THE BAY-TO-BAY RACE -- Mission Bay to San Diego Bay, October 23, 1999

From the MBYC Newsletter, by the Old Greybeard:

Long Trip, But Worth It -- The second try worked for the Bay-to-Bay race, held at last on October 23, though the return sail was scrubbed for logistic reasons. Starting off the Mission Bay entrance in very light NW wind, the 25-mile course led around channel buoy #3, then down around Tower #19 of the Coronado Bridge and upwind to a finish at the west end of Shelter Island. Challenging and scenic, it offered a wide variety of wind and sea conditions well suiting the 505’s versatility.

Eventual Open Division and overall winners Bill Jenkins and Dan Merino in Dan’s Lindsay superboat Weasel led off the line with an early spinnaker set, and were never again threatened in spite of a trip to the wrong mark and a failed mainsheet swivel. Chris Stomberg and Wes Lien in #3219 worked the center, and Steve Schnelker and Alane Trainor in Taz hugged the beach while Alane fought off mal de mer. As the wind headed, Dave Eberhardt and Doug Nelson in Carte Blanche doused early and jib-reached over #3219. Several miles down the coast, C.B. rehoisted and held course for the edge of the Point Loma kelp bed while Chris and Steve battled for the high line, exchanging places several times. The strategy paid when the wind increased and faired, allowing C.B. to drive off and thread a path through the kelp for a three-minute lead at buoy #3.

The fleet then faced a one-tack beat up the crowded San Diego Bay channel in a building wind. After Carte Blanche’s tangle with an overtaking 700’ cruise ship forced several costly tacks, a resurgent Taz (after passing #3219 when the latter searched for fair current up under Point Loma and found foul winds instead) planed up to hailing distance as the 505s blast-reached around Coronado Island through a fleet of racing keelboats. The turn south to the bridge and resulting jibing duel came just in time to save C.B. and her heavier crew, and the three classics rounded about 30 seconds apart.

A few minutes later, during a modest tacking duel, the mainsheet slipped from Steve’s hand and Alane was "teabagged." Worse, she was "left to steep" as the boat dragged her several yards; then the 505 came within a whisker of coming over on top of her as she tried to reboard. Soon under way again, Taz held or gained for the first half-mile of the long beat. However, C.B. was able to work a loose cover until the bay widened, then short-tacked up the Coronado shore (dodging the increasing current) and built a large lead as the 505s climbed the 6’ flood tide into the sinking sun and an oncoming fog bank. Meanwhile, #3219’s day was deteriorating. A failing masthead sheave had brought the main down a foot. The spinnaker halliard let go early in a douse, and the boat ran over the chute. Finally, a duct-tape hull repair loosened and filled the boat with a foot of water (including the unplugged bow buoyancy tank.)

Dan’s winning time was 5:07:44. Carte Blanche in a dying breeze and foul tide finished in 5:37:29 to win the Classic division, with Taz some 17 minutes behind. Incredibly, the unstoppable Chris and Wes brought #3219 home in the dark, carrying an extra half-ton of sea water! The transom opening was submerged, and only the side tanks were keeping the boat on the surface. (May we suggest the name "Molly Brown"?) San Diego Yacht Club provided a welcome haulout haven, and even more welcome hot rum or hot chocolate courtesy of Bill. The inevitable after-race party was at Steve and Alane’s lovely new Pacific Beach digs, with vast piles of pizza and rejuvenating liquids.

To the Victors – MBYC’s Trophy Dinner October 29 showcased the new Bay-to-Bay perpetual trophies. An elegant marble plaque with three magnified time dials, created by Dan, will reward any boat setting a new Bay-to-Bay elapsed-time record. The cherry-wood "Cupboard Door," made and donated by Dave in memory of the late Clair Tucker, will go each year to the Bay-to-Bay elapsed-time winner. The analogy is with the Transpac’s "Barn Door." Dan, of course, put his name (and Bill’s and Weasel’s) on both for this first running. And the "Pintail Trophy" (featuring the expected end of a donkey, with the "winner’s" data on a tail pinned to it) will be a "perseverance award" for the final finisher. The keepers were gold-painted, unopened cans of beverages popular with the fleet (Foster’s, Guinness and Heineken) varying in size and country for the various places. (The keepers for the Pintail, appropriately, were half-full of sea water and sealed loosely with duct-tape.) Special added Guinness awards went to Alane (the Good Sport Award) and to Wes (the Survivor Award.) The race is expected to become a tradition; in future years, other seaworthy classes may be invited to share the fun with their own Bay-to-Bay events.

From the First Finisher, by Dan Merino:

The start was very confusing... The run to Buoy #3 was pretty uneventful until we neared Point Loma where the wind began to build. We had one kelp bed between us and what we thought was our mark and instead of tacking out we sailed the boat on its ear with spinnaker up across the patty. After realizing we were at the wrong mark we tacked out and rounded #3. We estimated we sailed an extra two miles because of our navigational blunder. Now we can say we missed it by a mile and really mean it. Someone told us that they have this thing called a compass that may help us next time...

The blast reach into the bay was by far the funnest part of the race, although it became difficult when our mainsheet cleat pulled out of the centerboard trunk. It sounded something like this...

Bill: "Uh Oh...!"

Dan: "Huh...?"

Bill: "Hold this." (handing me the mainsheet from the boom).

Other than severe arm pump the rest of the race left no more scars and we had a great time rounding the Coronado Bridge and the beat to Shelter Island.

Next year we plan a full on Luau at SDYC for the finishers...

From the Classic Division Runnerup, by Steve Schnelker:

Here's what happened in the race:

- Ran over our spin sheets right at the start. Spent several minutes dealing with that.

- Doused pretty quickly because we had drifted closer to shore and needed to climb out.

