Weekend to Remember

Dayton Yacht Harbor

 Well I think the title says it all. Out in the boat both Saturday and Sunday. Let go of my first real boat. And discovered the joy that is yacht racing. All in the weekend that is traditionally the end of summer.
 Saturday was a simple sailing day. I was taking a family I know out for a sailboat ride.The wind wasn't very accommodating and built all day. Great big boat weather but not so much for my Lido. We ended up sailing out on a fast run, then motored back. A great time was had by all but a day on the water it was not to be. But we did head out to Dayton, where it was blowing 15+ and looked at the boats.

Gloria's and all the boats

  Sunday I woke up earlier then usual. I knew skipper meeting was at 0930 and I would have to leave around 0730 if I had a chance to make it. But my first thought was to roll back over and get an extra hour of sleep. I didn't have to meet Travis, my boat buyer, until 1030. But I simply couldn't. The lady left for work at 0645 and by 0715 I was on the road. Buck, the owner of the Dayton Yacht Harbor was kind enough to allow me to store Esmeralda overnight in the boat yard, thereby saving me the need to drag it back and up again. I had exactly a quarter tank leaving my driveway and 91.6mi to go. I was a bit worried but after splurging what could have been gas money on coffee I settled down to a slow cruise and headed north. An extra $1.36 I found in the seats later I made it hale and sound to Dayton. There was my boat waiting for a day of adventure. The last adventure I would have with her while she was "mine".

Ready to go

 But who was I kidding? She was never mine. I was her keeper for the better part of a decade. I poured my equity as best I could into her and did what I could to ensure her continued use. And this was the day I'd pass her on for someone else to do the same. I tried to keep these melancholy thoughts out of my head as I headed to boat house for skippers meeting and whatever else the morning had to offer.
 Joining a new group of people is difficult at the best of times. I knew about the South Flathead Yacht Club for years and had corresponded with some of their members. Always meaning to join. The current Commodore works with me on the steam sawmill I run. But the lure of a dingy race is what drew me today. After the big boat buoy races there would be a small boat race, as there had been the last few Labor Day Regatta's. Except I had every intention of making this one. I saw John, the Commodore and made a few introductions, asked where I could find Jeremy, the Race Coordinator and ambled over to what was the big boat skipper meeting. After the very laid back and informative meeting Jeremy and I chatted a bit about our afternoon plans, racing at 1500, and I went to wonder around the Harbor House and the pier area.

The leeward mark

Heading out to race

SFYC Harbor House

Flathead Lake Sailing School in session

 My phone went off and it was Travis. The time had come. We meet up, picked up the Lido and I began the instruction. First up was how to rig the boat. Or more properly how I rig the boat. It's second nature and most of what I do is performed with the single handed sailor in mind. More hands definitely make lighter work. Then the dance of getting the rigged boat in the water. The public slip at Dayton is no where near ideal for sailboats. There was also a procession of motorboats that by right were being launched and recovered so enjoyed the rising sun and wind until our turn came. The wind was out of the east and and on the same side of the dock as the ramp. We'd need to move the Lido around the dock in order to get underway. Not to mention Flathead lake is rapidly being drawn down and there was not enough draft for the centerboard and only just for the rudder. I guess if sailing was easy everyone would do it.
 I parked the car and trailer and returned to the dock. Sails up and we were off. Board down twenty feet off the pier and we picked up our reach and shot out into the bay. Hi-fives were exchanged as we simply enjoyed the thrill of sailing. Much newer for one then the other but the same joy was felt.
 By this time the fleet was out and racing so we stayed well clear and I continued to share what I know of sailing the Lido 14. Points of sail, rig notes, balance, how to pass the tiller behind your back.
 They say you never know how much you know until you do it without thought. As I instructed I was acutely aware of how much I do without thought on my boat. Steering a straight course, tacking and gybing, setting a sail. I was very comfortable in that fourteen foot length of mahogany and fiberglass. And as I let go the secrets I have accumulated I realized I would miss this. Not like in a sad way. But this feeling of if not mastery, understanding and knowledge.

