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Benita Point Take I
Benita Point Take II
Slick foredeck. The yellow line is the jack line. We chose yellow because everything else that's not white on Elise is blue. This color choice creates a harmonious environment which encourages a "let's not kill each other yet" atmosphere among the crew.
Driver Take I
Drive Take IIWe left mid-afternoon and set out for Half-Moon Bay. The wind was on the light side but enough for an extremely pleasant sail. Just not enough to fill France so we used our lighter kite. We started upwind but the seas were not choppy past the gate so it was a very dry ride. It became a little cold and wet at night - primarily because of condensation.
It was an interesting and useful experience to have dinner and use the bucket at a 30 degree angle and in the dark for the most part.
It is truly magical to sail into the sunset and I feel so privileged to be able to face the beauty of the coast as it goes up in "virtual" flames. It was the first time that we would be sailing downwind at night. As soon as we could clear Pillar Point on a point of sail toward Half Moon Bay, + or - a few gibes, we set the spinnaker. I need to do a lot more double-handed spinnaker practice.
Setting up the spinnaker on the foredeck isn't different from a crewed event since we were still running the halyard right off the mast (that's the line that is attached to the top of the sail and hoists it when we pull on it). For the Pac Cup, we were thinking of having the option to run the halyard aft into the cockpit so we can hoist and douse without having to spend too much time on the foredeck, a more precarious location. The driver has to take care of pre-feeding by pulling on the guy and dealing with the sheet to trim and open the spinnaker, so it's a few more lines.
After we hoisted the spinnaker, we dropped the jib. We used only our #3 despite light conditions because it is a lot easier to tack and this was a cruise so less hassle was better than speed. That's also pretty easy to do double-handed, not much difference except that the driver will be handed over the halyard and will control the sail as it comes down. In a fully crewed event, our pit person would do this job.
Dropping the spinnaker is no different either since the work is done by the foredeck person. The only slight difference is that we keep the forehatch sealed at sea so we need to gather the spinnaker through the companionway. We can do the "letterbox" trick which consists in pulling the spinnaker between the main sail and the boom. It helps it collapse and allows the trimmer to collect it in very safe conditions. You can also gather it behind the shrouds and under the boom.
Things become interesting as you give the spinnaker...in the dark. You can see surprisingly well on deck. It's white and reflects any light it can get and with a clear night, the moon and the stars are good General Electric material. However, it is really hard to see a dark-looking line on a black water background. Looking down from where I was standing, I couldn't see the sheet which I was supposed to grab. I was waving my arm in the air in its general direction, thinking that I would bump into it. I had to kneel down so I could look at the sheet on a sky background. It is lighter and the line is visible against it. It is also a weaker position in terms of strength and doesn't allow you to bend over easily to grab the line. Glad that I got to practice this first on Elise in light air :) Anyway, after all these contorsions that must have looked quite funny to Nathan who was driving, I finally got hold of the line and more or less jibed the kite...Single-handed, the foredeck person needs to do a couple of extra things
1) give some slack on the foreguy
2) pull in the sheet (twings)
3) hand over the sheet and the guy to the driver who will keep the helm in-between his or her legs...It's a pretty inelegant driving position and I am sure the source of endless jokes...A conversation I do not wish to fuel at this time :)
It took forever...probably twice or three times as much time as what it would take during the day...Ahem. Nathan was pleased with my "performance". He has more experience with offshore racing than I do and he has done the Pac Cup. When I tried a similar crossing, I crossed the path of a crossed whale, remember?
Nevertheless, I don't want to be the fifth wheel of the carriage. I want to be fully part of the team and do everything that's required to get us to Hawaii fast. If I need to set and douse the kite 100 times in a row, and do a sequence of 20 jibes, I will do it. Whatever it takes.
I must be the most unlucky person when it comes to masthead flies...I am not quite sure what happened but within seconds, our masthead fly really did fly - that is away from the masthead - and our VHF antenna, on top of the mast had a funky 45 degree angle...Our assumption is that a bird tried to sit on the top of the mast and got a little surprise upon landing. I feel like I spend my life replacing wind indicators. When I bought the boat, there wasn't any; we broke one on the trip back from Monterey - on the trailer; the replacement piece that I bought was defective and lasted for only a few hours in the Delta Ditch Run...
Jibing in the dark without a masthead fly to help you is quite a feat I must say...Masthead flies typically do not break just like that, so we were not carrying spares. On the Pac Cup, I will travel with 5 or 6 of these windex arrows...
I guess that the good news is that bird Vs boat, the boat wins.
Near Half-Moon Bay, we had to consult the charts more than once as we identified the channel to navigate clear of the reefs and breaking waves over the rocks. The wind died right as we got near the harbor, around 9:30 or 10pm. The engine took some time to start and died after we got inside the first breakwater. We were dangerously drifting toward the second breakwater but Nathan had the foresight to prepare the anchor so we threw it out to immobilize the boat. It turned out that the safety plug got unplugged...
It took us a little while to find our slip given the vague directions that we got over the phone from the harbor master but we finally touched land, or rather a floating dock, closer to 11pm. Wet, cold, tired, hungry and delighted. There was no food available at that hour...so we dined on microwaved food at a gas station food mart...sitting on the sidewalk facing the pumps wasn't quite my idea of a romantic cruising evening but hey - if the engine hadn't started, we would be surviving on cold food and drink anchored in the middle of the harbor.
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