Sometimes I’m amazed that anyone chooses to any distance
racing in the Northeast. The
events lack fun factor of distance sailing in most other places. Take the
Vineyard Race for instance. Taking part every Labor Day weekend since 1932, the
race starts off Stamford, CT, rounds the Buzzards Bay Light tower to starboard,
Block Island to starboard, and finishes back in, err, Stamford 238 miles later.
Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Stamford, other than the city allowing
Brewers Yacht Haven to be torn down for office space and apartments, but after
spending 200 odd miles at sea, it’s refreshing to wind up in a different place,
one that has dockage for the boats involved to tie up and be social. The course
of the Vineyard Race also typically becomes nothing more than a very long
windward-leeward race, often in light air. Ask any “Buzzard”, a sailor who has
done at least 10 Vineyard Races, and all can tell you about a time they had to
anchor at the tidal gates marking the beginning of Long Island Sound.
As they say though, a bad day of sailing is better than a
good day at work, so when I got an invite to join the crew of Todd LeBaugh and
Bugs Baer on the IMX 45 Xcelsior it
was an easy yes. As the days to the start dwindled, something amazing happened.
For once, the weather forecasts were predicting a perfect race. Southwesterly
wind gradually building to 20 knots, shifting northeast right as most of the
boats would be arriving at the tower. Could it be, a 238 mile downwind ride?
Visions of a fast race and Saturday afternoon finish dashed through my head.
Could it really happen? Or was this just another forecast destined to fail?
Dock call was early on Friday. Even on a well-prepared boat,
there always seems to be a list of things to do and an endless supply of food
and gear to be stowed. On Xcelsior,
we’d have plenty of sandwiches, a hot dinner for Friday night, and hopefully be
back for dinner on Saturday. If things went really bad, there was a rumor of
freeze dried food for Sunday, but nobody wanted to see that.
Finally, it was time to get started. Our IRC 45 class had a
good mix of competition, including a King 40, Farr 40, Swan 42, and a J-133.
With a building southwesterly setting up for the first afternoon of the race, we
were concerned that the sprit boats would have an advantage. Fortunately, our
IMX 45 was carrying both symmetric and asymmetric spinnakers. With any luck,
our A-sail would help us hold off the sprit boats until the wind really came up
and we could square back and hoist a symmetric kite. The start was almost a non-event. Our class was evenly
spread down the line, and soon everyone was finding their own lane. Our goal
was to try to sail in mid Long Island Sound, where we believed we would find
the best wind and current. Just below us was the Swan 42 Orbit. She would be a good test of our speed, as we figured out the
best pole height and angle to optimize the new asymmetrical kite. In our own
little match race, we’d gain a few lengths, only to have Orbit claw them back.
As we fought it out, the other competitors were falling back. The game
was only broken by a tug and barge. Not wanting to be caught in its wind
shadow, we sailed above it, while Orbit
went below. On our own for the first time, we made our first mistake of the
race. Feeling good sailing slightly higher and faster, we soon found ourselves
too close to Long Island and in a hole. As we desperately tried to gybe back to
mid Sound, all of our competition sailed away. The gains made in the first hours
of the race were gone. Heroes to zeros. The only bright side was that we passed
them once and there was a lot of racecourse to pass them again. We just needed
to be smarter.
Finally back in the pressure, Xcelsior was now locked in battle with the King 40 American Girl. Before our little field
trip to the Long Island beaches, we were ahead of them by over a mile. Now,
they were 10 boat lengths ahead. Converging on opposite gybes, the major
question now was which gybe was correct? This decision would be heavily
weighted by where the navigation team of Bugs and Jay decided to take us out of
Long Island Sound. For those not familiar with the area, all of the water for
Long Island Sound has to funnel through a few narrow formations of land. On the
North side, spanning New London to Plum Island, is The Race. Between Plum
Island and Long Island is The Gut. The tides here can run well over 3 knots,
and change at different times. We knew we’d be approaching as the tide turned
foul, so minimizing the bad current was key. If Xcelsior continued on her gybe away from Long Island, we’d be
headed for the Race, while American Girl
could make a break for the Gut.
“Gybe when you can.” was shouted by Jay through the
companionway. Our brain trust downstairs had determined that the Gut would have
less adverse current for a shorter distance than the Race. It also allowed us
to have a better angle toward the Buzzards Bay Tower, assuming the forecasted
backing and strengthening of the wind would come. We were betting that our boat
would benefit from deeper running angles with a symmetrical spinnaker in heavy
breeze than our sprit equipped competitors. Before that, we needed to turn the
boat and engage American Girl. As we
finished our gybe, American Girl
chose to gybe away from us to take advantage of a small wind shift. All of us
on deck knew the game was now on. If we could out-gybe American Girl, and time the shifts better, we’d be able to put her
away before the Gut. After a few gybes, we were finally parallel to our
competitor. Now, we just needed to follow the old adage of staying between them
and the mark to consolidate our advantage.
