The very windy (50 knots) Vineyard Race was a gnarly affair with a mere 4 boats finishing. Rich duMoulin, was the skipper of one of them, his Express 37. Here he writes a great piece on the event. Thanks to Rich and Larchmont YC.

There is a tendency in America, and certainly on Long Island Sound to cancel races when winds exceed 20 knots, and in particular to shelter junior sailors from windy conditions. The best sailing is in breeze, and only hands-on experience works. That is one reason Storm Trysail Club, with the cooperation of Larchmont Yacht Club and the JSA runs its Junior Safety at Sea Seminars and its Intercollegiate Offshore Championship.

In England, which has generally rougher sailing conditions than the USA, the famous Fastnet race draws over 200 boats. Learning its lesson from the 1979 disaster where 15 sailors died, the British instituted safety training and continued to sail in heavy weather. A few years ago I
skippered a big heavy Swan 65 yawl and we started in 30-35 knots of headwind with a number three and reefed main (no mizzen). The little boats had storm jibs and many sported storm trysails. Within five days 95% of the fleet had sailed to Ireland and back!

For the crew of Blue Yankee, Snow Lion, and Lora Ann the Vineyard Race was an exhilarating experience. We learned a tremendous amount about our boats, and ourselves, and can go offshore as better and safer sailors in the future. We also picked up great new stories and jokes about seasickness, and improved our knowledge of storm sail handling and trim, steering over waves, and food preparation in zero gravity. Perhaps most important we strengthened our friendships with our fellow crewmembers. We feel very content with what we accomplished, persisting and coping with nasty conditions for 45 hours. But as Sir Edmund Hillary pointed out about the Mountain, we didn't conquer the sea-- we simply managed to get along for a few hours-- it's still out there and we are happy in our homes.

Since I bought Lora Ann in 1993, I have kept brief notes from each race covering sail-trim, tactics, local strategy, equipment, weather, etc. I review these occasionally and re-learn much of what I have forgotten! This review, great crew continuity, and close competition with well-sailed
sister Express 37s have all helped us move Lora Ann up the learning curve. The Express 37 (Carl Schumacher rest in peace) is a great design, and combined with our approach, has kept us competitive under IMS, PHRF, Americap, and IRC. A new boat every year is definitely not our style.

All this leads me to the point. The "review" of this year's Vineyard Race could break my notebook as the race tried to break the boat. Despite our many heavy weather practice days, detailed preparations, excellent storm sails, very experienced crew, and three round trips to Bermuda, the violence of beating upwind for 28 hours to Buzzards Tower in very nasty seas and gale force winds was a huge learning experience.

Almost every year since 1993 we have gone out sailing when racing has been cancelled to practice our heavy air technique with our upper wind range sails including storm jib (both the big one and the small one), storm trysail and chicken chute. We often take juniors aboard, and always wear PFDs and harnesses if conditions warrant. Years ago when Hurricane Bertha glanced off our coastline and was heading away from us, we went out with our orange day-glow storm trysail and storm jib. If we had not actually sailed the boat in storm conditions we would not have been prepared for the Vineyard, but we still learned so much.

Pre-Race Decision Making

The forecasts from NOAA and Commander's Weather were pretty well on target: Ernesto would head into Pennsylvania and butt up against a strong Canadian High, squeezing the isobars and forcing strong easterlies on Long Island Sound and the nearby ocean. The forecasts had the big picture and timing quite right, but underestimated the wind velocity by 10-15 knots. Nevertheless it was clear to everyone this would be a windy, nasty, dead upwind race. The extra velocity must always be considered a possibility. (It amazes me that in our local races, some boats don't carry sails for breezes above our normal 0-18 knot range and retire when the wind goes over 20.) Ocean racers cannot afford to make assumptions and must be ready for anything. This supports the decision of many good sailors who based their pre-start withdrawal from the Vineyard on the forecasts of 25-30 with gusts to 40, which can easily become 40-45 with gusts to 50-60, and did (Blue Yankee recorded 62).

