I love winter.
Yesterday in Miami the Etchells sailors were whining because it was 39 degrees F and twenty racers went home early. Oh the horror! 39 degrees!
In Fort Lauderdale the wind chill was in the 20's and they canceled the last day of the USSTAG Qualifier, whatever that is, but it appears to be something to do with girls on keelboats.
In Rhode Island the temperature never got out of the 20's, the wind chill was in the teens... so we went Laser sailing. About twenty of us turned up for frostbite racing at Newport and we had a terrific day.
Some of the guys had a little boat work to do before we launched. Chipping frozen snow off the hull for anyone who had left their boat upside down without a cover. Spraying de-icer into the mast step and chipping ice out of there for others. I had my snow shovel in the car... just in case I needed to dig the boat out... but my boat was fine apart from a slab of ice in the cockpit.
We launched a little later than usual... some problem with the RC boat it seemed... but then the RC did a superb job, cracking off seven short windward-leeward races one after the other with the minimum of hanging around between races. It's not the racing that makes you cold in these conditions; it's the waiting around.
I think that when you write about racing you're supposed to describe the sailing conditions but I'm hopeless at estimating wind speeds. Let's say, for the sake of argument, that it started around 12-14 knots and dropped to about 8-10 knots by the time we finished, and the direction was NW-ish. What do you care anyway?
After the first race it felt like the tips of my fingers had died. No, they couldn't be dead or they wouldn't be feeling that excruciating pain. I looked around the fleet and saw that several of the other guys were furiously shaking their hands or slapping their shoulders or otherwise performing contortions apparently aimed at restoring blood flow to their extremities. So I started waving my hands around too and after a couple of minutes the pain had changed from "They should use this torture at Guantanamo" to "I may be able to just about stand to do one more race if it doesn't get any worse."
After the second race I felt fine. My brain or heart must have realised that it really did need to send some blood to my fingertips and the pain went away. In fact I felt positively toasty all over. Thank you all you scientists who invented Goretex drysuits with latex booties, and wicking underwear, and hats made out of Windstopper fleece with DWR finish and contoured ear band wraps with Elastane trim. (No, I don't understand half of that marketing babble about the hat either but it sounded good when I bought it.)
My race results were nothing to write home about so I won't write home about them.
I generally tried to stay to the right of the fleet because I have a morbid fear of reaching the port tack layline and then approaching a crowded starboard tack layline with no gaps and nowhere to go. Must be something to do with that traumatic experience I had in my youth. To make things easier for me, 90% of the fleet seemed to favor the left side of the course.
90% of a 20 boat fleet? You do the math.
I expect I will get an email in a day or two with "Words of Wisdom" from Sunday's winner which will explain why the left side of the course was obviously favored because of a tidal differential or a coastal wind veer or some other similar gobbledygook which I never understand. Be that as it may I generally arrived at the windward mark with the tail-enders. But that's OK. I was having fun... and these guys are all faster than me anyway so I don't think it would have mattered a lot which side of the course I sailed the beat.
Actually I did bang the left corner in one race. Never could find a lane to tack into and the corner comes up much faster than you think on these short courses. So I sailed up the port-tack layline only to discover a solid wall of starboard-tackers at the mark, bore away for a promising gap only to see someone else tack into it, tried to tack below the crowd, fouled someone, did my penalty turn... and was last to round the mark behind some dude in a Radial. Hmmm.
The runs were a lot of fun. Pretty decent waves to hook rides on early in the afternoon. A bit less lumpy later. Always a nice crowd at the leeward mark where I could demonstrate my amazing talent at shouting a lot for room and occasionally even managing to pick up a place or two.
As the afternoon progressed I improved from my initial mindset of "oh shit it's frigging cold... I do hope I don't capsize... I do hope my fingers stop hurting... it's bloody crowded... I'd better be careful I don't hit anybody" to the much more constructive "some of these people really aren't any faster than me... I can overtake them on the run or pick them off by playing the shifts better on the final beat."
At the start of this frostbiting season when we had 50-60 boats on the line I was thinking, "It would be really cool if I could break into the top 20 in this fleet." I'm pretty sure I achieved that ambition yesterday.
