Blur Racing

Tag: grand prix

  • 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.

  • Grand Prix Day 2: Forecast of Doom

    Day two of Grand Prix arrived with a forecast that could best be described as “are you sure you want to race a 25-foot boat today?” Twenty to twenty-five knots with gusts maybe into the 30s. I value my paycheck, so I skipped the Friday opener and showed up Saturday ready for chaos.

    Instead, I was greeted by exactly zero knots of wind. Not light air. Not patchy air. Zero. So much for forecasting.

    I splashed Blur, rigged up, and the crew arrived. Five sailors, all new to the boat. Quick orientation (“There’s the bucket”). Let’s go racing!

    A Parade in the Wrong Direction

    Once out on the course, the breeze finally decided to make an appearance: a modest 8 to 12 knots from the east. Nothing about that said doom or chaos. So we found ourselves in a classic situation. Forecasts wrong (or at least delayed). Just another day of Puget Sound micro climates in action.

    I gave the big boats way too much space at the start and paid for it. We crossed the line 30 to 60 seconds late. My bad. Then off we went on an all-day scenic tour: windward, leeward, West Point, Spring Beach, rinse and repeat. For those not local, that is basically racing from Seattle to Edmonds and back. Multiple times. In a 25-foot boat.

    I proceeded to locate every hole on the course. I’d sail right into the middle of the windless hole, have a Goldilocks moment (“Does this feel too slow?”) and then sail off to find yet another hole. We dropped anchor emotionally. The fleet sailed away. We were truly crushing last place.

    At Least We Looked Fantastic

    New kite out. All shiny and bright. If there had been a beauty contest, we would have won by a mile. We were slow, but we were pretty. On a day like this, you take wins where you can get them.

    The east breeze turned the big legs into a reachy parade. Little chance of catching anyone. Just hang out, enjoy the ride, stay caffeinated.

    The Breeze Finds Us

    On the second run back toward Spring Beach, the real wind finally decided to show up… from the west. Classic Puget Sound plot twist.

    We set the chute. A squall filled in behind us. Suddenly Blur woke up. Twenty knots. Then above twenty. Charging like a proper ultralight. Everyone grinning, knuckles turning a tasteful shade of white.

    We set up for our final jibe to round the leeward mark and boom. Big wipeout. Broach city. We dropped the kite, gathered ourselves, and rounded the mark directly into about 25 knots on the nose. Game on.

    A Valuable Discovery

    Upwind in that stuff requires attention. I muscled the helm, trying to keep Blur from rounding up every other wave. Then Aiden, new-to-the-boat hero that he is, spotted the real problem: our jib cars were too far forward for the No. 3.

    Move the cars back. Sheet in. Suddenly Blur settled into the groove like she meant it. Stable. Powerful. Manageable. It felt like unlocking a secret level. That discovery alone made the day worth the bruises.

    Last Boat, First Mindset

    We slogged all the way back up the course. Spray everywhere. Adrenaline up. Smiles on deck. Yes, we were the very last boat to finish. Entire fleet done ahead of us.

    Still, I loved it.

    The crew handled a weird, long, unpredictable day like champs. I learned how to race Blur in heavy wind with confidence. That goes in the win column.

    We packed up, put Blur to bed, and called it good.

    Tomorrow is another day of Grand Prix. The forecast? Probably wrong again.