Solo Challenger

Newsletter of the Great Lakes Singlehanded Society

Officers: Directors: President – Wayne Gould Mark Gutteridge Tari Smith Vice President/Race Chairmen: Tom Munson Jim McLaren Dave Rearick Treasurer: Jack Whyatt Rob Robins Michael Garcia Recording Secretary: Bob VanEck Wally McMinn Newsletter Editor: Patrick Nugent ______Spring 2001

additional responsibility of e-mail PRESIDENT'S Secretary. Your afterguard concludes with Directors, Mark Gutteridge, Jim MESSAGE McLaren, Robert Robins, Tari Smith, Wayne Gould, GLSS President Dave Rearick, Michael Garcia and Wally McMinn. As the true millennium began in 2001, so too the Great Lakes Singlehanded This year the Board will begin the Society is moving into the new preliminary planing for the 25th millennium. Every GLSS President's Anniversary of the Port Huron to first message has summarized the Mackinac Island Singlehanded coming events of the year with glowing Challenge in 2003. Details of the 25th enthusiasm and optimism. I certainly Challenge will be posted on the web as will not deviate from that fine tradition. they are completed. We are a closely knit society whose (continued page 2) members count many among them as their closest friends. Inside This Once again I am encouraged to be serving with Board Officers and Issue… directors who are dedicated, enthusiastic and very capable. Tom Munson has · President's Message graciously accepted the responsibility of Vice-President and Race Chairman for · 2001 AGM Summary 2001. Tom is well known for his charismatic work in our annual Open · 2001 Open House Report House. I will sleep easily knowing that Tom's steady hand is on the helm of · Chi-Mac Race Report 2000 your solo sailing program this year. Bob VanEck will be logging all the GLSS · Shorten Early! administrative details as Recording Secretary, while Jack Whyatt will · Excerpts: Summer Studies continue to guard the ships purse as

Treasurer. Patrick Nugent has signed on again as Corresponding Secretary and · 2001 Solo Challenge Application

Newsletter Editor, and accepted the - 1 - ending balance of $1876.00. Bill (continued from page 1) presented the slate of candidates to replace to outgoing Board members. The You will notice in this newsletter that we following candidates were unanimously are asking for your help in updating our approved by the members attending: mailing list to include receiving the Solo Michael Garcia Challenger and other correspondence via Wally McMinn the internet. Pat Nugent has already Dave Rearick formed a list of over 40 members who Bob VanEck want their correspondence delivered via Robert Robins e-mail. Take a minute and e-mail Pat ([email protected]) with your e- Bill Dembek then gave a re-cap of the mail address. 2000 events followed by brief reports from each of the Committee Chairmen. Our sailing schedule starts off on June Bill presented Bob VanEck with a 10 23 with the Port Huron/Chicago to year Plaque for his 10 successful Mackinac Island Singlehanded Challenges. Jim Otton was honoured Challenge. Don't miss this classic event. and awarded the Ralph Eilberg Award September will be our busiest month for his contribution and support to Phil with 3 events on 3 lakes. Lower Huron Rubright during the 2000 Europe 1 New Solo on September 8, Lake Michigan Man STAR Race. The Meeting Scramble on September 14, and the St. adjourned at 18:00 hours. Following Clair Solo on September 29. Don't Bayview's delicious buffet diner GLSS forget these dates on your calendar. members Jim Otton, Ray Mason and Phil Rubright were introduced as guest Finally, I would like to thank the GLSS speakers, each reporting on their Directors, Officers and members for adventures during the 2000 Europe placing their confidence in me to serve 1 New Man STAR Race (Trans-Atlantic as your President. There have been 20 Solo Race). Past Presidents who have guided the GLSS with vision through the last 22 When Bayview's Bar was finally closed years. I trust that our unique tradition at 02:00 hours on the 21st of January, will be carried into 2001. the usual GLSS members were seen leaving another entertaining AGM.

