May 13, 2013

This race preview comes in the form of a race report that's almost a year late. Don Quinly describes the 40th annual South Tower Race aboard his Cal 2-27 'Sweets III' on Friday, June 22, 2012.

One Boat's Perspective. Stockton to Blackaller buoy and back to Stockton. 140 miles.

Nine boats signed up for the 40th South Tower Race. Eight made it to the line. Pre-race, I needed some Ibuprofen – it was going to be a long day, or two. Our new friend and unknown crewmember Fred (later known as Big Foot) said, "I'll make a run to the store and get some." Thanks!

Five minutes to the gun: no wind, and we’re two boats lengths on the wrong side of the line. One minute: half a boat length. The crew’s urging to scull, faster. A Cal 2-27 at 7,000 lbs. and a PHRF of 213 doesn’t scull very well. Twenty seconds: turning the boat to get sideways and, maybe, squeeze by. Someone on the bank yells, "Clear!" and the gun goes off.

We had no wind for the first ten minutes, then it jumped to 20+ knots, and we shortened sail, doing hull-speed to weather and heeling 30+ degrees with a reefed main and a 90% jib. Two hours after the start, we were just behind the bigger boats and comfortably ahead of the rest.

I thought it was nervous energy, but my legs were real tired. Relax, I told myself, it’s gonna be a long race. I needed a break, so I called for each crew to take two-hour tricks at the helm and trimming. (The self-tacking jib sure saves the crew.) I wasn't feeling that great; maybe laying down for a few minutes would help. In the V-berth pinched between two spinnaker bags as the boat heels from side to side at 30+ degrees doesn’t make sleeping easy, but I got some rest.

Two hours later I got up, feeling groggy. I made lunch and handed out waters. I needed to sit down. Maybe I pinched something in my back and that's why I felt goofy. I'd take some more Ibuprofen. I dumped two in my hand and glanced at the bottle. Yes, Ibuprofen PM. Sleep medicine. What! The new guy drugged the skipper.

During my “rest” we'd fallen to last but still had a couple of boats in sight. A long sight. "Let’s open up and get some power." We worked it, and before dark, yeah, we gained a little.

By Suisun Bay it was pitch black. I didn’t know were the fleet was, and, out of the blue, a crew was yelling wee-haws. Black Fin, a Ranger 22, came screaming fifteen feet off our stern. Okay, we’re still in the race. Just about the time we didn’t see them and thought we’d shook 'em off, here they’d come again. All night we had great winds, great currents, little water coming over the bow except for minor splashes, and a competitor to play with.

We had great wind all the way to the Carquinez Bridge, then it slowly started dying. By the time we got to the Richmond Bridge, we were doing about 2.5 knots through the water, but we did have the current with us. When we were trying to make the turn into Raccoon Strait, the sails were barely filled and we were crabbing at a 45-degree angle not knowing what side of Angel Island the tide was going to take us. Halfway to Angel from Tiburon, the slightest of breezes lifted us into Raccoon Strait.

We rounded Blackaller Buoy at 08:20 Saturday, set a spinnaker, and had a good breeze towards Berkeley.

On the way past Alcatraz I went below to make breakfast. Eggs Benedict, bacon and croissants (or maybe cold chicken), coffee, and tea for Duke. I noticed someone (I’m not saying Big Foot) stepped on the electric faucet handle and ran out all 25 gallons of water. Humph, well, I had two partially filled gallon jugs and took one of these and made the coffee. I handed a steaming cup to Abe, who took a sip and said, “Where'd ya get this coffee from?” I said, “From the club.” (A club member roasts coffee for the club and it’s very good.) He says, “It tastes funny.” Irritated, I had to fess up that I had spilled the coffee and scooped up what I could from the counter, sink, and floor. He asked me if I had tasted it. I took a sip. Yuck. I picked up the gallon jug and unfortunately we all saw at the same time that the jug said, “Vinegar.” I’d just remembered cleaning the bilge before we left. Oops!

Earlier, when we passed Richmond Bridge, we saw a couple of boats in the Berkeley shoals we thought were our fleet. No, must not be, they're headed for Alameda. No, Berkeley. Later we found out why, as we sat off Richmond with no wind for two hours and twenty minutes. Two Rangers caught us, then we all moved to the other side of the bridge and sat for another hour and a half. The entire fleet sat in different holes from three to six hours with no wind. Our crew was trying to nudge into what little shade there was. San Francisco Bay in June? It was the warmest I’ve ever been on the Bay and it was still morning.

A slight breeze drifted us through San Pablo Bay, then under the Carquinez Bridge, and then we got 20+ knots of wind. I was convinced come hell or high water we were going to fly the chute all the way to Stockton. The wind kept building. About Port Chicago hell and high water hit, and, after untying a wreck of color wrapped around the forestay, we were under reefed main only still doing well over hull speed.

Through the S-turns, as the wind was dying, I told the crew that if we can keep six knots we won’t set another spinnaker. Crap, let’s set the spinnaker.

Sweets III with her spinnaker flying. Photo Courtesy Don Quinly

We had no depthsounder or masthead fly light the whole race. But we had a great spinnaker run using a red flashlight to see the masthead fly the rest of the way to Stockton Sailing Club, and finished at 10:15 Saturday night. The crew shared a bottle of wine, then a bottle of rum at the clubhouse with a couple of other competitors who were still there.

What a great race! It was my first as skipper and will certainly not be my last. Phil Hendrix, who I believe was in a great position for a win on his Challenger, hit something hard around Benicia, and halfway through San Pablo Bay was taking on water and needed Coast Guard assistance. Thank you Coast Guard, you rock. He was beating us!

South Tower Race at 40. What a great race. What a great challenge. Every sailor should want this on their resume. I feel a huge accomplishment for finishing. Many have done it multiple times, and I believe Dana Badly has done something like 37 of them. At the mixer the night before the race those who had done the race in the past were there with their old STR T-shirts and stories of the history.

I want to thank those who first started this race, those who have kept it going, my crew, the volunteers, and those stepping up this year. And finally my congratulations to the Plummer family from Vallejo on their first place finish on their Catalina 30.

As time goes by I’m still high as a kite over the experience and can’t wait until the next one.

- Don Quinly, Sweets III, Cal 2-27, second place overall, 40th Annual South Tower Race

A recent post-script from Don:

The South Tower Race was started for Stockton boats only. After a few years of the event, Bay Area boats petitioned and were let in, doing very well. The Delta Ditch Run was originally set up for all the Bay boats that used to do the STR to have a fun way of getting to Stockton for the start of the South Tower Race. As the DDR grew in popularity, the STR dwindled to being all but forgotten by the Bay Area.

The T-shirts given out for the 40th STR had all the winners names from 40 years of the event on the back, such as Jeff Kato winning the first race in 1973, Kame Richards in '87, Warwick Tompkins in '98, Phil Hendrix in '97 and '03, and the Plummer family this last year just to name a few.

Stockton Sailing Club would open our doors and and give all assistance possible to all Bay Area boats that are interested in doing the Ditch Run and want to stay for the South Tower Race or just come down for the
South Tower Race start date of June 21, 2013.

See www.stocktonsc.org.