- Tried to sail high to get out of the kelp (ha!) and eventually passed Chris. Hoisted again and headed for the mark.

- Alane got a bit of the mal de mer and...

- Got rolled by Chris. Got to the first mark 15 minutes after Dan (and probably 10 after Chris.)

- Crossed the channel behind the Carnival cruise ship and tried to stay as far South as possible but still lay North Island.

- Alane felt better. Turned on the gas, got Alane out on the wire and...

- Saw Chris on the other side of the harbor and realized we were way in front of him, and...

- Saw Doug and Dave up ahead and realized I really wanted to catch them.

- Rounded the island and sailed into the lee of the big freighter. Considered going above it, but thought better of it.

- Couple jibes. Headed to pier 19 and lost my footing on the takedown and bent the tiller a bit.

- Rounded. Bent it back. Tacked onto starboard and promptly lost the mainsheet and dunked Alane.

- Got her back in the boat and sailed very slow upwind, losing ground to Carte Blanche the whole time.

- Lost the wind about 1/4 mile from the finish.

- Got the wind back (now a drifter out of the East.) Finished, then couldn't find the $#@#$*& yacht club!

From the Final Finisher, by Chris Stomberg:

#3219 finish time: 6:26 (and limping badly.) I told Wes, my crew, at the end of the day, multiply this by twelve, and that's what the Transpac felt like.

We got a start at the south Mission Bay jetty just after noon Saturday in what felt like a building breeze. It then dropped to less than a couple of knots. I never saw less than 2.5 kts. on the GPS, but that makes for a long 25-mile sail in a boat you can't really kick back too much in. Reaching out, I found more breeze a couple miles out, and then we were back in business, spinnaker up and chasing our buddies around.

After rounding buoy three, we began our beat up into the bay. We saw the PHRF boats out in the roads. I waved to the poor sods. My brilliant strategy was to come in close to Point Loma and evade the still-ebbing tidal current while enjoying the lift that often sets up on that side. Point Loma decided to dish out the other fare it is known for -- heavy puffs with 60-degree headers and lifts that wreaked havoc on us. While I was messing around in there, I got passed by the one boat I was ahead of. Wes, my crew, looked up and said, "Hey, look at Steve and Alane blazing by!" Ugh. Oh well, we got out of Dodge, headed for the top of North Island and hit a steady 12-kt. breeze. We should have been three-sail reaching, but my crew was brand-new and had never either trimmed or helmed a spinnaker, so we avoided the glory, but even so it was trapping weather and boy, did we begin to haul ass. I got some great surfs on wakes, and rolled over the top of a whole fleet of racing Capri 22's like they were in Sabots.

The run to the Coronado Bay Bridge was deep, courtesy of the heavier air, and we cruised down there pretty quickly. After an ugly spinnaker drop where I let the spinnaker go too quickly and put it in the water, we really fell off the pace with the other boats. We began our upwind slog back to Shelter Island against an unfavorable current. Somewhere in here the boat started to take on a disturbing amount of water. This is #3219, which is almost as old as I am and shows it by shedding parts on a regular basis. It takes water through the CB trunk in a steady trickle, but the real problem was a broken-open transom that shipped every boat wake that I forgot to get out of the way of. 300-400 pounds of water can really slow a boat down. We sat far forward, began bailing like crazy, and managed to get the water below our ankles again. Sailing commenced again too.

"Hey, where did the other guys go?"

"Gee, that sun is getting low."

"Yep. Gettin’ foggy too, notice that?"

Then we filled the boat a second time, and this time while bailing we noticed that the water was coming in faster than it was going out. Hmmm. Again we shimmied forward, got the transom just far enough out of the water, and began bailing faster. The boat was sailing again, but amidst the chaos the main had slipped down from full hoist, and I couldn't get it back up again (probably related to the shower of bearings we were treated to by the masthead sheave at the last regatta.) Tacking now involved lying nearly flat in the flooded hull behind the mainsheet swivel, and making a ramp of my elbow so the boom would ride up over the tiller; otherwise it would catch on the tiller, making for a moment of excitement.

"Do you think those specks on the horizon are our buddies?"

"I really can't tell any more."

We rounded the finish after dark with the wind dying or dead, and the adverse current threatening to send us back down Shelter Island. I busted out the auxiliary power and began paddling our way to SDYC. Sometime around here we began to hit terminal water volume aboard. We couldn't bail faster than it came aboard, and when we tried the short tacking maneuver (there was a little wind) to the SDYC hoist, the boat just came to a halt in irons. That was when I got worried. The water was now completely level with the transom, well over our ankles, and the boat simply refused to go forward any more. We drifted to one of the docks and contemplated what to do. The boat was now dangerously low in the water; we were terminally swamped. The only things keeping the hull afloat were the seat tanks, but I wasn't trusting the screw hatches (now fully submerged) to keep things dry too much longer. Everyone came to the dock to help out, and we agreed that the best plan was to try to paddle it to the ramp and beach it before it sank. I paddled furiously to the ramp next to the hoist, and we were able to haul and dump the water out the back of the boat and get it on land. Dave Eberhardt calculated that the boat weighed well over 1000 lbs. more with all the water. No wonder it refused to go.

Wet, tired, and hungry, I was glad to have gotten the boat back without sinking completely. It was a six-hour race for us, and I would do it again in a heartbeat (though obviously with a more solid boat.) Sailing-wise we got a little of everything. It was fun, and a real challenge. I think that this race has the makings of a landmark event for West Coast 505 sailors, since not only does it present an incredible range of conditions, but its sheer length makes it an endurance test as well.

(Consensus at the post-race party: October was too late in the year! But now we know the race works. Next year, we’ll do it on a day when we have more day to do it in, and invite all the 505’s on the coast to join us!)