Wrightsville Beach - May 31, 2003

Team CYC (Ron Wright, John Holmes, Tom Martin) traveled to Wrightsville Beach for the third leg of the SELD traveling series on May 31.   We would join 15 other Lightnings for racing on the Atlantic Ocean.

Wrightsville is a special place for us.  Carolina Yacht Club is located on an island off the coast of Wilmington, NC.  One side of the island (east) is the Atlantic Ocean.  The west side of the island is a protected channel.  What’s unique is the island is so narrow, you can walk from the ocean side to the channel side quite easily.  It’s really only about 200 yards from ocean to channel.   For a typical regatta, including this one, boats launch on the channel side and sail out to the ocean side for racing.   The island is simply referred to as Wrightsville Beach.  Development has been kept in check on Wrightsville.  Massive condos and expensive clubs have not taken over.  There are two or three clubs, if you could call them that.  Restaurants are all locally owned and operated.  There is not a chain restaurant on the whole island – not even Mickey D’s.  You can walk the streets and sidewalks day or night.  Our condo was centrally located right on the main road.

We drove in Friday, dropped 14620 at the club and checked in.  After dropping our gear in the condo, we drove back to the club and set up the boat.  Then, with my best Chevy Chase party shirt on (John’s designation), we headed for a party at Jim Harris’ house.  We enjoyed a great evening with our fellow SELD sailors.  Jim and Connie’s house has a breath taking view.  A lot of the conversation centered on the prediction of high winds for the Saturday races. 

From Jim and Connie’s we drove back to our condo and walked to Loggerheads.  Loggerheads is an informal club that consists of little more than a bar, front porch, a great stereo, and the hottest peanuts on the island.  We yakked with friends, Ellie, Lauren, and Randy until late.

Saturday we rose and caught breakfast at a local restaurant – the Causeway Café.  No frills, just great food.  By 11 AM we were in the water and heading for the Atlantic in a stiff morning breeze.

Race one caught us (and most the other boats) a little disorganized.  Several boats did not make it to the race course in time.  Others, like us, had difficulty sorting out the flags.  Still we found ourselves on the line suspecting the gun was imminent.  Tom Martin had it nailed but I was a little hesitant to press, and we did not cross as well as we should have.  Still we were in the thick of it.  Tom found us a lane and we tacked for clean air.  I guess we were discussing the start when Pete Marriott came up on starboard.  He chose not to hail a warning and was forced to duck us slightly.  He hollered protest and we did our circles.  That dropped us way back.   Our goal of single digit finishes was in jeopardy.  We rounded the windward mark somewhere around 12^th.

We have practiced hard to improve this year, and we were confident with our chute, even in the winds that were well over 15 knots with gusts approaching 20.  We popped the kite and took off.  Here the fleet split left and right.  We chose the middle and it paid off.  By the leeward mark we were in the top ten.  By the second time around we were competing for higher.  We chose to go right on the last beat and stay in the middle.  It was the wrong move.  Three boats behind us stayed left and crossed just ahead of us.  Still, we finished ninth – single digits.

By race two the wind was really blowing – higher than anything I had sailed in.  My best guess was the breeze was consistently around 20 knots with gusts to 25.  Just as challenging was the 3-4 foot swells.

We sailed a much better start and were competing in the top half of the fleet.  On the runs, several boats opted out of their chutes.  We popped ours and took off like a rocket ship.  It was the fastest ride I have ever had on a sailboat.  By the last leeward leg, we were still doing very well in the top half of the fleet.  We noticed two boats had already gone over.

We were wide open downwind when things got tough.  The boat rocked hard from side to side.  The rocking was accented by the swells.  We seemed to do okay though and kept at it.  Finally, on the edge of a large swell, we rocked so hard, the rear deck took in water and we were over.  It was a first hand baptism from the notorious "death roll".

It took some work, but we got the boat back up.  Our tiller was gone and so were my car keys.  A chase boat pulled up and handed me a gaff to use as a make shift tiller.  I should never have taken it.  20 knots of wind is no place to sail without proper equipment.  We were rocking and rolling trying to sail it dry.  I could not control it and we went down again.  This time we were ready for it and got it back on it’s feet quickly.  The wind filled the sail and we pulled away.  The pressure was too much for John who had not gotten back in and he slid into the Atlantic.  He waved us off to go on and dry out the boat before returning to pick him up.

