Offshore - Lake Ontario 300

Page 62 Lake Ontario Offshore Racing Guide Lake Ontario Offshore Racing Guide Page 63
whitecap. Getting the main down became an imperative because listening to
its horrific flogging and watching the rig shudder was a real cause for concern.
It took everything I had to pull that main down, but I eventually got a tie around
it. Next, still struggling, I furled the headsail, though about two feet remained in
the wind because I’d run out of furling line on the drum (it was a considerably
tight furl, as you might imagine). After that, I knew I was fine—still doing about
five knots—and began assessing damage.
Above decks, there were several things: a more tattered headsail (though it
seemed to be mostly UV stuff); the dislodged mainsail slides (track bolt disappeared,
no spare); some torn canvas (flapping hideously); and the cockpit in
complete disarray. So far, so good. Below decks, on the cabin sole, lay a shard
of lumber about a foot and a half long, with a sizable metal fitting still attached
to it. Though I knew it belonged to the boat, I had no idea what it was
or where it had come from. Still, it couldn’t be good news. With a little forensic
exploration, comprehension gradually dawned: in my rush to get the main
down, the halyard had dislodged a single hinge, and the heel of the boat had
shattered what was left hanging of my wooden companionway stairs.
Try as I did to figure out a way to tie the steps back up again, the best solutions
I could come up with amounted to little more than clever booby-traps waiting
to catch me unawares. I considered carrying on without the steps (just tossing
them forward somewhere), but in due course I took more time, pondered,
and looked around. The winds were not about to go light, there were droves
of mammatus clouds in the sky, and I knew that the waves at the other end of
the lake would be huge. There were times I’d damn near broken my neck at
the dock with the companionway steps removed. So I made my decision and
gradually turned the boat toward home.
“I’m done,” I told Maria on the cell phone (later she told me she was surprised
because the weather at home was fine). I was about seven miles from Bluffer’s
when the weather gods had finally spanked my tail between my legs, so I asked if
she could pick me up at the club. And there was another thing I hoped she could
do for me. I had tried several times to inform the race committee of my retirement
from the race on VHF. Nothing. I heard others trying to hail the RC several
times over VHF. Still nothing. Then I tried using my cell phone and got a busy
signal. Okay, I thought, that made sense, they should be busy. I tried again, and
this time got an answering machine. I also gave Maria an address and asked her
to email someone. An inglorious end, I thought, to my glorious event.
I had spent a year anticipating and preparing for that one race: a 24-hour qualifying
race the summer before; paperwork for the GLSS (who govern the Solo
Challenge) completed in the fall; gathering the required safety equipment over
the winter; a Safety At Sea Seminar in the spring; and, of course, readying the
boat itself in the months prior. I lasted three hours. And that was that.
Next summer? Well, that’ll be another story. Most certainly.
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