Idefix Sailing
the on- and off-the-water adventures of a racing boat and her skipper
May update
06 days ago
If I haven’t been keeping this site updated, it’s because I’ve been very busy getting the boat (and myself) in shape for a 9500-mile trip! Here are some of the latest developments:
1. I’ve left my job. It’s hard to leave a well-paying, interesting job, but I felt it was the right time for adventure.
2. Matt and I raced in Sloop Tavern’s Race to the Straits. This is in my top three most favorite races in the Northwest. Doublehanded to Port Townsend on Saturday, and back on Sunday. Winds were light, but it was an interesting race nevertheless. We had good moments and bad ones, and placed in the middle of the pack. I really need to stop putting off scrubbing the bottom of the boat!
A pretty sea of spinnakers chasing us.
Lunch Box passing us at the finish.
3. Boat prep – I’ve been working on a variety of projects: extending the companionway hatch, putting new ends on the backup spin pole, cutting a jib top, making a lazy bag/rain collector, fixing interference in the HF radio, installing the pactor modem, and a variety of odds and ends. We managed to break the foredeck hatch during RTTS, so now I have to fix that too…
At the same time, I am moving out of the place I’ve lived in for the last four years, and trying to get rid of most my possessions, so I’ve been pretty busy!
For now, the departure date is set to Friday, May 25th.
Finally, I’ve finished uploading the chronicles from the 2010 trip, and published them under their respective dates. So if you want to read the last posts from the return trip, go to July 2010. If you want to read about the 2010 SHTP, go here.
Here we go again…
It’s official, Idefix and I are signed up for the 2012 Singlehanded Transpac. The memories from 2010 are still fresh in my mind, the call of the ocean is hard to resist, and we have three race trophies to defend!
This edition will come with all sorts of new challenges, notably sailing down the rugged northwest coast to the start, and following up the race with a voyage through the South Pacific to Australia. If I can complete this voyage, Idefix will perhaps have sailed more miles than any other Olson 30!
Things will be more exciting for folks on shore too… not only will there be new and interesting destinations, but I am tweaking the HF radio installation to get email on the boat! Stay tuned!
Round the County
After the great fun Peter and I had on Northern Century in August, I was pretty excited to return to the San Juans in November for Round the County. This race is a little shorter, with an overnight stop in Roche Harbor, and a full crew. Alexia, Jay and Adam volunteered to deliver the boat, and Jay’s wife Jennie was kind enough to drive the chase car, prepare food, and arrange for accommodations on the islands, since we couldn’t sleep the whole crew on the boat.
Of course, the experience was completely different. A big weather system was passing through and the winds were ripping all weekend, with plenty of cold and rain to boot. Both days involved getting up ridiculously early to get to the start line, and a glimpse of orange sunrise on the first day was all we saw of the sun. The race started out with a tight reach up Rosario Strait, which quickly opened up and left us wishing we’d hoisted a bigger chute, and earlier. A couple minutes later we attempted our first jibe in 25 knots and managed to lay the boat down twice, first to windward, then to leeward, which ended with Matt and I going in the water, Matt being almost completely over the lifelines. We managed to get back in the cockpit before she righted, but were pretty cold and wet for the rest of the race, and my PFD inflated. Once the boat was back up she was off like a rocket, and we sailed decently for the rest of the race, and finished in the middle of the fleet. Owing to our cold & wet disposition, we opted to skip the party at Roche Harbor and warmed up by the wood stoves in the neatest little cabin in the woods, which Jennie had found for us.
Day 2 started off pretty poorly with us making extra miles to get away from shore looking for current that wasn’t there, and we were out of the running pretty quick. We reached around San Juan under genoa until the wind eased up in the Strait, and hoisted the big chute. This was all fine until we got close to the South end of Lopez and saw all the boats ahead of us broaching, and some spinnakers exploding. It looked like the wind was picking up around the point, and the strong currents coming out of Rosario were causing the waves to pick up significantly, right where all the boats were jibing. We had visions of our epic jibe the day before still fresh in our heads, and this one was looking way nastier, and we had a bigger chute up. The boat was planing continuously now, and would have to keep planing through the jibe. I had a death grip on the tiller and told the crew to prepare to jibe. Without one word, everybody clipped their harness tethers in. The tension was palpable. When the command was given to trip the pole, my focus went 100% on steering the boat through the boiling waves ahead while keeping her as level as possible under the spinnaker. Not a word was said among the crew as they executed a perfect jibe. When it was done, they all hiked out as far aft as they could and we headed up for the ride of our lives. The waves were steep and a couple times we ran off the top of a wave into the trough, and I expected us to stuff the bow of the boat into the next wave and round up, but with the incredible lift generated by the spinnaker, and the weight of a full crew in the back of the boat, we rode right over the top of them in perfect control. On a particularly nice surf we hit an outright speed record for the boat of 19 knots. Eventually the wind abated and became more westerly, and we were on a tight reach up Rosario Strait. We carried the chute as long as could, making great speed, and rounding up occasionally, and we eventually had to drop the chute, before soon putting up another only a mile from the finish. We corrected to a not-particularly-brilliant 12th out of 15, owing to our big strategic blunder, but the terrific rides we had made for a fun weekend, and I felt that we sailed pretty well overall. After finishing we repaired to the Brown Lantern in Anacortes for hot food and cold beers, then Alexia, Matt, Adam and I had an uneventful delivery home through Saratoga Passage, which was a first for me.
