| Vol 3 - Issue 3 | November 1998 |
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1998 Down the Bay Race Down the Bay the 20 way! By Chris Bolton Intense, in-your-face, one-design racing-for 150 miles! Fleet 196 somehow convinced three Hobie 20 skippers to find crews and ground crews for the 1998 Down the Bay Race, sponsored by the Catamaran Racing Association of the Chesapeake (CRAC). From the beginning, we had two goals: survive the race, and beat the other 20s! My two (younger) fellow skippers were new to the 20 this year, although they have experience racing other cats and monohulls. I was counting on 4 years of crash and burn 20 sailing, and 10 years of cat racing, to give me an advantage. Old age and treachery overcome youth and skill every time. In addition, I had completed a howling rendition of this race in '96, and counted on my tactical knowledge from that race to help me immensely. The sum of that knowledge? Go south, and go fast! We put together a pre-race planning meeting, and covered such topics as GPS coordinates, tide information, landmarks, and boat preparation. We even had my scrapbook for photo-realistic effects. We also did the all- important taste-testing of potential post-race beers. I think this helped everyone's confidence (the meeting, not the beer tasting!). As it turns out, I could have covered a few more points, but I did not intend to mislead anyone. Old-age memory at work, not treachery! I had discovered a former Coast Guard Academy classmate of mine earlier this year through the Web, and he was available to crew. He was also fresh off a C-Fleet trophy in his 16, so I knew he could drive when I needed a nap (that age thing again). Even more importantly, his wife Michelle was available to be ground crew! This is the thankless job of driving the trailer from stop to stop, lugging the beach wheels to and from the beach, supplying cold beer as you finish, taking pictures, etc. In the worst case, the ground crew drives all over the countryside looking for some godforsaken beach at night, in the rain, to help you pick up your broken boat. Anyway, Commander Pat Stadt (CGA graduate), Chris Bolton (CGA reject), and Michelle Jennings (ground crew) formed "CGA TEAM '79". We believed our Academy knowledge (how to make tight bedsheets, properly fold our underwear, and say "YES SIR") would serve us well. My well-used Hobie 20 accordingly received a small set of racing stripes to show our team colors.  CGA Down The Bay! We took off early Thursday to rig our boat and conduct a practice sail. The 210' Coast Guard cutter Decisive sailed past us on sea trails, which we took as an omen of good things to come for Team CGA (Normally, one doesn't see 210' cutters INSIDE the Bay). Friday's beach start was very entertaining; your early arrival in the starting area determined your windward position. The Race Committee volunteers stood in neck deep water to hold the starting marks; many boats reported shark sightings for the amusement of these brave souls. Some boats had ground crews holding them in the water; I don't think anyone was run over as 17 boats blasted off side by side. We didn't get a great start, but were elated to see ALL the boats to windward of us heading way upwind of the bridge span. We went straight and were the second or third boat through-a good start, especially in front of the spectators! As soon as we popped out the other side of the bridge, the wind died down. We were heading a little southeast to the eastern shore. The Tornado eventually gybed out, and we didn't follow. Big mistake, as we watched him eventually pull away from us in a lift. We were trying to stay with the lead 20 when we saw the Coast Guard bark EAGLE come up the bay. How could we resist this? We gybed away from our competition to get closer to this stately tall ship for a picture opportunity.  The old and the new " Boy", I was thinking, "this is a dumb reason to lose the race". Oh well, how often do I get a chance to sail my cat past a tall ship, especially one I had sailed on? Further south we were passed by a 110' cutter, providing another great photo opp. This was turning into old home week!  "Hey Pat, you outrank the guy in charge of that cutter. Order him to throw us a tow line!" Just like last time, most people got becalmed off the Patuxent River, enabling us to catch up with the leading 20. A gybing duel ensued up the river as a sudden breeze kicked in. We closed the gap on the boat in front, and then as we came around a point, you could see a large bridge in front of us. The lead 20, knowing that the bridge was our finishing point, heads right for it. I started to follow, and my ever-alert crew ordered me to fall off . The bridge could be seen through a small bay, but not sailed to-you had to go up river past one more point of land. When the breeze died in that bay, the other 20 was too far up to come back as we went below him and then by him. Treachery wins again; less than five minutes apart after 50 miles! 2nd in class for the day, and a fairly quick day at that. It stayed overcast all day, helping us stay cool but spoiling the shore-to-shore vistas of the upper bay. Our pre-race practice paid off as Michelle delivered some ice-cold Black & Tan that was surely the ambrosia of the Gods. Yes, logistics are crucial in this race. Saturday's start was very port favored. I got up too high and too close to the pin, and then found a hole and snuck out right at the pin with a beautiful start. Very easy to concentrate on my sailing as we beat up the river in light air, since the rest of the fleet was behind me! Halfway up the river the breeze picked up, and first the Tornado and then the other 20s came by me. One of these days I might be able to get this thing to point in a breeze. If this stays upwind, we're going to be in trouble. By the time we got to the mouth of the river, we were in seventh. The point continued in a circle however, and we were able to pick up two boats by playing the shore bend perfectly. We were now on a close reach to our next waypoint at the south end of the Potomac river, about 20 miles away. There were two 20s and a Mystere 5.5 100 yards in front of us. OK, let's go catch `em. For almost two hours we clawed our way up, sometimes slipping back but always working hard. On the wire, back in, downhaul, ease it, more traveler, come back, go forward, lean out hard! Your hands start to get cramped from working the lines, and your neck is stiff from being on one tack so long, but you can't give up, keep pushing! Catch up to the last boat, try to go over him. No, he ain't having none of that! Try to go under him; no, not quite fast enough. Fall back, start working