The Race
You may have read and/or heard that we
are back in the States. It's a true story. We are here. We spent a
couple of days with our good friends Mik and Christina who had sailed
their mighty boat Split Crow up to Victoria to meet us.
Walking...check. Museums...check. Big city tourists...check. A
good time was had by all in the beautiful city of Victoria.
After our last port of call in Canada
with our good friends, we decided that a race was in order. A race
across the Strait of Juan de Fuca to Port Angeles would be the
perfect setting for such an event. Split Crow has been our
sailing nemesis for as long as I can remember. We have sailed to
many a port with them, always with a race along the way, and with
many an insult being thrown out on the high seas. Usually I have
some smart remark about how my Grandmother can walk faster than Split
Crow or something about how my captaining skills are better than
his captaining skills. You know the drill...friendly banter (or is
it?). The key is to rattle the competition . We both have boats
that are old, heavy, and slow. They are pretty evenly matched so any
advantage is a good advantage. If a quick one-liner does something
to throw the competition off balance then it is a worthwhile
endeavor. Now that the course has been set (and insults thrown
around) it was time once and for all to see who's boat was the
slowest.
The problem that Split Crow had
for this race was that the professional crew that has usually been on
board for our past races was nowhere to be seen. The 3 girls that
were the lifeblood of the ship (Mik and Christina's daughters...and 3
of our favorite girls on the planet) know how to handle the pressure
of a big race (they can throw out insults better than me), but they
have all moved on to greener pastures (college). That is a big
problem for Split Crow's Captain. Since the Captain of the
mighty ship Split Crow has no willing crew, he has the same
problem as me...we both have wives that think a race with our old,
heavy, and slow boats is pointless. Pointless or not, this race is
happening. I drag Brenda into it and Mik drags Christina into
it...both wives not caring one bit.
The race course is set and it's nearing
start time. Start time is officially whenever we feel like getting
off of the dock. This happens after coffee, after more insults, and
whenever we can get Mik to stop talking. Since silence and Mik don't
exist together, we have to leave mid sentence...I have a race to get
to and I can't be bothered by mindless chatter. The last thing I
hear before we head out to the course is Mik saying something about
him wanting us to wait for him at the start line so we can have a
fair and honest race. Fair and honest racing and I don't exist
together so we do our best cheating and leave the dock a little bit
earlier than Split Crow.
The weather is calling for 10-15 knots
of wind on our big race. This is the perfect amount of wind for our
boat. This amount of wind will propel our slow boat just a little
bit less slow than our rival. I know this because of our past races
and the fact that when Mik wasn't looking, I tied 3 buckets to the
back of Split Crow for him to drag across the Strait...again,
fair and honest racing and I don't exist together.
So the race starts...it's blowing 12
knots...we are in the lead (because we left earlier)...both boats are
looking good...both wives don't care one bit...we are actually
pulling away...it could be because of the buckets that I tied to his
boat...it could be because of my insanely superior captaining
skills...who cares because I'm in the lead...then it happens...12
knots of wind becomes 10 knots, then 8, then 6, then 2, then zero
knots.........As soon as the race began, it ended. About an hour
into our big race that was to determine superiority on the high seas
forever, the wind completely died and the race ended. Once again the
weather forecasters are 100 % wrong about the weather. I am going to
claim victory because I am writing this story and he is not around to
dispute my claim. I was in the lead when the wind died and that's
all I care about. We are the champions (you can sing the Queen song
to that last line over and over if you want...I did when I claimed
victory).
We end up motoring the rest of the way
to Port Angeles and get checked into our fine county. After we are
checked back in to the States, we decide that a trip into the Olympic
National Park would be a great way to spend a day, so we rent a car
and head up to Hurricane Ridge. Normally when I have a rental car, I
prefer to drive the thing like I stole it. Jumps...yep,
bunny-hops...uh-huh, 2 wheel action...you better believe it. Since
this is the first car that I have driven in 3 months and the first
time I have been on a road and around people and traffic, my Duke's
of Hazard style driving was a little rusty. I had a hard time
keeping the car up to the speed limit of 35. I have been driving a
boat for the last 3 months that on a good day goes 7 miles per
hour...35 miles per hour seemed really fast. I have been getting
used to the traffic on the high seas being miles away from me and now
someone wants to tailgate me??? What's that all about??? They
weren't really tailgating but it sure seemed like anyone who was
within a mile of me was too close.
Anyway, we make it up to Hurricane
Ridge and have a great day hiking and admiring our fine country on a
beautiful sunny day. It couldn't have been better. I am going to
miss the great Northwest when we are gone.
After I returned the rental car
(without even one burnout...bummer), we head to Sequim. We hang out
one more night with Mik and Christina in the bay and then part ways
with them in the morning. I wanted to get to Sequim before the end
of our trip this summer because my Mom and my good buddy Ron are
there and I wanted to spend a couple of days with them before Brenda
and I leave on our road trip.
We had our tour guide Ron show us
around. Sequim is an interesting little town with some interesting
things. They have what appears to be the oldest record of human
existence in North America (pretty cool), they have a creepy museum
with tons of taxidermied animals (not so cool), they have a bridge
that Ron claims is the 3rd coolest bridge in the world
(definitely a cool bridge), and they have lavender farms up the
yin-yang (not cool at all...actually pretty lame to visit a lavender
farm...don't do it...ever).
We got the A-1 four star tour from my
good buddy and tour guide Ron and I got to hang out with my Mom for a
few days. We had a great time in Sequim. I will miss my Mommy on
Phase 2 of our trip. It was really a fun few days for us and we both
wished we had more time there to spend with my Mom.
After Sequim we headed to Anacortes to
officially end Phase 1 of our world travels. Our boat got hauled out
of the water and is now sitting on blocks in a yard that has a nice
view of the sea. We wanted our good little ship to be in the best
yard, with the best view, and have the best care so she would know
that we love her and will miss her until we see her again next
spring.
So that is that. Our home is on
blocks. We are now living in our camper and I now have to get used
to driving on the highway and going faster than 7 miles per hour.
Jeff loves his wife. We all know that. He has told us that 182,722 times over 19 blogs.And love her he should. She was his therapist. She specializes in socio-schizoid-delusional disorders. Marrying one's patient crosses all professional boundaries but that's a topic for another day.
ReplyDeleteDelusions? "Our boats" are old, heavy and slow? My boat is sleek and fast. Flies like a butterfly, stings like a bee.
The delusion,,,,,,,, the concentric delusion is his insult."Are you sailing with your anchor down ?" Well yes, I always have my anchor down when I race with Jeff; 40 kg CQR and 100 feet of 3/8 inch chain. Its great when there's a sandy bottom because letting the anchor drag really equalizes the rating between our boats. So back to the delusional state. His wishful thinking is that his insult is really just an insult, but its reality. He wouldn't know that as he can only see the stern of my boat. My anchor hangs off of the bow.
And then back to Jeff loving his wife. I love my wife also. We generally make love while racing Jeff as this makes sail trim rather difficult. But my wife and I have made it easy by division of duties. My duty, well of course, its the pole, Chirs, yep, she grinds. When things get unruly sheets fly and terms like got to go to the head or going down below take on a whole new meaning.
Occasionally we look back and yes, Jeff is still there.
So yes we were late for the start line but then again we were in the cockpit.......