\u00c2\u00a0 The king’s horses and henchmen have scattered, but the $7-million chariot Pyewacket remains. Finding a crew to drive it, as it turns out, was just a matter of asking for volunteers. From our July\/August 2006 issue.<\/p>\n
\u00c2\u00a0 14\/07\/2006<\/p>\n
\u00c2\u00a0 By Stuart Streuli<\/p>\n
\u00c2\u00a0 When Roy Disney retired from grand prix yacht racing\u00c2\u00a0following the 2005 Transpac, he donated his most recent Pyewacket, an 86-foot canting-keel Reichel\/Pugh design, to\u00c2\u00a0the Orange Coast College School of Sailing and Seamanship, in Newport Beach, Calif.<\/p>\n
“When I first heard about it, I thought, ‘How are we going\u00c2\u00a0to handle this?'” says Brad Avery, the school’s director. “But the donor was very concerned with our ability to handle it and basically said, ‘Let us know what you need.’\u00c2\u00a0 We went back and forth for a couple of months to outline a\u00c2\u00a0program of how we could put the boat to use. It was very\u00c2\u00a0carefully done.”<\/p>\n
The only remaining question was where to find the\u00c2\u00a0necessary manpower. Hiring the dozen or so professional\u00c2\u00a0sailors Disney and longtime sailing master Robbie Haines\u00c2\u00a0brought on board for each race\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthey sailed with 18 to\u00c2\u00a0Hawaii and more for buoy events\u00e2\u20ac\u201dwas financially out of the\u00c2\u00a0question, not to mention a bit off target for a teaching\u00c2\u00a0institution. So Avery and skipper Keith Kilpatrick, a Volvo veteran, placed a news brief into the Dec. 20, 2005,\u00c2\u00a0edition of Scuttlebutt’s e-mail newsletter. “Great sailors\u00c2\u00a0wanted,” it said.<\/p>\n
More than 200 people responded. There were also plenty of\u00c2\u00a0local acquaintances from the Southern California sailing\u00c2\u00a0scene that personally contacted Kilpatrick or Avery,\u00c2\u00a0enough to staff the boat. But that wasn’t the plan. “We\u00c2\u00a0wanted to include people who wouldn’t usually get a chance\u00c2\u00a0to sail on this boat\u00e2\u20ac\u201da guy with an Express 37 or an Olson\u00c2\u00a030,” says Avery. “We view ourselves as a community sailing\u00c2\u00a0program.”<\/p>\n
So they culled through the applicants, each of whom was\u00c2\u00a0asked to provide a brief sailing resume. Some they knew,\u00c2\u00a0but many they didn’t. “We wanted people who have raced\u00c2\u00a0offshore on boats 30 feet and above,” says Avery, “And we\u00c2\u00a0looked for an activity level that indicated a passion.”<\/p>\n
From the initial 200 they chose three dozen for tryouts.\u00c2\u00a0Most were from the local area. But there were a few\u00c2\u00a0willing to travel lengthy distances, on their own dime,\u00c2\u00a0just to sail on Pyewacket. Ryan O’Grady lives in\u00c2\u00a0Connecticut, and sails regularly on big boats out of\u00c2\u00a0Newport, R.I. This summer he’s sailing on the 77-foot\u00c2\u00a0Harrier. But the lure of the canting-keel rocketship was\u00c2\u00a0enough for him to schedule West Coast business trips\u00c2\u00a0around the tryouts, practices, and races.<\/p>\n
Ashley Perrin lives in San Francisco where she maintains\u00c2\u00a0and races on a Farr 40. Last summer, she went\u00c2\u00a0transatlantic as bowman on the 80-foot Tempest. Many\u00c2\u00a0sailors with Perrin’s credentials\u00e2\u20ac\u201dshe was Bruce Schwab’s\u00c2\u00a0shoreside manager during the last Around Alone\u00e2\u20ac\u201dmight have\u00c2\u00a0considered it beneath them to apply for an unpaid\u00c2\u00a0position, but she saw a unique opportunity to expand her\u00c2\u00a0sailing horizons.<\/p>\n
“You can be a really good sailor and not be given the\u00c2\u00a0opportunity,” she says of sailing on boats like Pyewacket. “If you don’t like to sit at the bar and talk yourself up,\u00c2\u00a0you’re not going to get a ride. I’m not good at that; I\u00c2\u00a0don’t even drink.” But if Perrin lacks the gift of the gab while seated\u00c2\u00a0around a bar, she’s not short of confidence on the water.\u00c2\u00a0During the introductions that kicked off her tryout,\u00c2\u00a0Perrin volunteered to do the bow, a particularly grueling\u00c2\u00a0position considering the size and weight of some of the\u00c2\u00a0sails\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthe Spectra Code 3 reaching spinnaker, for example,\u00c2\u00a0takes four to six people to carry comfortably. “Keith and I looked at each other, because she’s a\u00c2\u00a0diminutive gal,” says Avery. “But we got out there sailing\u00c2\u00a0and she did an incredible job. At the end of the day we\u00c2\u00a0were amazed at how good she was.” After the two tryout sails, which were conducted in\u00c2\u00a0mid-March, Avery and Kilpatrick pared the list of crew\u00c2\u00a0candidates roughly in half and announced a crew for the\u00c2\u00a02006 Lexus Newport to Ensenada Race in late April.<\/p>\n