2001 AGM SUMMARY 2001 SPRING Wayne Gould, GLSS President OPEN HOUSE The 2001 Annual General Membership Meeting was held at Bayview Yacht REPORT Club on January 20,2001. Following a Tom Munson, Vice President & Race lively social hour Bill Dembek Chairman (President) called the meeting to order at 16:30 hours. The minutes from last The March 28, 2001 GLSS Open House years meeting were read by Bob had an attendance of 40 people VanEck. Jack Whyatt reported on the comprised of 13 members and 27 guests. financial status of the Society with a Two guests traveled from East Aurora, year NY, and another from Chicago, IL. It’s

- 2 - encouraging that word of the GLSS is The race committee voice crackled from spreading and sparking interest beyond the handheld VHF, “Whoa Nellie, the shorelines of Lake Huron and Lake welcome to Mackinac Island!” The race Michigan. over, I headed up into a stiff 22 knot SE wind, furled the 130, and dropped the Two new members who did their first main behind the relative shelter of Big Mac in June 2000 spoke about their Round Island. After rigging dock lines experience. Wally McMinn, who had and getting a slip assignment, the first of cruised on his boat for several years what I hope to be many Chi-Mac solos prior to sailing the Solo Challenge, ended with a burst of reverse in the slip expressed the importance of being to check down a boat that didn’t want to mentally prepared. Mike Mahar, who stop moving. A bottle of bubbly from had purchased his boat 8 months prior to my bride and an 8-year-old bottle of the Challenge, spoke about the necessity Bacardi’s finest, was icing on the cake to of having the boat well prepared and the a dream that had occupied most of my problems encountered with his auto conscious moments since deciding to pilot. Both skippers agreed the Solo compete in a single-handed challenge. Challenge was an outstanding learning experience and they are better sailors Backtracking a bit, I’d been intrigued because of it. Both skippers also plan to with the thought of competing in a do the race again. single-handed challenge for most of my sailing life. Taking the boat out alone or An excellent question and answer period standing an early morning watch in mid followed covering all aspects of the Solo lake with a crew sleeping soundly, Challenge. “How do you sleep?” as cemented the notion that I could always, was one of the first questions. compete in a race with other like-minded Of course, a few of the “old timers” sailors. Surfing the web lead me to the entertained the group with some of their GLSS site and after exchanging a few e- sailing adventures. mails with Blair Arden, Rob Robins and Dave Rearick I wound up sitting in on All in all, the Open House was a the March 2000 AGM. That night, successful beginning to the GLSS 2001 listening to the escapades of the race season. aforementioned sailors whose tales grew taller as the level in the keg decreased, Our goal is to have a total of 50 boats plus those of the likes of Alan Veenstra, sail across the start lines at Port Huron Jim McLaren, and Bob VanEck had me and Chicago on June 23, 2001. To counting down the days until the start of achieve this goal, it is essential for GLSS the 4th Chicago-Mackinac Singlehanded members to spread the word about the Challenge. Solo Challenge among their sailing friends and the sailing community. It is said that getting to the starting line is the toughest part of a race; it was certainly true in my case. Outfitting the boat and completing a solo qualifier Chicago-Mackinac from Holland to Manitowoc and back in early May (with multiple layers of Race 2000 clothing and still cold…) filled most of Tony Driza my days off, culminating with the June 16th, 2000 start of the race. I had hoped to get the boat over to Chicago at least a

