We were hitting speeds in the high sixes going upwind with 25 knots of wind and big seas and the ride was pretty bad. It would be nice to slow down but Wings, sailing to windward in a strong breeze, doesn’t know slow. Puttin up a small headsail and putting in a reef in the main makes no difference; still too fast. We flew off of wave after wave and landing was like hitting concrete. The noise was deafening. The bow tossed up ocean water like someone throwing buckets, only lots more. The wind then carried it back and it landed on the dock in rivers. The whole boat was continuously covered with salt water. Down below conditions were not so bad but after a day or so things started getting wet there too.
And the pounding continued.
Mp4 102 Rene Stands Watch on the Crossing (to see this video try clicking on the heading and then maybe click "replay")
I knew the boat was strong and over the years I’d been through this before but after a while you just wonder how the hull and rig can keep taking it. But what to do? We really had to go upwind; we were crossing the Sea of Cortez going to La Paz and the route was up wind. So we just kept going, hoping it would be over. Resting down below or on deck huddling behind the dodger we just sat there taking a beating. Rene was stoic and I was glad for her experience and calmness but I was anxious and jumpy.
We tolerated it for two days
Finally I said to Rene, “Let’s try heaving to.”
“OK”
Hove too we were basically stopped, there was no slamming and no noise.
Hove to the boat became quiet and calm. Don’t let anyone tell you a race boat can’t heave to. It can.
We began to relax: “This is nice!”
We resumed sailing the next day and the wind continued.
It was more of the same tough conditions. We hove too again the next night.
By the fifth day we had battled our way across the Sea of Cortez and we anchored in Baja at Los Frailies.
Well that was an quite an experience but it was over.
For the next month Rene and I explored Baja and it was much nicer. After Rene four other great crew members joined me, one by one, and helped me sail. It was fun. In the months after rough crossing there was some great cruising with weeks of sailing every day between the islands and many pleasant nights anchored in quiet harbors.
Mp4 108 Tacking San Jose Channel (to see this video try clicking on the heading and then maybe click "replay")
There were even some overnighters when Dulce and I found ourselves becalmed in the middle of the Sea of Cortez for hours on end but we kept sailing and kept the boat moving. Dulce became a pretty good light air sailor, she had to.
Three months later, on the trip home though, there was more tough sailing. Kelly and I found ourselves in a big squall which ripped the mainsail in half (more on this later) but we survived.
So, that’s sailing I guess.
Boat Work
There were also projects and repairs. Things like starters burning out and leaking water tanks which were wake up calls and needed immediate attention.
Small repairs kept us busy also.
The new dodger
And then there was the dodger. I’ve made dodgers for Wings a few times over the years and the one I made in in Trinidad in 2013 was looking pretty ragged. We were lucky the heavy weather on the way up the Sea didn’t blow it out. Making a new one seemed like a good project to do when I had a few days alone in La Paz after Rene left. I got out my roll of white acrylic cloth and started cutting and sewing. I sweated and worked and made an ungodly mess with cuttings and threads and tools all over the boat. I was glad there was no crew aboard to have to deal with the mess.
For much of the trip we had a big problem with the propellor shaft and had to sail everywhere. The engine was basically useless even though we worked on it every day. When I returned the boat to La Cruz it immediately went into the boat yard for major repairs.
Living in Close Quarters
“What? No door on the toilet? Really? Will you please go on deck for a while? I need some privacy. And maybe you could put on some music.”
I had five crew members on board on this trip. Four single women and one guy, Kelly, who is one of my best friends. They all came individually. The women who dared to venture into this unknown liveaboard sailing thing were all pretty brave individuals, and trusting I guess, because they were going to be alone with me on this small boat and three of them had never met me before. But it worked out. It’s not just the toilet. There are no private quarters and no doors anywhere. Living in close quarters like this on a stripped-out race boat with a total stranger takes some getting used to. We shared the main cabin, changed clothes behind a partition, and everybody got the privacy they needed. We all tolerated each other’s quirks, and if anybody got on anybody’s nerves they never let it show. In any case it all went pretty smoothly.
About the toilet: Well, I told them about that before they signed up but it was still pretty shocking I guess. For the people joining me for the first time to live on Wings for a few weeks it was quite an experience.
Me? I had no problem? I enjoyed it all including the domestic stuff like sharing cooking and cleaning and choosing a wine together to have with dinner, I need the company. In fact I like it so well and am so used to it I think they are still there sleeping on the bunk across the cabin even after they have left. I wake up in the mornings surprised to find nobody there.
After Kallie the next crew change was scheduled in Loretto on the 17 of June and Dulce stepped off the bus right on time as the fourth crew member this year.
Dulce and I also had a lot of fun sailing around the Sea of Cortez including a few nights homeward bound when lack of wind and a broken motor left us sitting for hours.