The new skipper at the helm

 Eventually the Typesetter arrived in the Piccup and he went ranging far and wide under a full press of sail. It was hearting to look out over the water and see the balanced lug tall and proud over great waters. The fleet was also out and doing big boat things. With a competent person at the helm I had a few moments to pull out the camera and take in the spectacle.

Windward and leeward

Rounding the Mark. My favorite image I captured.

Beating

 Then it was time for dingy racing. After a few practice runs with The Typesetter we were recalled via text to the transient dock for the start of official racing. One of the things as a teacher is sometimes you feel you could do it better but the student has to learn. I'm pleased to say Travis parallel parked the Lido with an audience and I don't think I could have done it better. First up was a brief skippers meeting where we went over the basic rules, course and start plan. It should be noted I've read about this. And watched a few videos. But now it was time to actually do it.

Skippers Meeting. Lido #1280, Piccup Pram Lazy Shamrock, and a Gig Harbor Captains Gig.

The two minute horn went off and we started jockeying for position. I was forward running the jib and acting as a tactician. Travis was helmsman. We had very easy communication with ideas and execution moving both ways. One minute. Favored side on starboard lead to a line of moored boats. Thirty seconds. Planning our escape, watching the line. Ten seconds. "Hit it!" Haul the jib in and we point to the line. Start. Decent start. I think. No penalty at least. First mark is a reach. The Piccup is dead even and the Captains Gig is hot on our heels. We have a major advantage in sail area and boat speed. Look ahead, not back. Shave the mark, go deep. Now it's a tacking duel as we head upwind. The Piccup is behind, the CG is in an excellent position and gaining ground. Suddenly becalmed. The boat herself is indecisive in the wind. CG begins sculling. No protest. We begin sculling. Thankful for the solid oak tiller the Lido is now equipped with. The minutes crawl by. I see Rex, the captain in the Gig, bear away. A wind line! We follow in slow pursuit. Suddenly were on again, mark in sight. We're below and hoping for rights. but the wind is dead to the mark. Forty feet, thirty. It's anybodies rounding. Twenty feet.

Anybody's sailboat race. Photo by Jeremy Keene.

 We're forced to give way to leeward and I think we've lost the mark. But the Gig hits the mark and stalls! A hard kick of the rudder and we are by. Now downwind, centerboard fully up. The helmsman plays the wind like a violin and we're downwind, wing and wing. The Gig is behind but can't get the speed. We cross and the finish horn sounds. We've gotten line honors. And then, to my surprise, applause. The members waiting for dinner have watched our little contest and reward us for the entertainment.  For myself the accolades go to my boat and my helm. I had only a vague idea of what I was doing and trusted pure book knowledge and the wisdom of others to pull us through.

Dayton Labor Day Regatta 2018 dingy race participants.

We go for a victory lap. The Lazy Shamrock has abandoned the race but is still sailing. It's just about time to head in. We do a rounding of the marks for no reason and short tack our way up the pier. A captain congratulates us and we enjoy the good wind and fun. Travis's phone goes off. It's Rose, the other half and we head to the dock to meet her.
 I've been at the helm for the last twenty minutes after the race. Enjoying how the boat responds to my commands and thinking on the years well spent. My last act as skipper is docking under sail with the wind directly down the dock. Board up, gauging the sideslip just so. And when all is said and done just right, allowing the crew to leap to the dock, line in hand. Almost like I knew what I was doing.A find performance that befits the boat and our time. But it's over now. We haul out and derig. I double check that my stuff is off the boat. And we head to dinner.
 And there we do some final paperwork, money is handed over. And the boat is no longer "mine". And I honestly couldn't be happier. Not for not having the boat, but for that it's future adventures will take it far and wide. I may even get to tag along for a few. And that made for a weekend to remember. I pick up the FatCat2 in two weeks. But more on that later.

Rose, Travis, and Lido #1280. Good luck. And Godspeed.