| Vol 3 - Issue 1 | September 1998 |
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Florida Road Trip '98 We Came, We Saw, We Conquered! By Chris Bolton Well, we either learned something from all of our past trips (FINALLY), or we learned nothing and just got lucky. Either way, this year we made it, and we made it in style! Even Sailfest being canceled didn't stop us; we just decided that Midwinter's East would be a nice change. I will take the credit for doing an exhaustive industry search (I read the boat/RV ads in the sports section of the paper), and finding a 30' RV for $120/day WITH NO MILEAGE CHARGES! I contacted John Matzner and Andy Corsig, both of whom had expressed that combination of courage, financial irresponsibility, and forgetfulness necessary to consider such an undertaking. Both of them sounded willing to undertake another adventure, so I started looking for crew. Who better than the driver of the "Holy Cow" 16 of Division 11 fame, that relatively light, spouse-approved, athletic and oh so fearless Mr. Kreeb? When Michael confirmed that he had lined up vacation days, and Deanna Handel agreed to put up with the rest of us to crew for Andy, we were good to go! Several conversations with insurance companies and deposit checks later, the RV was ours and the mission was on. We originally looked at three boats on one trailer to cut costs, but then John got into serious house-buying mode, so we went with only two. Surely one of the things we've learned is not to get greedy and put all of our eggs in one basket. Besides, stacking two boats looked a lot quicker and easier than stacking two and disassembling/reassembling one. We got together the Saturday and Sunday before the regatta to put the boats on my trailer with my custom "BOLT-ON 16-to-20 adapter" (TM); partly held in place by a nut on the 20's mast step rod/dolphin striker (not just any nut, but a front-wheel drive spindle nut discovered at Trak Auto!). The masts were left separate to await the RV. I took Andy's brand-new rudders home to remove the molding lines on the leading edge, claiming some expertise in this area. My wife noticed me working on black rudders (my 20's are white), and wanted to know why I was working on someone else's rudders. Free hint: when you have a house and two kids, DO NOT say you are doing boat work because you are bored and want something to do. There was some last minute anxiety (OK, panic) when we couldn't reach the rental company the day before our scheduled departure. I had visions of con artists running off with my money; RVs that had been wrecked while they were coming to us, insurance problems, etc., etc.). I finally got a call Thursday AM saying I could pick up the RV 4 PM, but I had to pick it up in Towson, MD (1.5 hours north of the trailer). Not good, but not |
| too bad, considering my visions of doom. I drove up there, transferred a Taurus wagon load into the RV, and drove back to the Marina to meet my amazed fellow travelers. This beast was big! |
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The anxieties returned when the trailer wiring receptacle installation blew the taillight fuse on the RV. No big deal, where is the fuse box? Half an hour later, that was THE question of the day! After crawling over, under, and through the RV, I finally noticed the dash assembly was hinged (NOT TRUE that I saw it moving AFTER the hammer blow) and contained the fuse box within. Michael had evidently seen me do lights before, and had brought a big box of spare fuses. Problem solved, lights hooked up, 20 mast tied on top (where it only overlapped by 2 feet!) very neatly to the A/C and the roof ladder, and 16 mast on the trailer. We let Andy out to dump some trash, and started to round the corner while he was coming back. His frantic screams told us something was not well. We had carefully loaded the boats to get a reasonable tongue weight (the 16 actually went on backwards), but had failed to allow for the added width of the RV. During the turn, the bow of the 20 had gently come to rest on the bumper of the RV. This would have been somewhat distressful to have discovered AFTER a couple of tight turns (and we did several VERY tight turns moving 50' of rig before the trip was over!) We had to loosen everything, push the 20 back, move the 16 forward, then tie everything down again. Lesson learned: When towing with an unfamiliar vehicle, check your trailer clearances before you leave! FINALLY, ready to go, only 8:45 PM. What the heck, let's get on the HOV lanes to save time. I had craftily scouted out the most direct approach (anticipating a 5-6 PM rush-hour start), so everyone onboard enjoyed the sights as we drove a 30' RV and a double-stacked trailer up the Parkway, through National Airport, up Crystal Drive, into the Pentagon parking lot, and onto the HOV lanes. Many pedestrians seemed to think we were an unusual sight... No hits, no runs, no errors. Ever wonder why there are so many