis, the weather had cleared and a little wind was blowing from the south -- a foul wind for us on the race, but at least enough for us to be moving (about 10 knots). Before this in the humid calm we had swarms of Japanese beetles fly on board, even in mid-bay. They landed all over us and the boat, and everywhere they landed they left a gooey green slime (tiny amounts, just enough to stain our clothes). Totally disgusting, thank goodness they don't bite.

In Annapolis harbor it became clear we were in the big time. Other boats maneuvering for the start were big, shiny, beautifully prepared with impeccable, high-tech sails and crews decked out in matching outfits; most of them had crew shirts and hats, and some even sported the same-color shorts. I didn't check to see if some of them may even have been wearing matching shoes, but I bet they were. (See Photos 1, 2 and 3).

On Penniless, one of the co-owners stood on the bow calling tactics and timing, while the skipper steered. This system worked only moderately well since on a 30-foot boat you can't always hear something said at the other end of the boat. The tactician has developed a routine strategy that is not so great in big fleets, involving slowing down while approaching the line almost parallel on starboard tack. A large number of close-hauled boats coming up from downwind, also on starboard tack with the right of way can force you over early if you use this starting strategy. Well, we managed a fairly good start, about half a minute late at the lee end of the line. (All of our starts ended up at the left end of the line, which I thought helped us in some of them and hurt us in others). Part of the Penniless crew is shown in Photo 4, (from left, Matt, Don, skipper Gary, and Jeff on the right).

From there it was a beat almost the entire way, and at first it was fun. The amount of wind was just enough to make it interesting and cooled us off to a comfortable point very soon after the start, even before sunset. A few hours after it got dark, it actually started getting cold, and about 0300 I put on the one sweatshirt I'd brought -- I'd come close to not bringing it because of the forecast. Our crew of 6 were more than enough to sail the boat, and everyone got some time below decks. But, only some of us could sleep -- I couldn't even though I deliberately waited till about 4 AM when I was tired. There was all sorts of stuff on the berth and no proper pillow; because I knew I'd have a motel room at the regatta I hadn't brought any bedding. I didn't realize I'd need any on the boat too, maybe because I expected the buoyant cushions or lifejackets to serve. They were plastic things that became slimy in minutes after I tried to lie on one.

This would have been OK had the race gone as I expected the second part of the night. As dawn approached the wind died more and more. At dawn we were barely moving. In hindsight, the second half of the night the tide was against us and we should have picked one side of the bay and stuck with it; the way we did it we just made long tacks back and forth across the entire bay, because that required the fewest tacks and was easiest. A lazy crew doesn't make the best time. But in addition, the light wind didn't favor this particular boat which is a relatively heavy, old fashioned design with 10-year old sails.

So at dawn we were still quite far away from the finish; I'd hoped to finish by 0900 or so. At 11, we'd rounded the last mark in mid-bay and were headed for the entrance to Solomons harbor. Had the finish been outside the harbor we would have had last place in class sewn up. But as it was, the finish was inside, and once we entered the river mouth (this is the Patuxent River) the banks shut off the wind and we came to a stop. Immediately the heat was unbearable while before it had been only a little too warm. Little cat's paws of wind came from seaward, triggering a spinnaker hoist; the spinnaker flew and we ghosted up to 1.5 knots (it seemed fast). We passed marker 3. The spinnaker collapsed, the wind changed again and we had to lower the spinnaker and hoist the jib again. The finish was at marker 6 and we were now close-hauled again. Painfully we crawled past marker 4 to a point where we could see the committee boat and marker 6 about half a mile off. Then the wind quit again. It was already 3 PM and we'd been on the boat for 26 hours and racing for 20. We waited half an hour and finally gave up, turning on the iron topsail and motoring into harbor -- not even a last place for our trouble. I hate not finishing -- even a last place finish is much more honorable -- but in the conditions it would have been too tough to just wait for a wind. In this "ocean" race there was no time limit as there normally is in round the buoys racing.

When we tied up I could tell I was on my last legs. But, the others weren't willing to go to the motel immediately for the cold shower and change of clothes I desperately needed before a nice sit-down dinner I also desperately needed. Instead the 2 male crewmen who would be with us the whole time made a beeline for the marina bar, the (female) tactician insisted on being taken to her B & B where she was staying away from the others, requiring the services of our only ground transportation, and the entire crew were making noises like they wanted to go to the party after that (our motel was much further away from the party than the B & B). The third male crewman other than me met his girlfriend at the dock and she took him back to St. Michaels by car.

