Sailing in Banderas Bay these days is better than ever. The blue skies, flat water, and steady winds have reminded us how much we love this place.
Saturday (pictured) was fantastic. Sunday was challenging (to say the least) but we survived.
Today, Wednesday, the Beer Can race was so good we stayed out for an hour afterwards having cold drinks and being amazed at how stunningly beautiful it is here.
The crew is great, the boat is fast, and the competition is as tough as ever.
Today we notified the racing crew that there will be no more races this season. The Corona virus concerns have resulted in the cancellation of the remaining races, including the Banderas Bay Regatta, the big one, the one we focus on all year. We also cancelled our crew party, and that hurts because it was our chance to personally thank each crew member for a great season, but now is not the time for an afternoon of hugs and sharing of food.
I love the racing here on Banderas Bay. The sailing and racing is so excellent that every day when I look out on the bay and see the perfect conditions I wish I was out there. But the thing to remember is that we have already had a wonderful life of sailing and racing. Even if we never sail again, we must be thankful for what we have already been given, our life on the sea.
And the sea is perpetual. These winds have been here for eons and I expect there will be many more days of great wind on this beautiful bay. Some day we will lay ourselves down and never sail again, but hopefully that will not be soon. I certainly want and expect a few more years worth for us too, God willing. So...there is always next year.
I wrote this note to our crew: (the last part is for Jasmine, our Mexican jib trimmer)
Dear Friends and Crew Members,
I am sitting here on Wings listening to the wind howl and a moment ago I watched as the Mexorc racing fleet sailed past. My heart aches that we are not out there, as it always does when a beautiful sailing day goes unused.
And with the cancellation of the regatta I know we’ll have to wait for the next racing season for another chance.
You have been a good crew and you all worked very hard training with the regatta in mind. Judy and I love you all as if you were our family. We’ll miss you for the next many months.
But the experiences we had and the skills we learned were not a waste. They cannot be taken from us. And the friendships we have made will last forever.
And we are lucky that we are not experiencing the more serious effects of the corona virus that many others have around the world.
And…
There is always next year.
The party scheduled for next Sunday is also canceled.
Here is a famous quotation from Jospeh Conrad, Ah, The Sea:
Ah! The good old time—the good old time. Youth and the sea. Glamour and the sea! The good, strong sea, the salt, bitter sea, that could whisper to you and roar at you and knock your breath out of you. ” He drank again. “By all that’s wonderful, it is the sea, I believe, the sea itself—or is it youth alone? Who can tell? But you here—you all had something out of life: money, love—whatever one gets on shore—and, tell me, wasn’t that the best time, that time when we were young at sea; young and had nothing, on the sea that gives nothing, except hard knocks—and sometimes a chance to feel your strength—that only—what you all regret?” And we all nodded at him: the man of finance, the man of accounts, the man of law, we all nodded at him over the polished table that like a still sheet of brown water reflected our faces, lined, wrinkled; our faces marked by toil, by deceptions, by success, by love; our weary eyes looking still, looking always, looking anxiously for something out of life, that while it is expected is already gone—has passed unseen, in a sigh, in a flash—together with the youth, with the strength, with the romance of illusions.
PS for Yas,
Estimados amigos y miembros de la tripulación:
Estoy sentado aquí en Wings escuchando el aullido del viento y hace un momento vi cómo pasaba la flota de carreras de Mexorc. Me duele el corazón de que no estamos ahí afuera, como siempre cuando un hermoso día de navegación no se usa.
Y con la cancelación de la regata, sé que tendremos que esperar la próxima temporada de carreras para tener otra oportunidad.
Han sido un buen equipo y todos trabajaron muy duro entrenando con la regata en mente. Judy y yo los amamos a todos como si fueran nuestra familia. Te extrañaremos durante los próximos meses.
Pero las experiencias que tuvimos y las habilidades que aprendimos no fueron un desperdicio. No pueden ser quitados de nosotros. Y las amistades que hemos hecho durarán para siempre.
Y tenemos la suerte de no experimentar los efectos más graves del virus corona que muchos otros tienen en todo el mundo.
Y…
Siempre hay el año que viene.
La fiesta programada para el próximo domingo también se cancela.
With a “Blast” in December our racing season got underway.
