Chrass Landing

I participated in my first regatta on Saturday after nearly a week of training.  Before I started I had never set foot on a sailboat before and knew nothing about the subject.  Now I know slightly more.

Looking out towards another boat and a buoy that doubled as a race marker/seal lounge.

I have learned many important things about sailboats:

1. The terminology is bewildering.  For example, a rope is never called a “rope”.  It’s generically a “line”, but based on its use it can be a “sheet”, a “guy”, or a “halyard” and probably seventeen other names that I haven’t heard/remembered yet.
2. The boat is designed so that just about any horizontal surface can be walked/sat upon.  Just about everything attached to the boat, even if it looks flimsy, is strong enough to keep you from falling into the drink.  This is especially important when the boat is heeled over.
3. If you don’t move around softly you’ll get yelled at because it slows the boat down.  I am apparently a stomper.
4. If you stand fore of the mast it slows down the boat and you’ll get yelled at and feel shame.
5. Most of the time you’re just ballast and responsible for moving to the appropriate side of the boat to increase/decrease heel.  While doing this you must move like a ninja lest you get yelled at and feel shame.
6. Even though there’s only five to seven people on board it’s very difficult to incite a mutiny.
7. Sailboats are incredibly expensive to own –and it’s not just the price tag.  The maintenance, insurance, and moorage all cost you in perpetuity.

The first time out, I got a chance to do try just about every task on the boat (steering, trimming the spinnaker, tacking the jib, etc.)

Hey look a mainsail!

During a race your duties (and your position on the boat) fall into a very narrow range.  During our race practice I was responsible for jumping the jib and spinnaker halyards (in English, “raising sails”), helping to wrangle the spinnaker pole when we were jibing, being ballast, helping to douse (in English “lower”) the jib and miscellaneous odd tasks like skirting the jib if it blew over the rails.

During the races the wind was pretty light and my help during jibes and dousing the jib was frowned upon (in English, “I got yelled at and felt shame”) and so I was relegated to jumping halyards, being ballast, drinking beer, and yelling at harbor seals lounging on buoys.  My poor friend Gordon who started practicing at the same time as me had even less to do (he had no halyard jumping responsibility, doesn’t drink beer, and doesn’t share my disdain for those fucking seals).

None of these people agreed to a mutiny.

Being the ship’s bitch isn’t as awesome as it sounds, but I’m still absorbing a lot of information and I figure I’ll work my way up to more interesting positions should another crew member die suddenly.

Our sloop (a J/30 for those of you that care) got two bullets (in English, “we won twice”) in our three races and placed first overall.  This was a first for Grady (the boat’s owner) so I have to assume it’s because of my raw talent and immeasurable contribution to the crew.

If you wait until after the race, there isn't much to take photos of. This is one of the inflatable markers used in the race (now deflated) that we were asked to pick up by the race committee.