No sign of Larry yet...
I love winter.
Don't get me wrong. I like rum.
I like it so much that on the way out to the Bitter End Yacht Club in the BVI last month I stopped in at the general store on Beef Island while we were waiting for the North Sound Ferry and bought a large bottle of fine Puerto Rican rum. That should be enough for ten days of post-sailing relaxation or medication (depending on the circumstances) I figured.
Imagine my surprise when we arrived at our villa at BEYC and found another complimentary bottle of rum in the room. Hmmm. This is going to be a good vacation, I figured.
On the first weekend of our stay at BEYC I won the Sunday Laser regatta. Did I mention it before? I went along to the post-regatta party and prize-giving that evening. I only had a couple of beers as I had already been attacking one of those two bottles of rum earlier and I needed to pace myself for another assault on the same front later.
Imagine my surprise when my prize for winning the regatta was... yeah you guessed it... another frigging bottle of rum.
So now I had three bottles of rum and only eight days left to finish them off. This was going to be tough. Could I handle the challenge? How many different things could I buy at the resort emporium that would go well with rum? Does rum go with breakfast? Might I even be forced to share my rum with other sailors? Yikes, what would I do if I won the regatta the next week too?
Houston, we have a (rum) problem.
She needs to learn to swim before she learns to sail.
So there I was standing at the urinal in the men's bathroom at the Bitter End Yacht Club after winning the Sunday Laser regatta when this other guy sidled up to the next urinal. We're standing there doing what men do in these circumstances, staring straight ahead, and I'm feeling pretty mellow (did I mention I won the Laser regatta?) so I strike up a conversation with the other dude.
We exchange some pleasantries about the freezing cold temperature in the men's bathroom at BEYC. Every other public area at the resort is basically open to the elements and the delightfully warm outside weather but for some reason the bathroom is as cold as a meat locker.
Then I forget that not everyone who is on the property is either staying at the resort or a member of staff and I ask him what he has been doing this morning (perhaps hoping he will then ask me what I did this morning and I could tell him about winning the Laser regatta.) The question stumps him for a while and then he realizes that I think he is also staying at the resort and he corrects my mistake by telling me that he actually arrived here by one of the yachts out on the moorings.
Except he has to give me one important detail about his boat which is clearly very important to him. "Oh, I came on a 43 foot catamaran."
43 foot? Why should I care how frigging long his pontoon boat is?
And then I get it. This is a macho thing. This is what male yachties do. They boast to other male yachties about the length of their thingies. Just like little boys back at school comparing the length of their thingies.
So there I am standing at the urinal (still staring straight ahead) and I realize I've just been challenged by another male about the length of my thingie. How should I respond?
"Oh, I've been sailing a 14 foot Laser and a 13 foot Hobie Wave," would make me sound terribly inadequate compared to him and his 43 foot thingie.
Awkward pause...
Long silence...
I finish doing what it was I came in here for....
I mutter, "Oh well, have a good day." And beat a hasty retreat.
Game, set and match to the man with the 43 foot thingie.
Length matters.
Damn you Andrew Campbell.
Two years ago, at the changing of the years, I was Aspirating. I was telling myself that I wouldn't set New Year Resolutions for 2008; instead I wrote about some "aspirations" for the year. The fifth of six "aspirations" was to sail my Laser 100 days in 2008.
I think I set the target of 100 days because I had read that some of the top guys and gals in the class were sailing that much, or more. I failed to make it to 100. I only sailed 94 days. But I did learn a lot and, at the end of the year, wrote some Random Thoughts on the Number Ninety Four.
Come to think of it I also failed to achieve the other five "aspirations". Just shows what a waste of time this New Year Resolution business really is.
But at the start of another year I can't help thinking ahead. What will the year bring? Should I have some resolutions, goals, aspirations, themes... or should I just resolve to follow Captain JP's advice and take more time to stand and stare?
So all these thoughts are noodling around in my head when up pops a new post on Andrew Campbell's blog. The dude sailed 150 days in 2009!!!! Could I? Should I?
Now I can't stop thinking about the number 150.
Damn you Andrew Campbell.
