Tuesday, March 19, 2013

El Huachinango Rides Again!

Jen and I raced in the HYC Whistler Race this weekend and got dead last. Now you're probably asking yourself, "what is there to write about then?" Well, it was an adventure as the conditions worsened within 2hrs of the start and we had to take the "alternative" route.
The "alternative" route got us into close quarters of shoals, 70ft fishing vessels, crab pots, narrow channels and every possible marine obstacle one can imagine. All that was missing was the Kraken. The winds increased to 20knts with gusts to 25 and I chose to keep full canvas as long as possible since I am more competitive than prudent when racing. So, we had the rail buried in the water for most of the race. We finally ended up reefing the main after we began to take on water and we were still healing to 30 degrees, but at least we had the rail out of the water. The beat against the wind after rounding the buoy was a two hour slog of tacks that began to defy logic and sanity. All I could think about besides my back cramping up was a cocktail and muscle relaxants at the end of the race. Jen's thoughts were on hot soup, which she said should be prepared by all the yacht club "bitches" that weren't in the race. She was the only woman in the race by the way.
The 12 nautical mile course took us just under 4hrs and our boat speed was between 5-7knots the whole time. That should give you an idea of how much tacking and jibing was involved.
In the end there was no cheering crowds, no bells or whistles just the two Eds, the two salty yachtsmen both named Ed of the Humboldt Yacht Club who take first place in every club event, offering us a pity cocktail and telling us next time to finish sooner before everyone else goes home. Thanks Eds!

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Sea Lion

Sea dog! Why are you so curious, checking me out?
I paddle away yet you keep coming about.
Go away man! I'm surfing here!
Why do you keep coming ever so near?
You're freaky big and bold
And I wish you did what you were told.
But you don't listen to me, because I'm not of the sea.
You push particularly gently like the lead in a dance.
I move elsewhere and give you a glance.
You're far away now and small as a dot.
I lost my pet and his name was spot.