Neffy beats aRound the County

As in, arguably the most epic race of the year for many reasons. Allow me to summarize a few of these reasons should there be any skepticism surrounding this bold statement:

1. 'Round the County' is so aptly named because the race is, literally, around San Juan County.  So if right about now you're thinking "oh yeahhhhh, like the San Juan Islands, oh yeah those are beeeeautiful...oh and the ferry ride! Who doesn't love that ferry ride?" No one.  No one doesn't love that ferry ride. Know what's even better than that ferry ride?  Seeing the entire thing from a sailboat all day, for two days, with 6 of your closest friends. 
2.  The halfway point (and party) is in Roche Harbor, WA.  For anyone not familiar with Roche Harbor, it's a sleepy little picturesque village-y type place which I can only surmise has expertly figured out how to appropriately warn what I can only assume it the "usual crowd" to either avoid this particular November weekend altogether, or allow an appropriate enough heads up that only those in full appreciation of one of the best sailor parties of the year interrupting the usual gentle and, er, quiet vibe of such a place.  And it has a mausoleum.  Do what this information what you will.
3. It could very well be the only race all year you'll get to race with the beautiful Schooner Martha in all her splendor...under spinnaker or topsails she's, well, she's a very pretty girl and a downright expertly raced boat under any condition.  And we love her.  At 105, she's the oldest working sailboat in Washington State and the oldest living flagship of the San Francisco Yacht Club - even after having been declared a total loss and subsequently saved from a scrapyard in 1976.  If that doesn't make you all warm and fuzzy inside, you cold heartless bastard, seek help.

Day 2, from Canada. Photo Credit Patricia DeJoseph

Yes, I digress, admittedly there was in fact a moment during the second day's freezing wet beat upwind THE ENTIRE DAY during which I experienced an epiphany to the effect of, 'Ohhhhhh... yeah, okay, when people think we're crazy for being out here in November in the middle of the Salish Sea almost dragging out feet in the near-freezing water off the edge of a 30-ft boat in the pouring rain... I guess I understand where they're coming from."

 . . . but. . . not really though.

And also I would just like to say to those people living on whichever edge of whatever Canadian Island we sailed close enough to for a nice clear view of just what kind of modern home Canadian money can buy...HI.  Nefarious will likely be returning by your place of residence November 10th, 2013 sometime between 10am and 4pm.  Please feel free to deploy a care package from your cliffs of Moher to sail number #USA 53 containing the following:

(2) litres of high quality Canadian rum, appropriate for sipping between tacks.
(2) bags of Old Dutch potato chips, assorted varieties OK but MUST include ketchup. 
(1) huge bag of candy limited to items unobtainable in the United States. 
(1) appropriately-sized Canadian flag to fly off Neffy's backstay in appreciation.

Alternatively, tying said package to a mooring buoy at a depth greater than 20' marked by a flotation device with the words "KEEP AWAY - NEFARIOUS ITEMS INSIDE" is also acceptable.  Thank you kindly and I hope you enjoy our sailboat race.

2013: The year of the epic RTC sleigh ride.  Hmmmm, weather?!  It's time.

A Limerick for Vashon.

I have chosen to summarize the 2011 Vashon Island race, 1st in the Southern Sound Series, by partially nonsensical limerick. Enjoy!

There once was a race in South Sound

To sail Vashon the wrong way around

I was late to the boat (!)

...worthy of a demote...

But at least Kirkland's nickname was found.

PS we won.  (2nd overall.)

Go team!

Out of the Woodwork, Into the SEA...

omg.

Really?

Yes.  Really.  It's really me.

But, for realsies?

Yes, for realsies.

After a brief hiatus from the planet, I'd like to catch up on a few (oh so very much fun) regattas we've had over the last few months, beginning, of course, with Round the County.  Why?  Because someone saw an Orca whale.  It wasn't us.  It was Neptune's Car.  But still...pretty cool, right?

# of days sailing around Island County, WA (read: the San Juan Islands): 2

# of crockpots needed to feed just the Peterson brothers: 1

# of crockpots needed to feed the entire rest of the crew: 1.5

# of gnarly rope burn incidents: 1

# of huge gloves on board: 4

# of crew members experimenting with the utility of replacing foul weather gear with a dry suit: 1

# of days the dry suit lasted: 1

# of huge wind holes we picnicked in 1/4 mile from the finish to avoid winning: 1

# of wipeouts: 2. Maybe 3

 # of wipeouts that weren't any fun: BIG FAT ZERO.

And to sum it up, a lovely photo taken by Sean Trew depicting the lovely, lovely weather we were so fortunate enough to reach around some islands in:

Nefarious!

