Saturday morning started off cool and cloudy, with a layer of fog out on the sound at Shilshole. The wind was light, drifting between 3 and 5 knots from the south. After our recent trend of warm weather, this change caught a lot of folks off guard. Down the Sound is held during the slow, balmy late summer. Typically, you can expect to bob around in little to no wind and bake under blazing sunshine. Not this time. As my crew, Laura Lewis, and I prepped Blur for the race, we found ourselves pulling on extra layers and telling each other, “It’ll all burn off by lunchtime.”
Down the Sound is a double- or single-handed pursuit-style race, so the starts are staggered according to the handicap of each individual boat. We got out to the starting line early and were pleased to discover a very reasonable 5–8 knots of wind waiting for us there. We watched as Blue Jeans, a C&C 27, was first off the line, making good time toward West Point. Soon after, Perfectly Strange (Pocket Rocket 22), Yeah Dogg (Olson 25), Moore Pun (Moore 24), and Impulsive(J/30) swiftly followed suit. This was our class for the race. I’ve raced against all of these boats before and knew they were not to be taken lightly. There were no mistakes—everyone was on the line right on time, and swiftly dwindling in the distance to windward when it came time for Blur to start.
We hit our start time perfectly and gave chase to our competition. The wind stayed around 5–8 knots, so we had the big jib up. After a couple of tacks, we were up to Magnolia Bluff and trading places with our first competitor, Impulsive. As we came around West Point, we were on port tack and got an amazing lift that had us basically pointed 180 degrees straight down the sound toward our destination. We passed Impulsive and had the remainder of our class in our sights as we proceeded to work our way south. They all still seemed impossibly far off.
The good news—unexpected really, given the gloomy forecast—was there was a decent carpet of wind as far as the eye could see. The breeze fluctuated, and there were occasional holes here and there, but on average it was better than previous years. Blue Jeans was doing an extraordinary job and used their first start to their best advantage. They were just a dot on the horizon. We had Yeah Dogg, Moore Pun, and Perfectly Strange in a group about a quarter mile ahead of us. It seemed like a lot of ground to make up against some very good sailors. As we sailed south across Elliott Bay toward Blake Island, we took a conservative approach in the relatively light breeze. No tacking or maneuvering unless there was a compelling reason—just keep moving.
That turned out to be a good strategy. By the time we reached Blake Island, we had caught up to the group. Behind us, you could see the J/105s (Moose Unknown, Panic, Puff, Peer Gynt, and Jaded) and the Evelyn 32, Ratfish, making tracks to overtake us—but still a little ways off. They were not a factor yet. We started trading tacks with Yeah Dogg, and by the time we reached the northern tip of Vashon, we had overtaken them. Moore Pun and Perfectly Strange were right in front of us. However, this is where the wind started to falter and got really light. We were near Dolphin Point and all we could see was dead calm between us and Three Tree Point (the official halfway point of the race). Everyone was coming to a stop. It was a parking lot.
The entire fleet piled up at this point. We moved in closer to shore and followed Perfectly Strange to the right along Vashon for a bit. Then we saw Moore Pun getting into some breeze out in the middle of the sound off to the left, so we tacked back and tried to cover them. Right or left—which way to go? I looked back over my shoulder, and the guys on Perfectly Strange were gliding gracefully along the shore like they were on ice, barely even touching the water. It was a little freaky how well they were sailing that boat. As it turns out, indecision in the middle is exactly the wrong choice. We lost our momentum and parked ourselves dead center in a hole. As we were contemplating our poor choice, the rest of the fleet said, “Bye-bye,” and proceeded to sail around us. By the time we managed to latch on to a passing zephyr, the entire fleet was a good half mile or more in front of us. I mean everybody. We had gone from leading the fleet to dead last. Ah, the joys of light air sailing: transformed from wily super-genius to idiot in just a few short minutes. I guess that’s how it is—the coyote never sees the rock coming.
