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Top Ten Worst Experiences This Season Stuff I'd Like to Forget By Bill Mattson Watching Frank trailer his mast into a power line. Well, the place where we usually demast was crowded, so Frank decided to trailer his boat across the street. The tip of the mast hit a power lead to a street light. The insulation was never compromised, and the lead slipped nicely over the top of the mast once the bows were 3 or 4 feet off the trailer. Frank's son came running back across the street. "Don't go where we just went.", he said. Yeah, right. Who do I look like? Your Dad? Ramming my boat trailer into my new truck. My first new Dakota got run over by a bus in a tunnel, but that's another story. The replacement was long awaited, and did not have a scratch. Since my boat is stored to the side of my driveway, I have to manually get it out onto the driveway before hitching. Usually, I move the boat out before I get the truck. This time, I had the truck in position first, but sort of forgot that "I had the truck in position first." While carefully watching the hulls as to not hit them on the fence I rammed the hitch into the tailgate. The dent was lovely. My son getting wacked with the trailer winch. After purchasing an old Hobie 18, one difference we noted was that it is heavier than the 16. A lot heavier. So much so, that we rigged up a winch line with a purchase to hoist the boat off the sand and onto the trailer. A winch without a functioning ratchet, by the way. The nice thing about a functioning ratchet is that the winch handle will not reverse and quickly spin backwards, hitting you in the face. My son stumbled backwards with a dazed look. Seeing a mark on his cheek, I said "I think you're okay." "No. No I'm not. This is bad." The blood then began to flow from his mouth. The nice thing about being the OTW editor is that you take tours of the local Coast Guard facility, and know right where to go for help. He just had some minor cuts to the inside of the mouth, by the way. Nothing serious, thank goodness. Sailing in 0 knot wind. After hyping up the Hobie 18's performance to Frank, we decided to take him out and show him. It was actually a pretty day. The sailboats were all sitting around the ocean like sculptures. Well, not really since we were all bobbing around in at least 8 ft. slow rolling swells. Throwing up. Ever been in 8 ft. slow rolling swells with no wind? I never had been until this season. I also had never gotten seasick until this day. The fish at the entrance to Channel Islands harbor did not go hungry, thanks to me. Trailering my boat on the Golden State Raceway. We were fortunate to be able to compete in 2 regattas in San Diego this year. We were unfortunate in that we had to use Interstate 5 to get there. While California Freeway driving is a bit "high strung", the Golden State Freeway though Orange County is particularly adventurous. The object along this stretch of road is, simply stated, to go as fast as you can while making as many lane changes as friggin' possible. It's a bit nerve racking to tow a boat which is wider than your vehicle into this mess. I remove my rudders when trailering on the freeway. You can leave 'em on, but when you're doing 60 mph, the guy behind you is going to be between them. Not a bad deal until his first lane change. Using that Aussie Jib System "Right out o' da bag". Okay, I was anxious. Took that new Aussie Jib Halyard and installed it without checking the knot on the block. Maybe it was a half hitch? Whatever it was, it cut loose just before race one in Santa Barbara. Amazingly, we got back to the beach, tipped the boat over, and fixed the problem in time to start. Letting Frank beach the Hobie 18 without first pointing out how tricky it is. The directional control on a Hobie 16 is pretty stable with those asychronous hulls, even with the rudders up. I should have mentioned to Frank how different the Hobie 18 handles in surf with the daggerboards up and the rudders part way up. We went sideways at the last moment, but still landed the boat okay. The fun part was watching the kids running in all directions, some being scooped up by parents as the boat flew widly towards them. Pitchpoling in the last race. It was the last race of the last regatta of the season for us, at the San Diego Multihull Festival. Doing good... doing good.... Whammo! Doing bad. It took a while to right the boat, and we where definately in last place. My thanks to Frank Mardel on the committee boat for patiently waiting for us to finish the course. (There's a subtle humiliation in seeing the chase boats waiting for you at the marks, so they can bring them in and go home.) Not Sailing Enough All the negative things about this sport will never overshadow the positive. No frustration has matched the intensity of flying a hull in nukin' winds, or crossing the finish line first. I sailed a bit more this season than in prior seasons, but never seem to get enough. There are house projects that remain unfinished because of this extra time on the water. But what sailor, on his deathbed, would say, "I should have spent more time working and less time sailing."? Bill Mattson mailto:mattson@earthlink.net Back to Humor |