- 3 - couple of days before the race started to from the depths of my pressure cooker give me time for any last minute came a delightful jambalaya, with a malfunctions to be corrected, but work slosh or two of merlot to wash it all constraints and major preparations on down. Check-ins with the rest of the board pushed me a day or so behind. I fleet were routine, and despite the beat in left Holland for Chicago at 2300, less 3-5 footers, spirits were high as we all than a day and a half prior to the start, hoped for winds going southerly, and hoping for an uneventful crossing. With being able to set out chutes. I was all sails flying on the cutter rigged Island amongst a few boats that felt winds Packet 40, I made great time towards would hold up nearer to shore and ran in Chicago and from 45 miles out, I could to just off South Haven before tacking. make out the top of the Sears Tower. The others favored a more offshore Winds and sea state worsened during the approach and had tacked to maintain a wee hours of Friday and I opted to better line towards the Sable Points and shorten sail in order to get a more Point Betsie. In retrospect, I wish I had comfortable ride, with little loss of done the same, for in the mid morning speed. Just short of Chicago later on hours of the second day, I sailed into a that morning, radar showed a fairly stiff windless hole off Muskegon and squall line. Anticipating the worst, I proceeded to sit for an hour or so. I can furled most of the genoa, tucked a vividly recall every fly bite and the couple of reefs into the main, and got momentary puffs that came over the next ready for winds that would gust to 40 hour or so; boats I had passed now knots. For the next half hour, I hunkered caught up, and passed me. The down behind the dodger, wind whipped jambalaya had lost some of its appeal rain and spindrift in the air, as Whoa and the merlot soured a bit; I watched in Nellie blasted towards Columbia Yacht frustration, as boats passed off shore Club. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, boat where the wind had hung on. I tried and skipper were in their elements. As different sail combinations in a vain anxious as I was to get in, catch a quick attempt to get moving again, but in the nap, finish rigging the boat for the race, end the only thing accomplished was and attend the skippers meeting, I really fatigue. No doubt about it, I labored didn’t want this passage to end. much harder trying to get the boat moving, than trying to slow it down. Sleep came fitfully aboard Whoa Nellie, as pre-race jitters, the weather, and what As morning of the second day wore into little tactics I could muster filled my afternoon, the breeze finally filled in and head. A hard beat to weather heralded I set out the asymmetrical to try and get the start and lingered long into the first back into the race. Boatspeed built full day of the race. Island Packets are nicely, but I was in closer to shore than I great boats, but hard on the wind is not wanted, forcing me to gybe to get around their best point of sail. The temptation Little Sable Point. Cutter rigs are was to point as high as possible, to the flexible, but the inner stay is a bear to point of pinching, and I saw my deal with when resetting the pole. Since boatspeed suffer as a result. Boatspeed I hadn’t slept as much as I had hoped to, took precedence over pointing; although due to excitement and adrenaline taking somewhat south of the rest of the boats over, all these sail changes were as we slogged toward the Michigan beginning to wear on me. Dame Fortune shoreline, I was generally happy with smiled a bit though and after the gybe I my progress. What I lacked in pointing was able to set out the asymmetrical, ability, I made up for in the galley, and wing out the main, and make up a few

- 4 - lost miles. Chatter on the VHF the WSW. In the dawn light I could see increased as leaders Dave Rearick and how the spinnaker halyard had fouled Joe Turns told those of us further back in the genoa furler and it wasn’t much of a the fleet of thunderstorms that had job to free it. The leaden sky looked darkened the sky and had winds on the threatening enough that I opted to pole increase. Dave Rearick on Geronimo, out the genoa and rig a preventer for the when asked what sails he had up wryly main, rather than run up the noted he had “two reefs in the main, and asymmetrical. Conditions improved I’m praying!” Wanting to gain as much somewhat and as I was still about 2.5 back as I could, I maintained the miles behind Belle and with distance spinnaker/main combination while those running out, decided to set the further ahead had long since taken theirs asymmetrical again to try and catch him down, and shortened sail to boot. The if I could. Boat speed jumped up at once strategy paid off, as I was able to close and I thought the wind gods were finally the gap considerably; I nearly waited too smiling favorably on me. Earlier, I had long, as the first gusts from the storm heard reports from the front of the fleet caught me with the chute still up. that the winds had died and sailors were Grappling with the nylon in the gusty once again the main course for a host of winds took the energy reserves down a dinner guests with hearty appetites, bit, and I didn’t realize at the time that particularly for human ankles. I still had the spinnaker halyard had fouled the the wind and was just about to consider upper furler, rendering the genoa changing course to avoid the now useless. When I attempted to set it in the becalmed fleet ahead of me when I too increasing winds, the furler jammed, and sailed into the next hole. As frustrating only a fraction of the sail was out. Not as the first time being becalmed was, this wanting to fool around on deck in those was far worse, as I watched wind ripple conditions any longer than I had to, I on the waters everywhere but where I furled it again, and set out the staysail sat. Sails hung limply, filling just often with the main, passed Big Sable Point, enough to cause me to spring into action, and settled in for some much needed thinking I’d be sailing soon. Belle was rest. On the recommendation of those now only a mile or so off, and it was who had done the race before, I set my with great frustration that I watched her alarms for between 30 and 45 minutes, catch the breeze and sail off, albeit after which I would check for traffic, slowly. Meanwhile, I rocked in the look after sail trim and the boat, then leftover slop, swatting flies, wondering back for another quick snooze. Each if someone had held a gun to my head time I came back on deck, the masthead when I opted to compete in the race. light of Belle, an Island packet 45 sailed Finally, the elusive breeze meandered by Cal Carr, also competing in his first my way and I was underway again, now Chi-Mac, was visible just in front of me. some three and a half miles behind Belle. Although the conditions were probably Winds were such that I put out the chute worse that night than any other, I once again, determined to try everything managed to put a few hours into the I could to close the gap once more. Eyes sleep bank which would serve me well riveted on the radar, I could see the for the last leg up through Gray’s Reef distance decreasing ever so slightly. If and the Mackinac Straits to the finish. the winds would just cooperate for the next 12 hours, there was still a chance to Another dawn broke over northern Lake improve my standing in the fleet. Michigan, unveiling overcast skies, occasional rain, and shifty winds from

