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| Coastal Cup at Encinal Yacht Club | June 11 |
| Story |
| Here is the recap of the San Francisco to Santa Barbara Coastal Cup from the Express 27 Attack from Mars...
This year's Coastal Cup was a great ride for us, and definitely in the "thrilling" category. Here is the whole story: The Attack from Mars crew was made up of myself (Brendan Busch), foredeck extraordinaire Curtis Olinger, long-time Moore 24 owner Michael O'Callaghan, and his long-time crew John Verdoia. Michael and John had been sailing together for many years, including 6 trips to San Diego on the Moore 24, and Curt had grown up sailing offshore, making me the least experienced of the bunch. We were well aware that the weather was gearing up for a windy ride down the coast, and had the boat fully prepared with food, safety gear, and sails. The wind was blowing a pleasant 13 knots at the starting line, so we elected to start with the #1 genoa, expecting slightly lighter conditions on the other side of the gate. We expected we could carry the #1 when jib-reaching conditions to Montera even if the wind picked up. Wanting to tack early for the ebb, we lined up and nailed the pin end. Unfortunately the Henderson 30 started just behind us, but with much more speed and cut us off from tacking. We had to tack after them and then foot underneath to clear air. Then our #1 helped launch us ahead of Moxie and "Magic Donkey" (Magic Bus, but with Swamp Donkey's dreaded "8444" on the mainsail), who had chosen to start with #3 jibs. Wetsu was also carrying a #1, and by the time we got to mile rock, we'd established a nice lead, with the other 3 boats fairly close to each other a little ways back. We jib-reached to Montera, where the Swamp Bus kicked off the day by hoisting their shy kite (the wind was moderate, but the angle was still fairly hot). We followed suit, and found ourselves right on the edge of the dreaded Montera hole. Fortunately the folks behind were just a little deeper in the hole so we gained a bit. After Montera we hoisted the big kite and kicked off a beautiful afternoon of perfect sailing. We passed many whales, several of them much too close for comfort. We also established ourselves as the "outside boat", with most of the bigger monohulls steering deeper angles inside of us. Periodically we'd get some surfing in and slowly worked past many of the bigger boats to leeward. We managed to make the other Express 27s smaller during the day, eventually losing track of Wetsu, but keeping a close eye on Moxie and Magic Swamp. Michael went below and cooked up some fine pasta that John had prepared earlier and we had a nice meal to set us up for the night ahead. Late in the day the wind started to build, and we eventually switched to the shy kite, as the wave surfing was pretty constant and the light failing. By nightfall we were well offshore, surfing regularly with rooster tails out both sides and having a blast. It was getting a bit sketchy from time to time, and turning dark, so we elected to jibe in on port (thinking the jibe angle would be less than it was) and switch to a poled out jib. We doused and realized how strong the wind was now, and thought it'd be nicer to the rig and not too slow if we did a "chicken jibe" (tack around). That was definitely the wrong call, as it was harder to tack than expected, and upon bearing away we went straight into a crash jibe that put the skipper ½ in the water (but clinging on with gusto) and required we do another jibe anyway. Upon comparing notes later, Swamp Bus passed nearby with the kite up during this maneuver. After getting sorted out (and crossing right in front of a Beneteau 40.7 and an Express 37 that had been sailing to leeward), we poled out the jib and proceeded to sail very fast indeed for several hours. However, I was certain that both Moxie and Donkey Bus were still flying their kites and sailing 10x faster and into more favorable conditions on the outside. Also, we were on much too hot of an angle headed for shore, so we jibed again and set the kite. The big kite had been packed in the wrong bag, so when it filled it was quite a surprise. We immediately swapped it out for the shy kite. At this point the fun really began. The surfing was incredible, as was the noise and the fear factor. There was no moon (though the stars were crystal clear and bright), but the hour I spent a few weeks before in a climbing harness rigging a windex light paid off as we had clear view of the windex. The stern light illuminated the sails. Rooster tails, rushing water, and regular discussion about how many whales must be right in front of us dominated the next few hours. Eventually, John and I went below leaving the boat in the capable hands of Michael and Curt. I came out a few hours later to find the boat careening wildly down waves, Michael and Curt intense with concentration. We were on port jibe, the wind was clearly on strong, and after orienting myself it was clear we were pushing our luck. Not relishing the idea of getting the kite down after some kind of nasty round down I finally made them take it down and switch to the poled out #3 again. Even before we got the #3 back up we were doing a steady 10 knots, surfing to 15 knots with just the main. The seas were getting tall and confused, and the wind kept building, making driving even without the kite a demanding experience. We found ourselves on a collision course with a tug & tow, and had to soak very deep to go behind them. Right then we felt a big bump, and the rudder picked up some huge chunk of kelp (or something), making driving very difficult indeed. Sailing super deep in 30 knot winds at night while avoiding shipping traffic with kelp on the rudder isn't anything I'd read about in the notice of race... Finally we crash jibed (about 100 yards directly to weather of the tug), but at least it got the kelp off and had us back on starboard and heading back out to sea again. Very soon after this, the wind built very quickly and very strong. It was clear we needed to depower and we sent Curt up to douse the #3. The wind was screaming in the rigging as we drove down waves in the mid teens. We could barely see Curt through the spray as he struggled to get the jib on deck. Many of the hanks came undone making the job even harder. Finally he got it gather and bungied down and came back to the cockpit. We still had too much sail up. The wind was clearly in the mid 30s with gusts much higher, and