April 28, 2021-Racing Ends with a Bang and a Fizzle

It was a wild beer can race, lots of wind, but we rounded the weather mark well ahead and were in first place. Now we were having trouble with the gybe. I stood on the aft deck with the tiller in my hand and I watched impatiently as the foredeck crew struggled to get the kite around.

The conditions were gusty and the gusts came from every direction; not weak gusts either, they were in the 20’s.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the leech of the main take an odd shiver.

I yelled, “Gybing!”

The main was caught aback and commenced a sickening swing across the boat, like a scythe, with the full force of the wind behind it.

It came like a car crash.

People ducked, but some of them not enough: Judy, up by the mast, was caught on the hip and knocked aside. She grabbed the shrouds and hung on. The boom went over Richard but the main sheet hit him on the shoulder and threw him onto his face on the side deck, right over Mike who was in the cockpit grinding. Geronimo, the tallest man on the boat, bent at the waist and was missed, thank God.

I didn’t see any of this, I myself ducked; I just heard the huge “BANG!” as everything hit the stops on the far side of the boat. I looked up and would not have been surprised to see some breakage but in that instant everything seemed OK. I breathed a sigh of relief and focused my attention on the front of the boat, the sails and the trim and on the status of the foredeck and the spinnaker. I hadn’t seen the human carnage at my feet, before my very eyes. I shouted, “Sheet in!” and turned the boat. I was going after the competition who had gybed instantly and slipped by while we were having our problems.

But things weren’t fine. Now I saw blood on the deck. There seemed to be blood everywhere. I pondered for a second about who was hurt, then I saw Richard’s Covid mask, it was bloody, blood was dripping from it. Other people were struggling to get to their feet. I looked around, people were in shock.

“Ok folks, we’re going in, get the spinnaker down”

I picked up the radio. “Race Committee, Race Committee, this is Wings, we have an injury, we are retiring.”

 The winds in April are good. We’d tried to extend our racing this year because the winds are so good in April.

At this moment it didn’t seem like it was that much fun; my friends were injured and bleeding.

The next week we came back for another try but the injuries kept some people home. Others had other reasons, maybe after a long season they just didn’t feel like pushing it any more. Whatever, we really didn’t have a crew. Eight people were gone.

I said we’d go with whomever we had and just take it easy, after all, Judy and I can do this by ourselves if we have to, I said.

Wrong again.

Lynne and Rene came, and Mike and Judy, our neighbors came, so we went out, two old men and four old women, and I love them all, but it wasn’t enough. We had no mainsail trimmer, no foredeck, no grinder, and no navigator. I would do those jobs, all of them, Judy could steer.

And it was another windy day.

We got the sails up, but in 21 knots the big racing sails, even with the J3 Jib, made the boat into a handful. Judy said, “I can’t do this.”

What she meant was, this is dangerous and we shouldn’t do it.

Just then Race Committee called on the radio, “Wings, Wings, you guys OK, can you get back for the start?”

I looked around at the crew, my friends and neighbors. They’d do anything for us.

But Judy was right and she’d made the decision.

“Race committee, race committee, this is Wings. We’re too short handed and we can’t handle these conditions. We’re retiring.”

When we got back to the dock we began to fold up the racing sails.

We’ll get them out again next year.

Sorry, no photos.

Fred & Judy, SV Wings, La Cruz Huanacaxtle