- 5 - Meanwhile, chatter from the lead boats trickling back to us stragglers, made us aware of yet another wind shift. Under spinnaker, Joe Turns, Dave Rearick, and Paul Schloop, had made good progress Shorten Early! towards the finish and had alluded that Al Merrithew they might be able to finish with that configuration. It wasn’t to be, as the I am of the opinion that we often sail winds backed to the ESE, and after all with too much sail. I remember a great we’d encountered the previous two days, day last summer, sailing on a close it looked like a tacking marathon would reach, in a fresh breeze. I had the 150 take place from Waugoshaunce Point to rolled out and a full main. The wind Mackinac. At 0100, I rounded the angle was 45 to 50 degrees and the mandatory turning buoy and hardened apparent wind speed was about 18kts. I up for the final slog to Mackinac. I had started rolling up the headsail about 10% closed the distance to Belle to just under at a time. The more I rolled up, the a mile, was sailing well and hoping to go faster I went. The boat was heeling less, by him shortly. I happened to catch a there was less angle on the rudder, and favorable, but temporary wind shift and the motion was far more seakindly. It went by him into 4th overall. It felt like wasn't until I was down to about 80% each tack was a little harder than the that the loran began showing a slowing. previous one; fatigue was now a player, as I hadn’t slept but 30 minutes over the Over the last 20 years, I have used this previous 24 hours. An upbound theory as a guide to decision making, freighter forced me to make a couple of particularly when I am alone: Shorten extra tacks, and the winds at the bridge sail early. caused me to misjudge the length of a couple of tacks. The thought of ending A few years ago we were on the leg to up on the shoal east of the bridge, in Goderich. I could see the storm coming sight of the line, had me spending extra off the tip of the thumb of Michigan, and time perusing the chart. During one of wondered if it was going to angle over those periods, the autopilot was unable our way. Murphy's Law says it will, so I to hold the boat in the ever-increasing kept a constant vigil. winds. Nothing worse than coming back into the cockpit and finding the A couple hours later I could see a Mackinac Bridge dead astern, whilst I greenish, low cloud coming in from the was heading west. Gybing back around, west. I ran up to the bow, dropped the I probably should have shortened sail at 150 and put a reef in the main. My that point, but with the porch of the competitors, who were sailing within a Grand Hotel in sight, I decided to just let couple hundred yards of me, likely her heel over, hang on, and hope to thought me quite mad. We were sailing avoid another tack. Had the wind in fair wind, making about 5.5 kts when increased even slightly, the strategy Cap'n Al starts running around his deck wouldn’t have worked, but the boat was like a crazy man, dropping sails. able to handle the extra sail without too much difficulty and I crossed the finish It was only 2-3 minutes or so, however, line at just under 8 knots, dog tired, but when the wind hit. It wasn't terrible, but pleased to have competed in, and the other guys were now dropping their completed my first Chi-Mac race. sails, and they had to do it on decks heeling 45 degrees.