We approached the Gut as the sun set behind us into Long
Island Sound while lighting the sky on fire. At the same time, the full Blue
Moon was rising on our bow. The
crew on Xcelsior, however, couldn’t
sit back and enjoy the natural fireworks. According to the navigators, we would
need to head up sailing through the Gut, and there was concern that we would
not be able to carry the spinnaker for the short reach around Plum Island. The
speed team desperately wanted to avoid the slow down involved with a sail
change, so we worked especially hard at managing the power of the spinnaker
while Fernando, our intrepid bowman, rigged up the jib top. With only a mile of tight reaching
before freeing up again, the trimmers and driver managed a delicate dance of
power and heading. There was no room to run off in a puff, the trimmer needed to
anticipate a puff and de-power the sail to keep Xcelsior on course and off of the beach. Whatever we were doing was
working. Xcelsior was on course and reeling
in boats from other classes that chose not to fly a spinnaker and soon we were
around Plum Island, having gained on our nearby competitors.
Leaving Long Island Sound allowed us to point the bow at the
Buzzards Bay Tower, and the chance to square back the asymmetrical spinnaker.
With the squaring of the pole, the internal debate stated on whether the A sail
or S sail would be faster. Normally, we’d have a crossover chart to help make
this call, but the A sail was new, so we were on our own. With only one
masthead halyard, every sail change would give up precious miles with a
bareheaded change, so it was critical to get the call right. Finally with the
wind angle going past 150 degrees, the big blue symmetrical finally got to come
out of the bag and the chatter onboard died down. Now we could enjoy the final
miles to the Tower under a beautiful full moon, dolphins playing in the water
around us, and 15 knots of wind.
We rounded the Tower at 3:30 Saturday morning, and for the
first time in the race we needed a jib for the leg to Block Island’s south
side. This leg would be a 4 hour-long tight reach, and for Xcelsior, it allowed us to make use of our waterline to add miles
to our perceived lead. For me, this was a good time to get some rest.
As the brightening sky filled the cabin, I awoke to find Xcelsior very close to the bluffs on the
south shore of Block Island. Normally, this is a dangerous place to be, as the
wind dies and the currents get funky. True to form, we were nearly stopped, but
amazingly, the Oakcliff Farr 40 was between the island and us, and sailing
away! In the span of 30 minutes, she was able to sail right around us and now
had a 2-mile lead. The last time we had seen this competitor was shortly after
the start. For us, the urgency had returned, and the race was on again. The
Farr 40 owed us time, but only about 5 minutes, so we needed to get back in
front to have a chance, but first we needed some wind!
To get the wind, we needed to sail towards Long Island.
Based on predictions from the navigators, this was a problem because the
current would be foul at the Gut when we arrived. Based on the heading of the
Farr 40, she was headed for the Race. The Race would still have some favorable
current, so it was critical for us to get there, but for now boat speed was
paramount. As the boat speed came up, we found some more pressure and soon were
able to point the bow towards a waypoint in the middle of the Race. With any
luck, our waterline advantage over the Farr 40 would allow us to claw back the
miles we had given away near Block. Try as we might, we couldn’t gain our miles
back on the reach to the Race. Then something amazing happened. The Farr 40
started to reach off to Long Island. They were sailing to the bad current! We
had a chance, assuming that our weather model showing more wind on the north
side of the Sound was correct.
Whatever we were doing was working. The wind was increasing
and backing. Onboard chatter went from the Farr 40 to whether or not we should
be hoisting the Code Zero. In hindsight, we waited too long to hoist the zero.
Once it went up, it only stayed up for 5 minutes before we needed to peel to
the asymmetric kite. At least that mistake didn’t cost us. In fact, we were now
even in 1.5 knots of favorable current and making trees on the Farr 40 on the
other shore. With the A sail finally up and drawing, we were making 10 knots
directly towards the next mark, R32 off of Stamford. This was shaping up to be
a 60-mile drag race with the Farr 40.
The win or the loss would come down to precious seconds, so we had to
minimize our mistakes and sail as fast as possible. For the next few hours, the
sailing was pretty much straightforward, then the wind started to come forward.
This was a problem for us. Changing to the jib top would reduce our sail area
and slow us down. While Xcelsior
might be forced to sail high and slow, the Farr 40 on the south shore could now
VMG sail towards the finish. For us, it was essential to keep the A sail up for
as long as possible. After 2 wipe outs, the call to drop the kite grew louder,
but we fought off the onboard naysayers and kept pushing. The only way to win
this race was to keep the A sail up and the boat under it.
Persistence and patience paid off. We were able to carry the
kite all the way to R32, and we rounded about 30 seconds in front of the Farr
40. Squaring back for the final run into Stamford harbor, the crew was finally
able to relax and savor the coming victory. After 30 hours and 240 miles, we
beat the Farr 40 by only 38 seconds. We did it in weather conditions that were
almost unimaginable. The predicted forecast mostly arrived. I’ve never had a
spinnaker up as long as I have in this race. The winds were fresh, and the
clear skies were postcard perfect. In a final natural finale, the Blue moon raised
blood red out of the Sound to signal our finish. Fireworks along the Long
Island shore seemed to be exploding just for us. On the delivery back to the
American Yacht Club, the crew was allowed a victory shot of rum. To thank
Neptune for our good fortune, a shot of rum was also poured over the side. A Vineyard Race may never be this
perfect again, but we weren’t going to risk offending nature, just in case.