I wanted none of that, but Tom and I needed to get the boat stable before we could do anything.  Thinking we were okay, the chase boats left us.  Before I knew it, John was out of sight.  I waived frantically at a chase boat who returned and I screamed, “Our crew is in the water!!!” and pointed frantically to the south.  We finally turned out boat around and by now, three boats were looking for John.  Ten frantic minutes later, I saw his hand waiving.  We approached, as did the chase boats.  I was exhausted already and the boat was hard to control with a makeshift tiller.  Somehow I fell out.  Tom grabbed up the sheets and tiller and kept the boat upright.  Chase boats picked up John and I.  One boat threw Tom a line.  A few minutes later, 14620s sails were down and the boat was under tow.

It seemed to take an hour in the huge swells, but we finally pulled into the docks and secured our boat.  Our tiller was gone as were our car keys.  Our spreader was broken.  It did not look like we would make it for Sunday’s races.

I called my motor club to dispatch a locksmith.  Getting in was not a problem.  Every high school principal is well versed in opening a locked car.  What we needed was an ignition key.  Locksmith after locksmith declined to come saying that our car required a transponder key – one that contained a computer chip. (I swore to buy a 57 Ford pick-up as soon as possible!)  Friends Richard and Carol Waldkirch stayed close and helped me.  Carol found a locksmith through her AAA club that said he could fix it.  John and Tom walked to the condo to wash up and I waited.  An hour later, he showed and immediately said he could not cut a transponder key.  He did make me a door key so we could secure the vehicle for the night.  Very despondent, I walked to the condo to change for dinner and consider my options.  It was unfair to ask Susan to drive 5 hours from Clover to bring a key.  The best I could come up with was to rent a car on Sunday, drive to Clover, and return with a key.  Ughhh.

I returned to the club to find dinner was over.  I spent thirty minutes talking to veteran Lightning sailor, Bob Harkrider, who advised me on the proper technique for avoiding the “death roll” effect in heavy wind.  It would have been a simple matter of more centerboard and tracking a little more to weather.  I felt pretty dumb as I realized why we were the only boat sailing a rhumb line on leeward legs.  Tom, John and I waked back to the condo.  John stopped with me for dinner at the South Beach Café.  What I thought and wanted to be a dive hamburger joint turned out to be a very quaint, gourmet restaurant. 

We waited at the bar for a table and watched the weather reports on TV.  We didn’t need the TV.  It was clear that a major line of thunderstorms was bearing down on us.  For the next 45 minutes, we enjoyed the best crab cakes I have ever had and watched a ferocious display of thunder, lightning, and rain from mother nature.  The lights flickered off and on.  Trashcans were being blown around outside.  But, eventually it subsided and we walked to our condo.

It was 11:30 PM and I decided on one last hope for a car key.  I called my Chrysler Motor Club and simply pitched the problem.  It was not a problem for them.  They dispatched a locksmith the next day with the computer codes to our car.  It would be $175.00 for a key, but that was better than 12 hours of driving.

The next day we rose and walked to the club.  John’s ribs were hurting pretty bad and I feared they were broken.   Knowing we weren’t racing, we packed up our boat and, while waiting on the locksmith, helped all the other sailors launch for the day.  Secretly we were almost relieved.  The wind was easily starting at 25 knots.  It was over our heads.  I walked over to the ocean side to watch the races until the locksmith arrived.  Curiously, I couldn’t see a Lightning.  I walked back to the channel side to see what was what and all the boats were heading in.  Teresa Kramer told us that in one, unison decision, the fleet decided it was too windy and came in!  We helped them all clear the water.   We had not missed a race.

The locksmith arrived.  “Glen” hooked up his computers to the car and attempted to program a new key.  After two different computers, he called a Chrysler technician friend to say the car would not show a computer code.  He reached for my fresh cut door key, put it in the ignition and cranked up the car.  I didn’t know whether to jump for joy or scream in frustration.  Turned out, my car DID NOT use a computer key!  What a roller coaster emotion ride I had been on.  In the final analysis, I had been through hell for nothing and it did not cost me one cent!  I felt so guilty, I paid Glen $42.00 to cover the cost of his ruined computer blank.

An hour later, we were hooked up and heading home from a most unusual regatta.