Finally Dulce flew home from Mazatlán and Kelly arrived, after a grueling bus trip.
Terry had the worst time of it I think. When strong winds kept us hunkered down for several nights we didn’t get to go very far. But we made the best of it: we got to Puerto Balandra and went to the beach during the day for sunbathing and swimming and got back to the boat and got it closed up every night for the strong Coramel winds. If you know the right places to anchor 31 knots all night at is not a problem.
But probably the best thing for my crew was the sailing. Rene and Kelly were old hands but the other three were pretty new to sailing so there was really a lot to learn. It was one long class. At anchor I demonstrated their jobs to them and then we practiced.
And we practiced.
Things like raising the anchor and setting the sails got to be mundane, as did getting the dingy up and down. Even anchoring, which takes some skill and coordination, became ordinary. Charts were studied and navigation was taught. I added nothing that we didn’t need to do on our cruise, but we covered everything, even repairs.
Sailing however, was the real fun.
Putting sails up I work the foredeck and crew tail the halyards and use the autopilot to keep us head to wind.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes”
“Ok, right 10 degrees, then hoist.”
Sometimes it’s hard work and I was glad for my time in the gym the last few months.
Tacking or jibing I am usually steering and handling the mainsail and helping with the running backstays. Sometimes we traded jobs but usually the crew did everything else, releasing, winching and including running forward to skirt the jib.
“OK, Ready to tack?”, I would call.
“Ready”
“Tacking”
Then winches spin and sails fly and three or four jobs have to be completed in quick succession. We did it all. And we did it well. Some days we did it over and over. There were no bad tacks.
MP4 424 Approaching Nopolo
(to see this video try clicking on the heading and then maybe click "replay")
We sailed into tight anchorages and dropped sails on deck then secured them to prevent them from going overboard. Choosing the spot and setting anchor was the next challenge. My crews learned how to judge the bottom with their toe on the chain, how to tell when the anchor was holding and how to decide we were swell set. On their signal I would cut the engine and we would have a cold drink before the task of folding sails.
“It is time to start dinner or do I have time for a swim?” I think I heard that every day.
The Squall
After Dulce left my friend Kelly came for the trip from Mazatlán to La Cruz. I needed the experience he brought. The engine was basically useless and we had to sail out of Mazatlán harbor and of course all the rest of the way home.
We had some good wind and exited the harbor under sail without a problem but the season had changed and there were southerlies, so it was upwind work again.
About 03:30 in the morning I was below and Kelly was sailing close hauled on starboard tack in about 10 knots, using the windvane. The genoa was close hauled and the main boom was prevented out to port to keep it stable in the sort of lumpy seas.
“Hey Fred, something is going on with the wind”. I heard the call from my sleep.
Yep, something was going on all right, 30 knots hit us from the south east and knocked us right down on our starboard side, both sails aback.
I got on the helm, but what to do? I swung the boat around but close hauled on starboard, aside from being way over canvassed, took us to the NE. The other tack was pretty much west and neither was going to be good for the sails which were straining. Reefing the main would require going upwind and the genoa wouldn’t tolerate that, so it had to come down, not easy in this breeze, besides, which of us could go forward to hand the sail? It was one moment when I wished for roller furling.
We left the sails up as they were and I turned downwind. Kelly handled the sheets and I worked the runners and main. It was completely the wrong way to go but the flogging sails settled down and the boat came back under control. I steered by the Windex light at the top of the mast keeping the wind right behind us. Wings took off at 8 plus knots heading pretty much due north. We were glad we had sea room.
That was when the main let go. I heard a tear, then the sail unzipped from the leech to the luff, right across the middle.
Kelly said, “That is not a good sound to hear.”
We were still going 8 knots and steering was a handful. I couldn’t leave the helm and there wasn’t much Kelly could do either, so we just sailed, with the main in tatters.
Finally the wind moderated and I managed to get the windvane on and it took over the steering. Kelly and I went to work, untangling the mess, and put a reef in the main, just above the rip. Then we turned upwind and resumed sail to the south.
March 23, 2025- Banderas Bay regatta and thoughts about the future
wingssail images-vicki westphal
We’ve just finished another Banderas Bay Regatta, the eleventh one we’ve done on Wings since 1997. Last night we went to the Banderas Bay Regatta awards ceremony. We had some good sailing in this regatta (and a lot of hard work) but for the first time in the eleven times we have sailed it, since 1997, Wings was not on the podium. In the past we have typically been 1st or 2nd. Now this year we were forth out of 4 in our class; last place. It is disappointing. But all good things pass into history.
The question was asked, “Can you get back on top?”
Well maybe. It's partially about crew and partially about boat types.