On day one of the Banderas Bay Blast, after a pretty decent start (seen below) we sailed well on the first beat and controlled the small but competitive performance class. We rounded the windward mark first only to watch Olas Lindas sail past on a tear and extend their lead to the finish. We could do nothing to stop them, but we retained second place. It was not unforeseen; it’s happened before in this event, and as usual, it left the next two races to determine the overall score.
Day two, however, was our day; the long beat to Punta Mita is our favorite race of the year and the conditions were perfect this year, once again. The fleet set off one by one, slowest boats first. Over 30 minutes after the first boat got underway we started in pursuit of them, and, staying close to shore and out of the tide, we quickly began to overtake.
Over and over we tacked into the shore, twelve times, while our competitors stayed out. Each time, as we approached the rocks the tensions on board Wings became high. I called for the crew to be ready but I held the course steady; straight toward land. The depth gauge ticking down, 25, 20, 19…
Judy finally made the call, “Let’s get out of here, Fred!”
“TACKING.”
The boat turned suddenly, away from the shore, and we sheeted the sails in on starboard tack, heading out. The depth was 15 feet.
Other boats know this strategy too and we watched behind us to make sure none of them got inside of us, but how could they? We’d completed the tack as close as it was safe to go.
At the halfway point we were in the lead and then the big right hand wind shift began to show. Over the next half hour the wind rotated from 240 degrees to 330 degrees and it increased to over 19 knots. We were inside the shift which provided further gains.
We were being lifted towards the shore now on starboard tack and in fact we had to turn away from a couple of the rocky points. We were flying with the big genoa but becoming overpowered. It took a careful hand on the helm to stay in control but I didn’t want to lose the time it would take to change sails. I feathered up when the nearness to the shore permitted, and, nervous about the depth, closely watched the depth finder. The boat speed increased, we grew closer, and luckily we hit nothing.
We finished the 8.6 mile beat and the race at 2:35:14PM. 1 hour, 35 minutes, and 18 seconds. It was our best time ever for this race, 13 minutes better than last year, and two minutes faster than the previous best time, in 2016. And nothing on the boat was broken.
Obviously we were pleased.
Day three saw different conditions. This 12 mile downwind race started off fast with up to 25 knots of breeze and we set the spinnaker and flew at over 9 knots, pole to the headstay and barely in control.
At the mid-point of the race the wind died entirely.
The fleet stopped.
We scanned the ocean. Except for two catamarans which had gone far to the south, no one was moving.
Behind us two of our competitors coasted to a stop within yards of us. I could hear them talking.
Then I felt the slightest breath of air and somehow the sail filled. We moved ahead a little. The boats behind didn’t catch it.
More air came and we gained some speed. It seemed like only a few minutes but it must have been half an hour or more before I again looked behind us. There was nobody in sight. No one! A door had slammed shut.
The two cats were now just ahead and we worked hard to catch them, but to no avail.
We finished third, a minute or two behind the catamarans, but it was enough to win the regatta: a second place, first place and third.
Tension was high among Wings' crew as we watched the boats closing in on our right, side by side with us. The two boats were screaming towards the finish line and they were looking hot. It was hard to tell if they were faster or if we were holding them off. The racing was already tight; in just the last minute we'd passed two others on our left, barely, but now these two on the right were coming on fast, maybe too fast. They could be gaining. Were they gaining? It was hard to tell. We were still ahead but would the finish line come soon enough?
No one onboard was speaking, there were no sounds other than the sheet running in and out and the periodic, soft but urgent, "sheet" whispered from the trimmer, followed by the sudden answering rattle of the winch drum spinning, then, "OK", and then silence again. No one dared move lest the spell be broken; hold on, we might do it.
The ten people aboard Wings were all trying to will our boat faster. Myself, I was confident. As I watched the relative angles of the three boats it was clear to me: our nose was out in front, we'd cross first. We held our course steady, soaking down towards the finish while our main competitors sailed higher, toying with each other, destroying their chances.
OK with me, I thought and then the radio call came: "8986". We'd done it, first in the race and therefore first in the regatta.
Now we needed some champagne but, silly us, we had no champagne on board. We had plenty of Tequila so we celebrated with that. It worked. Tequila is the new Champagne.