Once we were moving again, we just put our heads down and started working our way toward Three Tree Point. Along the way, we started picking off boats at the back of the fleet, one at a time. We passed Bella, a big, beautiful Hanse 455. Then we finally managed to overtake the boat that started first in our class, Blue Jeans. As we closed in on the point, we overtook Impulsive. At this point, we had moved up from dead last to fourth in our class. We had successfully made it to the halfway point before the cutoff time (not always a given in this race), and we only had three boats between us and first place. We set our sights on our next landmark, Point Robinson. Our remaining competition still seemed impossibly far away.
I think it was around 3:00 in the afternoon at this point. The wind got lighter the closer we got to Point Robinson. The good news is that the sun finally graced us with its presence. As we neared the point, we managed to overtake Yeah Doggand claw our way back into third place. However, just on the other side of Point Robinson you could see that the water was dead calm. This area of the south sound, Poverty Bay, always seems to have light air, and it looked like we were headed for yet another parking lot. We decided to follow Perfectly Strange and cut the corner at the lighthouse as close to the shore as possible. We were so close to shore I think I could have handed the kids playing on the beach a sandwich as we drifted by. The water was flat, but the current pushed us out into the bay. There was the barest hint of a wind line forming toward the middle. As we rounded the corner, I just pointed the boat directly at Brown’s Point—roughly five miles in the distance. We trimmed our sails for that direct route and had just enough breeze to start Blur moving in that direction. Perfectly Strange followed some of the J/105s who were seeking more wind across the bay. Moore Pun took the middle road and sailed down the bay parallel to us.
The way I saw it, Perfectly Strange was in the lead and sailing spectacularly well. They were sailing a longer route, but if they found more wind, they would easily crush it and win. On the other hand, Moore Pun is a Moore 24, and I have never managed to beat a Moore in a downwind race. They are obscenely fast little boats with a spinnaker up, and I had every reason to worry about beating them in a straight-up spinnaker drag race to the finish. We were behind both of them, but we had a small chance—if things played out right.
The wind obliged by filling in from the east. We had a solid 8–9 knots of breeze pushing us toward Brown’s Point. I don’t know if it was Laura’s trimming (probably), the current (possibly), or the favor of the gods (not likely), but we started to overtake Moore Pun. I held my breath for what seemed like a mile as we sailed past them to windward. Meanwhile, Perfectly Strange, in their quest to find wind across the bay, came up short. They were moving well and had good breeze, but going that extra distance had cost them valuable time, and it soon became apparent that we had also overtaken them by going straight for the finish. As we closed in on the lighthouse at Brown’s Point, we had put both our competitors firmly behind us. Both Laura and I were in is-this-really-happening shock. We didn’t want to say anything and jinx a possible first-place finish. But the question was definitely on our minds… did we just come back from dead last and take first place?
Yes, we did. We crossed the finish line (looking very stylish, I might add), high-fived, and then headed for the dock. The party at Rock the Dock was awesome. There was free food and beer, so a good time was guaranteed. Awards were given, there were a couple of birthdays to celebrate (Duncan and Lisa), and perhaps a few stories told. I bailed out around 10, but the party ended up going up the hill to McMenamins Elks Lodge and continued well into the early hours.
When I stumbled back down to the boat early Sunday morning, it looked a lot like the Saturday start—gray and chilly with a 5–8 knot breeze blowing. The guys on Perfectly Strange were cooking breakfast right on the dock and were kind enough to share a little with me (thanks). Boats gradually started leaving the dock as we all had to make the one-hour trek over to Spring Beach for the Day 2 start line. It was a quiet ride over under power as we nursed our coffee and maybe a little hangover. My biggest concern was the start. My experience has been that the currents around Spring Beach can be surprisingly strong, and the wind fickle. It’s deceptively easy to get swept over the start line prematurely. Getting caught like that can ruin the start of an otherwise great race.
