Music

A Hobie 33, not ours, with a white spinnaker (front sail) up. The the jib (middle sail) was just raised and the crew is about to drop and stow the spinnaker.

 

Like in past years, I spent the weekend crewing on a boat in the Lahaina Return Race from Maui to Oahu. My ride was a Hobie 33 owned by a friend who I have raced interisland with multiple times along with another friend. This boat ideally needs more than three people so the owner invited a younger sailor who had experience with catamarans but this was his first real time on a racing monohull. If we expected more winds then we would have had to try and trick invite another person or two.

This model of boat is made for racing so it is narrow, spartan in comforts, and with a low cabin (belowdeck area) that even a vertically challenged person like me could not stand up in. But this model is well constructed, fast, and has a deep and narrow cockpit (place to sit and work the sails and steering) so you feel safe.

 

 

Most years in Hawaii there are three interisland sail races: Molokai to Oahu, Oahu to Kauai, and Maui to Oahu. Unless unusual atmospheric conditions cause the Trade Winds to fail, all three are downwind races. So people racing have to work to windward either before or after the race. Last year the panicdemic overreaction caused the state to cancel all three races. This year this race was the only interisland race to not be cancelled. Some of the surrounding events were cancelled, but since the Hawaiian government determined that we would not be like the Venetian fleet introducing the bubonic plague to Europe the race was permitted. Because we had lost the opportunity for the interisland 2020 races, we were determined to sail this race and had originally planned for a four day cruise/race. We planned for a night on Molokai and a night on Lanai on our way to Maui. After a night on Maui we would race all the way back to Oahu.   But the atmosphere had other plans. As we approached our departure day, the remnants of Hurricane Linda were approaching our archipelago. On Friday the winds in the channel between Oahu and Molokai were blowing in the mid-thirty knot range with heavy seas. Since we had options and the work levels with those winds are so high we pushed back departure one day and dropped our night on Lanai.

On Saturday we got a nice earlyish start and sailed across to Molokai with the winds blowing in the mid-twenty knot range. We were heading over to the small Lono anchorage on Molokai with a double reefed main and a smaller jib.  That is, we made the mainsail smaller by folding some of it up, and we used a smaller version of our forward sail. It was a wet crossing with the boat well heeled (leaned over).  The swell was around 8 feet, but spread out so it should have been comfortable, except there were cross wind waves as well, so we spent much time crashing and splashing.  It wasn’t bad, just wet and loud. The helmsman (driver) had to constantly make small course changes to try and ride across the waves instead of through them. The other three people were sitting on the windward (high side) edge of the boat with our legs hanging over so our combined weight helped hold the boat upright.

Each boat has an optimum amount of heel. Some heel enables you to sail faster, but too much heel spills wind over the top of the sails which slows you down.  During the crossing we switched positions every hour or so. That kept the helmsman fresh and everybody got a break from the waves soaking you. The conditions were rough enough we skipped making sandwiches below and just had some apples, Oreos, and fluids as we crossed. After we reached Molokai’s lee the final three miles was in much nicer seas and reduced wind. We made Lono in about eight hours and tied the boat up.

 

A crowded Lono Anchorage with our boat on the right. Later in the day the number of boats almost doubled.

 

Lono used to be a commercial harbor from which building materials were shipped to Oahu to help make the Waikiki area properties. Since it was abandoned from commercial use, the anchorage is known as a nice place to relax by locals and visiting boaters.

We had some rum drinks then grilled some buffalo steaks and fixings which we enjoyed with a bottle of red wine. After the workout from the trip over we retired early. Saturday night was very clear and dark with no moon so many satellites, stars, galaxies and planets were out to be watched.

 

Labor Day weekend crowds on the beach at Lono Anchorage

 

The next day we left for the pre-race anchorage on Maui. We worked the final thirty miles of Molokai by tacking up the south coast as the winds increased up to the mid-twenties.  We stayed in between twenty and eighty feet of water so it was very choppy, but we stayed out of the swell and the adverse current. It was wet again, but not as bad as the day before. We kept a close watch to make sure we didn’t hit any coral and kept up the hourly switching of positions. When we cleared the east end of Molokai the winds stayed up since the Trade Winds get channeled between the Molokai and Maui. However the good news was once we entered the channel between the islands the chopped died and the swell was only six feet making it a comfortable and sunny ride. The channel is about ten miles and as we approached Maui we came into the lee again so the winds and seas dropped as we approached the anchorage.  As we sailed into the anchorage the winds were zephyrs and water calm.  We dropped the anchor in about fifteen feet of water, backed the boat to get the anchor to grab and let out enough line to get a nice 7:1 scope which would keep us moored all night.

 

A snorkeler enjoying the clear waters of Honolua Bay.

 

The Honolua Bay is a nature preserve park with lots of snorkelers which were all over the shore and in the water. This unusual gathering of sailboats gave them an added show.  We swam and reduced the boat weight for the race by drinking more rum and just took in the beauty around us. We also had a small pod of dolphins swim around us at slow speed trying to eat fish in the shadows of our hulls.  It was interesting to be in the water as these mammals crossed near me at slow speeds.  A couple of months back a snorkeler ended up donating a part of his calf as a shark snack here, but since the sea turtles were around we knew that the sharks were elsewhere. We visited with other friends who were racing until a powerful squall came in. Then we crept inside to get dry and went to bed fairly early. Many of the younger racers (or Maui based racers) anchored farther south in Lahaina for the night life. But they would need to leave before dawn to get up the coast to the starting line- while we slept and made final preparations at leisure.

 

The North coast of Molokai.

