So This is a Race Boat
Catherine Connolly, Meisje/Wasabi Team
It's blowing 20 out there and we leave the dock headed for the start of the first race of CCYC Race Week. Three of us, myself,
Tank Commander;
Matt Sebring, foredeck, also known as 'Popeye'; and Remy Scott, Cross-Sheeting Jib Master; have been sailing together on Meisje for the past year.
Our Pit Mistress, Jessica Hernandez has been out with us on Meisje a few times and the helmsman and owner of this lovely boat Wasabi,
Richard McIntyre, has sailed with the four of us once before.
We agree to sail Race Week with him because we are tired of breaking things on Corey Harding's boat, Meisje. It is so much cheaper for the
crew when the owner participates in breaking things on the boat. Besides, this could be really fun, a real
'feel-good' boat. Not to mention
that it is going to be fast. My sailing experience for the longest time consisted of sitting in my slip trying to figure out how to build
a new mast and rig so that my boat was able to sail and the Wednesday nights on Meisje, which is not the most competitive boat.
I am not sure if the MORF members are aware of that fact about Meisje.
Remy had sailed one other boat in his life : Meisje. Matt, as far as I can tell, was sailing in utero and Jessica used to sail on Salsa
and recently did the Navy Regatta on a J-boat. As for Richard, he says he used to sail Wasabi on the San Francisco Bay, which could be a
big lie because he just moved here and nobody really knows him. But he seemed to know what he was doing and the owner was going to be on the
boat with us (we were all thinking 'hmmmmm. going to be cheaper if things break') so why not? This could be fun.
We make the start okay, meaning we cross the line sort of on time and head out to the first mark. Things are going well. Nothing has broken
and I am having fun maintaining the illusion that I know what I am doing on this wet little boat.
"Does anyone see the mark?" Richard wants to know. Already I can tell he is going to be one of those demanding types of Captains.
"There." says Remy, pointing towards it. "Look over the water to the left of the water tower." Over the water, Remy? Why can't we
look under the water for it? I can also tell there are a bunch of smart asses on board.
We round the mark and get the spinnaker up. Things are smooth, surfing down these marvelous waves, the boat just surging over the water
and then it happens. 800 broaches in a row. Bam. Bam. Bam. At one point, say during the 347th broach, water is just roaring on board,
I am standing completely upright on the coaming and Richard says "Wow. We are broached hard right now."
I ask him, "What do you need me to do?"
"Hold on." Gee, thanks Skipper, that never would have occurred to me. Eventually she rights herself and we all get beer. I like sailing on this boat.
We round the next mark and head up wind again. Richard has this very pleasant and clear manner at the helm, as in "tacking in 3 2 1 helm's over."
He gives us the chance to pretend we know what is about to happen on board so we can at least try to get our act together. We also have time to put
our beer down.
We round the mark, fall off downwind and hoist the spinnaker. Same thing again, surfing down these marvelous waves, the boat just surging over the
water when Richard calls out in a very pleasant, very clear, very monotone voice "Broach." Like he was saying "broaching in 3 2 1, rudder's out
of the water." And over we go. Again Wasabi rights herself, as all good boats will, we all get more beer, as all good crew should and Richard
says "Sorry about that. That was user error." Smart asses, I'm tellin ya.
There isn't space here to write about Popeye hoisting the spinnaker upside down or my inability to pre-feed the guy in a timely manner.
Nor is there time to describe the spectacular bruises and minor cuts that now cover the crew's bodies but there is space to write that these race
boats are pretty f#%$ing fun to sail on.