At 125 miles in length, the Ensenada Race is almost too\u00c2\u00a0short to be considered a true offshore race\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthe course\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd
\nrecord is just 10 hours, 45 minutes. But what it lacks in\u00c2\u00a0length, it makes up for by crossing a border and\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd
\nattracting a mammoth fleet. The race annually draws more than 400 boats; the record of 675 was set in the early\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd
\n’80s.<\/p>\n
For many Southern California sailors, the race is an\u00c2\u00a0annual event. Tom O’Keefe first made the trek to Ensenada\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd
\nwhen he was 13; he’s now 44 and can add up on one hand the\u00c2\u00a0number of races he’s missed. A lot of those races have\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd
\nbeen on quick boats, but none as quick as Pyewacket. “I’ve\u00c2\u00a0been sailing sleds since 1983,” he says. “Pyewacket has\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd
\nalways been the top program on the West Coast. When I\u00c2\u00a0found out that the Orange Coast College was the benefactor\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd
\nof this program, I called up Brad and said, ‘How do I get\u00c2\u00a0on?'”<\/p>\n
The Ensenada-bound Pyewacket team\u00e2\u20ac\u201dO’Keefe, Perrin, O’Grady\u00c2\u00a0and some 20 other lawyers, businessmen, college students,\u00c2\u00a0and Olympic hopefuls\u00e2\u20ac\u201dassembles the day before the race for\u00c2\u00a0a practice. For most of the crew it’s only the second time\u00c2\u00a0they’ve sailed on the boat. For some, like this reporter,\u00c2\u00a0it’s our virgin trip.<\/p>\n
In some respects, the 86-footer is just another boat; most\u00c2\u00a0of the systems are familiar. But there are a few\u00c2\u00a0exceptions. There are four grinding pedestals on deck, and\u00c2\u00a0with the right combination of 17 foot buttons, it’s possible to use all four pedestals\u00e2\u20ac\u201da maximum of eight\u00c2\u00a0 grinders\u00e2\u20ac\u201dto drive any of seven winches, from the two rear winches used for the runner backstays to the utility winches used for halyards. Some of the buttons connect the winches to each other, while others engage a turbo gear for maneuvers like jibing where speed is essential.\u00c2\u00a0Keeping the right buttons up and the right ones down at any given time is no simple task; one mistake can paralyze the entire system.<\/p>\n
Other aspects of the boat are impressive merely because of the scale. Located near each running backstay winch is a strain gauge. Even in light air the runners are routinely tensioned to 20,000 lbs. The maximum, according to Gregg Hedrick, Disney’s longtime boat captain who is onboard for the race to lend his expertise, is 30,000 lbs.<\/p>\n
Nonetheless, Avery was convinced the first time he took the boat out for a practice sail\u00e2\u20ac\u201da simple reach out and\u00c2\u00a0 back\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthat he and Kilpatrick could sail the boat with a volunteer crew.<\/p>\n
Practice largely bears this out. In between meeting each other\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthere’s a lot of, “what was your name again?”\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthe\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd
\ncrew runs smoothly through a handful of sail changes, checking out a few reaching sails in a light onshore breeze.<\/p>\n
Overnight, the breeze backs to the southeast. While it’s expected to veer to the more traditional southwesterly direction during the afternoon, the start will be upwind, a rarity for this race.<\/p>\n
The fastest monohulls start first, which is slightly disappointing as I’d been looking forward to starting last, passing 450 boats and finishing first. Since we’re the scratch boat in the Maxi A fleet by a whopping 87 seconds a mile\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthe rating, left over from a more powerful configuration of the boat, is a sore subject and eliminates any hope of corrected time honors\u00e2\u20ac\u201dseeing a single transom will be one too many.<\/p>\n