- 6 - didn't listen. And we can't have our Another time I was sailing dead pillows all mussed up, now can we? downwind near Presque Isle. I was Shorten hearly. making great time, moving along at 6 to The following two short chapters are 7 kts. I hadn't a worry in the world. taken from Ron Dwelle’s book, Summer What could be better? Suddenly, I felt Studies, published by Xlibiris Press, the slightest breeze on my shoulder 2001. Copies of the book can be ordered coming from the port side of the boat. directly from the publisher at It was nothing, really. Just a little breath www.xlibris.com/summerstudies.html of air, slightly cooler than the Southwest or from online booksellers such as breeze in which I was sailing. It was just borders.com and barnes&noble.com. enough to prick my senses a tad. A few minutes later the skirt on the spinnaker began to flip back toward the boat. And Ron Dwelle is a long-time singlehander, I could feel the cool breeze on my having competed in the Port-Huron to shoulder again. Windshift coming! Mackinac Solo in 1982 and 1983. He also was one of the founders of the Lake I grabbed the heavy 150 from down Michigan singlehanded society and has below and ran to the foredeck, hitched it won both the Lake Michigan Solo and up and ran it part way up the forestay. the Lake Michigan Doublehanded races. Once again the spinnaker skirt bobbled, only this time a little more. Still, Black The following excerpt from his book Magic was headed north at 6-7 kts. gives some of his thoughts on Though I was flying along, my gut told singlehanding during his participation me to shorten early. I doused the chute, in the Newport-Bermuda and ran the headsail up, or vice-versa. Singlehanded/Doublehanded race in Just as I got the headsail ready, I looked 1987. up ahead and here came the wind-line on the water, directly out of the north! Nearly a 180 degree windshift. I turned Butterflies In The Bilge . . . to starboard about 60 degrees, then as There is a certain nervousness— the wind hit, rounded up to point. anticipation—in preparing for any passage, with the degree of discomfit The point is, the guy behind me had his directly related to the expenditure of spinnaker in his rigging. This scenario imagination. In the case of going to has repeated itself numerous times Bermuda, I hadn’t a clue. during the fifteen years I have been True, I had read accounts of ocean doing this race, not that I have won passages—almost all hair-raising, every time, but sometimes the little many ending in disaster of some sort: battles between you and Mother Nature shipwreck, sinking, days and weeks can be as much fun. afloat on a liferaft. Presumably, these

disasters were the successful ones; the I try to adhere to this rule as much as unsuccessful were different: boats possible. A boat that has a herk-jerky broken up, sailors dead, bodies motion, high rudder angles, and devoured by sharks. excessive heel is telling you a story. You just need to listen. Things break, I spent the whole winter before in things fall out of shelves, pillows get working on Prudence P. Fishpaws. mussed up, the boat is slow, sails get Every single weekend, 8 am to 8 pm, torn. Battles are lost simply because we Saturday and Sunday. Every holiday,

