What do you get if you put a Tasar, a 505, a Thistle, a funky yellow boat, a DS and a Laser together on the same course? Which also has about 40 Keelboats in different starts.
That about describes the dinghy section of the last mixed fleet race of the season, our midweek beer can race.
Because the fall equinox is not far down the road, most of the race (definitely from the second mark) was technically night sailing, but a full moon and skyshine helped.
The sun didn't come out to play as forecast during the day, reducing the thermals to a mere shadow of their normal selves (and the overall weather system was no help). With the DS being the heaviest boat in the group, the challenge was to keep moving, particularly before the start (definitely no luffing at the start line), and to not get trapped in some wind hole away from the line.
We had a good start (starboard at the pin) and after that kept up with the fleet. The wind bifurcated: half the boats were on SB, the other half on port -- but all on the same heading.
Halfway to the first mark, the Tasar gets a bit of new wind and disappears. The 505 follows. The Thistle finds things too slow and motors home. We lose track of the yellow boat for a bit, we have our sight set on the Laser and pass him after the first mark. We extend a bit before tacking, he tacks right away.
Dusk is falling, where is the mark? Normally bright orange, now a dark blob on the water. The 5o5 is rounding it. We can get there on a single tack, the Laser cannot and falls behind.
Downwind, the city skyline lights up the water, we can see the ripples end on the right (closer to shore) so we stay away from the land. Can we fly a spinnaker? (The "we" here, covers just the skipper and his trusty helpmate - a bungee tiller tamer). Yes, there's just enough wind, and in some of the puffs we pull away from the Laser who is in dogged pursuit.
The yellow boat must have given up. We see him paddling towards us, away from the next mark.
The big boats in front of us are black outlines, all with a white sternlight. Where white lights turn red is where the mark must be. Another shadow on the water, but we can see it now between two of the boats in front of us.
The spinnaker keeps coming aft as the wind shifts along the lake. To fly it requires tiny little tugs on the guy (windward sheet). The leeward sheet can be left untended, gravity provides enough pull on that side of the sail. Heeling to leeward keeps the boom extended.
Splashes. One of the bigger boats decided to give up and is dropping swimmers over the side. Heads in the water, black spots, outlined by city lights.
Getting closer to the downwind mark. The 5o5 pulls around the mark, comfortably ahead of us, but not out of sight. We must have been gaining on them.
The wind keeps up, barely, allowing us around the mark; close hauled, or rather, just a bit free, so we don't stall (keep the boat moving) we extend into the open lake. Where's the wind? Plotting a few tacks to stay in the wind lanes until we get back up enough towards the part of the lake with steadier winds (in a gentle breeze we watch the moon rise; looks like we can lay the boat end of the finish line).
The Laser has made up ground, but then the wind dies first on the side where he is sailing. We coast on the last bit of momentum across the finish line. Get hailed by name from the committee boat. So we paddle over there and get the news: we've made third. First time our DS has placed in the seven years we've sailed this race.
No handicap racing is not kind that way; we've had occasions before where we would have beaten one or more boats on corrected time - but it's about showing up, getting the best of of your boat, having a good time on the water, and swapping stories later over a beer.
Low wind races are exercises in patience and strategy. Sitting extra still in the boat, pick a course and stick to it, keep the boat moving, keep the flow attached.
Now that it's done, I'm glad to be able to lower the trolling motor; we give a tow to the Laser. And with that, the season is over.