The Banderas Bay Blast not really a grand prix race, it’s even called a “rally” by some, but the racing over three days was serious and intense so we were quite pleased to win convincingly.
Sunday’s triangle race started off well enough for us; we scorched the fleet up the coast to the first mark and led the way down to Nuevo. But behind us, moving well on the light air reach, was Vanishing Girl, a Beneteau 40 we haven’t raced against before. They are rated 40 seconds a mile faster than us but we held them off most of the first reach and then after they got by at the gybe mark, stuck closely to them on the final leg, and we knew we had our time on them. Disaster hit when the breeze failed completely 1 mile from the finish. We were at that time about 1/3 mile behind Vanishing Girl but it took us 10 minutes to finish. We had to settle for second place.
Monday’s race was a nine mile beat from La Cruz to Punta Mita featuring a reverse start where the slowest boats go off first and the faster boats start later. Again we scorched the fleet. Starting 58 minutes behind the first boat we passed all of them by the half way point and finished the race in first place 8 minutes ahead of the next boat, Bright Star. Since Bright Star started 2 minutes before us, it meant that we gained 10 minutes in a 9 mile race. We only owed them 9 seconds a mile but we beat them by 60 seconds a mile. Our new sails are sterling upwind. Vanishing Girl was fourth.
Tuesday found us facing a 14 mile run from Punta Mita to Nuevo Vallarta and another reverse start. We waited around the start line while all but two boats set their spinnakers and headed off towards Nuevo before we were allowed to go. But then it was our turn and the chase was on. We sailed aggressively after the leaders, slowly grinding down boat after boat, while constantly watching over our shoulders for the fast boats behind who were chasing us. It was no surprise that Vanishing Girl was back there creeping up on us but it did shock us to see Alarife as well hanging in there with us; they were remarkably fast. At least two times they tried to pass by sailing higher and taking our wind. A couple of firm luffs discouraged them from coming to close to windward of us and then when they sailed farther to windward to keep clear we took advantage of a slight shift and bore away. It was a gain for us. Finally the race came down to the five boats closing in on the finish under spinnaker, virtually overlapped.
What tension, what fun!
We had fun celebrating our victory.
That night there was a big party at the yacht club and we relived all the good moments from the racing with our competitors and danced until we were too tired.
Last week's clouds and thunderstorms made us think that with the coming of summer the good sailing was over but recent days have shown us that even in June the Banderas Bay thermals can still occur given a clear sky and a bright sun. In those conditions the bay continues to be great for sailing.
Sunday was one of those days, and when the breeze started to fill at noon we decided we'd go out. It was a snap decision. No planning, no discussion, just go.
I guess we just can't get enough sailing because just the day before we had competed in the "Downwind Umbrella" race, part of the marina's Summer Sailstice festival, not in Wings but in Mike's old yellow snark, which we borrowed and sailed to a clear victory. We had a new umbrella (from Walmart), color coded shirts, and hell, we even practiced the day before, so maybe we should have won, but it was Judy's faultless steering and the boat itself which gave us the victory; the snark has a centerboard and a rudder, and when the race turned into a reach the kayaks and dingys just slid off to leeward. Judy held us high and we glided to the finish line first.
video footage-rick flucke
Downwind Umbrella Race Video
It was all part of the grand Summer 'Sailstice' festivity put on the marina and organized by Katrina and by Mike Danielson of PV Sailing. Oh, it was fun! Paddle board racing, giant paddle board racing, live music, Thai food cart for those who feel Mexican isn't hot enough, prizes galore, musical chairs competition, and the headline event, the downwind umbrella race for any dingy, kayak, or other craft powered by an umbrella or other homemade wind capturing device. Wally, from the yacht Stella Blue, sewed a square sail out of women's underwear and rigged it on his kayak, which looked cumbersome to me with all of its top/bottom hamper and rigging and sure enough, he and Antoinette, his crew, broached spectacularly right after the start. They got the wipe-out prize.
But we got a prize for first place, Judy got second place prize for her speed and agility in musical chairs, and we ate Thai food and drank beer and had a good time. Thank you Marina Riviera Nayarit and Mike and Katrina.
