TranspacBlogII-26: Privilege vs heart

Ok. When I left you yesterday, we were power reaching with the 1.5 oz bullet proof spinnaker, our bow aimed like a cannon at the transom of Farfar. We also had the spinnaker staysail up. All sails flying as we closed on our query. We were getting closer and closer. The wind was howling. Certainly the four crew on Farfar weren't as heroic as the five of us. We made countless sail changes, as the squalls came and went. 1/2 oz chute in the light stuff, 3/4 oz in the heavy stuff, and the 1.5 oz when in the really heavy stuff.

Then the wind died. To the usual 10 knots.

Farfar started to move out on us. But we could see her clear as day, meaning she couldn't be more than 3 miles from us. The 6 AM role call position put us within 3 miles of her.

This means we are officially ahead of Farfar on corrected time. First in class, and 22nd in fleet. Wooohoooooo!!!!!

Then, after role call the shift we expected tonight, started happening. So we jibed to port tack, diverging from Farfar. Her sail sank below the horizon a scant hour later. I must admit to some separation anxiety.

Now it is normally not a good idea, to leave our competition, whom we think we are beating, out on a flyer that might see them pick up an advantagious private wind that could slide them right past us.

But three things made us choose to do this. First, it is the closest jibe to the course home, by 10 degrees. Second, the wind is light, and we don't dominate Farfar in these conditions. Staying with her in these conditions might just backfire. She could just slip away if we did this. Third, there is usually an intensified trade wind as we make landfall on the island of Molokai. We want to be there first.

Besides, this is our last time to test the adage, "Pass on the left."

But of course, 4 hours later, the wind shifted back to the north, forcing us to jibe back to starboard tack, and wonder what happened to Farfar, and if they left us in the dust.

Been thinking a lot about fathers, lately. This has got me to thinking about the various ways the crew of the Psyche came to be sailors.

Jim and I and Charlie are all children of privilege. Our dads encouraged us to sail at an early age. They bought us sailboats, and arranged for us to be trained by our yacht clubs' junior programs. Charlie had the distinct advantage of living in Newport Beach all summer long. Jimmy and I had to commute (in car pools) to LA harbor to be in the junior progam. This meant that we didn't spend as much time racing dinghies, and when it is time to jibe at midnight, Charlie's early childhood results in perfect reactions to vagaries of wind and sea. Jim's and my reactions are good, but not quite as natural.

Now, the remaining two crew members are the peoples' sailors. Steve learned to sail by the seat of his pants. Not because of any junior program, but rather because he just loved it. He was hooked in college, partly because his roomate at USC, Rob Hambleton, another Newport brat just like Charlie, took him out for a race. Steve got so excited, he bought his own boat and has been sailing ever since.

I haven't spoken at all about Andrew Campbell, our snotty nosed, 20 year old bowman. He is perhaps the most remarkable of the five of us. His early sailing experience was as a crew on a variety of keel boats. At some point he told his mom he wanted to be bowman, andshe responded by actually laying out all the lines and pole for him, and taking him through the various maneuvers step by step. I think he was 8 years old. He still remembers the day. But the most likely explanation for Andrew's success lies not primarily with his mom, but with his desire. He just wants to sail keeps on seeking more crew positions. Word of mouth is a powerful messenger, and people have begun to hear that Andrew is an excellent bowman. The reason is that he just loves to sail. He likes all the gadgets and gilhickies that sailors employ, and is really kind of sailing wonk. A bit obsessed with sailing, and especially doing the foredeck work.

But here's an interesting observation. Andrew can steer. Really. He has taken all his steering turns, and some of these have been in very challenging conditions. Now, his reactions to wind changes and seas may not be quite as quick and natural as are Charlie's, but he is damn good. I believe it is because from his various foredeck experiences, he has seen how the skippers of these boats screw it up. But I would never have guessed that a kid with NO dinghy racing experience could be a good helmsman.

I was wrong.