We watched closely as our class all started before us. The wind was coming from the south, so it looked like a spinnaker run down Colvos Passage. Our turn came and we timed it almost perfectly, with our chute up and headed down the passage in a very modest 3–5 knot breeze. Early on, we managed to slowly advance past Impulsive, but the other boats all seemed to hold a constant and very substantial lead. Blue Jeans raced like they were being chased by the IRS. They were way out in front and giving up no distance. On Blur, we settled in and worked our way down the passage. There were very few passing lanes. Everyone had their spinnakers up, and the narrow passage didn’t leave a lot of options for taking big risks or finding passing lanes. As we approached the northern end of Vashon Island, we finally managed to overtake Yeah Dogg. We were now in fourth place, with Blue Jeans, Perfectly Strange, and Moore Pun solidly out in front of us. Around this time, Ratfish and the J/105s caught up to us. Ratfish, like the previous day, screamed along. They looked like they were going to take line honors for a second day straight.
When you get to the northern end of Colvos Passage, there is a tough tactical decision to make. Blake Island sits almost directly in the mouth of the passage, and you have to go either left (to the west of Blake) or right (out into Puget Sound and Elliott Bay). As we approached Blake, a couple of things were clear. We could see wind on the left side of Blake, and out on the sound it looked dead flat. I’ve faced this challenge before. Going out on the sound is the more direct route, but often there are tough currents and the wind can be fickle. Trying to sneak west behind Blake Island can keep you in the wind longer and offers the tempting possibility of sneaking ahead of folks who go the other way. Based on experience, I can tell you that it’s a real roll of the dice. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose.
The majority of the fleet, including Blue Jeans (leading our class), elected to go out into the sound. However, Perfectly Strange, Moore Pun, Blur, and Panic (J/105) opted to go west behind the island where there appeared to be more breeze. Honestly, I could have gone the other way, but I wanted to stay in touch with the faster boats in the class, Perfectly Strange and Moore Pun. So I followed them. This turned out to be the right call. The wind on the west side of Blake Island was steady and strong. We cut behind the island and then popped back out into the sound to find that the rest of the fleet had been sailing very slowly in light breeze. By sailing a little more distance in stronger breeze, we had cut to the head of the line. Blue Jeans was now behind us, and we were the top three boats in our little group.
We rounded the shoal just south of Blakely Rock and pointed the bow directly at West Point, our next destination en route to the finish line. This was turning into a 20-mile-long spinnaker run. It was apparent by now that overtaking people today was a lot harder than the previous day. We were slowly making up ground, but catching folks flying under spinnakers is more challenging. By the time we were halfway to West Point, I was absolutely convinced there was no way we could catch up to Perfectly Strange and Moore Pun. They were sailing really well and not making any mistakes. Then the great randomizer hit: cruise ships leaving Elliott Bay. Those giants—one of them moaning the theme song from The Love Boat like a love-sick whale—came barreling out of Elliott Bay at full-freaking tilt. They were aimed right at the middle of the fleet. It was chaos. Big, fat, beautiful chaos.
When the dust cleared and the cruise ships were past, we found ourselves in first place, leading the fleet! Moore Pun and Perfectly Strange had to dodge the cruise ships, and we managed to slip by them. As we rounded West Point, we had Moore Pun right on our tail and Perfectly Strange coming in behind them. At this point, for one brief moment, I felt like one of the luckiest sailors around. We had worked our way up through the entire fleet to first place for a second day in a row! However, remember what I said about Moore 24s being wicked fast downwind? Yeah, they were right on top of us. We sailed into a soft spot, and they got the advantage and managed to sail past us to retake the lead. We crossed the finish line just a few seconds behind them.
It was an exhilarating way to end the day, and I want to give a shout-out to the Moore Pun team for their amazing recovery after the cruise ship chaos. They fought hard for that win. However, it was a win for us too, for a couple of reasons: we won first overall in our class based on elapsed time for both days, and… we’ve never managed to actually finish that race before. Down the Sound is often a tough race to finish. The wind has been known to completely shut down and leave you stranded. One false move and your day is over.
We got lucky this time. The wind was better than forecast, and better than usual. I’ll also take a little credit. Laura and I did a great job of sailing the boat. There is a lot of difficult decision-making and execution that has to take place in a light air race. We were patient, we executed well, stayed focused, and we didn’t take any unnecessary risks.
If you’re looking for a light air challenge, tough competition, and a great party, you should give Down the Sound a try.
Blur Racing 
Leave a comment