After a lot of discussion in the afterguard, Kilpatrick decides to go for a mid-line start, which he gets with surprising ease. There are a couple of boats below us, and\u00c2\u00a0a pack to windward, but we have more than enough space. Within a few minutes we have the room we need to tack and\u00c2\u00a0follow Windquest, a fixed-keel 86-footer, and Magnitude, a\u00c2\u00a0canting-keel 80-footer, both of whom are already on port,\u00c2\u00a0toward the new breeze.<\/p>\n
It’s not long before the big right shift everyone is expecting moves in and we tack back to starboard with both our rivals situated on our windward hip. Together we separate from the rest of the Maxi A fleet. Initially, the gains come in spurts. After an hour or two, Windquest goes for a headsail change from a 100-percent\u00c2\u00a0 jib to a larger reaching sail. It proves costly as the new sail doesn’t allow the crew to sail as high, and they fall into less breeze closer to the coast. After a few hours,\u00c2\u00a0 it’s just a speck on the horizon. Even a change back to the original sail is too little too late.<\/p>\n
Magnitude is tougher to shake, but eventually Doug Baker’s crew changes to a flat reaching spinnaker. Kilpatrick has\u00c2\u00a0sailed many miles with Magnitude and he knows this sail well. “I convinced them to buy it,” he says with a laugh. He’s sure it’s the perfect choice for these conditions, but it doesn’t seem to help and soon Magnitude, like\u00c2\u00a0Windquest before it, is sliding toward the horizon.<\/p>\n
With a rookie crew, Kilpatrick is a little more judicious with the sail changes. But as the wind backs, we switch to a roller-furled masthead genoa and then, late in the\u00c2\u00a0afternoon, the 1A reaching spinnaker. In a light breeze that occasionally tops 10 knots, sailing\u00c2\u00a0the boat is quite easy, almost too easy with 26 people\u00c2\u00a0chomping at the bit to contribute in any way, to prove they deserve to be onboard. But in this breeze, on a fetch, the most active crewmember is the diesel engine,\u00c2\u00a0 which revs up anytime the angle of keel cant is changed.\u00c2\u00a0The boat has a sweet spot around 10 degrees of heel and in\u00c2\u00a0the puffy breeze, the keel moves often. Our boatspeed is rarely less than the windspeed. In fact,\u00c2\u00a0we spent most of the race doing between 125 percent and\u00c2\u00a0150 percent of the windspeed. In 8 knots of breeze, we’re\u00c2\u00a0hitting 12 knots. It’s nothing near the high 20s the boat\u00c2\u00a0can hit surfing through the Molokai Channel to finish a\u00c2\u00a0Transpac. But for a group of neophytes, it’s thrilling to\u00c2\u00a0sail this fast in what would ordinarily be quite marginal\u00c2\u00a0conditions. We also know that over the northwestern\u00c2\u00a0horizon are plenty of poor souls struggling to maintain 4 knots.<\/p>\n
Our average of between 9 and 10 knots inspires a few dreams of a midnight arrival. Hedrick, however, knows that\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd
\nin this race the math usually lies. Many early arrivals have been delayed when the breeze dies away upon entering\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd
\n\u00c2\u00a0 La Bahia Totos Santos, or as Hedrick says with a laugh, “La Bahia de los Muertos. As expected, the breeze lightens overnight, but it doesn’t\u00c2\u00a0die completely. Nonetheless, the Bahia lives up to it’s\u00c2\u00a0nickname to some extent, though it’s largely our own\u00c2\u00a0doing. Early Saturday morning, we’re in the midst of a\u00c2\u00a0sail change, from the masthead genoa to the 1A spinnaker,\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd
\nwhen something goes wrong.<\/p>\n
The genoa won’t unroll all the way, and when we try to\u00c2\u00a0 pull it down we find out it won’t come down either. Only\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd
\nwhen the halyard for the spinnaker is eased does the genoa start to come down. It’s a bad sign.<\/p>\n
As we struggle to get both sails down, I can sense the back of the boat starting to boil over. It’s late, or\u00c2\u00a0 actually early, but either way, it’s that time of the race\u00c2\u00a0 when lack of sleep makes everyone’s fuse a little short.<\/p>\n
\u00c2\u00a0 Kilpatrick and tactician Craig Fletcher take turns yelling out directions from the back while a dozen eager amateur\u00c2\u00a0 sailors scramble around the deck looking for a solution “That door can shut so quickly in that bay and we happened\u00c2\u00a0to be in a little bit of breeze,” says Kilpatrick later.<\/p>\n
