by Tom Fowle
On April 10, 1993, the Bay Area Multihull Association (BAMA) sponsored the 15th Annual Double-Handed Farallons yacht race. This is a handicapped race, having nothing to do with the ability of the sailors involved, but meaning that 1 of 7 different starting times are assigned to boats depending upon the handicap rating of that boat. This rating depends upon the age, speed, sail area, size and other factors as calculated by the Northern California Yacht Racing Association. The race takes place over a 24 hour period beginning at 8 o'clock Saturday morning. A particular boat is assigned by its handicap to 1 of 7 divisions having starting times at 5 minute intervals. The start is off the Saint Francis Yacht Club near the San Francisco Marina, and the racer is to proceed by any route he thinks best out the Golden Gate 29 miles slightly south of west to the South East Farallon island. There he rounds the island and returns to the start/finish line.
Depending upon conditions of wind and sea, the race can take between 8 and 24 hours.
Late last year, Dave Izant did me the singular honor of asking me to crew for him in this year's race. I was astonished, mainly because I have no significant racing experience, and had never been out the Gate. I still consider myself a beginning sailor, and am happy when I get things right, let alone do them with the promptness expected in a race. Dave's admission that he could probably sail the race single handed in a pinch, so that any help I might provide would be icing on the cake, eased my fears a bit, so I accepted his offer with excitement, and no small trepidation.
Although racing is not a major goal for me, as Dave said, the opportunity provided by the race gave us the incentive to do the trip. We might not do the planning and organization necessary for even this relatively small ocean trip without that incentive. I asked that we make at least one trip out the Gate in Dave's Ericson 32, "Finesse", before the race, as I did not feel justified in taking on even the small responsibility of crew without ever having been in the Pacific wearing more than a swim suit and goose flesh. This trip was made on March 28 accompanied by my wife Sue, Richard Skaff and Laurence Kornfield. We had 10 foot seas, and no wind. Thus we went only 4 miles out under power, and turned back when Dave said we would have gotten seasick by then if we were going to, so there was little point in going further with no wind to make it fun. However, at least I knew that ocean swells did not immediately turn me green and useless, and could say that I had been out the Gate.
Plans proceeded as the race date approached, getting Finesse's handicap, planning on food, gear, transportation etc., and discussing what I might do if poor old Dave went overboard. I have always felt that discussing what to do in the worst case helps eliminate some of the most serious mistakes.
On the Friday before the race, Dave and I, with Sue who would leave us just before the start and take pictures from the shore, picked up Finesse from her berth in Alameda and spent the night on board in BAADS' Pier 40 guest slip. This allowed us, with no planning, to attend the April meeting of SBYC where all were as friendly and fun as ever.
We were up early race morning to the accompaniment of rain on the deck, wondering if this would be a soggy race. We motored to Saint Francis Marina where we left Sue in clearing weather with very little wind. Proceeding to the start, we realized that a 3 knot current was pushing us inexorably out the Gate long before our designated time of 8:40. The start was a bit of a struggle: while attempting to connect the halyard to the peak of the mainsail, I lost this vital line to an insufficiently tight grip and a small tug given by Dave to keep the halyard from tangling in the rigging. This brief moment of struggle might have forced us to return to the dock and climb the mast to retrieve the halyard if Dave hadn't managed to catch the wildly flapping wire. With the sails finally up we struggled across the line a few minutes late, but in a whole day of sailing, and not having any illusions that we would place very high, a few minutes may not count for much.
As we tacked to head out the Gate, we again encountered sizable swells from the northwest, but at least this time we had a perfect north by northwest wind into which to beat on an ideal course for the Farallons. After a few more brief tacks to avoid other boats, we settled down on one long straight beat to our destination. I had little to do, as Dave felt that I would do better steering on the way back. He felt that the return trip would be an easy downwind run and that conditions then would better match my lack of experience so he kept the helm all the way out.
As we cleared the land, I opened up and relaxed to the idea that one of my long term dreams was being realized; I was in the ocean. Even with the immediate noise of the wind, the boat, and the 8 to 10 foot swells rolling by, the deep background silence of this world impressed me. The feeling of space in all dimensions is exhilarating and moving. My immediate impression is that one might judge the quality of an ocean sail by the ratio of long quiet steady sailing when there is little to do but steer, and the frantic moments when everything needs doing now and right the first time. If you're frantic all the time it would get old soon, but learning to delight in the times of peace while being ready at less than a moment's notice to follow shouted commands and get them right is a lot of what sailing is about.