Withdrawal after the Start

Anyone preparing a boat and crew for a distance race has put in a lot of hard work, and some money and emotion. Quitting after a start is not fun, but combinations of actual damage, feared damage, crew sickness or injury all play a part. An owner/skipper has serious responsibility for the
lives of his/her crew and may decide to retire. The Vineyard gave competitors an opportunity to turn around before the wind and sail home, so that's OK. However, an ocean raceway offshore is different.

The Fastnet 1979 and Sydney-Hobart 1998 disasters illustrated that often the best way to handle terrible conditions is not to retire, but to slow the boat down and sail conservatively, but continue racing which causes the crew to maintain focus and have an objective. Sir Ernest Shackleton
applied this well during his famous 1914 Antarctic expedition when his vessel the Endurance was crushed by ice. He knew the importance of a goal and upon the loss of the ship immediately and optimistically created a new goal-- get to the edge of the ice and find rescue. In an Oceana race, keeping your first goal may be better than retiring, but if you retire, you better create a new goal and keep up spirits. Take Care of the Crew.

Distance racing is about balance: balancing risk against opportunity --both tactically and pushing the boat and crew physically, a watch system is essential to enable the crew to preserve strength and focus. Appropriate food for the conditions and plenty of water are a must. Granola bars and Zwieback biscuits worked well. At least they came up easily if necessary! Most important of all is a compatible, fit, experienced crew. I was fortunate to have:

John Browning - 20 Bermuda races and 3 Transatlantic
Lee Reichart- 14 Bermuda and 3 transatlantic
Adam Loory- 8 Bermuda and a Transpac passage
Einar Haukeland (Norway)- 1 Bermuda and many European offshore
Chris Reyling- 14 Bermuda (2 doublehanded with me) and a Transatlantic
Patrick Slattery (LYC) - a Bermuda and our youngest crew by many years
Brenda Lewis - a Lora Ann regular for 10 years with offshore experience

Ocean racing is not the time to train, but a crew with (say) 75 % very experienced and 25% competent sailors is fine. Seasickness and injury can shrink the available manpower, and the extra load on the remaining crew will wear them down. This was a good race to be overloaded with
experience!

This Vineyard Race was clearly going to be a buster, so we established a "paired" watch system where "buddies" would relieve each other at fair and reasonable intervals depending on the conditions. Exposure is an issue, so strict four hour watches were not maintained. I don't believe in
everyone waking and trying to dress and squeeze on deck together, so the pairing works for me. I think it is dangerous and distracting when too many crew are switching together, and a new crew emerging from the hatch, even though already tethered to the boat (Golden Rule One) is not fully
functional, balanced, or aware of exactly what is happening on deck.

I also decided that the off-watch would not wake up for each tack and shift to windward bunks. We were doing too much tacking and sleep was challenging enough. They needed any rest they could get. So, two crew slept on each side.

Drinking a lot of water is essential in heavy weather, but the result is obvious. In heavy weather no one pees over the rail-- too dangerous (Golden Rule Two). We use a cup in the cockpit or bucket in the cabin and pass it up. We also try to keep the cabin clean and bailout water slopping around. Bilge pumps cannot operate at big angles of heel, so sponges and buckets are necessary. A dinghy scoop sure would have been nice.

Taking off and hanging foul weather gear before climbing in the bunk helps keep the sleeping bags dry. Despite our efforts, everything eventually got wet, including us. The pressure of the waves breaking over the boat and us was too much for any of our foul weather gear, and we
had Henry Lloyd, Musto, Gill, etc! Fortunately it was not the Block Island Race in May and the water was warm.

Lashing down all heavy objects in the cabin such as batteries, toolboxes and icebox lids was a must. The Vineyard Race seas were so rough that sail-bags and crew could be left airborne (sitting on the head was impossible). Lockers were sliding open and shut and anything not bolted down was shifting. A small applesauce container flew across the cabin and hit one crew in the head, and a flying plate targeted our GPS switch and turned it off. Everyone took at least one fall but fortunately no serious injuries. Well-located strong grab rails are mandatory for moving around
the cabin.