Sunday was spectacular. Clear and hot, totally blue sky, beautiful blue ocean with white caps showing, and a great breeze in the high teens. The conditions were stunning. There is nowhere as beautiful for sailing as Banderas Bay on a nice day. We set sail and sheeted in on starboard and sailed upwind along the north shore. We held a big lift all the way up to Punta de Mita. After a pass through the anchorage there we turned downwind and set the spinnaker, executed a perfect jibe, and reached for home. The wind built to the low twenties and with the pole on the headstay and a long swell we were charging. The high speed for the day was 9.25 knots and I made Judy nervous by steering with one hand while taking photos with the other. But it was alright and when we got back to La Cruz we'd covered 27 miles. A good day's sailing!
Well, they say life is a reach and then you have to do a take-down. "No problem," I said. We turned downwind and put the sail in the lee of the main and dropped it on the foredeck. It went perfectly until I took the halyard off and then a wind gust blew the whole sail over the side into the water. We had to turn upwind to slow the boat and pull it back on board, and of course besides being soaking wet there is a pretty good hole in it. Dang! Well, I have a few sewing projects on the list already, I'll add that one.
Oh, then the engine overheated. Whew, another item on the project list.
So that's the report from La Cruz, despite everything, it was great.
Two and a half months of preparation, hard work, training, and competition in minor races were the lead-up to this moment. It was the first rounding of the top mark in the last race of the Bandaras Bay Regatta.
The water was as blue as India ink, the sun as bright as the high desert, the bobbing yellow windward mark was flashing by as the spinnaker was going up. When that sail filled the boat surged ahead and we went flying straight downwind in the fresh breeze. The wind was right, the course was perfect for us, and the crew was hot. The next few minutes made the whole two and a half months of preparation and hard work worth it: In 200 yards we passed one boat and were reeling in the next. The leader, Olas Lindas, looked closer. At the bottom mark we were in second place and closing on first. No we didn't go on to win, we were still minutes behind Olas at the finish, but it was the closest we'd come the whole regatta and it felt good.
It was really nice to have a good day; we'd had some tough sailing in the first two races, hard sailing, and while we were always in the hunt, we finished well down both days. The starts were fine, and each time we came off the line leading, but we never could hold off Olas on the beat. A bad habit of overstanding the windward mark let another boat, Bright Star, by twice. There were some other mistakes and when the courses, with the long reaches which didn't suit us, were thrown into the mix, we struggled.
But this, THIS! Now this was sailing and this is what we came for. When the race was over we were exuberant.
Now we have finished the Bandaras Bay Regatta, the focus of our campaign this year, and the racing in Puerto Vallarta is essentially over for the season. We put a lot into it, hard work, some money, and a lot of wear and tear on the boat and sails. But the effort was worth it in many ways besides a good finish in one last race: We refreshed our racing skills, picked up some local knowledge which we can use next year, and we had some wonderful times with our new crew. And most importantly, we were in the arena, as Teddy Roosevelt said, which is something. And in the end, you get out of something exactly what you put into it, and we put in a lot.
So, we shift gears once again. Spring is here, and Summer is soon to follow. We won't be racing, but, once we take a breath to recover from this season of competition, we have work to do. We have boat projects to do, Mexican immigration to deal with, and a summer's heat to adjust to. Next year, if we do this again, we'll have to refresh the crew, repair the tired old sails, and make the effort all over again.
I am a sailor, born of a nautical tradition passed to me by my father and my Grandfather Alfred. I’ve spent most of life on my passion which is the sea and the vessels which go upon them. I have had many such vessels and now I live on and sail on the sloop WINGS.
which I acquired in 1986 with my wife Judy
who shared my passion. For ten years we lived on Wings in Seattle and sailed, including racing. Then we left the Pacific Northwest and voyaged across the world, across the seven seas, to faraway places, and made them our own.
For thirty-eight years I have lived and loved this life. I still live on Wings, in Mexico, and sail and race often. Judy passed away in June, 2023 and I miss her but you can still join us and sail the seas as we did for all those glorious years. Fred Roswold, SV Wings, Mexico
Starting on Port Tack
Party on Wings
Race to the Finish Line
Yeah!
Tequila is the new Champagne
Judy Trims the Jib
After The Race
Fred & Judy.jpg)