Leaving aside the question as to whether 2010 is the first year of a new decade or the last year of an old one, I thought it would be fun to look back on the highs (such as they are) of my sailing life over the last ten years... the decade of the "noughties".
2000 was a year of many highlights.
My first Laser Masters Worlds... in Cancun, Mexico in March. Glorious weather. Sailing right off the beach in front of the hotel. Sunburned knees (resolved to buy longer hiking pants). Won an argument about signal flags with Russell Coutts' brother.
The Sunfish 50th anniversary celebrations in Newport in September. Nearly killed in a lightning storm on Saturday. Awesome race round Jamestown Island on Sunday.
But perhaps the highlight of the year was a Laser regatta on a little puddle in Pennsylvania (Marsh Creek) which I came so close to winning. It was mine to win or lose going into the final race. Did I choke? Or was it the thumb cramps that did me in? I ended up tied for first place but lost it on the tiebreaker.
2001. Who will ever forget this year? Our little town in New Jersey lost two of its citizens on September 11, both of them as it happens parents of kids in our junior sailing program.
I sailed my Laser at CORK, did Laser frostbiting almost every Sunday in the fall, and took my bride to the Bitter End Yacht Club in the BVI in December. But perhaps the most memorable regatta was the New England Sunfish Masters at Sprite Island YC on the weekend after September 11. There was an a capella choir singing God Bless America on the beach before we sailed, and at the skippers' meeting we observed a moment of silence to remember good friends who would sail with us no more.
2002. February saw me hitting the road to sail two Laser Masters regattas in Florida with a few days in between at Rick White's place in the Florida Keys. After a summer of racing Sunfish and Lasers up and down the east coast it was the Laser Masters Worlds in Hyannis in September, and then back to frostbiting at Cedar Point YC in Connecticut in the fall. Highlight of the year: winning the Ironman award at CPYC for being stubborn enough (or dumb enough) to sail more frostbite races than any other fleet member that season.
2003. This year I shifted my home sailing base to a different New Jersey lake, Spruce Run, the home of Hunterdon Sailing Club and won their club handicap regatta, the Commodore's Cup, and later in the year traveled to Spain to sail in the Laser Masters Worlds in Cadiz.
But perhaps the highlight of the year was the opportunity to take on the job of head sailing instructor at Lake Hopatcong Yacht Club in New Jersey. I had a wonderful (and exhausting) summer teaching a great bunch of kids to sail in Optimists and Laser.
2004. Won the HSC Commodore's Cup again and their Open Fleet series. Qualified as a US Sailing Level 2 Coach. Ran the Lake Hopatcong YC junior sailing program again. Skied a lot. Did a lot of frostbite sailing. Trained for a marathon. Phew. Where did I find the energy?
2005. Started a sailing blog. Wonder what happened to it?
Ran my first marathon, attended a Rick White sailing seminar in the Florida Keys, sailed in the Laser US Nationals in Wrightsville Beach and the US Laser Masters in Annapolis and the Laser Atlantic Coasts in Brant Beach, started a Laser fleet and a new Laser regatta at Hunterdon SC, and taught the kids sailing at Lake Hopatcong again. Was First Grandmaster in the Atlantic Coasts and won the HSC Laser Regatta. Phew again.
There is absolutely no doubt about the highlight of the year: Sunday 27 November 2005, the day I became a grandfather. It changed my life.
2006. Ran another marathon and sold my Sunfish (the end of an era.) Most of my Laser sailing this year was club sailing with HSC in the summer and frostbiting at CPYC in the spring and fall.
Highlight of the year was a return to where I had learned to sail about 25 years before, the trip in October to Minorca Sailing in the Med. I did a lot of Lasering but also took some classes in sailing other types of dinghies and even learned to windsurf!
2007. In January I took my first trip to Cabarete in the Dominican Republic for a Laser clinic and the Caribbean Midwinters. In April I ran the London Marathon and in May we moved into our new home in Rhode Island. The summer was a blur of Laser regattas around southern New England including the Laser North Americans in Hyannis. Then off to Roses in Spain for another Laser Masters Worlds.