big RVs out there? Because these things are the ONLY way to travel. Stretch out on a nice couch, get a cold drink out of the fridge (or heat one up in the microwave), relax and watch the VCR/TV. No need to pull over for relief breaks, either. Man, this was living! Most surprising of all, this thing would move! (It also moved gas to the tune of 8 MPG) You had to ease off going downhill, or you would be over 70 in a heartbeat. The boats could not be felt, and even the 8.5 foot wide 20 only stuck out a few inches on each side. It didn't like hills, but it could handle them OK (besides, how many hills are there on 95 south of Washington?). It also didn't like trucks, and each one that passed us (yeah, even running 70, we were passed by a lot of trucks) would first push us away, and then suck us back in. Given steering that was as vague as a political platform, and a suspension that tended to wallow like a 16 with flooded hulls, this push/pull maneuver was always exciting. I should say that everyone NOT driving was very relaxed, but the drivers were ALWAYS tense. Only in the wee hours on empty interstates could the drivers operate the radio, and not even then without exploring other lanes and the shoulder. The heavy traffic and rain that Andy drove us through (twice!) were extremely challenging, but that was probably good mental preparation for the intense tactical demands of the race course. The fact that Andy's brand new boat was wandering around behind him didn't add to his peace of mind, either. Michael managed to be driving during our final charge to the yacht club, and he got to thread some residential streets and a construction zone that reduced clearances to credit card thickness. One trailer light didn't survive this gauntlet, but sacrificed itself to save the rig. I got the distinct feeling that if Michael told me when sailing: "We'll make it; we've got plenty of room", I should believe him but should steer very straight indeed! I should note that one of our party had brought some tapes copied at home, and we were all surprised to see an unexpected copy of some Sin-e-max flick featuring unclothed ladies. The guys were not unhappy with this development, but the tape's owner (name withheld) swore she hadn't taped this herself (likely story). I should note that this unfortunate young lady had to suffer through four days of excessive testosterone, and not only survived without suing us but also managed to impart a certain civilizing influence. Well, she tried! |
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With our late start, we decided to stop around 3 AM and sleep. As fate
would have it, this was where South of the Border popped into view (or
should I say pooped into view?). Deanna had never seen this Southern
homage to neon, and was almost speechless at the sight of the 6' flamingos,
somnambulant Mexicans, and exploding rockets, all tastefully sketched out
in garish colors.
We went into the drugstore to register, and Deanna was even more amazed at the huge variety of absolutely worthless junk for sale. I have to admit, the graphically pornographic key rings were eye-catching. The campground was fairly nice, though, even with the ever-present glow of lights. Early morning saw Michael and I pushing Deanna and Andy (separately, don't get |
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the wrong idea!) into the campground showers. This pattern of awakening
would persist throughout the trip. We finally hit the road around 8 AM.
We stopped for lunch at a Cracker Barrel outside Savannah, where Michael
immediately made close friends with TWO waitresses and two plates of food.
He was his normal outgoing, carefree self, and when they asked for help in
singing "Happy Birthday" at another table, Michael was more than happy to
oblige. I think we escaped possible police attention by telling the
waitresses "The staff at the home say these trips do him a world of good".
Our tactical experts advised a quick tack when 95 traffic stopped outside
of Daytona Beach. We did some quick map reading and even asked for
directions (see, guys can do this!), and made good progress back to I-4.
We saw multiple overturned trucks on 95 when we came up the back side of
I-4 after our detour. Good call, guys! All the way down, we were counting
the trees knocked down in the median, probably the remnants of sleepy
drivers coming to a rude awakening. A surprising number of tracks went
in, over some small pines, and back out! We had some debate over how
many trees of what size we could take out with the RV, but wiser heads
prevailed. Jacksonville was a real pain, but Orlando was worse, what
with rain, Disney world traffic, and NCAA basketball tournament traffic.
I think we might have been better off with 65 miles of Rt. 301, rather
than sticking with I-95 and I-4. Anyway, no hits, no runs, no errors,
and we pulled into the Yacht Club at about 7 PM Friday night. We made it!
We're here!! Even the boats are here!!