Sociological remark: the party connected with this regatta is famous, and happens every night of the regatta. I wanted to see it -- but not right away after having raced all night. I insisted I needed to be delivered to the motel before anyone went to the party, where I foresaw they might be busy for hours, and it was already almost 5. I was starving, sweat-soaked, and exhausted from about 40 hours without sleep. Finally, at 5, I arrived at the motel. My room had a little kitchenette with microwave and refrigerator; if I'd known about it ahead of time I would have brought more food.

I bathed and felt a lot better, thought about trying to get a meal and realized I was stranded without transportation. There weren't any restaurants in walking distance, and anyway, with heat indices at near 100, even 500 yards would have been agony. But luckily, I had my "cabin stores" of food I'd brought in Nancy's purple, soft sided cooler, intended to be used when I woke up at 0400 with the "midnight munchies." I tried for 30 years to break this bad habit but have become resigned to it. I had peanut butter and jelly for dinner and yogurt for dessert, and a little before 6 (1800 hours, in the evening) I couldn't keep my eyes open and lay down for a minute. I woke up at 11 and cleaned up some of the things I hadn't done like brushing my teeth. I realized I was not hungry and just went back to bed, waking up with the dawn at about 0630, with half the sleep deficit of the night before made up. But, I also ached in lots of places even though it hadn't seemed like a very physically tough sail -- not much wind, etc. The Solomons Race would have been only a moderate adventure had I been planning to return to St. Michaels the next morning.

But, a front had gone through as I slept and there was a solid 15 knots of wind for Sunday, the first day of round the buoys races in the Screwpile Regatta. The harbor at Solomons is beautiful, with lots of great boats (see Photo 5). One of the competitors is shown in Photo 6; note the official numbers on the bow. It was about 90 for the high but with the decrease in humidity the conditions were rather comfortable by comparison. We had a very good day of racing, but alas, did not do well, even though the boat likes those conditions. We had a couple of spinnaker problems, including one I created myself: a takedown where the sheet I was trying to pull in suddenly was jerked from my hands when the sail filled unexpectedly, giving me a nasty rope burn on 3 of my fingers (one has a huge blister now). This boat has a huge spinnaker, and no one in the crew, including the owners, has much experience flying it in heavy weather since you don't get so much of that here. Our first race we established there was a current favoring the left side of the course, but the skipper and tactician weren't determined enough to stay on that side to cut through a line of boats from a different class. So, we lost several places on the second lap of the windwad-leeward course (the race committee used the same course essentially the whole time). We finished the first race 3rd from last out of about 18 competitors, including a boat I remembered from Tuesday night racing on the Potomac that had obviously sailed around just for the event (this was a 30-footer, not trailable). On this race we did have a truly exciting dice with another boat the same size on the downwind leg. Both boats had their spinnakers up, were very evenly matched and very well sailed, and the lead changed twice. We later met the skipper of this boat at the party and found he had not deliberately started a duel with us but was only trying to get to the other side of the course!

The second race was our worst. After an excellent start, we'd already tacked the final time on the windward leg, the wind changed and we were unable to make the mark. The spinnaker pole was already up so the jib couldn't be switched to the other side, and the skipper tried to just head up into irons to coast to the mark. (Whether this might have succeeded had the jib trimmer been informed in time to release the sheet we never got to find out). Instead, the jib backed, its sheet still only partly eased, and we spun uncontrollably for 3 complete circles while 10 of the competition tromped on by. We were second to last.

The race committee decided to race a third time even though the official instruction said to expect 2 races per day. Well, they were right -- in hindsight conditions were ideal, even though I personally was already feeling like we'd had enough racing for the day. So off we went after a delay to reset mark positions for a new wind direction. This was our best race; we avoided foulups and finished mid-pack, but several people in the crew had been knocked around quite a bit by the sails, one guy had been hit by the boom and blood was dripping from his scalp, so we were all the worse for wear. Then the engine overheated and had to be shut down on the way back to harbor. Luckily there was still wind so we sailed most of the way back, saving the engine for a few minutes' running to get us into the slip. The skipper managed to repair the engine, and then we went to the party.