Northern Century Race
It’s been a while since my last update. This writeup of the Northern Century is a little old, but I’ll post it anyway… After five days of chilling in the islands solo, I was ready for some doublehanded distance racing. There was a pretty fantastic turnout for the race, with over 40 boats registered (about half doublehanded and half fully crewed), which meant quite a crowd at the dinner and skipper’s meeting at Anacortes Yacht Club. The competition in our division would be pretty tough, among others: the Perry 66 Icon, fast enough to make it into completely different wind conditions, and stay out of trouble with the currents; the custom 40-footer Madrona, helmed by olympic gold-medalist Carl Buchan and his son; multiple SHTP winner Dan Newland on his Pegasus XIV; SHTP vet John Guzzwell on his beautiful wooden Open 30 Endangered Species; a Soverel 33 and Express 37; and our closest competition, the Ross 930 Emma, crewed by olympic medalist Eric Jespersen and his son Ross, both freshly back from the international 6-meter worlds.
The start was at 19:30, which I really liked, since it allowed us to sail into the first night relatively well rested. We got off to a decent start, only a couple boatlengths behind Emma, leading the pack. Of course it was only a matter of minutes before Icon and Madrona rolled everyone and took the lead… then promptly stopped in the wind shadow to the lee of Guemes Island. All the slow boats caught up, then found wind just below the bluff of the island, the last spot I would’ve thought to go. After way too much hemming and hawing, and waiting til we were the last boat in the pack, we bit the bullet and bore off to the bluff and caught the wind, before stopping in another pile-up half a mile down the course. The stop-and-go continued as the sun set and well into the night, with winds oscillating between zero and 10 knots, and shifting from the northwest to southwest. We tried to keep the boat moving and felt we were doing pretty well (it’s hard to tell when you can’t tell what boats are around you), until we parked in a hole off Lummi Island and got passed by a continuous train of running lights for the next 15 minutes. Being stopped while others are moving is really frustrating, doubly so at night when you can’t see the wind effects on the water. All we could do was sit and wait, watching running lights and counting shooting stars. Eventually the wind hit us, the spinnaker filled, and I was happy again. I forgot about all the boats that had sailed out of sight and concentrated on the ones next to us, especially ReignMaker, which I could see on the AIS display. Having an AIS transponder on board is great for safety, but probably not the best tactical move, as I could see exactly where they were, how fast they were going, and their course! We traded jibes through the early morning hours, as the wind built up to 13 or so, racing towards our mark at Point Roberts. Peter and I each took a couple 20 minute breathers down below, while the other sipped yerba maté and listened to music to stay awake. Eventually the colors of dawn tint the sky, and the moon and
Idefix at dawn, after rounding Pt. Roberts. Photo by Sean Trew.
sun rise in sequence over Mt. Baker. By the time the sun has risen we have rounded Pt. Roberts and are heading down Haro Strait towards our next turnpoint at Hein Bank, close hauled, port tack, rail in the water in about 8 kts southerly. It is a beautiful morning for sailing. We count 5 or 6 boats within sight behind us, and another handful ahead, but we really have no idea where we are in the fleet, and I estimate we are in the bottom third.