up high again, being very patient. Heck, we've got hours to get by.This time we're too high to luff, and we slowly roll over him and take his air. Ouch, that has to hurt! Next one! We work up to him, but we can't get by. Up, down, he's as fast and as mean as we are. We keep an eye on the GPS as we don't want to get carried into the Potomac on a flood tide, and we don't want to overstand the layline to Smith Point. We notice that we are about 5 degrees too high, and sloowly start to come down, hoping the other boat doesn't notice. We hold this position for a while, nervously checking the 20 to windward and the one we passed, who's back on our tail. We're 2/3s of the way across the Potomac, the bearing is constant (we're not getting carried in), so we go ahead and foot off for the point. We wait for the other 20s to come down, and they never do! They have more speed high, and we've snuck off so much that they can't come down directly to us. Still, big mistake, as we watch them going faster, but higher and higher away from the rhumbline. Treachery wins again! (And maybe just a little of that toughness we learned doing countless pushups?) The breeze dies slightly, and we finally move past the 5.5, which seems to have lost relative speed in this wind. Around Smith Point, foot off to a broad reach and go for Windmill Point. Man, how did they do this before GPS? We aim at unseen points and try to surf every wave. When my concentration flags, I switch with Pat and take my turn getting soaked on the low side. The 5.5 breaks out the chute and goes by us again, but we hold off a 21. Maybe their full-size cooler is slowing them down.Around Windmill Point into the Rappahanock, and the wind picks up again. We can see the finish line! The hull starts to come up, and Pat, without my vast 20 capsize experience, turns upwind. "NO!!" I scream, "Turn down! Fall off! Save me!" I am scrambling up the hull to grab the tiller when he finally brings it around. Whew, that was close! There's the Tornado, and several spinnaker boats, but the beach is otherwise nicely empty. We're sipping our victory beers as we watch two other boats capsize where we almost went over. Close doesn't count. Another second in class, and in very early to enjoy a warm sunny afternoon swimming in nettle-free water. One of the other 20s spends all afternoon playing in the strong wind, AFTER racing for six hours. Youth does have its advantages. Sunday's forecast is for NE winds going to east then SE. We debate on heading SW (nice WEST shore breeze at this point early in the morning, and better VMG). We debate on heading east (maybe better wind, and if it goes east, we'll be set). Finally decide to go west, and then we get another great start on port heading east. There goes the Tornado west. There goes the rest of the fleet west. The book says we cover and protect our second place. Aw heck, we want first! East we go, and breeze we find. What a blast, surfing over the waves at an easy 13, 14.5, 15! knots as we work towards the east. The spinnaker boats come east with us, but sail much deeper and faster to disappear over the horizon in short order. The wind never goes east, and we sail long gybes downwind for 4 hours near the eastern shore, never seeing another catamaran. Are we ahead? Way behind? Who knows?? It is tough to keep focused without boats in sight, especially when the breeze goes light. We finally see the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel, and crawl over to it. About five miles away, the Tornado materializes out of the haze. Where did he come from?! We must be doing OK; Scace couldn't be at the back of the fleet, could he? We sail beside him for 30 minutes, then split tacks and lose him again. We're motivated again now, and concentrate on sailing through the slop. Last big tactical decision-go through the north tunnel opening, fight the flood current, but aim directly at the finish? Or do we stay inside the tunnel, keep gybing south, let the current help us, and go through the south tunnel opening? We finally decide that we have to see some progress or go crazy, and sail for the north opening nearby. After wallowing our way through big chop, we cut close to the rocks-we're around! 2 seconds later, a cool EAST! wind fills in, and we're pointing right at the finish going 11 knots! Not only that, but the water has flattened out as if by magic on the downstream side of the bridge pilings. Yee Haw! I can see the current pushing us away from the bridge, but decide straight (and close reaching) is the fast way to go. With less than 4 miles to go, the breeze goes light again and more north, the waves pick up, and the Tornado reappears! He's on the west side of the bridge, we're on the east, and we're racing side by side again after more than 6 hours. As he comes through the south tunnel, we're both pointing at the finish, but he's slightly ahead. As the current continues to push us east, we both end up further east down the beach. I gybe early, only to see my heading aim back at the tunnel opening behind me! I gybe back again to see a local 16 sailing well right along the beach, so I carry my next gybe into the swimmers off the beach to avoid the current. This tack works, and I follow the beach right up to the finish line. Unfortunately the Tornado did a better job (again!) and beat me to the beach by a good margin. Enough, in fact, to beat me on corrected time by 2.5 minutes, and preserve his first-in-class streak. Whew, this was a long day! Seven hours and twenty minutes, and a lot of that was rolling around in light air/slop. It was mighty nice to hit that beach and know that you didn't have to do this again tomorrow. ANYTHING cold tastes great today! Charles Thuman and John McLoughlin dominated the event on a Mystere 6.0 with chute, posting the lowest elapsed time and lowest corrected time for first overall and first in spinnaker class. Greg and Casey Scace drove the whee out of their Tornado, winning the <.68 class. Team '79 led Robb Lancaster and Don Sievert in a 2nd-3rd-4th semi-sweep for the 20s. Mike Nelson and Allen McMillin drove the only 16 in the race very well (they finished before dark!) to take the >.68 trophy, and finish ahead of half the fleet on corrected time. We raced 19 hours and change over three days; the top spinnaker boats were four hours faster. Hmmm, maybe those guys are on to something. No breakage, no injuries (other than the major ingestion of and submergence into salt water), and we're taking home a trophy. Life is good, even for us old dogs. '79 is mighty fine! |
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Chris Bolton Christopher_W_Bolton@belvoir.army.mil Back to Features |