This crew is getting better; they are good. But it takes years of experience to make really great sailors. This bunch will be ok with more practice and experience but even though I have some superstars I need a few more if I want to win. It’s tough to find superstars, and even keeping these people will be hard, some will move on to other things and others will decide the commitment and hard work is too much and I will have to rebuild. It would take two or three years to put together a really great team; we are on the way but it takes time. I know, I've done it before a few times.
Boat types is another challenge. In all three monohull classes this year the winning boats were modern, light weight, faster boats or much bigger boats. All were ones that reach better than Wings. The courses used by Vallarta Yacht Club favor lighter, reaching boats. If I am racing against similar boats, with a great crew, I can get back in top. Tenacatita this year proved that, we were dominant. But that was a different fleet, excellent pick-up-crew, and a course which didn't require fast reaching speeds. We also have one regatta here in the bay which is like that, the Blast, which occurs in December. We always win that. Last December we dominated it, winning by 20 mins in the second race. Wow! What fun.
For the other races the rating system could be changed that might help us older, slower boats, but there is little incentive for the yacht club to change it.
On top of it all it is hard work to keep this boat in racing shape and manage the program by myself. Harder each year as both myself and the boat ages. And expensive. For 38 years it was Judy and I. We were a good team. This year and last I have had crew who came to Vallarta and lived on the boat and helped do the work (a lot of it requires two people). Last year Rhonda was here a lot, she was wonderful. This year it has been Renee and she has been super also. These two women and some others have been close friends, not GF but friends, who were happy to come here and help. Mark, a very loyal crew member, has been a big help too. I have been very fortunate.
Since I have owned this boat I have raced it over 600 times, mostly winning or placing well, in addition to sailing around the world. Now I feel like I need to reassess my life. I will still sail but maybe a full-on, 26 race per year, program needs to be reconsidered. Is it worth it to carry on until the boat's glory years, and mine, are just a fading memory?
Now I will get to work for a week to convert back to a cruising boat and then go into the Sea of Cortez and relax for a few months. Rene, a great sailor who is another really good friend, is going with me for part of it and that will be fun. Then I see what life brings and how I feel about everything. One thing I know: this year was hard, more than anything getting and working up a crew. The boat is hard to sail competitively and these guys from this year are really feeling exhausted right now. I'm not feeling exhausted, not physically or mentally. I feel fine but just not sure it is all doable or worth it going forward.
Or maybe I am just down at the moment after this regatta. We’ll see how I feel in a few weeks.
Summer in Mexico is a time of boat work; winter is our sailing season.
But as the end of summer rolls around and racing dates are looming if the boat work is not finished I begin to scramble and this year was no exception.
wingssail images-fredrick roswold
Hit the deck running
I did have a long list including a new bow pulpit (after a disastrous port starboard collision when we were on starboard and a boat to leeward decided to cross us on port. He didn't make it and I couldn't' avoid him, big OUCH) and propellor shaft and flange replacement. There was other work to be done on the topsides where the Imron paint needed attention and new epoxy deck paint with non-skid was also needed. There were new toe rails fore and aft to be crafted and winch revisions to be completed. The hydraulics needed attention and instrument upgrades were in the works. A lot of other projects were checked off including many interior upgrades (some of them major) such as important maintenance including keel backing plate replacements as well as a significant enlargement of the aft cabin berth.
Actually, the list this year was really long but I almost got through it.
Almost.
My trip to Oregon earlier for a short break was really fun but hadn’t helped me keep on schedule.
So here I was in in November about to start the 39th racing season with a to-do list which was still a little bit intimidating.
Fortunately my friend Rhonda came down to Mexico to pitch in. A day later a new friend Renee joined us. We got right to work and the progress with two willing hands was excellent. One of my regulars, Mark, spent a day too and I think the list was finally completed.
This year getting my crew in shape is also going to be a challenge. Some of my most loyal crew are aging out and replacements are hard to find. Neither Rhonda or Renee will be able to sail much this winter either, if at all. I recruited new people aggressively and fortunately I found some great new talent but bringing them to a high level will take time. We went sailing a couple of times for training.
wingssail images-fredrick roswold
Setting sail for the first time, Tressa and Al
But it is not all work. In Mexico we like to play too; there was music to be enjoyed and time at the beach to swim in the ocean and soak up the sun.
wingssail images-fredrick roswold
Sunset at the beach
Finally it all came together and we had our first race.
But it was a bit of a struggle to get out of here by then, we had only 5 days after the last race, the boat was still a race boat, race sails, no dodger, no dingy, no life raft, no solar panels, no wind vane, and no provisions
Plus we had major damage which resulted from the collision in the Banderas Bay Regatta. Wing’s bow was mangled and the pulpit lased together with ropes and duct tape.
