Six and a half Meter People

1st leg of Les Sables – Les Acores
From the deck of Adria Mobil 509
By Kristian Hajnsek

Usually, presentation of the minis starts with the famous phrase – good six paces long and three across… add to this some phrases about over canvassed ocean going skiffs spiced with a stereotypic image of the do-it-yourself mini sailor with his (or hers) unshaven face and epoxy/paint covered trousers… and you could not be more wrong. Class mini is bursting with life. The concept of relatively affordable, rules free ocean racers attracts many followers that directly manifest in the largest offshore fleet, with at least 150 new boats built in the last two years, 360 actively campaigned boats in the Atlantic and Mediterranean circuit and the latest hull numbers exceeding the mythical number 650.

And don’t forget about the sailors too. Over the last years the quality level has risen considerably. There is still room for original adventurers and free spirited individuals, that keep the flavor of the class mini but the core nowadays consists of hard core racing sailors managing their semi to full professional campaigns with all the staff, from PR agents to boat preparators, necessary to cope with the increased level not only in sailing but also in communications and budgets.

With all that numbers, entry to the races has become a bit difficult, with the prime example in the Mini Fastnet having 100 boats on the starting line and another 65 on the waiting list. The time was ripe for another big race, so this year we saw the rebirth of a long solo race to The Acores and back, that was first (and last time) held in 1991. The race started with a hiccup, when the city of Nantes got cold feet and pulled out their support at the end of last year. The race looked doomed until some influential individuals from Les Sables d´Olonne (known for being the Vendee Globe town), said “oh, fuck it…” and put their balls on the block while somebody else was holding the hatchet. By their influence some dough from the city treasury found the way into the race and kick started the show. With that, some other sponsors joined the fray and the with the work of volunteers from the local yacht club the race actually happened with 70 boats strong fleet moored on the big Vendee Globe pontoon.

For me and Andraz Mihelin, this is the third season racing our Manuard designed protos, N° 509 and N° 510. Boats have overcame their childhood diseases, starting to show good potential, while our experience from the last Transat 6.50 put the pressure off our backs. Working with our weather wizard Jure Jerman revealed quite tricky conditions at the start with two fronts passing the fleet, one right at the start of the race while other, viciously strong one, would pass us in the evening/night of the second day. Morning run of the routing software revealed quite daring track, first using southwesterlies to move away from the coast, then tacking north-northwest and battling out the front, tacking on the shift good 60 miles away from the rhumb-line, storming to cap Finisterre and the diving deep south more than 100nm lower than the direct line. For a mini, this sounds like you´re looking for troubles. The boats are too slow to play with weather systems on a bigger scale, so the usual stay-on-the-rhumbline-and-play-the-shifts doctrine works remarkably on the long races like this. Well, an exception usually confirms the rule and considering Jure´s immaculate track record in last three years, we swallowed hard and went to work. Start was hectic with 70 boats, heavy rain and fresh breeze. Properly stressed I completely missed the fact that the shot was fired by French sailing legend Isabelle Autissier, having enough problems with jammed jib shackle and avoiding a bunch of boats more or less under control. I crossed the starting line among the last boats and then went hard to work, passing the boats and staying out of troubles. Being hit by a broached boat in the first miles of the race is quite stupid considering that there is still good 1200 miles to go. Just as we passed the last coastal mark and head out to the open sea, the front passed, wind started to die down and the sky cleared. I found myself drying on the sun, trying to keep my fat assed boat moving in the company of the boats I usually do not see and do not want to see around. Keeping the spirits high was difficult but I knew the race is still far from being over, and that the leaders are just a good mile ahead. Brief chat with Andraz was another ray of light realizing that he did well at the start, hoisting the biggest kite on the show off leg (that was easy choice, since it is the only kite with sponsor´s logo) and passed into the early lead. The night was uneventful, with pilot doing most of the work, until the wind shifted the following day and we tacked north in the westerlies. The wind was slowly building and by the mid day the rock&roll started with the boat fully powered, keel canted to winward, all the equipment stacked to the side and fully ballasted with 200 liters of water. The going was getting tough, with rain squalls and big, confused sea. Minis are light, racing weight of modern proto is less than 900kg and so they float on the waves like cork and follow every wave with a violent motion, which closely resembles riding a mechanical bull. Even sitting without holding was close to impossible; I was wet, seasick, completely miserable and painfully aware that the wind will still build up. At 30 kts the time was ripe to put the reef in the jib, one of the most annoying things on the mini, especially if you have to do that in steep, 14 ft waves in the mid Biscay. Fully kitted in my oilies, wrist&neck seals tight I found myself on the foredeck, making sure that my tether line is attached to the boat´s lifelines. Good to do so, because in the mid action I heard the sound of a breaking wave, feeling the impact of water and the next time I found myself floating in the water, hanging to the boat´s leeward rail. I got back up in the flash, trying to get the violently flogging jib under control, screaming and cursing a streak. Coming back to cockpit I was mentally completely exhausted. My racing morale hit the rock bottom as deep as the troughs between the waves and when the wind started to regularly hit 35 kts it even started to dig. I was just looking at the boat what can break so that I have an excuse for quitting the race. I heard on the VHF about the competitor on Vecteur Plus, abandoning due to broken finger, thinking “you lucky, lucky bastard…” But then the conscious part of the brain knew that in few hours the front will pass, the wind will shift and the life will get better, as did happen around midnight. Wind turned NE, I tacked, stacked, checked that we´re on the direct course to Finisterre, switched on the pilot and went inside falling to a dead sleep. Next day the sea was calming down, I got myself a warm meal, put on dry clothes and the life started to have colors again. Being in a good shape had direct impact on sailing and the boat was sailing close to its full potential, catching up with a group of boats at the Finisterre. Among them was a red tipped mainsail of Brossard, pre-race favourite, so this was one good sign. Another was that Jure´s routing so far worked well, almost by a clock and for a cherry on top I heard French talking on the VHF, being quite upset by the fact that Andraz´ early lead grew to good 30 miles by now. “Well, just get used to that you f****** frogs…” was just one of the milder thoughts. However, no time for celebrating, being back in the contact with top boats, we had a race on our hands. After passing the La Coruna, the time was ripe for another big call. Initially the routing suggested diving deep down with reacher and then negotiating Acores high as best as you can. While Adrien dove deep with a fractional reacher I made a costly mistake to stay a bit higher with a jib, trying not to risk that much and staying closer to the rhumb line. At night the wind started to ease off, so first the sheets were crackerd off a bit, then a bit more, then … then I got upset on myself for being a lazy bastard and got my ass on the deck, changing from solent to the big fractional reacher … and the boat took off like a runaway train. Next two days I experienced one of the best sailing so far with the boat constantly planning, reaching speeds above 16 kts, while being perfectly balanced, so that you could put on the pilot and go inside to rest or eat. NKE pilot worked like a dream, managing to cover 92 miles in 8 hours and in fact it did the speed record, reaching the speed of 16.4 kts while I was inside holding a boiling kettle for my freeze dried meal. A bit scary, but fun. Deeper south Andraz was also having fun, covering almost 250nm in a day, while even deeper south Adrien on Brossard was pulling all the stops out, making 260 nm in 24 hrs and eating away Andraz´ lead.