we desperately wanted to put a reef in. While I'd gone to the trouble to have a reef added to my nice racing main, we didn't have an effective reefing line system. Since we would have had to point upwind to put a reef in (which didn't seem either fast or pleasant), and had to suffer with the full main. The vang was all the way off, main wrapped around the spreaders and I finally realized why everyone said I'd be beating up my nice mainsail on this trip. Somehow Michael kept it pointed downwind and eventually the wind started to subside again. We started to get the first glimmers of daylight. Without a headsail the boat jerked side-to-side violently in addition to all the other crazy motion from the steep cross-seas. Consequently, I had become nastily seasick by this time from the motion of the boat. However, Curt was down below resting so I went up and re-hanked the #3, put it up and poled it out. Michael, who'd driven the windiest and toughest part of the race went down to rest and John and I stayed on deck. I was too sick to drive, and John drove for a while, repeatedly praising the incredible design skills of Carl Schumacher as we continued to surf down big diabolical waves. The seascape was ominous with steep and confused waves as far as the eye could see. For about an hour we were in "conservative mode", as speeds were frequently under 10 knots, so finally we put the shy kite back up again. We got to the point we should jibe for Point Conception and on Scott Seller's previous advice waited another hour before jibing. For the next 4 hours or so we frequently went back and forth between the #3 and the shy kite as we worked our way towards Point Arguello. John asked me to call the previous owner and thank him. "For such a nice boat?" I asked. "No, for buying a shy kite...." Around Arguello, the wind subsided and we put the big kite up again. We finally saw some other boats as well-a large white spinnaker, and a yellow and red that I suspected (correctly) was Mark Dowdy's Express 37 Eclipse. They were on the port jibe coming out from shore and well behind us. We were well on track for getting to Point Conception by 2:30pm. At this point we were sailing in moderate (12-18 knots) of wind, the sun was warm, we were all feeling great. We had a chance to change to dry clothes, take off sea boots, and get comfortable. The waves were no longer confused and in fact had lined up into perfect steep swells coming from directly aft. Then, as we approached Conception, the wind started to build. The boat really came alive with the big kite and big waves, as the wind went through 20 knots, 25, 28, up to around 30 knots with higher gusts. We knew it would subside if we made it past Conception, so there was no discussion of taking the big spinnaker down ("keep going until it explodes"). We experienced the rides of our lives, surfing down 15-20 foot waves at speeds over 20 knots, rooster tails flying out both sides of the boat. The boat was fully in control. Everyone was behind the traveler and afraid to move forward. We'd poise at the top of a huge steep swell, John would ease the kite a bit and the boat would leap forward and race down the wave. Occasionally we'd hit a short wave ahead and scoop up a foot of water which would roll back the boat and fill the cockpit. The grins we had on were so big we were still wearing them the next day! Predictably the wind lightened after we got past Point Conception. We saw the Express 37 headed out to the islands, and the big white asymmetrical spinnaker (which turned out to be a Santa Cruz 50 we'd passed in the night) followed suit. Knowing it was correct, we stayed out as well, until we got to a jibe angle for the finish. We jibed and were headed straight towards the finish (still 20 miles out) when the wind shut down. This was the bone-headed move of the day, as staying out as long as possible would have put us on a much better angle when the wind predictably filled from the southeast. Rather than a jib reach to the finish from across the channel, we had a straight beat up the coast in 1 knot of foul ebb. Our hopes of a pre-midnight finish were dashed, though eventually we got in close to shore and in full tide relief. The wind shifted so we were ghosting straight along the coast at 4.5 knots and a 1am finish wasn't looking so bad. That's when the wind shut down altogether. It took four hours to go the last 4 nautical miles to the finish, tacking back and forth with boat speeds around 1.5-2 knots and a foul tide. We finally ghosted across the finish line at 4:20am, completing the race in just a few seconds over 30 hours. Baba, our trusty shore crew cheered us on as we finished and met us at the dock with our faithful mascot, Juneau. We headed to the motel for a few hours of well deserved sleep before getting up, unpacking the boat, and driving home. While we often felt like we weren't driving the boat hard enough (ie, anytime we didn't have the spinnaker up), news of Magic Bus reached us Sunday afternoon during our 6pm checkin. They had dismasted at around 9:30pm off Monterey (actually very near by our attempt to chicken jibe). Fortunately everyone was OK, but they were faced with the long, cold, and unpleasant motor back to Monterey (25 miles out, 20 miles to weather). We had no idea where Moxie and Wetsu were, but they weren't at the dock when we arrived so we must have driven hard enough. After comparing notes with previous races, despite the boat's ability to stay in control even when completely over-canvased it is necessary to exercise caution to get to the other end with the rig intact. The Express 27 inspires a huge amount of confidence when surfing down waves, but there are limits to what it can take. It was an amazing ride, and I'm completely amazed at what an Express 27 is capable of. I'd never had great ocean surfing conditions on this boat before, and I'm definitely a convert now: if you haven't been on an Express 27 at speed, you haven't really lived! The entire crew was fantastic-never once giving anything but 100%. Curt changed headsails at least 100 times (well, it seemed like that)-often 2 or 3 times in a row-without ever suggesting we make up our mind. Michael drove the toughest leg in the wee hours of the morning and the worst weather. John was on the other end of the spinnaker sheet almost the entire time it was up. We are already making plans for next year... Brendan Busch Express 27 - Attack from Mars |
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