But I don’t give up easily and my race crew and Rene all pitched in and somehow we got it done and sailed out of La Cruz on March 28.
wingssail images-rene canhamBrainwaves
From day one, when we hooked up with Jim and Deb on Brainwaves sailing to Pta Mita, this cruise has been a success (even though Brainwaves simply sailed away from us).
Over these three months we had a bit too much motoring but plenty of good sailing as well as tough, very tough, sailing. We’ve had breakdowns, repairs, but plenty of gorgeous days in those three months.
And crew. It took several weeks to recruit the crew I needed for this cruise. I didn’t want to sail Wings single handedly, the boat is not set-up for it, and I have never done it so I worked hard for find suitable and willing candidates.
But find them I did. First Rene, then Sarah, then Jennie, then finally Liz. Each of these amazing women help me sail Wings and made it their temporary home. At times they even sort of took over and made Wings their own. I loved it and mainly due to them the Cruise to the Sea of Cortez was a total success.
We sailed over 1560 nautical miles but didn’t that far away. Most of our sailing was done going around the beautiful southern Sea of Cortez, back and forth between La Paz and Loretto, visiting all of my favorite anchorages and ports and just chilling.
Now I am back in La Cruz and resuming life in port during the summer heat. I have the air conditioner running. I have the awnings up and rain collecting systems rigged. I am back at the gym and also enjoying the local music scene. And most of all I am engaged in a major boat work project. That work list is long and challenging. My friend Rhonda came and helped me on some of the harder tasks (and also went to gym and the local music bars where we danced, even in the summer heat).
La Paz, anchored in front of Abaroa’s Don Jose Marina with a dead motor. No working starter so no motor.
The starter burned out on the way here from La Cruz when a crack developed on the engine’s water system and salt water drenched the starter. Got out the spare. Oh No! the spare starter needs repair. I was going to do that last year but when Judy went into the hospital and then passed away, my mind went blank and a lot of things got away, like fixing the starter.
So here we (Rene and I) were in Baja with no motor. Still had 67 miles to go to La Paz though, so we had no choice but to set sail without a motor.
Those 67 mile were rough. Lots of wind and waves and tacking, and spray and sail changes, (I got drenched at least three times) but we sailed fast and we got to La Paz and anchored in front of Abaroa’s.
Now I had to fix the starter and a lot of other things, like the crack oin the cooling system, like the water maker, and a few others, but I got to work and by now Wings is in good nick.
We also sailed in the Banderas Bay Regatta and got second place, but not without a lot of drama. The worst was a serious collision we had with another boat, it was their fault! They tacked onto port right in from of us and I
had about 5 seconds to avoid them but a seco0nd move on their part, another wrong move, made avoidance impossible. BOOM! Fiberglass flying everywhere and bent metal on the bow. The other boat was badly damaged and they had to retire from the race. I decided Wings was OK to continue and we wound up finishing in second place for the regatta. There was a protest meeting and Wings was completely exonerated.
It was fun at the awards party but the damage on Wings put a pall over it all for me.
I still had my plan to sail to the Sea of Cortez for three months, each month with a new crew member on board to help me. The first leg was to La Paz with Rene but we had a lot of work to do to get ready and only four days to do it. Many of my wonderful race crew helped and by March 28 we were ready.
So then there was the sail to La Paz which I mentioned above.
On April 5 Rene flew back to La Cruz and the next day Sarah joined. She is great too and I’ll write more about our trip together later.
Meanwhile I am getting on with life. Not always as I wanted it to but we have no choice, do we?
February has been pretty busy, we've been sailing, we had things to do like fix the car door handle which broke off, there were visitors on board Wings, and all sorts of things. Check out some more photos here.
For four months Heiko and Martina were my neighbors and I watched them work and work and work on their Bliss, their Columbia 45 sailboat.
That boat needed a lot of attention and refurbishment before they could go sailing and frankly they were getting rather tired of the drudgery tied up to the dock. Bliss needed everything and Heiko and Martina were new to the whole sailing thing. I helped them where I could with electrical, electronincs, rigging and general boat stuff. We became friends.
Finally Heiko and Martina got Bliss in good enough shape to get off the dock and they moved to the anchorage when the rates at the marina went up.
Today I joined them for a sail. The stated purpose was to tune the rig but they really just wanted me for some confidence building.
They don't need that. They are sailors. New sailors without a doubt, but sailors.
We had a great time and their rig which they totally re-did by themselves (wow!) was pretty good, we hardly had to do any tuning.
I know that pretty soon they will be heading out in Bliss for more sailing adventures.
wingssail images-fredrick roswold Heiko and Martina
I will miss them.
September 3, 2023-Sailing With Salomé and Ben and Martina
Salomé has been helping me work on Wings and we went sailing a couple of weeks ago. Now her boyfriend Ben has arrived and we decided to go sailing again so he can see what it is like.
