Smugglers Run 2023

1130-0501

Saturday July 8th 2023

  The day started early as a good sailing day should. I had laid out my clothes the day before so was ready to head out and pick up the crew by 0545. Regular readers will no doubt know The Typsetter, a long time friend and fellow sailor. He was a veteran of Smugglers Run, having given the event it's name, and was crew for me in 2022. He had his hand baggage when I pulled up in front of his house and was ready to go. Spirits were high as after a stop for coffee we headed north. Earlier in the week we had prepped to install the forestay and were equipped to finish it. The plan was to get the minor boat work done, get the vessel in the water and hold the skippers meeting for the yacht club race being held that morning.

Triple through bolted. Not going anywhere.

 The rigging of the forestay went well and we splashed the boat. Mike motored it over to The Old Harbor House Dock and we went and attended the skippers meeting. The plan had been to hold the Smuggler Run skippers meeting immediately after but as we were the only attendees we knew what was up. There was another possible participant but alas they were called away. Next year! As a race steward for the SFYC we piled into Kat Boat and used it's mighty klaxon to start the race. Thanks to the count down I can give you a blow by blow of that moment.

1020-blast as the ten minute warning.

1025-blast to start the the five minute start sequence

1026-blast for the four minute

Somewhere in here we lost the forestay with a metallic clank and the sound of cable on the move. The Typesetter moved forward to ascertain the damage as I looked at my watch and tried to think of options. The race had to start regardless.

1029-blast for the one minute

102930 "I just lost the mainsheet!" "I need to get the race started!"

1030-blast for the start 

The idea was to follow the fleet out but that wasn't going to happen. The mainsheet was the easy part, pull the boom in and reattach. The forestay on the other hand was going to be a dozy. I had it made locally and the crimp failed to hold. This speaks to the force that a cat boat can put on it's rig and why it's so important. For a moment I was utterly defeated. "There's nothing to do but call it. I don't feel comfortable on a long sail without it" It needed to be said and it was the smart thing to do. Immediately following this pronouncement I looked at my feet. And the 75' of 3/8th Raid Braid I had purchased just in case "We'll make a new forestay. We have good rope. That's what I used all last season." I just need to panic first. Then calm deliberation is my process. 

Kat Boat beached for repairs.

Typsetter and I at work.

  And that is just what we did. We beached the boat, as catboats do, and quickly got to work. We lowered the mast got the cable off and attached the line in it's place. We used the turnbuckle to get it drum tight and pushed off. Only about three quarters of an hour gone. We were back at it. The usual thermal in Dayton that gives us a solid Force 3 was in full effect and we took full advantage of it. We caught the fleet returning and waved them goodbye. Our goal was to pass Cedar Island and carry on into the lake. But try as we might the doldrums still caught us. 

 I should explain the doldrums as they exist on the western side of Flathead Lake and in particular the east side of Dayton Bay. There exists a perfect triangle of utterly no wind that I've never NOT gotten caught in. The insidious thing is you'll sail right into it all full and bye without a care in the world and the next thing you know you have wind lines on all sides, cats paws on the water and slating sails. It's utterly maddening. The Typesetter was sure he had it licked and I still have no reason to doubt it. We've been here before after all. We stayed close inshore and observed a beautiful cutter to match her effortless progress. 

Gorgeous BCC under full sail.

 We also enlisted the help of the J24 Sverre J to find out where the wind was.  We'd match her course and with the knowledge aboard the racer that far exceeds our own we'll be in the clear. It was truly a cunning plan.But with one major drawback. A Michalak Fat Cat 2 is NOT a J24. They left us well in their wake and we blissfully sailed into the doldrums. Blast. 

 Eventually we fired up the electric spanker and made our way very slowly north towards Shelter and Cedar Island. As we made our way towards the hoped for end of the accursed triangle we came across a pair of MacGregor 26's having a gam. That's the joy of the lake meeting up with your friends on your motorboats with sails and enjoying life. Shelter Island is known for the huge chateau that is built on it. In my opinion it's tastefully done, that is it could have been far worse. As we passed Rock Island we saw the breeze ahead. Raising sail and sheeting home we made our way further north and into the main body of the lake.

The open lake. That's Cedar on the right.

 Sunday, July 9th

And so we sailed. And sat. And sailed. And sat. The goal was to break the 12 hour barrier or at least beat our time last year. We didn't do that. But what we did have was some wonderful memories as we headed up the lake. We've heard what winds might  do as we headed north. But we had no idea how much fun it would be sailing past midnight with the stars high above and the lake stretching out in front of us. Or how lights and towns play tricks on you as you see them in the dark and from the the lake side. Or that the port side navigation light would blink in time with the waves. We need to get that fixed actually. I'm not going to try and write a full blow by blow. Part of it is because I was so sleep addled I don't remember it well enough to properly recount it. And also because for a lot of it you just needed to be there.  I grew up on stories of these epic voyages in small boats and would hang on every word. And here I am with my own epic voyage and I'm unsure of how to tell the full story of the dark time, from sundown. It's good conversation, guessing at the wind and sailing when we can. It's looking at spots of light and trying to make them match our charts and finding out where a northerly wind will REALLY take you. For the record it wasn't north.

Dinner at sea. Wonderful.

Heading into a smoky sunset.

We crossed the line at 0501

I had gotten about an hour of sleep and when I awoke we had no wind. "We better motor in the last bit" my companion suggested. So we lowered the rig and did just that. I put the Typesetter off watch and tidied up. As I was flying my clubs burgee and that of my office a decent harbor furl was called for. The shock cord furling inspired by Marshall Marine does a fine job of that. As we ghosted along the entire eastern horizon became pink and purple. The mountains became visable and I was confused for a moment. It struck me that it was dawn. We had been on the lake all night. We passed the outer trestle at 0501. We had not improved upon our time of last year, coming in an hour later. But the sense of accomplishment was even greater. As I navigated the last bit into the North Flathead Yacht Club I thought of why we do this. Because we can. We see sights no one else does. And do it at our own hand. It's truly an amazing thing to do. And my little boat is up to it. As is my stalwart crew.

 In closing I'd like to thank The Typsetter who puts up with me and keeps this sailing thing a going concern. The North Flathead Yacht Club for their wonderful hospitality. And all of those who enjoyed my story here and elsewhere as we make plans to do it again. Next year. But this story isn't done yet. We woke up around 0800 and had even more adventure. But I'll leave that to the next post. 

Done.