Where the &%*$ are my pants?

October 19, 2011

Oktoberfest. Oh yes it was.

That and the title of this article is really all you need to know how this Saturday’s sailing went. The fog was tickling the ribs of San Francisco Bay, but the sun was shining over Akyla. I got to South Beach harbor and helped to finish rigging the boat. Within minutes we were under sail, making our way to Berkeley for the BYC Oktoberfest. It was a pursuit race starting in the middle of the Berkeley Olympic circle out and around Alcatraz, skipper’s choice of direction—we would be sailing clockwise—and finishing in front of the Berkeley Yacht Club. The forecast was for light winds, but when we got there, it was blowing at 10-20 knots. We had an hour before our start, ample time to make a headsail change to accommodate the stronger winds and put on extra layers of foul weather gear to stay warm. Though the sun stayed out, it was not to be the tank-top day I was hoping for, and pulled my pants and sweater out of my bag.

In a pursuit race, boats start according to their handicap, with slower boats going out first and the faster boats going out last with the task of catching them. We were the second lowest-rated boat and would start at precisely 13:00:41. A start is a tricky thing. Sailboats, unlike cars, can not simply line up on the start line, and hit the gas when it’s time to go. We sail around, a careful battle between wind, current, and clock to be sure to cross the line at full speed precisely at our start. Even sailboat races are won or lost in a matter of seconds. Sails sorted and dry pants on, we counted down the start. With all the other boats but one already on course, we had a lot of room to position ourselves where we want to be, and hit the line right on time. After getting the jib trimmed in tight to sail close-hauled towards San Francisco, we climbed up onto the rail to hike out over the lifelines and do our best to call puffs. Once we reached the Embarcadero, we only needed a couple of tacks to get around Alcatraz, ready to set our spinnaker. There was a little extra excitement at the mark since many of the boats had decided to take the island counter-clockwise. There were three boats coming at us, and though I’ve been getting a handle on the right-of-way rules in sailing, I was glad not to be driving at that moment. Somehow without incident, we rounded the mark, popped our chute and were headed to the finish—not that my work was done.

Sailing downwind is a strange experience. It’s the fastest way to go, but you don’t feel the air. Suddenly we were all sweating in our water-proof pants, wet from the inside out. My PFD became a hindrance as I worked to trim the spinnaker sheets under heavy wind pressure for our kite flyer—she was in control of the sheet, I ground the winch it was on to help her pull it in. I was thankful when another crewmate offered to swap out with me, and I could gently head to the rail for a breather. Our task, to sail as fast as possible without broaching, was not simple. It requires the flyer and skipper to work closely together, both with soft hands. They did well, and it was a smooth race. Sailing at higher more aggressive angles than we were, the fastest-rated boat, CentoMiglia, broke their rudder and did not finish. We came in fourth, not a bad result, but we had hoped for better. (Click here to see full results.) It’s exciting to get to be part of a crew who, while certainly competent, is continuously working to improve.

With at least four Type-A personalities aboard Akyla, it’s a loud boat. I come away with more bruises than a battered wife, shaking with adrenaline. But after the boat is safely at the dock, there are always smiles and high-5′s. The after-race party was at the Berkeley Yacht Club. They were serving up pitchers of dark beer and piles of sauerbraten. We got a table next to the keg, and invited the frustrated crew of CentoMiglia to join us. A couple of pitchers later, we were having a great time. Men and women in lederhosen and drindls played Bavarian music and danced around us while we talked about sailing, skiing, and drinking. Somehow sailors always seem to be skiers too.

Hours went by and it became dark, the beer was almost gone, and we still had to motor back to South Beach harbor. We were finally quiet on board the boat, left only to admire the lights of San Francisco as we crossed the Bay. When we got to the dock, we unloaded our gear, and did our best to put the boat away in the dark—there were no lights in the marina. After sponging water out of the bottom of the boat for a half an hour, I came up to find out that one of our crewmates, a couple of sheets to the wind, had left and taken my pants with him. As ransom, I took home the jacket and PFD he forgot. This is always the sign of a good party.

Sailing isn’t a typically Bavarian thing to do on Oktoberfest, but I think sauerbraten never tasted so good, as after a long day on the water.

Filed under: California,Daily Life,Sailing

Tags: Akyla, Berkeley, fall, racing, sailboat, sailing, San Francisco