The wind lightens up as we get close to Saturna Island, and I see we are catching up to the Soverel 33, Grafix. Eventually I realize they are in a nasty current eddy close to the island, and give it a wide berth. We shoot past them, riding a 4-knot river of current, while they are moving backwards. I spend the next couple hours with my eyeballs riveted to the water, trying to stay in the strongest current, and following the next boat ahead, the MacGregor 65 JOSS. Coming up to Turn Point, I realize they are stuck in a wind hole right next to the point, and I can see 3 other boats stuck out in Canadian waters. I maneuver Idefix to split the difference between the two groups of parked boats, and we miraculously flow past all of them, carried by our little river of current. Eventually the wind starts to fill out of the Strait, and as we make our way South, so does the swell. As we beat down the shore of San Juan, the building wind forces us to trade the genoa for the #3. We are trading tacks with Blackfoot and ReignMaker, both in the fully crewed division, but there are no doublehanded boats around, so we are kind of clueless as to our position in that fleet. As we work our way out into the Strait towards Hein Bank, the wind starts to abate and we have to switch back to the #1, which isn’t a quick affair with only two aboard. The dying wind makes the motion of the boat in the big swells more and more uncomfortable, and suddenly Peter succumbs to seasickness. He goes down below to rest in his berth, and I’m left to deal with getting the boat around Hein Bank in adverse current, nasty chop and only 3 or 4 knots of breeze. After about an hour of this the wind creeps back up, the chop abates some, and I ready the chute as we make our final approach to the mark. Peter comes on deck to help me hoist as we round the mark, and we are soon on a solid 9-knot broad reach towards Rosario Strait and the finish line, alongside JOSS. Some more nasty currents await us at Rosario Strait, and for a while I’m worried were going to be swept onto the rocks on the South end of Lopez, but we manage to make our way around the rocks, find the finish line and cross it a little before 5 o’clock, putting an end to 21 hours of excellent racing. We’ll correct into 3rd place in our division, behind Emma and Madrona, both skippered by Olympic medalists. After a burger and a couple beers at the Brown Lantern, Peter and I crash into our berths. In the morning a thick fog covers the marina. Many boats have arrived in the early morning hours after spending a night out on the race course, in the fog, and quite a few have retired, with only 5 out of 11 in our division finishing.
Island Time
I’m about to head up to Anacortes to meet up with Idefix for some solo cruising in the San Juans. Following that up, Peter and I will be racing in the Northern Century Race, a doublehanded 100NM race around the islands! I’m really looking forward to it, it should be a blast… also, if you’ve got nothing better to do on a Saturday, you should be able to track us on the race website. The race starts on Friday, August 26th at 7:30pm, and should last at least 24 hours.
Windows
With all the free time I have now that the boat is in the water, I’m finding myself quite bored. Luckily I can always find something to do on the boat. Changing out the leaky, cracked old windows, for example. A couple sheets of acrylic, a bandsaw, some Dow 795, lots of masking tape, and voilà! – new windows! Without the screws, these will never crack – theyl’ll probably fall off instead.
- Old and busted.
- New hotness.
Waterborne Again
After two months, Idefix is back in her favorite element, and sailing! And I’m released from my forced labor and have a life again! Just in time for summer (read: 65 degrees and partly cloudy)! How wonderful!
All polished and ready to go.
The bottom didn’t turn out quite as nice as I was hoping for. Despite sanding and burnishing, there were still quite a few spots left with a bit of rough texture, and the rudder still needs work, but overall it’s not all that bad.
Shiny bottom paint, doing its thing.
So I threw my bicycle on the boat, dropped the boat in the water, and sailed out of Everett, headed for Kingston. A nice breeze filled the sails, the sun filled the sky, and visions of delicious crêpes being served to me by delicious young ladies filled my head. Soon the wind died, clouds appeared, temperatures plummeted, I couldn’t find my audio cable, and the docks at Kingston were completely full of horrid little motorboats. To make matters worse, I was coming down with a cold. So I had to anchor in Appletree Cove and gaze upon the crêperie and its delectable servings, just out of my reach. Instead I dined on some bread and the cup or two of water left in my water bottle, and went to sleep, rocked by ferry wake.
Nothing is quite so pathetic as a baby seal trying to stay dry in the wake of a passing sailboat.
The night wasn’t altogether unpleasant, and in the morning I managed to scrounge some nutella to put on my bread. I tried not to think of the delicious Belgian chocolate, caramel and pecan crêpe topped in whipped cream, or the black forest ham, mushroom and gruyère crêpe that could’ve been my breakfast had those infernal little stinkpots not taken every single available berth in the harbor, while I picked up the anchor and motored across the placid Sound to Shilshole. There I picked up a motley crew of WYC members and we made our way to Blake for a weekend of quiet solitude and contemplative meditation, like modern monks. Most of us survived with nothing more than a hangover and a sunburn, but Hawkeye had to be medevac’ed with a broken collarbone.
Hassan enjoying the tough sail back to Seattle.
On Tuesday I finally got to hoist some ragged old sails and try out the boat against some of Seattle’s finest at Duck Dodge’s Tropical Night. We got a good start and hung out with William Buchan’s Sachem for a little while the rest of the fleet chased after us. Eventually we sailed into some holes and got passed, by a couple faster/smarter boats. I still can’t keep up with the J/29s, the ones around here are all ridiculously fast.