It would have been fun if it wasn't so loud. Almost everyone there was a sailor and had a sea story to recount; those that weren't were groupies (can you imagine sailing groupies?), many of them beautiful teenage girls. The party was outdoor in a big tent in the parking lot of the Holiday Inn. The music (live) was so deafening, however, that even shouting right in someone's ear it was hard to be heard. It was hot enough that I couldn't even imagine dancing (lots of people did), even if I wasn't a middle-aged, happily married man with 2 children. About 7, after buying a T-shirt and hat, I realized my window for a good dinner was rapidly closing, and again I made a plea for return to the motel. This time I couldn't gather the others, and ended up getting a taxi. The taxi was prompt and not too expensive, but back at the motel I was again stranded, so after I bathed I had to resort to my cabin stores. I was now getting a little worried that I would run out of the food I'd brought with no way to re-provision; I'd been 3 days without ice cream in extreme heat and to me that seemed like almost an emergency. The others didn't seem to mind even though they later reported that they entirely missed their dinner, and after all the restaurants had closed, they ordered pizza delivered ( I guess to the motel). They were able to hold out till late at night because they'd had lots to drink at the party. We'd had lunch of sorts on the boat but it was hard for me to eat much with all the action and because it was rather warm. I lost a noticeable amount of weight in just the few days of the event.

The second day of round the buoys day races saw 2 crewpeople hung over from the night before, and Gary's voice reduced to barely a whisper from shouting over the music. The wind was light (5-8) and it was much hotter, even though the humidity wasn't as bad as it had been before the front. I believe it was 98 at the peak. Management got in 2 races, but we had to wait almost an hour for the second one because there was no wind. The race committee must have had excellent sources of information to be so sure there would be an afternoon breeze. Racing over, we motored back to the slip and berthed without delay; it was still early, maybe 3:30. I was still hoping for my sit-down gourmet dinner with a 7,000 calorie dessert. It was hot at the slip and everyone was pretty bedraggled and sweaty, except the tactician, who weighs maybe 105 and is (probably as a result of a more favorable surface area/volume ratio) less sensitive to heat than most people. But, to my astonishment, they all wanted to go back to the party! I managed to convince them to deliver me to the motel and themselves take advantage of being there to shower and change. On our way back, we agreed that the third day of the regatta would be even worse for weather, and since we didn't have a mathematical chance of winning any silverware, they were willing to abandon that day of racing, today, Tuesday. Except for the tactician -- she wanted to find another boat to sail on for the last day. I just wanted to go home.

(Oh yes -- I'd had a little accident while putting away the folded-up jib, which weighs about 30 pounds. Trying to heave it onto one of the settee berths my foot caught on a loaded cooler I didn't know was on the cabin sole, one which someone else had complained about earlier. I fell in a heap, banging myself up on the edges of both berths as well as slightly spraining the ankle of the leg that caught.) But, luckily my mobility wasn't compromised, I just hurt all over. I'm sunburned in places I've never been burned before, I guess because I used sunscreen meticulously on the areas where I usually burn.

I got to drive the van home, on condition I stayed the night and drove the troops to the boat at 6 AM today. The tactician found a ride with someone else since she just had to do the final day's racing and the party. I'm not exactly sure of the psychology of this intense determination, although her resistance to heat certainly made it easier for her to display what for me would have been bravado bordering on heroism. I went to bed early, woke up at 5 to 6, scrambled into my clothes, and had the satisfaction of being on time and watching them roust one of the other guys out of his bed where he'd slept through an alarm and 3 phone calls, perhaps in a drunken stupor.

On the way back to the motel, alone with the van, I stopped at a supermarket and bought a pint of Haagen-Dazs, took it back to the motel and had my "fix" with a leisurely breakfast. My, was it ever good! It was only 8:30 but I'd slept enough so I just drove the van back to St. Michaels and here I am! Whew! Been there, done that, have the T-shirt and I doubt I'll ever do it again. I didn't realize quite how much of an endurance event it could be, and maybe was meant to be, because it's held in high summer. Of course the weather was unusual, with a heat advisory and heat indexes over 100 the last 2 days, but still, we do expect light winds and heat in July on the Chesapeake, and that's not the conditions I like.