A LITTLE PIECE OF HEAVEN

Tom Martin, John Holmes and I met at CYC on Friday, March 12 for the trip to Savannah.  We packed up the boat a week prior, so after stowing our gear and hitching 14620 to the car hook, we soon found ourselves barreling down I-77.  We turned east on I-26, then south on I-95.  A few miles into Georgia, we arrived at our hotel, checked in and headed for the Savannah Yacht Club to drop the boat.  John navigated through Savannah and we eventually turned into the club.  And what a club it was.  We soon realized we were in a little piece of heaven.

The club was located on the Savannah River.  The sun was setting over the river and the view was awesome.  We couldn't help but admire the paved dry-sail areas, two gorgeous club houses, yards of dock space, two huge cranes, and a swimming pool.  We unhooked 14620 and backed her into a space.  Thirty minutes later she was rigged and ready to sail.  We said hellos to friends from SELD.  We met Tom Allen, Jr. and Sr. of Allen Boat Works.   Greg Fisher walked by and said hello.  Jeff Linton was rigging nearby.  This would be a national regatta with the best Lightning sailors in the world.  We were in awe.

Bob Harkrider warned me to prepare for the "noseeums".  A few minutes after sundown they were out in force.  We passed around the bug spray, but it wasn't long before we simply took our leave to visit downtown Savannah.  We got lucky on a parking space right near the waterfront.  Soon we were in Tubby's Tank House enjoying seafood and acoustic music from the 70's.   After dinner, we walked the waterfront from end to end.  It was St. Patrick's week and the revelers were on the town.  We just mixed in and strolled.  It was actually pretty relaxing.  By 9:30 we were showing our age and headed back to the hotel to sleep.

Saturday morning found us back at the club.  We tinkered with the boat, checked out the main club house complete with a ten foot TV, filed our registration, and studied the SIs.  I was getting a little nervous.  Winds predicted at 8-12 were feeling more like 15-18.   I had never started with 30+ Lightnings before and high winds were not my idea of a confidence builder.  But after the skipper's meeting we did launch and headed out to do battle.

Our goals were to not finish last, sail the boat properly, and improve each race.  As we headed out, it was obvious the only goal we would deal with was staying upright. 

It was all we could do to sail the boat stable.  The race course actually resembled a Y.  It utilized the main Savannah River, but also ran into the Skidway River.   There was a strong current.  There was a channel marker [50] that had to be left to starboard.  We would have to play the shorelines [alias, the reeds] to avoid the strongest current. 

The five minute gun sounded and we sailed two and half minutes out and two and a half minutes back.  It wasn't really a competitive start.  We were at least thirty feet behind the main body.    We headed right with everyone else.  Our goal was the shoreline.  By the first leg we were in last, though not far behind a pack of 3-4 boats.  We opted out of the chute.  It was a good move.  Later that night people would claim the wind reached 30-40.  It didn't.  But it was definitely a good 18-20 with a few gust crossing 20.  We looked ahead to see one chute shredded by the wind.  We saw our first capsize.  A second chute bit the dust.  We worked hard and focused on safe sailing.  We passed the disabled boats.  We would not finish last. 

Around we went.  Six legs.  We spent most our time on the backstay and traveler.  Tom and John were soaked as time and again spray came over the rails.  But we persevered.  And we finished.  Some did not.

On race two, we were determined to get into the thick of the fight off the line.  With two minutes to go, we were into the starboard parade hunting a spot on the line.  It was dicey.  We sped up, we slowed down.  We avoided leeward boats.  I even tried inventing new terminology.   "John, flog the jib!"  [Didn't help much but the laughs relieved the tension.].  With under 20 to go, we had carved a nice hole.  We trimmed in and took off.  Attaining boat speed was not an issue!  It was a great start!  BAM!  BAM!  General recall!  How disgusting!  We would have to do it again.

And we did.  Back into the starboard parade, back up to the line, great crew work, and we were off.  This time there was no recall and we, by God, were in the middle of a sailboat race!  Slowly, boats started tacking off for the reeds on the Skidway shoreline.  We crossed Bill Sloger and tacked ourselves.  We had not seen Bill tack below us and we were on a collision course on port tack..  I headed way up and we auto tacked.  Bill pinched up and somehow we missed contact.  I was sure I had fouled him though and we did our turns.  When we were done we were in the back.  We persevered and sailed our buns off.  On the first downwind leg, enough was enough.  With one chuteless boat in our sights and wanting to avoid a repeat of race one, we launched the chute and took off like a rocket.  Once out of the cellar, we doused the chute and sailed conservatively the rest of the way around.  We avoided the cellar again and this time it was not because someone capsized.

The party Saturday night was great.  Savannah put on a very fine spread.  We enjoyed dinner with our SELD friends and rehashed the day.  Bill Sloger mentioned he did not think I had fouled him and he hadn't called protest.  I wanted to crawl under a rock.

Sunday

Sunday was absolutely one of the prettiest days.  This is why we sail.  Beautiful facilities, beautiful surroundings, and perfect weather.  The wind eased off enough to take survival out of our sailing descriptors.  Finally, we would be able to test our skills without fear of capsize.

We had a good start, not as good as race two the day before, but competitive.  After four marks we were actually ahead of 5-6 boats.  On the last reach leg, we noticed two boats tangling with channel marker 40.  The marker won and we put two more boats in our rear.  One more beat home and we would have our best finish.  We headed for the leeward mark and had the unusual occurrence of passing a swamped sailboat.  Picture three guys bailing for all they're worth, but actually still upright and sailing.  At one point we weren't sure we could pass them and that made for some laughs.  But we did and we rounded the last leeward mark and headed for the Skidway shoreline.  The swamped boat was now dry and hot on our heels. 

As we crossed the Skidway, we did not like the bad air off a competitor's sails so we tacked to clear our air.  That's when we got the idea to stay where we were, cross the Savannah River, and beat home on the far shoreline.  It looked real good to us. If it worked we would catch a few more boats and finish pretty high.   It taught us a huge lesson.  For every boat length toward the Savannah Shore, the current pushed us a few feet farther away from the finish.  When we tacked, we knew were dead, as in last.  And we were.  We would leave Savannah knowing we had sailed five great legs and one bad one.  Always cover your competition.  Always. 

But, it was okay.  We had sailed our first national regatta and we weren't embarrassed.  We can do this, and with every regatta we sail, we learn and improve and enjoy.  We sailed some great legs.  We ran three pretty fair starts in tough wind conditions.  We handled our boat professionally and stayed afloat where others did not.  If we stick with it, out time will come.

The 2004 sailing season was here.