Triton's Concubine

Get Out And Push!

They say the devil is in the details and that was never more true than tonight. With winds light and 360 degrees of beautiful views, the plan for tonight was adjust, adjust, adjust, and adjust some more.  

At the starting line, we were given a hand up when two of the boats in our group crossed the starting line before the horn signaled. They had to return to the line and cross over it again as we sailed on. Lucky for us, one of these boats usually finishes first. Now, you may be thinking that's not the most honorable way to get ahead in a race.  But that's where many of us underestimate the difficulty in timing the approach to the start line. Not to fast, not to slow, and there are all the "rules of the road" that dictate your interaction with the other boats at the starting line. If another boat has right of way and you're all lined up and timed perfectly to cross the start line, the other boat can cut right in front of you, blocking the line and forcing you to make a turn away from the line. 

If you ever watch a sailboat race, don't underestimate the skill it took just to get across the starting line.

While sailing at a snail's pace, most of our race was spent looking at every little detail that could be adjusted on the boat to increase her speed. We adjusted sails, mast angle, travelers, crew positioning, and the boat's angle to the wind. About half way through the race, we were doing more than holding our own; we were in the lead position. Our nearest competition was one of the boats that had crossed the line early, the one that frequently wins this race. We had them by more than a couple hundred yards and we were increasing that lead with every minute.

As we made our final run, it happened, like when you're on an important call and you hit a dreaded dead cell zone, we sailed right into a dreaded dead zone of wind. Our sails dropped and we glided to a halt. 

 We tried every trick in the book to get even the slightest bit of wind to fill the sails but all we could do is watch our competition gain on us and sail right into the same dead zone we sat in. We spent what seemed like an eternity sitting only a few yards away from the boat that had, before, been so far behind us. We both adjusted and readjusted any part of the boat that we thought could make a difference. I could overhear the skipper of the other boat say "Nothing we can do, we can't make wind."  "Ain't that the truth." I thought.

As we waited, the faint and finicky wind showed itself.  After several minutes of indecision the wind found it's direction, filling our sails first and then our competition's sails.  Both boats picked up speed towards the finish line, but we could taste first place.  Slowly the other boat was creeping up on the side of our boat that the wind was blowing against. If we could just make it a few hundred more yards we would have them, but they continued to gain on us. We were one hundred feet from victory when the other boat crept up close enough for their sails to steal away the wind from our sails.  As they crossed the finish line, not even half a boat's length ahead of us, first place slipped right through our fingers and we had to settle for second. 

After the race, I was given the honor of steering Party Girl back to the dock for some well deserved burgers and beer.

~J~