“I just wanted to get across the finish line. You could see me looking over my shoulder all the time, expecting to see running lights. It takes what seems like an interminable amount of time,\u00c2\u00a0 but eventually we sort the halyards out. It turns out the\u00c2\u00a0roller furling unit at the head of the genoa caught the leech line of the spinnaker and then sucked the halyard\u00c2\u00a0 into the roll when we tried to furl the genoa. Just when\u00c2\u00a0we thought we were getting the hang of it, Pyewacket\u00c2\u00a0reminds us just what we’re dealing with.<\/p>\n
We crawl across the finish line in pale pre-dawn light.\u00c2\u00a0It’s slightly anticlimactic. We all wanted to see and feel\u00c2\u00a0Pyewacket really light it up; we wanted to be pushed a bit\u00c2\u00a0and prove that we were up to the challenge the boat\u00c2\u00a0presents. Half of the crew is staying in Ensenada for the weekend. A water taxi ferries them to shore, and not 45 minutes after finishing we’re waving to the race committee boat as we\u00c2\u00a0pass them on our way north. We’re an hour out of Ensenada before we catch sight of Magnitude reaching toward the finish line. Windquest is still no where in sight. It’s then that it starts to dawn on me. We beat a pair of 80-footers by three hours over 125 miles.<\/p>\n
We pass boats all the way up the coast. With each one, I\u00c2\u00a0smile slightly wider than I did when we passed the\u00c2\u00a0previous boat. This is the first time I’ve taken line\u00c2\u00a0honors in a distance race, much less one of the most\u00c2\u00a0popular distance races in the world.<\/p>\n
By noon we’re rolling into San Diego Harbor. Even here,\u00c2\u00a0we’re still passing boats, spinnakers sucking whatever\u00c2\u00a0they can out of a light seebreeze, bows pointed toward a\u00c2\u00a0party in Ensenada that they’ll be lucky to make. Just before I jump ship and grab a rental car back to\u00c2\u00a0Newport Beach, I speak with Val Stephanchuk. While it\u00c2\u00a0would be impossible to determine who among the volunteers has the most sailing experience, figuring out who had the least is easy. Stepanchuk, a 24-year-old OCC student with\u00c2\u00a0a loose, toothy smile and scraggly beard, showed up for\u00c2\u00a0Thursday’s practice wearing a foam-front baseball cap, sneakers, and what could best be described as a nylon duster. He’s part of the OCC rowing team, which shares the seamanship center’s facility, hence his connection and presence on the boat. He is planning to enter a transatlantic rowing competition in 2007, but he’d never really been sailing until he joined an OCC crew sailing in last summer’s Long Point Race.<\/p>\n
“This is the second race I’ve race in,” he says of the\u00c2\u00a0Ensenada Race. “It was absolutely amazing. I know not a\u00c2\u00a0lot of people\u00e2\u20ac\u201dmaybe 5 percent of the sailing world\u00e2\u20ac\u201dget to\u00c2\u00a0sail on something like this. “It did get overwhelming at times. The main thing was figuring out the grinding system and how it works, plus a\u00c2\u00a0lot of sailing terms. But I loved it. I’ve sailed on the\u00c2\u00a0Pyewacket. It’s under my belt.”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
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\u00c2\u00a0 The king’s horses and henchmen have scattered, but the $7-million chariot Pyewacket remains. Finding a crew to drive it, as it turns out, was just a matter of asking for volunteers. From our July\/August 2006 issue. \u00c2\u00a0 14\/07\/2006 \u00c2\u00a0 By Stuart Streuli \u00c2\u00a0 When Roy Disney retired from grand prix yacht racing\u00c2\u00a0following the 2005 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-race-reports"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.racingyachtmanagement.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.racingyachtmanagement.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.racingyachtmanagement.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.racingyachtmanagement.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.racingyachtmanagement.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.racingyachtmanagement.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.racingyachtmanagement.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.racingyachtmanagement.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.racingyachtmanagement.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}