We also invited Martina, my neighbor and her boyfriend Heiko, (but he declined). And we asked Rick from Eyes of the World and Ricardo (another Rick but he went by Ricardo) and Ricardo brought Caroline, so that made seven of us all together.
wingssail images fredrick roswold FAKE photo with Salomé, Ben, Rick and Martina
Unfortunately it was a big Instragram FAIL! Nobody took any photos on this trip so my shot, above. is a FAKE. I just made it up.
But we had a great time.
The wind was nice and we traded off steering, both Ben and Martina took a turn, with Salomé coaching each of them. (Salomé is quite handy to have aeound the boat and in order for me to help the new people know what to do, I just put Salomé in charge and she is a natural).
Martina also trimmed the Kite and everyone went forward to take it down after our fun sail.
The funniest part was after we got finished sailing and I had the beer brought up I asked Salomé to steer again, which she did, but she quickly said, "Why are we going this way, the marina is back there?"
I answered, "We're dinking beer now, we can go in later."
"OK"
We also sailed into the marina before we dropped the main and started the engine, so we followed pretty much all of my sailing rituals.
wingssail images fredrick roswold I can sail again
I can sail again. I know now.
For the last three months I have been afraid of how it would feel to sail Wings without Judy,
so I avoided that.
The boat sat in the slip, unused, since coming back from Yelapa, in April
I thought about sailing single handedly but I had said to her many times in the last 38 years;
“I have no interest in sailing singlehandedly”.
Of course I meant, without her.
But Judy is gone.
Now I have decided that if I sail it will not be single handedly, but only with another. It is the closest thing I can do to honor that promise I made.
Today I took the first step.
A young new friend, Salome, joined me and we sailed Wings.
It was a good day of sailing. We put up the sails and sheeted in and the water was flat and the wind gentle and Wings sailed well. Salome had the helm but we traded off some. We did some tacks.
Up by Punta Montoga we put up the spinnaker, and we jibed, not expertly but well enough. On the second jibe we got the sail hooked under the anchor, and we tore it. But it wasn’t bad and we continued.
When we took it down we got it in the water but it was OK.
We came in after a couple of hours and sailed into the marina under main as I always do, and when the motor would not start properly, I got it going.
After docking we folded the main and put the air conditioner on board then went below. I had a beer and Salome had a coke. Salome asked about Judy and I told her the story, what happened, etc. She listened and that touched me. I felt a connection, the first in a long time.
After Salome left I poured some Laphroaig scotch. I can sail again. I know now.
In the fall I believe most of my crew will rejoin and we will find someone to take Judy’s job. While it will be painful and we will miss Judy, we will go on.
I am going through a photo scanning project and right now I am working with a bunch of images from the America's Cup which I made when I covered that event in 2000 and 2003. On one rough day I witnessed the amazing destruction of New York Yacht club's boat Young America and I wrote a story (see below).
I was on the photo boat loitering at the weather mark during the Luis Vitton Challenge waiting for the last boats to round. It was a grey day and rough and most of the photographers were grumbling about the poor conditions for photos as they focused their lenses on the nearest boat, Young Australia.
I, however, was optimistic at the chance for some good shots; the waves were big and the boats coming upwind were bashing into it. I swung around to zoom in on Young America, New York's entry, just coming towards us and just as my shutter started to clatter on high speed continuous Young America hit a big wave and broke its back. I was the only photographer to get that shot.
We thought the boat was going to sink and we raced over to get close, and pick up crew if need be, but Young America did not sink and was towed back to the base, broken but still floating.
Read the whole story here and after that I will describe why I think the boat broke, with photos, an opinion which got me in hot water with Farr Intenational (more on that later).
Here is the story I submitted after that incident:
“What
has yachting come to? A bunch of wimps sailing fragile vessels that are
constantly breaking apart who will not race in winds above 18 knots. I am really upset.” (A comment from a Seattle
sailor in response to the racing limits for America’s Cup boats.)
We love
to read the stories and see the videos of the Whitbread racers tearing through
the Southern Ocean in gales of wind with bow waves shooting high, sailors
huddled in their foulies and waves sweeping back across the decks. We all
remember Freemantle and those terrific scenes of leaping boats and amazing seamanship. So why are these guys in 1999 such wimps and why are the new boats so
unsuitable for conditions we might shrug off on a typical Gran Prix?
Actually,
it’s about winning, and, as with everything with the America’s Cup, its about
money.
