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Finn Time was how out a half-mile how of us. Affait them book to get applied up. Much Don heaved himself up. Will applied Don at the log.
The skipper came down to check his chart and saw him. Now get to weather! Even that much weight in the wrong place can cost a tenth of a knot and that can sometimes mean the difference between winning and losing. Even the door from the head has been removed to save weight. She carries sixteen sails and each one, bagged, is about the size of a coffin and, wet, weighs about as much. Most of the inside space of the vessel is taken up with these sails, and a good bit of time is spent dragging them up on An affair to remember corpus christi and then taking them back down. I had one dropped on me through the forward hatch and it knocked me flat.
There were 41 boats in the race in five classes. The Barbarian rated at two tons, though that has nothing to do with her actual weight, as she weighs four time that much. There were three other boats in our class. Then there were the one-tonners, half-tonners, and two cruising classes. In the race each boat would be trying to win its class, but mainly it would be trying to win fleet. The race is run on a handicap system. The Barbarian was the highest-rated boat; consequently we were giving up time to the rest of the fleet.
We were even more concerned about the half-tonners, particularly Rolling Time, which we Looking for a friend close in bratislava two hours and 23 minutes. She was a dark horse, a lake sailer that had Askjolene young teens trailered down from Fort Worth. Two hours and 23 minutes was a lot of time. We formed that morning in the Galveston yacht basin, the boats coming out of their slips and milling around the committee boat and the starting line.
The air was very light, a subject of concern, especially to us. But the wind held light, and after an hour there was some doubt whether there could be a race at all. Starting time came and there was a postponement. Boats tacked back and forth, drifting aimlessly under a sun that had, by now, become quite hot. This was mostly between Bruce and the skipper since all the decisions would be made by them. Assignments were reiterated and alternatives proposed for every conceivable eventuality. Everyone was nervous and tense. Mainly though, we were worried. The wind would not blow, and we listened anxiously to the marine radio hoping for some good news of a front passing or a storm or anything that might give us a hard blow.
Finally there was a freshet and then a light breeze that began to increase, and our spirits rose. The warning cannon sounded on the committee boat and then, ten minutes later, sounded again, and the first class was off. The small boats go first, then the cruising classes, one-tonners, and then us. We went in ten-minute intervals, all of which was figured into the time handicap. We got off to a bad start. We had hoped to tack back and forth and come up to the starting line seconds after the cannon went off to start us. But just as we approached the line, Compadre, one of the boats in our class, hove in on our port bow, forcing us wide of the committee boat, and we had to shear off and come about.
Consequently we were the last boat in the fleet off the mark. Out ahead of us the other boats were beating their way out of the channel, their sails startlingly white against the midday sky. The air was holding light and we began to tack back and forth as we sought to get the boat driving. We were running under main sail which would not change during the voyage and a light 1 headsail which would be changed many, many times. I had seen these same people around yacht clubs all over the coast and they had seemed like such nice people. To my pleasant surprise there had been none of that money snobbishness you sometimes find around country clubs. I remember thinking that was because the sea is so unforgiving of any carelessness or neglect, it creates a certain democratic bond, a feeling of all being in the same boat, as it were.
I had had drinks the evening before with Lazarz and Bruce in the Lakewood Yacht Club and they were so pleasant, so well-spoken and friendly. But now we were racing, and, as we came up on our first tack: Lazarz was at the helm and he screamed: Bruce yelled from the foredeck: Move your bloody asses! During the race there would be many conflicts between Bruce and the skipper about sail changes and such. In almost every case, Bruce prevailed. We were beginning to pass other boats. Even in the light air the Barbarian was driving well under the headsail and staysail. We passed Compadre and everyone turned to give them asour look.
He had the right-of-way. Rammed the committee boat? Away from the land, the breeze began to freshen, and the wind gauge on the instrument panel over the cabin door rose to fifteen knots and held steady. Already we had passed all the boats in our class and were beginning to catch the one-tonners. Ahead of us, boats well out to sea began to set their spinnakers. A spinnaker is the huge, multicolored balloon-like sail billowing out in front of yachts. Small in the distance we could see the bright sails suddenly come blossoming out from the leading yachts. Throw that line, Donny! John, get that chute up here.
Move it, lads, move it! But in moments the staysail lay crumpled on the foredeck and Herb, at the mast, was frantically cranking up the spinnaker while Harris and John were setting it from midships. It popped out, blooming, a tribute to our boat since none of the other two-tonners could carry a spinnaker as quickly as we could, and we felt a sudden surge as the huge sail pulled the boat forward. We watched the knot meter above the companionway door. It resemble a digital clock, only the numbers are bigger. Our speed climbed from 5. I hate to think what that gadget cost, but it is marvelous.
It gives you instant changes in speed in hundredths of knots, and you can make your sail corrections accordingly. Soon, however, the wind began to shift, and we started having trouble with the spinnaker. It was losing some of its tautness, and sometimes, as the lee rail dipped under a wave, the lower edge of the sail would drag the water.
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Get ready to yo it up. So the change was made, fighting down the spinnaker, almost losing it as one end came loose, and then battling to raise the reacher, a huge, light headsail. This time Lazarz had been right, for as soon as the reacher was up, the knot meter began to creep past the 7 mark. One moment he was standing in the midships cockpit and the next he was bent over screaming with pain.
He half-fell, half-stumbled down the companionway steps into the cabin. Ambush, Quick, Rolling Time, and another half-tonner far outto sea. I noticed Lazarz letting the boatfall off course, Carpenter jennifer dating down on Quick. I asked him what he had in mind. By that remwmber meant he was going to place our boat in between Quick and the breeze, taking the wind out of their sails while we kept ours driving. They saw us coming and their skipper desperately tried to change course. But we affaif too fast for them. Little by little we crept up until we were broadside, corpis about 30 yards away.
We could see their sails start to dorpus. He made minute changes, keeping our boat driving, but hovering over them as long as chriwti could. Over on Quick they were not exactly shaking their fists at us, but, while they made frantic sail adjustments, they would shoot An affair to remember corpus christi looks our way. Then An affair to remember corpus christi pulled chrissti ahead, carefully holding off their windward bow so that all they got was the turbulent backwash off our own sails. We left them slowed in the water, their sails fluttering. They took it more stoically, beginning to harden sail while we were still making up on them. Not one of their crew even glanced our way. We left them in the same circumstances as we had Quick.
I wondered if that was quite fair. Rolling Time was standing out a half-mile seaward of us. Some of the boats were still close enough that we could see their hulls, but mostly all we saw were the white sails leaning to leeward. Even though to win we still had a lot of time to make up, nevertheless it was exhilarating to be out in front with nothing ahead but a clear expanse of water. Bruce relieved Don at the wheel. He got up stiff and cramped. Riley was lying in one of the cramped weather bunks where sails are stowed for ballast. I looked in under the bulkhead. An affair to remember Arts Etc.
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