Blur Racing

Tag: cruising

  • Grand Prix Day 3: Cold, Wet, and Worth It

    The Forecast Lied Again

    Day Three of Grand Prix kicked off with a wonderful preview of winter. I rolled into the marina at 8:30 AM and was immediately greeted by a wall of cold rain. The traveler had come apart at the end of Day Two, so before coffee or common sense could intervene, I was elbows-deep in repairs. By the time the crew arrived at 9:30, I was soaked through my foulies, through my layers, through the tiny part of my soul that was still warm. A delightful start.

    We shoved off around 10, and although the forecast had promised a mellow day, Nature had a different plan. We motored out to find a shifty 10–12 knots pumping in from the east. Not exactly the gentle conditions we were told we’d enjoy.

    Race One: Drag Racing Practice

    The first race was twice around. We nailed the start, right on the line at the gun, and managed to hang with the fleet all the way to the top mark. From there, things got weird. With the wind out of the east, both legs turned into reaches, so it was less tactical finesse and more straight-line horsepower. Blur is scrappy, but against the big sleds in a drag race, that’s a tall order. We held our own, but the race committee wisely decided the course needed a little adjustment.

    Race Two: Now We’re Talking

    For the second race, we punched out another competitive start and rounded the weather mark comfortably in the mix.

    Then the fun hit.

    A 20-knot squall rolled in from behind like it had a grudge. Suddenly Blur was on the step, touching 10 knots and rolling past bigger boats like we actually belonged there. It was glorious chaos. We made the leeward mark, executed one classic broach for style points, got the chute down, and powered upwind in 18–20 knots to the finish.

    Sixth place. Our best finish of the regatta. Spirits went from soggy to soaring in about three boat lengths.

    A Crew to Brag About

    Same crew as Day Two. Same zero experience with Blur. Same unfamiliarity with each other. Yet this wild, last-minute collection of sailors absolutely gelled. Nobody panicked, everyone pulled their weight, and it just worked. I could not have asked for a better group.

    The Grand Finale

    By the time we got back to the dock, everyone was soaked, freezing, and thrilled. Blur got tucked into bed, we got cold beers into hands, and then it was off to the Seattle Yacht Club for the traditional Grand Prix bash. The party alone is worth entering this regatta. Great food, great people. Exactly why this event is such a highlight.

    The Results

    Our class was stacked with talent. TC took first, Sabotage claimed second, and Madame Pele rounded out the podium. Nine boats total, all tough competitors. More than one person mentioned how cool it was to see a small boat like Blur out there fighting for it. I’ll happily take that compliment.

    End of Season

    Grand Prix is the finale for us. Blur will dry out for a while, and I’ll spend the winter hitchhiking rides on other people’s boats. Come spring, we’ll wake her up, shake her out, and get ready to rumble again.

  • Bellingham Race Week – Day 4: We Chose Poorly

    Bellingham Race Week – Day 4: We Chose Poorly

    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.

  • Bellingham Race Week – Day 1 Recap

    Bellingham Race Week – Day 1 Recap

    Sunshine, Speed, and a Little Bit of Chaos

    If I ever had to introduce someone to the sport of sailing, Day 1 of Bellingham Race Week would’ve been the perfect way to do it.

    We trailered the boat up from Shilshole on Sunday, got her rigged, splashed, and tucked into the harbor. The weather? Absolutely stunning—70 degrees, sunshine, snow-capped mountains on the horizon, and of course, Bellingham Bay. Couldn’t have asked for a better welcome.

    The Racing

    We had a guest tactician, Alex Simanis from Ballard Sails, on the boat for the day and it really showed in our performance. He played boat whisperer and helped us up our game across the board. From improving the rig tuning to fine tuning the sail trim, he did an amazing job. 

    Our first race of the day started after a short delay. We’re sailing in the PHRF B division, so we got to watch all the other classes start before us—so we had front row seats. The big ORC boats, the sleek J/105s and J/80s, the nimble J/70s, and the Melges 15s all made for some exciting starts and tight action.

    I’ll admit it: starts are my favorite part of racing. Maybe I’ve got a tiny adrenaline junkie buried in there somewhere, but the chaos, the yelling, the jostling for position—it’s electric. And when you nail it? When you pop out on the line with clean air and good speed? For just a second, you feel like a rockstar.

    That first race, we sailed clean and fast and came in third in our class. Not a bad way to start the week.

    Wind and Tactics

    The breeze in the morning was steady—around 13 to 15 knots—which gradually tapered off as the day went on. The course setup heavily favored the left side of the bay, so most of the fleet bee-lined it toward Fairhaven, hit the weather mark, then gybed their way back down to leeward. Tactically, it was pretty locked in—go left, or get left behind.

    Then in race two, we found our groove, hit our shifts, and brought home our first bullet of the week. Race three, we got another third. By the end of the day, we were sitting in second place overall in Class 7—easily one of our best performances to date. I was over the moon.

    After the Racing

    After a full day on the water, we wrapped things up at the race pavilion with beer, music, and the usual suspects. It was great to reconnect with old friends, swap stories, and soak up the atmosphere. Nothing quite beats tired bodies, sunburned smiles, and a good result on the scoreboard.