With decreasing wind in the following days reacher was replaced by a fractional kite, then medium masthead kite, ending on the big kite and full mainsail. Having about 120sq.m on a boat those weights less that one tone, that´s the power to weight ratio of a windsurfer and that´s exactly what a mini is. Not a painfully uncomfortable little boat, but a big and very comfortable windsurf. In the fifth day I finaly managed to catch the daily forecast on the SSB radio as well as the current rankings. The weather forecasted a southern shift on the approach to the Acores, Andraz and Adrien are still jousting for a lead gybing downwind and me being in a group of for boats fighting for a 3rd place. During the day I passed Francois Salabert on Areas, good half a mile ahead on opposite gybe (one of the group of four, the closest to the leaders at that time) so my spirit was high. While he was going south on starboard gybe I in good belief continued west-southwest, sitting there fat, dumb and happy, waiting for that southeren shift – that never happened. As the southern group slowly extended, the last days were nice, downwind surfing, lots of sea life and on the night first lights appeared, noting that the Acores are close. At night, passing above Terciera island I caught something on the keel, feeling the vibrations, but since the dawn was close I opted for a safe call, opting to go in the water in few hours during the daylight. At dawn, I prepared the plan, dropping the kite, reefing the mainsail and jumping overboard, of course, safely attached. Just as I dropped halyard tails overboard to douse the kite, I glanced on side and saw a corpse of a squid floating on the surface, with only one problem, that thing was almost half the length of my boat… my interest for entering the water melted like snowflake on the sun, making the following line of thoughts: Acores are famous for sperm whales + they eat giant squids = there must be giant squids around and since this one is certainly not giant, there must be its mother somewhere around. I kept going for a while and the solution to my problem came soon in the shape of a 25 kts squall and a big broach that ended properly with kite in the water. After a change for a medium kite the keel vibrations were gone and the boat was again flying with me enjoying so much that I completely blew the last gibing layline to the finish. Cursing my stupidity I went back to reacher and already preparing the kite back on the foredeck. About half the way down between Jorge and Horta wind shifted back and it was time for some more sail changes, finnaly crossing the finish line in the mouth of Faial harbor under my big kite. After 8 days and a bit, I finished the race a good 5 hours behind the race leader – who else that my cap Finisterre neighbour – Adrien Hardy on Brossard. Adraz Mihelin on the sister boat successfully defended 2nd place making quite a stir in the fleet and with my 7th place nicely rounding up the team success in the first leg of this race.

2nd leg report coming soon, so stay tuned…

09/06/2006