 

The Lahaina Return Race has an option of two finishes, Waikiki or Kanehoe Bay.  The K-Bay race is about miles in a straight line.  Four Hobie 33’s registered to race and all four decided to finish in K-Bay so there would be a good head to head race within our class.  One boat, which I will call The Other Boat, is a well-crewed hot shit boat that wins most of the big offshore races including the premiere race for the last three years.  Our class of the race started in a rain squall for most of the ten mile crossing to the north coast of Molokai.  We and TOB were within yards of each other the entire way. As our fleet approached the east cape of Molokai the Sun came out and the day turned glorious. The winds stayed in the mid teen knot range and the four foot swells came in from behind us. We raised our spinnaker and had to pick a course far enough out to get current help, but not so far out that we missed the wind effect from Trade Winds hitting the huge sea cliffs.  Every few miles we had to jibe.  We were well paired with TOB and often crossed within yards of each other.  Sometimes we had a small lead and other times they had the advantage. As we raced past Molokai the small swell helped our speed as we would surf some swells for free speed.

 

Two boats from our class along the north shore of Molokai. TOB has the yellow spinnaker.

 

The north coast of Molokai has the world’s highest extended series of seas cliffs. There are small coves and cut off valleys as occasional breaks from the 3,000 feet high wall of green and black. Since it had rained for several days the waterfalls were in full force as well. Midway along the coast is the Kalaupapa Peninsula which is the site of the former leper colony. I think it is merely a rumor that this will be the “Reeducation and Fun Time Camp” for identified Glibs.

 

Approaching Kaluapapa Peninsula.

 

As we approached the Kalaupapa Peninsula there came a critical course choice for the run to Oahu and the Gap that leads to Kanehoe Bay and the finish line. TOB and we had to make our calls on how the winds would shift over the next forty miles and shape (steer) that course. We steered a bit higher than they did and started the run to Oahu. For the rest of the race TOB and our boat were in easy sight of each other as they sailed to our south.  About ten miles out from Oahu the wind shifted from behind of us to more along our starboard side so we could no longer carry (use) the spinnaker. We dropped the spin and put a big jib up. This let us keep our speed up and to sail a bit higher (closer to the apparent wind) with the goal of getting back into a position where we could put the spinnaker back up and gain back that one or two knots of speed.  TOB chose to keep the spin flying to gain speed but the wind shift kept them from coming north towards the Gap. I am not a good spinnaker helmsman but I can trim one very well so I spent my race mostly trimming the spinnaker until the jib went up- then I helmed for the next hour plus as we headed to the Gap between the Oahu’s Mokapu Peninsula and the barrier islands.

 

Midway between Molokai and Oahu. TOB on the horizon between the red and dangling white lines.

 

As we sailed towards the Gap we kept a sharp eye on TOB to the south. TOB was closer to Oahu than us, but since they were several miles south (near Lanikai Beach) we were actually a small distance in the lead. Then they changed sails and put their big jib up, and we were both now gunning hard for the Gap and the finish line.  Once I sailed us through the Gap, I gave up the helm, got in the sail trimmer’s position and we raised the spinnaker to get that additional final burst of speed. We sped at eight or nine knots along the Marine Corps base giving the golfers a show as we raced the last couple of miles.  We crossed the finish line at 9:02:35. TOB was visible behind us and crossed the finish line 10:02 later.  We were the first boat to reach K-Bay. We put the jib back up and sailed through the channel into the main bay and thirty minutes later tied up at the slip.

After we tied up we saw TOB approaching their slip so we stopped what we were doing to go and welcome them to Oahu. In a head to head race the old farts beat the young hot shots.  Later the K-bay finishers had a post-race party, with free whiskey drinks and lots of pupus. That was my Labor Day weekend except for cleaning things and finding out how we did in the race. That would have to wait and people perform math to determine. Two days later we partially found out.

Computing racing performance in boats can be easy. If one design of boats is racing as a fleet, then whichever boat crosses the finish first wins. Easy-peasy. But this race had a wide variety of lengths, makes and models- plus two different finish lines with different course lengths. Now comes the math. First- each make and model of a boat basically gets a handicap number, called a “rating,” which is how many seconds per mile the boat receives compared to the mythical “hypothetical” boat. This is done to equalize the boats and emphasize the crew’s ability to sail the boat fast. This keeps a good crew with a smaller boat or inherently slower design able to compete with a poor crew with a much faster boat. But this only goes so far because despite ratings the theoretical performance of different makes/models of boats there is no way to completely equalize a mixed fleet. The second thing a large race will do is to lump boats with similar ratings into groups (classes) so boats and crews have a more equal race.

So how did we do? Well, we won our class by thirty-two seconds. “But wait,” you cry, “didn’t you cross the finish line 10:02 ahead of TOB?” We did, but there were more boats than just Hobie 33s in our class. Another boat with a slower rating finished around an hour after us, but when you subtract those few seconds per mile over eighty miles it adds up. So in the parlance of the times they corrected to thirty-two seconds behind us and took second in the class ahead of TOB. The final comparison between classes will be released before the end of the week.

It was a good weekend with friends and the sea. We enjoyed laughs together and meshed well enough as a crew to sail our boat just better than our friends and competitors on other boats. I woke up Tuesday sore from working the helm and nonstop sail adjustment, but it was the good sore from working my body in the open. Of course I did have the usual bruises in odd places, “When did I hit the boat hard enough under my armpit to cause that bruise?” But Dawn Riley, skipper of an America Cup challenger, said it correctly – “The purpose of life is not to arrive at the grave well rested. It is come sliding in exhausted and bruised exclaiming ‘Holy shit, that was a hell of a ride!’”