- 7 - except Christmas. I took off time only started in a strong south-southwest for my son’s birth in February, to wind, tacking out of Newport harbor deliver him in the Alternative Birthing and Narragansett Bay, and we had a Center of Women’s & Children’s strong south-southwest wind for the Hospital in Providence. next four days. On the boat, I refurbished all Within four hours of the start, I seacocks, re-finished the bottom, was seasick, for the first time in my overhauled every accessory life. I had always thought I was component of the engine, replaced the immune to seasickness—I had wiring system, repaired all hatches, certainly been in much worse dorades, and vents, totally renewed conditions than I experienced here, the rig, paid to have the sails all and had never once even felt an redone, had the liferaft inspected, inclination to queasiness—but I was refitted the head, upgraded the galley, seasick, for about eight hours until I got all new electronics, laid in spares had upchucked everything in my for virtually everything. I expected the stomach, plus a little bit more. boat to be ready. For the next four days, I was hard Myself, I exercised as I hadn’t since on the wind, sailing as close as college days. My intention was to be possible to southwest without able to shinny the mast in rough pointing directly into the wind and conditions, if necessary going hand- stalling the boat. Unfortunately, this over-hand up a halyard. I didn’t quite was not Prudence’s forte. If the wind accomplish that, but I was in good was coming from abeam or aft of that, shape. I re-learned celestial she would move well, but her design navigation, practiced sun shots and was not known for its star sights until I was comfortable closewindedness, and she proved it doing them. I studied the charts, went now. to school with Nick Nicholson, my Later, I was to learn from the old colleague who had twice won the hands that these were much rougher “navigator’s” trophy in the crewed conditions than usual, but I had no Bermuda races. idea then. My wind speed meter had a When the time came, I was scale of 0-60, with 30 at the top of the prepared, as was the boat. The biggest circle. When the meter was turned off, problem was placing Jo and the kids, the needle rested right at the top, at 30. since the boat was our home during For two days, the needle was at dead the summer months, and summer top—30 knots of wind—and I kept rentals in Newport were generally in tapping the meter to see if it was the range of my annual salary. We working or turned off, broken down finally worked out a complicated somehow. But, no, if I studied the multiple apartment swap among a needle, I could see it move, dropping number of people racing, with Jo down slightly when the mast pitched staying in the apartment of the aft, moving up slightly when the mast double-handed partner of Steve pitched forward in the waves. The Pettengill, he moving to a bunk bed in meter was working—the wind was the home of Bertie Reed’s stuck at 30 knots. doublehanded partner, until all flew to As I expected, the boat did well. A Bermuda in a week or ten-days time. broken jib furler and a non- The race itself was anti-climax. We functioning autopilot were the only

- 8 - repairs I had to make in Bermuda— front moved through, with squalls and quite mild considering the conditions. rain. Then the wind went totally calm, I did not do so well. I thought it with a confusion of waves from was a miserable trip, constantly being different directions, finally settling thrown about, constantly wet. I could down to small rollers after six hours or not sleep in a berth, even though so. The last 15 miles to David’s Head Prudence’s berths were thought to be were actually a good sail, west winds well designed—the way sea berths and the waves broken by the shoal should be made. I tried, but was water and the Bermuda islands thrown out by the boat’s motion, and I themselves. finally tossed the cushions on the At the St. George’s Dinghy Club I floor, with the spinnaker and storm called Jo in Newport. Amazing to talk jib, and slept there, where the motion over the distance, her voice as clear was least violent. and loud as though I were calling I had a terrible time getting sun from next door rather than five-days sights for navigation because of the away. incessant motion, and a star sight was “I’m not sure you should come out of the question. Heating food was down,” I said. “Especially with the a challenge; I didn’t even try for the kids. It was miserable, rough.” first two days until my stomach “But I’ve got the plane tickets recovered and demanded to be served. already,” she said. “They’re non- One thing that surprised me was refundable.” the heat. As soon as I entered the Gulf We spent most of our conversation Stream, with its 70-degree water, the talking over the wisdom of taking the air temperature climbed. Past the children on a 640 mile ocean crossing Stream, daytime temperature was in and finally decided to do it. There was the 80s and it only dropped to around no concern about the boat’s 70 at night. Any work and I was capabilities, or ours. It was merely a sweating. Soon I was naked, except for question of comfort. So she came. my safety harness, and I stayed that Following a long passage, way until I saw Bermuda. I hadn’t especially singlehanded, there’s expected this at all. This was June, and always a shot of adrenaline, a sense of all my June experiences were for cool euphoria out of all proportion to the or cold nights. I can recall frost on the accomplishment. Among racers, it decks during an overnight passage shows up in the form of incessant across Lake Michigan in June. I had talking, for maybe 12 hours, in spite of brought all sorts of cold-weather the fact that you’ve just been awake an gear—polypropylene long johns in additional 30 hours while making light, medium, and expedition your landfall and safe entrance to the weights, wool trousers and sweaters, harbor. The progress of the long-sleeve cotton shirts and fleece conversation moves from “wasn’t it jackets, as well as a whole complement awful . . .” to “there was this squall of heavy foul-weather gear. I had came through and I thought I was brought only one short-sleeve shirt gonna lose the mainsail” to “Jesus, and only one pair of (of course) those waves were magnificent.” By Bermuda shorts. sleep time, most sailors have Finally, approaching Bermuda, the convinced themselves that it was a wind and waves changed, as a storm great experience.