To win
the America’s Cup a boat has to sail in upwards of 60 races. Of course the boat
has be together all the way to the end to win but statistically most of the
races will be in moderate conditions with winds under 20 and flat water. In
those conditions a light boat will be faster than a heavy boat. The IACC
(International America’s Cup Class) rule contains specifications about skin and
core thicknesses but section 18.3 states, “It is envisioned that internal
framing will be required to support the induced sailing loads...[but] it is
left to the owner to ensure that the yacht is adequately framed.” The teams
have two basic choices: Build light, go fast, take a chance on breaking, or
build heavy, ensure that you won’t break, and virtually guarantee that you will
be eliminated early on. So the obvious choice if you want a chance to win is to
cut it fine. Push the limits, take the chance. Some of the light boats might
break, but one of them will win. No yacht “built to take it” would win.
What
about the boats that have resulted from this design decision? They are pushed
to the limit, and beyond it. The hulls are light, the sails are huge, the
ballast is deep and heavy, the hulls are long and lean. The forces are
tremendous. Several of the skippers, including Paul Cayard and Peter Gilmore
have made comments about the power of these boats and the strains they have to
withstand. Cayard states, “At 55,000lb, [the IACC boat] has a tendency to be
engulfed by the seas-quite an experience as you feel it shuddering as it
crashes through the waves.“ Spectators, even at a distance of several hundred
yards hear the creaking and groaning of the boats in heavy seas. And the rigs?
They don’t even have backstays, depending on runners and the mainsails
themselves to keep the rig up. These boats are extreme.
Are the sailors really wimps? Not a chance.
The boats are scary and they are undermanned. When the winds get up into the
20’s there are not enough crew to trim the sails as fast as the skippers want
to turn, or as fast as the competition demands. Peter Gilmore, a veteran 12
meter sailor, said that compared to those older boats, these were undermanned.
That’s interesting since they had 11 sailors on the 12 meter boats and these
new boats carry 16. In 20 knots of wind there is 30 apparent across the
foredeck, eight feet wide, slanting, no lifelines, leaping 10 or 15 feet in the
air on the waves. Would you want to wrestle a 1500 square foot genoa on that
foredeck? But they do it, and they go up the rigs in any conditions, and the
sailors are clearly willing.
So then
why don’t they just take their chances and sail in whatever weather presents
itself? I think this is where the money comes into play. These syndicates have
all (even the poorest teams) spent a lot of money to get here, and they all
want to win. No one wants to see their $4 million yacht broken or lost, and
they don’t even want to lose one race through an equipment failure. New York
was lucky, they have a second boat waiting in the wings. But what about America
True or Spain? One boat, no second chances. Then there are the personal stakes.
There have been a lot of sacrifices made to get here, a lot of reputations and
careers on the line. No one wants to throw it all away being macho. So in the
end there is tremendous pressure to save the boats for the finals. Sitting at
home watching it on TV, I’d like to see them battle it out with huge waves.
However, if it was my $4 million, I’d probably be thinking about reducing the
risk too.
I was
watching Young America when it broke. The conditions were bad. The windwas only 20 but this is the ocean and it had
been blowing for days from the NE. A good swell had built up. The tide was
running out of the Harbor and the waves were short and steep, the big ones were
six to ten feet high. In fact it was too rough for us on the photo boat, a 45
foot aluminum hulled, 750hp inflatable. We almost didn’t make the run back up
to the top mark, too punishing for just a few shots of two boats rounding, and
the light was bad for photos anyhow, gray and dark. None of the other photo
boats went up there, but we did. Nippon and Young America were engaged in a
terrific tactical duel, both yachts approaching the mark on port tack, just
below the layline, with Young America leeward and ahead by a length or two.
Timing of the tack was critical. There was a big set of waves but Young America
couldn’t wait for flat water. As Baird said later, “We needed to tack for the
mark”. The yacht disappeared behind one big wave, then came off the top of the
next wave right as the bow passed through the wind. I shot off a couple of
frames as the boat dropped into the trough, and as I looked through the
viewfinder I saw a huge splash and the boat broke before my very eyes. The crew
looked stunned. I yelled at the driver of our boat. “Get us over there fast,
right now!” We expected Young America to sink, it looked that way. No one saw
Nippon round the mark, all of our eyes were on the disaster unfolding on Young America.
In
seconds we were along side, Chaos. Crew leaping in the water, the mast swinging
wildly, the cracking sound of carbon fibre like shotguns as the hull continued
to fold. But then it stabilized, and it was clear that it wasn’t sinking, yet.
The crew cautiously went back on board and began passing off sailbags. They
took down the sails and rigged a tow line. Within a few minutes there were
pumps on board and airbags in the hull. Amazing stuff to see, I’m am lucky I
was there.
So why did the boat break? None of the other boats broke. I believe a design decision which was unique to these boats, was made which contributed to the failure. On a very choppy day on the Hauraki Gulf New York’s USA-53 came off a wave and as it crashed down onto the next one it broke just aft of the mast. The first shows the boat breaking as it landed on that wave. The upward impact on the bow and the downward force of the mast and the keel cased the side decks to break and the hull folded. Fortunately the hull skins stayed intact and the boat did not sink. The damage can be seen in collage, Photo 3 and 4.