On deck, the crew sometimes put their legs over the side and "hiked", but eventually the wind-driven saltwater from the wave crests was too brutal. The three crew (always harnessed) would sit on the windward deck just forward of the helmsman, holding on and braced. At first the helmsman
sat on deck with feet against the cockpit braces steering with the hiking stick. Finally a big wave rolled the boat and struck the rudder, launching the helmsman Adam Loory over the tiller and onto the leeward deck. The boat auto-tacked. No damage but a sore Adam! Thereafter we steered sitting in the cockpit directly holding the tiller. The crew would act as a water and wind shield so the helmsman could look forward.

The Race

Our "Class" started at 1530 Friday off Stamford. We had the best start since there was no one else. We knew we would be racing against only bigger boats that would start after us. Eventually 26 boats out of 53 registered would start. It would be a long lonely beat! The wind was about
28 knots and we flew a single reefed main and number four jib. After a few hours of tacking along the Connecticut shore trying to find a little shelter near the Norwalk islands from the easterly, we tacked towards Long Island. On the way across the wind picked up into the low 30's so we put in a second reef. This combination would take us out the Gut into the ocean. Along the Long Island Shore we eventually found a little shelter east of Mattituck as the north shore of the Island curved around. By short tacking the shore, we stayed ahead of a J160 all the way to the Gut.

At 0600 Saturday we exited the Gut. We had decided that going out the wider Race would be detrimental to our health, with potentially 5-knot current flowing into a 35 knot easterly-- boat breaking waves. Once in the ocean, the wind increased to 38-40 knots. With all hands on deck we took down the number four, dragged it aft, turtled it, and put it below - no sails were safe on deck with seas sweeping us. Then our hardy Norwegian-American foredeck crew set the storm jib. The boat loved the combination and we stood up a little straighter and rode the seas better.

The seas continued to grow to 10-12 feet, and we were later to learn that the shock from the waves had damaged our transponder so the Committee at Stamford had lost track of us. We did not realize how bad the storm was ashore and how much they were worrying. Fortunately we called in
after lunch and reassured them we still existed. We were to learn that only the very well sailed 67 foot Blue Yankee and 50 foot Snow Lion (both Storm Trysail boats) were still out there with us. Getting lonelier!

We approached Block Island late in the morning and tried to find a lee along the western shore. It was tempting to head into Salt Pond, but we already had a lot of pain and suffering invested in the race. The big swell disappeared, but the nasty five-foot chop was terrible. The crew below
thought hand grenades were going off in the forward cabin every few seconds as we pile-drove into the seas. We cleared the bell off the North End at 1300 hours with 25 miles to beat to the Buzzards Tower. The wind was a steady 38-40 knots and began to puff to 50. The big seas were over 15 feet. It was time to consider the storm trysail, but with only 25 miles to go, I did not want to put crew at risk standing on the cabin top. In hindsight, we should have hove to and changed.

17 miles from the Tower we passed Snow Lion heading back to Block Island. With her 34-mile lead we were beating her on corrected time. But the next few hours would be excruciating as the wind regularly puffed over 50. With our big heel, our gauges under-read so we probably had upper 50's (Blue Yankee part way home read 62). The motion was terrible, everyone was tired, some were sick, but no one even mentioned the idea of quitting. The helmsmen were doing a fabulous job working over waves and controlling the boat, and the crew played the mainsheet and traveler. The jokes were absolutely the worst, but they helped enormously. Finally at 2000 we rounded the Tower to cheers and planed off at 15 knots towards Block Island and home.

During the night the big seas made steering and moving around very difficult, but we were very happy! Our diet of granola bars now shifted to rolls with chicken pasta (intended to be Friday's main course) and soup. We replaced the storm jib with the number four at Block Island and winged it on the pole. We ran to the Gut at 10-15 knots, and finally re-entered Long Island Sound. The waves were very big, and helmsman concentration was critical. We rigged preventers to keep the boom in check. I like 1/2-inch nylon anchor line lead to a pad-eye next to the shrouds and then back to a cabin top winch near the cockpit.

After several gibes we finally reached New Haven where the wind suddenly dropped off to 10-15 knots and swung southeast and finally worked its way to WSW. The last few ours we beat with our number one and full main. Rounding the Cows buoy off Stamford, the crew insisted on setting the big asymmetrical for the last half-mile so we could finish under chute for the entertainment of the very kind Race Committee who came out to finish us. Comments?

- Rich duMoulin

09/19/06