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A couple of Cali boys, David Anthes and Adam Courrier, just did the mini- Fastnet, and wrote this in-depth report for us. This is Part 2, Part 1 can be found here. Thanks to the boys and enjoy. The
various rocks and lighthouses are one of the best parts of the sailing
in the area. They are frequently just black piles of sharp rock with a
lighthouse impossibly rising high out of the narrow base, sometimes not
more than 100 feet square. Even on the calm days the rocks are dark with
swirling water at the base and can have a very menacing appearance especially
at sunset, the time we rounded Wolf Rock and took off for the southern
tip of Ireland and the last beat of the race. Our first reef in the mainsail came not much later as the wind had built into the low 20's. Even with some water ballast added it was a lumpy, damp ride and I was thankful to have some boats around again to gauge our sailing by and as incentive to keep focused and pressing. Overall we appeared lower and faster, which we decided to be happy with given the Sabita is primarily an offwind design. We slogged upwind throughout the day, reducing and increasing our sail area as the wind varied. The ocean was noticeably rougher now, although when compared to what this area of ocean is known for, it could still be characterized as almost flat. As the day progressed my internal state slowly started to decline, as my wet-weather gear proved to be not waterproof at all, and the motion of our small boat in the waves was cultivating a feeling of disinterest and nausea. That night was my personal low point of the race, as when I was not driving the boat I felt quite sick and even recycled what little I had been eating back to the sea. In the morning, however, things were looking up. We were approaching Ireland and could make out the coast in the gray clouds up ahead. It took several hours before we could see the big turning point of the race, Fastnet Rock, but once we saw it we were fired up again, shaken out of our three days off upwind pounding. Hours later the sun came out, the sea flattened out, and we were treated to great views of the Irish coast, and later the Fastnet as we rounded at exactly 1500, with 5 other boats close by. We didn't know it, but we were 22nd at that point in the race. Our personal feeling was we were far back in the fleet, as several of the boats we were frequently around were slower designs. Now past the halfway mark in the race, we had come through ok, our only problem being a faulty VHF radio that kept us from the daily check-ins, a torn traveler cover, and a battery that leaked some acid in to the bilge, effectively halving our already low electricity supply and forcing us to sail without instruments for most of the day. Despite these minor problems, both of us were ready to go downwind, now on a direct course to France with no more marks to go around. We set the big asymmetric spinnaker immediately after going around the infamous Fastnet and the rock which had been in our sight for hours as we inched upwind toward it receded quickly out of sight . The wind was building and as we did our first bit of downwind sailing we reconfigured our boat, stacking all the gear as far back as possible. Despite this, our hot angle led to a few to many crashes and despite some wild surfs, we decided the slower but safer fractional kite was a better compromise. With some water ballast added to help stabilize this turned out to be the ticket, especially as the wind and waves increased as the sun went down. Now we were almost always up on a plane, surfing and skittering our ultralight up, down through and around the waves. These Mini boats are short in length but are downwind machines, and at our low point we were seeing 15's and 16's on the GPS for the 15 seconds our weak batteries allowed us to look. As the seas and breeze built in to the mid twenties, the hot angle we were sailing to make course was coinciding perfectly with the waves, leading to some surfs lasting minutes or even more. You'd pump the helm to break the boat loose on top of a wave, surf down its face, then slalom over to the next wave for an even faster ride. Once on a plane the boat would go almost anywhere you wanted, with supreme maneuverability to catch even more waves at more than 20 knots! There was a rooster tail shooting off the stern, a fire-hose of spray off the bow and a deafening roar of rushing water down below. Periodically the boat would come shooting off one wave and pack the bow under water into the back of another wave, and a foot-high wall of water would wash all the way back into the cockpit and leave you in water up to your waist until it flushed out the back. And the overtaking speed for boats that were not sailing as aggressively was something else. There was one boat on the horizon once we changed sails and we were able to pull even with them in just two hours. Boats behind with bigger sails up had similar