- 9 - Bermuda was a wonderful place, becoming a shambles—and the wind and I could almost understand the eventually began to fall until we were vagabonding spirit that would becalmed. By this time, we were encourage someone to make the within 100 miles of Newport and—not difficult passage in order to spend six racing—we turned on the engine and months wandering through the little motored until the wind sprang up to string of islands, exploring the carry us in. Turning on the engine was, country, meeting the people. for me, the best sign that the passage was not Unfortunately, I had only a week pleasant—a declaration, “We want to get there. away from this incessant motion!” When Jo, Anna, and Chase arrived, In the motoring and then the light we did the briefest of island tours, wind that carried us into Newport, Jo then prepped the boat for the passage and I talked over our experience. For home. my part, I had already decided that I would not cross the Atlantic. The Bermuda race had been a “qualifier” Bragging Rights . . . for the singlehanded transAtlantic The passage back was better than the race, held every four years, but I knew one down, because it was more that I was losing interest. variable. From the time we left There was now no doubt in my Bermuda, the wind gradually mind that I could make the passage. increased for about 24 hours, until we The Bermuda passage was no different had rollicking conditions—20 knot from a Lake Michigan passage, except winds on our quarter and big seas— that it was longer and more for another full day. Though the uncomfortable, and I felt that motion was quite violent, we were transAtlantic would be no different making rapid progress. But then, the from Bermuda, except that it would be passage was punctuated with a terrific longer and more uncomfortable. gale—16 hours of winds over 40 knots. Making it across no longer seemed a It was awesome. Breaking waves challenge to myself—more like a cascaded over the boat, engulfing it chore. (I suppose the odds of dying entirely. The scend of the boat—with are a bit higher transAtlantic than on the wind coming from slightly behind Lake Michigan, but that’s mostly the beam—was chaotic, with a sort of because of the greater distance and general corkscrew pattern interrupted inability to hide from storms.) by wild leaps and drops. We had I would undoubtedly love the locked ourselves inside the boat, with competition of a race, but I knew just a scrap of sail up to keep the boat Prudence P. Fishpaws was not really moving and under some control. competitive. The transAtlantic boats Staying on deck was impossible, are divided by length, so I would be cooking was impossible, sleep was racing against other boats 36 to 40 feet difficult, talk was impossible, long. The more modern boats in the navigation was difficult, sex was Bermuda race, like Steve Pettengill’s impossible. We worried a bit about the Freedom and Al Fournier’s El Torero, boat and for the first time realized that had beaten me in by nearly two days a “small” boat like our 40-footer could in a 600 mile race, and I knew I could actually be overwhelmed at sea. expect no better in a 3000 mile race In the event, nothing terrible that was dead upwind, Prudence’s happened—except for the cabin - 10 - worst point of sail. The only boats that I had beaten to Bermuda were older style, long-keel boats like my Cheoy

Lee. I was pretty certain that I had little chance of winning against my sized monohulls, and of course in the Atlantic race there were also speedy multi-hulls to contend with. To do the race just to say that I had done it—for the bragging rights—didn’t seem all that worthwhile. To my surprise, and relief, Jo brought up the same thoughts as we were slowly approaching Newport. “Why don’t we go back to the Summer Studies: Great Lakes?” she said. “I don’t know www.xlibris.com/summerstudies.html. if I really want to ‘take off.’” Copyright 2001, Ron Dwelle. May not be I couldn’t have agreed more with re-printed in any form without the her. copyright holder’s permission.

“The porpoises were nice,” she said—we had been visited several times by troupes of porpois who would caper around us for a while and then disappear. “And the blue of the water. And the phosphorescence at night.” I agreed again. “But everything else is better on the Lakes. The water. The ports. The weather.” I reminded her of the holding-tank laws for boat sewage. “Well,” she said, “I didn’t say it was perfect.” We decided before we tied up at our mooring in Newport that we were soon to be history for this eastern port. And for long-distance passage making. I haven’t regretted it yet— except for the bragging rights….

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