Thursday’s race was a pursuit format—a fun twist where each boat gets its own start time based on handicap ratings, so in theory, everyone finishes at the same time. It’s a great way to mix boats of all shapes and speeds into a single race. The course? A 20-nautical-mile tour starting in the harbor, heading south to Eliza Island, then a loop around Vendovi Island and Viti Rocks—clockwise or counterclockwise—before racing back to the harbor.
The twist? You choose your direction around the islands. And we had no idea which was better.
With zero local knowledge and no secrets whispered by old salts, we were left to squint at current charts, poke at weather apps, and make our best guess. We settled on counter-clockwise.
Cue the flashback to Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. You remember the scene: the villain picks the wrong grail and turns to dust, and the knight solemnly declares, “He chose… poorly.”
Well, my friends, so did we.
The day started off beautifully. Wind in the 16–20 knot range, reefed main, number two headsail, and we were absolutely flying upwind toward the islands. It was glorious. And then… it wasn’t.
We picked the wrong direction. The current slapped us in the face. We tacked and fought and drifted and cursed our way around the rocks. A slow-motion cascade of small, compounding errors—nothing dramatic, just death by a thousand tactical paper cuts. By the time we emerged from our navigational misadventure, we had managed to drop to last place.
The ride home was long, quiet, and humbling. We hoisted the chute and flew downwind toward the finish with a mix of resignation and reflection. Somehow, we clung to third place overall in our class—but just barely.
Every sailor knows this truth: some days, you just get humbled. Thursday was our turn. But despite the tactical trainwreck, the conditions were stunning, the wind was exhilarating, and Bellingham once again served up a spectacular day on the water.
We just… chose poorly.
Blur Racing 
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