Since no other boat broke in the way were there any unusual design or construction characteristics of USA-53 that may have contributed to this failure? The answer is yes and I wrote about it at the time.
The Farr organization scoffed at my assessment, rightfully noting that I was neither a marine architect nor possessed knowledge of the engineering which went into the boat, however there were some striking and obvious differences between USA53 and other AC boats of the time. Other AC boats in Auckland that year had cockpits which formed a box with a forward bulkhead and side walls connecting the cockpit floor with the deck, adding stiffness to the midships area of the hull. USA53 had none of this structure. There were no sidewalls to the cockpit and no forward bulkhead. This can be seen in Photo 1. Further, the cockpit of USA53 ran farther forward, nearly to the mast, leaving much less deck between the cockpit and the mast. For a comparison the walls and bulkhead of La Defi can be seen in Photo 2. Imagine a cardboard tube, like a paper towel tube, with half of the top cut out. Then press down on the middle while holding the ends up. It will break right in exactly the same way as USA 53. Now imagine the same cardboard tube with a smaller cut out and a box structure taped inside. It will not break as easily.
That is not to say that this is the cause. Farr organization criticized the team for not reporting cracks which had previously appeared in this area and also proposed that the lamination of the hull and deck were in adequate.
But the end result of this was that the crew were spooked and subsequently treated the back-up boat USA58, with trepidation, leading to some speculate that they didn’t push as hard. They lost the Louis Vuitton series.
https://www.nytimes.com/2000/01/28/sports/yacht-racing-young-america-designer-ends-silence-on-mishap.html
I’m on watch and I’m just sitting on deck, watching. I guess that’s what you do when you are on watch; you watch
It’s midnight and we are running down wind in a strong breeze. We have a reefed mainsail and a small jib polled out on starboard jibe. The windvane is steering. The boat is fast. I’m seeing 10’s on the speedo but I don’t like it. The waves are big and the boat is rolling and swerving and the ride is a bit wild. I’m just waiting for something to break but thankfully so far nothing has.
We need to jibe towards our destination, Barra de Navidad. Judy’s watch is starting and she is getting ready to come up. I tell her, “Turn on the deck light, I have to go forward and we’ll jibe”.
Using the wind vane we turn the boat to the new heading and get the mainsail across. I put the preventer on. Now we need to get the pole over and the jib to the new side as well. I’m going forward to do that. I’m clipped in and I mostly crawl to the foredeck because the motion is wild.I shout directions to Judy. She handles the lines from the cockpit. On my hands and knees I deal with the pole and barely avoid getting conked as it swings around. The motion up here is extreme and it is exhausting just to stay on board, even though it’s only for a few minutes. I compete my task and retreat aft
Now the boat is jibed, the pole is out on the new side, and we settle down, there is 62 miles to go; less than 10 hours. By daylight the wind drops, then shifts to the south. We go close hauled and start tacking. It’s only 10 miles to go now but the wind and a strong current are against us so it is painfully slow. We’re tired and a bit frustrated. It takes three hours to get to Barra.
Judy and Mike from Honu catch our lines. It’s good to see them. Hugs.
The next week goes pretty good. We hang out with our friends and enjoy the Barra de Navidad experience. There are parties and drinks on the Malecon, which prove exceptionally strong and I barely avoid getting tipsy. But we have fun. I am busy planning the races next week for Tenacatita and meanwhile I’ve got to prepare for the single race in Barra, the Flamingo Regatta. I need to line up some crew. I get a bright young guy named Imas to grind and I get a guy named Cliff to do the main. Both are new to racing. Greg and Gloria also join. Greg is my jib trimmer. Gloria is doing halyards.
The Flamingo Regatta doesn’t go exceptionally well for us, 9th place out of 22. We start last, as our start time requires, and pass 15 boats, but the wrong sails for the light air and some weak crew assignments prevent us from doing better. To win we need to pass 22 boats but we don’t. We normally expect to do well and a lot of spectators thought that we would too and they bet heavily on us. We’re sorry we didn’t perform for them but their bets make money for the charity. It’s OK, we have the second highest number of bettors so we made good money for the regatta even if none of the gamblers made out on us.
Next we sail to Tenacatita. It’s supposed to be a rally but the other boats were worried about strong winds and left earlier. We sail alone. Nice sail though; there were no strong winds to worry about. Tenacatita is fantastic. Great anchorage, great weather, and many of our friends are here. The Tenacatita Race Week looks like it will come off as planned except only two races ins
tead of three.
Three days of racing seems to be too much for many of the competitors so we are cancelling the third Race.