results pulling us back, until one of them crashed hard enough to lose their big spinnaker, and after that we left them in the dark. Our round-ups were comparatively minor, if we lost control of the helm the boat would slowly spin around and we'd be on our side for only a few seconds before she'd come back and we'd be off again. Even these subsided once we tucked a reef in the main. With nightfall the wind subsided into the mid teens, so we dumped water ballast, shook out the reef and put the big sail back up. Off again in the dark with no instruments and no lights, another two hours of wild sailing ensued. Once around 0300 the boat rounded up and Adam summoned me from below to help as we'd crashed right in front of a 90 foot steel fishing boat that probably had no idea we were there in the dark, lying on our side trying to get going again. Once we got up and away, another hour of fast sailing ensued until another particularly violent crash and lay-over. The boat struggled to her feet and with a couple of violent flogs, the big sail exploded everything got quiet, until Adam called down below in a disconsolate voice for help retrieving the shredded sail. This was a major blow, not only financially but tactically; if the winds went light we would really need that sail to power us down the course to remain competitive. At any rate, we cleaned up the mess and re-set the smaller spinnaker. The wind did indeed go lighter as the new day dawned and as we continued toward France, now most of the way there after our speed racer night, we really felt the loss of the big kite. Several boats passed us as went though the shipping lanes and it was all we could do just to keep them in sight for the last 50 miles of the race. Speaking of the shipping lanes, they provided the last bit of excitement for the race. I was driving and a huge container ship was coming out of the channel as we entered the defined outbound lane. Although hard to judge, it looked like this monster and us were on a converging course, but as she drew closer (perhaps a mile away) the ship made a definite course change away from me as though she would pass behind. I thought that was considerate of the captain (especially since we're obligated to stay clear) and even gave them a wave in case they were watching me from the bridge. I continued sailing my course for several minutes, looked back to check on the ship, and she'd made an opposite course change, now looking like she wanted to cross in front! As we converged our options were evaporating as we can't just sail anywhere with the spinnaker and the 900 feet of container ship was making zero concessions to us, for a while looking like they were gunning right for us! I got Adam up in case we had to dump the kite and we eventually decided to take her stern, ending up passing about 200 feet off the side of the ship and being thrown into its wake. Way to close for comfort. Without our big sail it was all we could do just to keep the boat moving and discuss how badly we were going to finish, and as we approached Douarnenez the wind went even lighter. We cooked up one of the three hot meals we had time to enjoy during the race, and watched disappointedly as a few more boats went around us. We ended up finishing in the dark at 2:30 in the morning. As an escort boat took us in tow to the harbor, we asked how many boats had finished, and the surprising reply came that it was only 16! We were totally stoked by this and as we came around the corner to the club dock, we could indeed see that there were only a few boats there. This put us in much better spirits and after peeling off the soggy gear and boots we'd endured for several days we wobbled up to the yacht club which was in full swing. They gave us beer and a big bowl of paella which was much appreciated. We made it back to our house by 5 am, and after one of the better showers of my life went to sleep for 15 hours. So we ended up 17th overall which we were pretty happy with. The other American, Brian Caldwell, did very well racing with a Frenchman and got fifth. Boats continued to finish for the next two days, including a total of 6 boats that lost their rigs despite the moderate conditions, called by many the most ideal ever seen. One boat dismasted not 100 meters from the finish line! Ouch. In
the end we thought it was a good race and an even better experience. Although
new to doublehanded racing, I enjoyed it a lot as there's an opportunity
to do things that you normally don't have the chance to do, like race
tactics and driving. Skirting the coasts of France, England and Ireland,
crossing the English Channel, and the wild downwind ride were fantastic,
as well as going around the legendary Fastnet Rock. And the best part
was that despite the length of the race there were always several boats
within sight to keep the race feeling alive. And in those waters, if you
escape a total pasting by Mother Nature you get the feeling that you got
away with something big! |