We arrived at the South East Farallon Island at about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, having averaged between 5 and 6 knots on the trip out. We were helped by the 3 knot current provided by the outgoing tide. Dave was surprised that this current continued to push us on our way almost to the islands. I worried that we might have to fight it on the return, making for a very long trip home. I took the time for a quick sandwich and coffee before we rounded the islands, expecting to be quite busy steering for most of the rest of the trip. Even with the sizable seas, I felt great, although I cannot say I felt no internal queasiness from the motion. I had no problem munching the sandwich and was ready to go when we straightened out with the wind on our port quarter for the return. Once again, the wind cooperated giving us a perfect heading for the Gate, and the seas seemed to moderate a bit so that when I hung my audible compass on the stern pulpit, adjusted it for the desired course and took the wheel, I had little difficulty holding us on course, at least well enough that Dave could go below briefly to snatch lunch and do other necessities. Being at the helm of a boat out at sea while the only sighted person in miles was below making a sandwich is a high of monumental proportions. Although Dave would have been on deck instantly had the motion of the boat cued his 30 years of sailing experience that I had gotten seriously messed up, I had the wheel, and at least briefly the responsibility. I did wander a bit as Finesse corkscrewed over the following seas, but managed for half an hour or so to be pretty much on course when Dave came up to take a look. Wow!!!
Then the seas decided I'd had it easy too long and started to get big again. The wind picked up to 20 to 25 knots, and the seas twisted Finesse from a near jibe, 30 degrees to the right of our desired course, to nearly rounding up into the wind way off to the left. I quickly found that I did not have the ability to start and stop corrective turns soon enough. I usually knew what needed doing, just a little later than I should have, and started turning the right way too late, and therefore had to correct more than was good for a straight course. As things got more beyond my ability Dave had to provide more and more help, first verbal, then physical. At one point as we spun right and lifted to the top of a swell he grabbed the wheel and shouted, "hold on, we're going to jibe." Well, a jibe under moderate conditions when the mainsail has been brought amidship is no big problem, but in those seas and with 25 knots of wind behind the sail it can be a boat breaker, or at least send the boat spinning in circles and out of control. I decided I was not the man for that job at that time and sadly returned the helm to Dave. The conditions did not improve for the rest to the trip home. Although we were certainly not in any real danger once Dave took over again, the steering was hot and heavy. The slightly slower response of a boat controlled by a wheel requires that in conditions where the seas are constantly trying to twist the boat off course the helmsman's ability to anticipate what will happen next must be good.
Again, for the rest of the trip I had little to do but experience the sea, and that is why I was really there. I would very much like to have been of more help, as Dave was very tired by the end of the day, but we started with no illusions about my ability. The conditions did not abate till we reentered the Gate at about 6:15, having made the return journey again with the kind help of the now incoming tide. We made between 6 and 7 knots coming back with peak speeds on the down side of those big swells of over 9 knots. This is pretty fast for a heavy monohull boat with standard sails and no spinnaker.
As we approached the finish, I went below to contact the race committee on the VHF radio. This is required by the rules. One gives them the name and sail number of your boat as you approach the line, and they merely acknowledge your presence. When the line is crossed, a short horn blast acknowledges your finish, and you have no idea of how you have done until the results are announced a few days later.
As we neared the finish line I had remained standing in the companionway with the radio on the committee channel just to hear reports from other boats. A sudden alert from the vessel Amanda pointed out a large "telephone pole" sized log in the water ahead. With the growing twilight such a hazard can be very hard to spot, especially when only one pair of tired eyes is available. I am glad for the years of amateur radio experience which made me leave the radio on and allowed me to catch Amanda's warning. Dave said that had I not relayed the log's existence he might not have spotted it. Such an encounter might not have been truly disastrous, but would have at least scared us badly, with the real possibility of serious damage to the boat.
We crossed the finish line at almost 7:00 and decided to finish the trip rather than hole up somewhere for the night. Dave says he does not sleep well before or after a race, so that another night onboard would probably not have provided much rest. We ran quietly down the Bay enjoying a well deserved beer and snacks now that things were easy again. We tied up at Alameda, put the boat to bed, packed up and drove home. Dave dropped me off in Hayward just after 9:00 and continued on to San Jose.
At the awards ceremony a few days later at the Berkeley Yacht Club we found we had placed ninth in our division out of 16 boats finishing. About 170 boats finished the race with over 200 starting. We felt well satisfied with our results, as most other entrants had more experience and many carried spinnakers, giving them a very significant advantage.
The race was a marvelous experience, certainly one of the highlights of my life. I now know that my imagined love of the sea is at least supported by reality. It is as wonderful out there as I had imagined, at least it can be. I look forward greatly to other ocean trips, as well as many happy hours on our good old Bay. I do hope though that the next time I go outside, my experience and abilities will allow me to be of more help. I am not disappointed in myself, but merely want to do better next time.
I cannot of course even begin to express my appreciation to Dave, his generosity in taking a complete novice on what is certainly a trip to be taken very seriously, is very deeply appreciated. Besides that I had a blast. Today the Farallons, tomorrow the world.
Updated 6-20-2005