But what good racing it is. I’ve wanted to race in this bay for decades; it is beautiful, the wind is nice, and the sailing is outstanding and here we are on the starting line with six boats. A great start gets us off the line at speed and we are first to the top mark (which is the sailboat Karvi). The spinnaker work is good and we romp around to the finish. First Place! >Day two the breeze is up; 19 knots. We set the small jib and again have a good start. Nobody can touch us upwind in this breeze either.
On this beat we get the rare sight of a very near whale encounter. I am steering but due to the people sitting on the high side I can’t see the water off to our side. They start telling me of a whale nearby. Suddenly a large humpback whale breaches within 50 feet of our boat, next to us. After landing it swims directly towards us and then dives under our keel. Within a few feet of us its tail slides out of sight. I half expect to feel our keel hit the whale but it does not.
We put our focus back on sailing and get to the top mark first. We set the big symmetrical kite and head off almost directly downwind. The other boats are sailing higher but we are sailing deep with the pole back and the sail is pulling well. Every minute we are gaining.
Then comes the jibe. We need to jibe to get to the next mark. In the breeze it needs to be well done but the crew is new and we’re short one person. Then I spot a snag at the end of the pole which would be a big complication.
I chicken out and say, “We’ll set the jib, take down the kite, we won’t try to jibe it.
That is successful but we’re much slower without the spinnaker. Now the boats behind who still have spinnakers are catching up. What can we do? Those boats gain inexorably and the group of closes up. Brainwaves, the nearest one, gets by.
We still have the last upwind leg and as we turn the corner toward the finish we again do well and start to regain what we lost but at the finish Brainwaves is still leading and they cross us. We finish second but are in third place on corrected time.
Third place is OK. Two other boats got places ahead of us and they are really happy. We’re happy too, because they are happy. Everyone is a winner, Tenacatita Race Week is a success.
Two days later we are heading home to La Cruz. The weather doesn’t look good. We see projections of brisk northerlies and worse the following several days. Not wanting to be pinned down we head out.
The forecast is wrong. The wind is very strong: 25-29 knots against us. That is true wind. Over the deck we are seeing 34 knots of wind. We only brought the racing mainsail and with one reef it is too much. We are overpowered. The boat is sailing fast and pounds into the waves. In trying to slow it down the sails flog. This is unpleasant. We are passing Chemala at 4:30 PM. We could go in and get out of this rough weather but the next day is forecast to be worse. We decide to carry on. The sailing continues to be very difficult however.
By 10:00 PM we decide to take down the mainsail. This is also difficult and dangerous. Our mainsail is not attached to the mast; only a bolt rope holds it on. When it comes down it comes free of the mast. In this breeze the danger is of losing it overboard, a very big hazard.
I go forward and pull down the main with two hands and try to hold it onboard with my foot. Judy handles the lines aft and controls the helm (and injures her arm when the waves briefly take control and yanks the helm over). But we do it. The main is down and lashed to the boom. We now sail with just the small jib with still over 50 miles to go, all upwind. We are surprised how well the boat sails with just the small jib. It is a lesson we are just now learning after 38 years. Wow!
With this configuration the sailing is much easier and, while the wind does not ease, we carry on with little trouble.
By noon the next day we round Cabo Corrientes and head for La Cruz but the wind is dying and we sail slowly.
We arrive safely in La Cruz at 9:00 PM.
The Tenacatita trip is over, successfully finished.
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
Heavy water hitting the dodger
The new dodger
And then there was the dodger. I’ve made dodgers for Wings a few times over the years and the one I made in in Trinidad in 2013 was looking pretty ragged. We were lucky the heavy weather on the way up the Sea didn’t blow it out. Making a new one seemed like a good project to do when I had a few days alone in La Paz after Rene left. I got out my roll of white acrylic cloth and started cutting and sewing. I sweated and worked and made an ungodly mess with cuttings and threads and tools all over the boat. I was glad there was no crew aboard to have to deal with the mess. 
Rene
Terry
Kelly
Night time Coremel winds
ITime for a bit of work
First Beer Can Race
Fred & Rena
Brainwaves
Rene, Sarah, Jennie, Liz
La Paz
Anchored in Los Gatos
Agua Verde
Balandra Sand Dune
And can we dance!
Anchored in La Paz
Wings in Boat Yard
Wings Crew
Temporary Repairs
Fred & Rene Sailibg
Rene in Colors
Sarah
First look at new Genoa
Fred takes a look
Marilyn navigates in the Beer Can Races
Dinner Party about to begin
FAKE photo with Salomé, Ben, Rick and Martina
I can sail again
Young America Breaking
Comparison and details
Reinforcement on the New York's Other Boat
Judy was part of the scene
America True
Judy takes us out
Flamingo Regatta
Close Racing
Upwind in a Blow.jpg)