We wandered up to the clubhouse to partake in the victory beer, where Andy caught a pizza delivery guy, and used his cell phone to call in an order. Great T-shirts, but the bright blue fingernail polish on the pinkie finger was not met with universal acclaim. This was supposed to be used for entrance to the kegs, but I saw lots of undecorated hands clutching a beer. I suspect sly revenge by the host Tampa Bay Cat Sailors (an open club) on the Hobie class. Deanna, who rightfully refused this unstylish adornment, was openly amused by the guy's fingers for the rest of the trip. She always managed to comment on our polish whenever a waitress was in earshot, too. We all noticed the wind was whipping. EVERYONE noticed the wind was whipping. Back to the RV, where we all sacked out in our nice warm comfortable beds, disturbed only slightly by the moaning of the wind and the occasional rocking as the gusts attempted to lift the rig off the ground. Hmmm, it might be fun tomorrow... Although the RV had been promised to sleep 6, this obviously meant 3 couples (or very close friends). For some reason, everyone wanted Deanna to double up on their bed. I offered just out of politeness, but I would have never gone through with it as a married man. I couldn't afford the blackmail... We don't believe that anyone really needs to know what the final sleeping arrangements were, but I will swear that I slept alone, and that no laws of God or man were broken. Michael and I again beat the crowd to the showers (still hot water at 6:30 AM). Then it was time to unload the boats (and rig Andy's 16 for the first time!). All the lines and straps were marked before removal to facilitate reloading (the benefits to having a logical mind). Michael and I threw the 20 together and then went to help Andy. Well, first we had to tip the 20 over to remove the forestay to untangle the shrouds (wouldn't if be nice to have a logical mind ALL the time?). We even remembered to align Andy's rudders and adjust the amount of rake. After the skipper's meeting, Michael and I jumped in and sailed through the moored boats in the marina. This was very entertaining, especially when yours truly stalled in a windshift and had to do a zero-speed tack right next to an occupied boat whose owner was watching me intently. No sweat, man, I'm a racer. We proceeded out to the course, where the wind was indeed howling, but the water was still relatively flat. YeeHaw! I warmed Michael up by promptly dumping the boat, getting my capsize out of the way (or so I thought). The wind seemed to build all day, and the waves got bigger (informed sources say 23-25 steady, with gusts to 30). The first white shape showed a fairly sparse crowd, considering the 100 boat beach scene. Maybe 60-70 boats for the first race, 45 for the second, and less than 30 for the third. A lot of people decided that discretion was the better part of valor. |
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This was SERIOUS wind, and it never varied much in strength or direction.
Solid whitecaps with the big streaks of white foam running downwind.
If you came off C mark on port tack, you ended up at the same spot on shore EVERY time. There was a spot down from A where the wind went from high to heavy. If you were running |
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along and felt kind of slow, and you finally headed
up or sheeted in, just about the time you got going the new wind would catch you
and Hang on Nellie! At least on the 20, you were either going too deep/too slow
(good!) or too high/too fast (bad!) Either way you were wet. Michael's ski
goggles (he's crewed a 20 before) came in very handy. Several times we stuffed
a bow, the rudders came up (maybe ALL the way clear of the water!), the boat
pivoted around the bow, and it hung on the edge until our prayers pulled it
back down. With a too-short jib sheet, Michael would just let it fly and hang
over the side. I would hang on to the mainsheet (couldn't let that out until
the boat had pivoted or you were dead); the rudders were useless. Sometimes
the boat would keep going straight, and the rudders were either stalled or
flying, and the jib was loose, and we were sort of out of control, like.
Fun stuff! Starboard tack downwind was running right with the waves, but
port tack was more across them, so you could actually sheet in some on port.
People would start racing again, going very fast. That's how we pitchpoled.
We caught 3 fish on the tramp, always a sign of a nice breeze. We got a great
start on the second race, and promptly capsized on our first tack (my fault-wait,
I think they were all my fault!). We got it back up, and passed two boats
before the finish (not counting the guys that went over after we did). One
capsize between races was bad-the rudder popped up as I hit it going in, and
when the boat came up, that rudder turned us downwind. Michael was still
hanging on the dolphin striker, and could only hold his breath so long.
