Saona's Sea Shanties: A Regatta to Remember

"A Regatta to Remember"

Saona in Cygnet – March 2009

A Sail Trimmer's Account

by Michael Short

Saturday morning broke on the 7^th of March, and as my senses woke too, I could hear the wind howling through the trees and the rain spitting down onto the roof. It’s a Saona day.

As I opened the curtains, I saw a beautiful sight – white caps and near-horizontal reefed yachts. Ben was to pick me up at 1050 at the top of the driveway as it was just the two of us sailing, like most races. I grabbed a few snacks to take as well as some of our favourite cup-a-soups which tend to make an appearance in most races. Before I left, mum was horrified to see me wearing my worn and torn trackies off the property; she demanded I changed into something a little more aesthetically pleasing. Denim jeans it was - mistake number one.

As we drove down to the marina we saw a myriad of over-trousers, sail covers and bags hanging off all ends of the town boats – we in Kettering Div 2 call them “the go-fasts”. This sight made me realise that mine were still hanging in the laundry and with the state of the weather, they might be handy. I rang home and they swiftly arrived within minutes much to my relief.

We made our way up to the end of Pier B to Saona passing by many rugged-up friends as well as a few town boats organising themselves in the blustery conditions. The wind was streaming through at about 20 knots gusting to 27 in the way direct out of the western valleys. We gathered our gear and stowed it below in places that would cause the least amount of damage. I then began to remove the covers which were aided by the stiff breeze, but it was trying to fold 3, 4 and 7 metre sail covers with a westerly that remained the problem until Ben finally saw me and said that they didn’t need to be at Wooden Boat Festival standards – for this race only!

The next problem came as to getting out of the berth. After a minute of discussion, we came up with a plan of waiting for a break in the squalls and then just revving out like usual - simple in theory. We picked our gap in the wind and began to reverse but like we had pissed off Mother Nature, the wind decided to pick up just the wrong moment which then resulted in the newly-painted white-tipped bowsprit poking its way through a go-fast’s stanchions. After a few more revs, a bit less wind and a whole bunch of townies pushing us away, we were underway.

With the wind behind us cruising out of Little Oyster Cove, we rounded up and began to hoist the colour. No sooner were the Mizzen and Main up, the donkey was off and we were cruising around at 6 knots. Finally all sails were up and we were well and truly away. The start was mid-channel through Roberts Point with about 95 boats, it was a spectacular scene.

We began with a reefed main but as the wind turned to rain, we hauled it out and sailed higher, faster and more angular. In the lighter airs, the lighter yachts gained on us and it seemed as if we had suffered the worst of the wind before the start. For a period of about 5 minutes, the drizzle eased, the clouds broke open and the sun shone through – a welcome change.

But this momentary lapse in the weather brought about fresh winds.

As we powered past Kinghorne, the seas began to build, the wind began to shift and the sailtrimmer/ballast (me) began to hold on to the rails for dear life! We were still doing about 6 knots with the wind directly out of the SSW at 28 knots. Diomede II and Saona seemed to be having a competition to see who could show more antifoul to the windward yachts and I think we might have been winning – though I am sure Dave and Jan Moore will disagree!

As Ben and I raised our eyes above the protection of the doghouse, we could see that the weather was getting worse further south – more wind, more waves. It was mutually decided that now, at Flowerpot, was the time to put the reef back in the main. Unwillingly, I took over the tiller as Ben made his way forward. Being the kind crew I am, I diligently avoided making the waves crash over the bow and all over the captain! As the brake was taken off the winch, the main dropped and bellied a few inches like a posing model after leaving the catwalk. The first reefing line was hauled in and fastened, the tack lashed and all was well again on Saona. Not only did we gain half a knot, but we also gained a few more degrees vertically.

Now approaching Middleton Light, I turned around to see neither Diomede nor Meander who were following earlier – only a scattered fleet of small white sails and many square metres of black, red and blue antifoul. This made us wonder what it would be like on a 30’ sloop with reefs and many wet crew – the beauty of a semi-dry, 40’, 16t ketch.

As we kept our eyes peeled on the horizon, we saw something expected but still worrying. That tiny Hobie catamaran that passed us at Woodbridge doing about 15 knots was now horizontal with two wet, very wet crew standing on the bottom hull. The first thought was to go straight over to see if they needed any help but to be able to do that would require us to be fully in control of Saona, i.e. under motor. It was decided that as we were slowly getting closer towards the stricken vessel, we would closely monitor how they were doing and if they really looked troubled it would be in our duty as a Kettering yacht to lend a hand.

The moment came where they were still in the water trying desperately to right the cat and we thought it was time for us to head over, when a motoring yacht appeared off our stern and was going in the direction of the hapless craft that was bobbing up and down in a much more sinister way than can be described. “They must be going over” I though and began to concentrate more on what was happening on Saona. No more than five minutes later, I turned my head back around to see the motoring yacht nearly out of sight and the Hobie cat still on her ear. As Ben and I discussed which sails to pull down and in what order, they finally managed to right her again – much to my relief and theirs too no doubt.

Due to no fault of our own, but the natural coast, we found ourselves a long way over on the Bruny shore. Over here, the wind was gustier, the waves were stronger and the water lonelier. We had slowed right to 4.5 knots mainly because we had the stanchions in the water slowing us down! After a huge gust, (wind speed not accurately noted due to the fact that holding on and releasing sheets was a higher priority – approximately 39 knots) and having waves breaking into the doghouse over the washboards, engulfing a very reliable camera (note to self – cameras don’t like water), the only real option of reducing sail was to ditch the staysail – mistake number two.

As the bowsprit pierced through the seas, I began a quick dash up the windward deck to the base of the mast to release the halyard. All seemed to be going swimmingly before I was really swimming through the white-water which swallowed the bow. I let go of the halyard and lashed the boom to the rails but the sail wouldn’t come easily. I grabbed the bungee cords off the cabin rails in anticipation for a quick tie down but they were soon attached back to the windward rails – just out of my reach as I would soon find. Eventually I got the sail down ready to be tied but as soon I released the head, it would fly back up the stay like a kite in a hurricane. After some hand juggling with sheets and some swift footwork, I got my hands back on the bungees with no help from the waves which took a liking to my red “waterproofs”.

Wet, windswept and truly washed up, I made it back to the doghouse where Ben greeted me with a cheery grin asking if it was all okay and if I was at all damp. I looked up at the speedo and we were going slower! We had also lost all our push and it felt like we were bobbing up and down on the spot. To make things worse, Pisces II sailed right under us with a good 5 knots behind her; we had to make a change.

Saona finally built up enough way on to tack and we headed towards Ninepin Point on a rare, winning port tack. No sooner were we under the shadow of Mt. Grosse, the waves died and the wind eased slightly. Quite content we were, to continue sailing on this tack, but the rocky shore below Gordon Jetty persuaded us otherwise and back out into the weather we headed.