A great year of sailing but perhaps the highlight was finally, finally, finally achieving my ambition of finishing in the top half of the fleet at a Laser Masters Worlds. Semi-respectable mediocrity at last.
2008. Another trip to Cabarete in January, training with Kurt Taulbee in Florida in March, winning a Laser regatta in Massachusetts in July, and welcoming my first grandson to the world a week later. What a year.
I sailed my Laser on 94 days in 2008 but the sailing highlight of the year has to be the trip to Australia in February for the Laser Masters Worlds in Terrigal, just up the coast from Sydney. My results weren't anything to write home about but, in the middle of the racing on the last day I reflected on my blessings...
- I'm in Australia in the middle of the northern hemisphere winter.
- The sun is shining and the sky is blue without a cloud in sight.
- I'm sailing on the Pacific Ocean. The Pacific! (For a kid who grew up in a grimy working class town in middle England, the idea that one day I would sail on the Pacific Ocean was about as likely as that I would land on the moon.)
- The wind is perfect, the waves are challenging but manageable. Champagne sailing conditions.
- I have my health and fitness and can still play this game even at my age.
- I'm surrounded by the best bunch of guys on the planet, the other globe-trotting Laser grandmaster zealots.
2009. The last year of the noughties. I didn't sail much this year. Almost gave up sailing in fact. There's no doubt that the sailing highlight of the year was the trip to Bitter End Yacht Club in the BVI in December. Lasering, snorkeling, rum, kayaking, cat sailing, rum, hiking, swimming, yoga, more rum... and the highlight of that trip was... well, I haven't written that post yet. Maybe tomorrow.
How were the noughties for you?
Due to the weather conditions (wind stronger than temperature, snow, windchill in the single digits) there will be no sailing today. See you next week.
Hmmm. Now I will feel better that I don't have to make my own decision to wimp out today.
Today I ran in a five mile road race. Or, to be more accurate, I ran perhaps a couple of miles that were on roads and ran another three miles that were on hard-packed snow on top of roads that you couldn't see. The race was the seasonally titled Hangover Classic in Bristol RI and the course wound around the northern side of Bristol Harbor through Colt State Park and along the shore of Upper Narragansett Bay.
Regular readers of this blog will know that that route goes by two of my favorite Laser launching places, the locations of many of my 94 Laser sailing days in 2008. But today I wasn't wearing the hat of Crazy Laser Sailor Grandad; I was wearing my other hat of Crazy Run Grandad.
In my younger days (my 40s and early 50s) I used to run quite a lot of shorter road races... 5ks, 10ks etc. Then for a few years I caught the marathon bug and never raced shorter distances. Then I kind of became lazy about running and didn't race much at all. I think in 2010 I'm going to get back into racing "sensible" distances again, i.e. anything shorter than a marathon.
I'm even joining a running club. I've just filled in the application form to join the Rhode Island Road Runners Club. They have a whole range of activities, several of which sound interesting...
- During the warmer months there's a five mile run every Thursday night in Warren, the town just across the bay from my house, which is followed by beer and pizza in a local pub.
- There's a Grand Prix which is a series of twelve races spread throughout the year in various locations around Rhode Island and nearby states. The Grand Prix has some incredibly scientific-looking age-adjusted scoring system and was won last year by some dude aged 79. The race today was the first in the 2010 Grand Prix series. I kind of like the idea of a race a month in different places to look forward to.
- I see they even give an award to any member who runs a race in the year in each of the six states of New England. Now there's a challenge that could be fun.
I'm a phenomenally slow runner these days. I hope I don't embarrass myself too much by joining a running club. But it will be good to meet up with fellow old geezer runners. Maybe if I run more I won't be quite so slow.
Today was a spectacular day in Bristol. Snow-covered trees and houses and fields. Soft hazy pale gray vistas across the harbor and the bay. Sun almost breaking through thin wintry clouds. One of those "good to be alive" days when the best thing to do is to go for a five mile run across the winter landscape with a bunch of other crazy runners.
I don't think this is going to turn into a running blog. I will still write mainly about sailing. But I expect I will write occasionally about running. If there's anything interesting to report.
And that's all I have to say about running. For now.
But if you want more, check out my other running posts at Proper Course/Running.