He finally let go, I foolishly tried to gybe, and now I'm over. As I
watched Michael drift away, a crash boat showed up and finally spotted
Michael with both of us waving like crazy. We were quickly reunited no
worse for wear. The RC did a great job, I thought, in letting us sail
and rescuing those who needed it. During the first race, there were
always 5-10 boats over any time you looked around. There were at least
two dismastings, as well. The crash boats were very busy! Anyway, 3
races and 4 (Michael)/5(me)/0(Andy/Deanna!) capsizes later, we were back
on shore, beat but content. This is what we came for! Andy's downhaul
cleat had slipped, and he got a DNF while that was fixed, but he had done
well in the other two races. Even with our flips, we had all top-ten
finishes. Saturday night's scoreboard showed us in 8th out of 32; it
wasn't our fault most of the 32 hadn't sailed!
A great lasagna dinner and too many dark beers saw us stumble off to bed, where the occasional rocking gust made us all dream happy double-trap dreams. Sunday morning dawned calm and COLD, and Michael and myself once again led the pack out of bed. I have to admit, the pancakes I cooked on the RV stove really hit the spot. Boy, drysuits are much nicer than wetsuits that have been left outside to dry on a cold morning... Andy went to drain his boat, and was rather upset when water started coming out BEFORE he opened the plug! |
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Evidently a leaky drain plug or fitting had let several gallons of water leak
in, and despite a coating of silicone, the same thing happened Sunday. So
much for that brand new "perfect" boat. Michael and I pushed off to race
other early birds trying to snake through the harbor in wisps of wind.
Hmmm, this looks a lot like the |
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Potomac River-we might do well today. There
was a little more breeze in the bay, but the RC wisely postponed for 15 minutes
to allow more boats to come out. I think there were still some 20s beach-bound
when the white went up. You snooze, you loose! The 20s caught up to the open
class by A as the light fickle wind bunched everyone together. The RC postponed
the 16 start as the combined earlier fleets drifted right back to the start line,
following the only ruffled water in a one-mile radius. The wind gradually pushed
everyone down to B and then C for some REALLY crowded (but fortunately slow)
roundings. It was instructive to go around the marks with the Olympic hopefuls
on their Tornadoes. We got luffed up at C (my story) (Chris just turned too
high-Michael), and after stalling out and almost getting rammed 4 times, had
to tack and go off on starboard while 99% of the fleet went to port. "Oh well,
clear air on this side anyway. Hey, look at this lift! Look at this velocity
filling in! Yee haw!" We made up everything we had lost and more. The wind
continued to fill in, and by the second race, we were almost back to where we
were the day before. Michael took the helm for a little fleet buzzing between
races, prompting cries of "Holy Cow" from the Division 11 boats present. At
least one boat was heard to ask if Michael possessed a license to drive a 20;
the full-speed, 1.5 second, 180 degree gybe he did in front of them might have
raised this question. One more big-wind race, where your reporter sailed too
long on a headed tack to collect his throwout race, and then back to the beach.
Michael drove again, and pulled off another high-speed gybe (this one right at
the beach, in a crowd of boats, with no warning. Watch those puffs when you're
sailing by the lee!). We were in at 1:30, and loaded up by 3:45. The hot RV
shower did wonders for everyone's spirits, as did our top-ten finishes. With
no scores posted, we pulled out at 4:15, tired but happy. The trip back was
anti-climatic, with only the traffic in Orlando to gripe about. Michael got
wired on turbocharged truckstop coffee, driving 6 hours through both Carolinas
and part of Virginia. Andy and Deanna once again demonstrated their inherent
ability to relax, falling asleep in lower South Carolina and waking up 350 miles
later to ask "Where are we?" A huge breakfast at Denny's (where Michael
surprised everyone by eating only one plate of food), and we were back to my
house by 11 AM Monday. Drop off the mast, pick up a vacuum, and up to the
Marina to unload the boats and clean the RV. I later discovered (to my cost)
that we were supposed to clean the OUTSIDE of the RV as well. It was a little
dirty after 1900 miles of rainy interstate... Up the road to drop off the RV,
and then back home by 4 PM. 2000 miles, $1000, 38 hours of driving, but
everyone agreed, one of the best road trips EVER! Midwinters 99, here we
come! As soon as we got back, Michael was on the web looking for scores.
Excited phone calls followed, as Andy/Deanna got 8th (and a trophy) out of
23 16As, and we got 9th out of 32 20s (and beat everybody but Nigel Pitt at
least once). Boy, were we sore Tuesday morning, but everyone was still
smiling. Maybe I need to look at triple-stacking again...
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Chris Bolton Christopher_W_Bolton@belvoir.army.mil Back to Features |