Cheers everyone!

Chainsaws and teddy bears!!!...this one's for Ray.

Raymond John: Musician extraordinaire except in his own humble opinion (Seriously- check out the band!), rigger, sailor, smile-inducing, hilariously quotable, multifaceted individual and crew member...and true friend to whom I owe a huge debt of gratitude for sharing something very special with me that I'll never forget.

Until our Nefarious journey South my Seattle-appropriate foul weather gear included a set of rain pants from the little kids' section at REI, among other things. It was a hodge-podge assemblage of inexpensive goods that I had been using to get by with for quite some time with the help of those nifty chemical handwarmers I've come to love (and rely on in my boots, omg they're so freaking awesome) so much.

Ray, having been sailing just a little bit longer than I, had the foresight to assume my current garb may not be necessarily appropriate for the famous winds of the San Francisco Bay, and kindly offered up an entire collection of foul weather gear which happened to A) be in his possession, B) fit me perfectly, and C) had belonged to his little sister, whom I hadn't ever the chance to meet, who also worked pit, and whose memory lives and shines so brightly in Ray's eyes he could steer a ship home through the night from across the Pacific.

So, right. They're just foulies. I get it. But it wasn't. They weren't. They're not. Losing a fellow sailor, a sibling, and a best friend in one fell swoop is unimaginable. I knew every thread meant a fond memory to Ray, and his generosity meant something to me beyond the stretch of my own vocabulary to properly express.

It's pretty great to be dry.

I wore them all the way through the Farr 30 North Americans/Aldo Alessio and into the Pre-Worlds of the World Championship. It was as if I had started this journey a caterpillar in a cocoon of legacy, and together we traveled to the next level while I came into my own.

The first day of the world championship, I bought my own set of gear before leaving the dock in the morning. It felt right. I had drawn on the courage and strength of something much bigger during a period of naïveté and growth to wake up that morning feeling a gentle shove. I had been carried this far- it was up to me to do the carrying now.

I had emerged. I was winged. And I'll carry the memory on the water with me every time.

So, Ray- thank you.

Neffy goes to Portland!....Wait...What!?

Because it's all about baby steps.

Except when it's about trucks breaking down while you're trying to tow a Nefarious Farr 30 800 miles and you're on mile 150, otherwise known as "almost to Portland."

And sometimes, it's about a truck breaking down while towing Neffy, that was borrowed from a guy (thanks Jim, you're awesome!) who spends all week towing boats with it.  Much heavier boats.  Lots of them.

Case Study:  a 'for instance', if you will.

Truck & Neffy leave Seattle on Tuesday, August 23rd (early morning hour too hideous to warrant mentioning) carrying 4 people:

• Dan (skipper & purveyor of making things happen...and of lost clipboards.)
• Andy (mast man, team big brother & laundry folder extraordinaire)
• Ray (jib trimmer, most quotable of all time & AMAZING musician)
• Myself (pit girl & team cheerleader.)  I can't help it.  I just get so excited. (!!!!!)

Truck & Neffy stop for gas:

10 feet wide.  13 feet tall.  70+ feet long.  And oh so pretty.

 Hmm...truck doesn't seem to want to start...?

Luckily, this cool dude gave us a jump.  Thanks cool dude!

Whew!  Okay, onward!!  ....wait....uhh...errr...truck kicks the bucket about 20 minutes later.  No juice. (Seriously?)

Teamwork in action!

And of course, in fine Ray fashion, Ray spends about 30 seconds making phone calls to find "a guy who can solve all our problems" while Dan arranges for towing.  As in, tow trucks.  Plural.

 One for the truck...

 

....and one for Neffy, aka the 'largest and weirdest object' the tow truck driver had ever encountered.   She shall live on even by word of mouth in the Northwest towing circuit. How is that not awesome.

And speaking of awesome, not only did Ray's 'guy' actually come through and 'solve all our problems,' (Hellooooo shout-out to Northside Trucks, thank you!!!!!)  THIS place was across the street:

This is not an airport.  Think harder.  Pretty clever actually.

Alas, however, it was decided that enjoying the sun at the nearest place with sailor accommodations (read: beer and a patio) was in order and at the end of the day, it was pretty difficult not to have had it be a great one albeit one with a slight (ok, pretty huge) delay.

 

Also pretty sure I'm not aware of any other way to wait for a truck repair.

There was even time to get excited about tractors, because, why not?

omgomgomg it's a tractor does everyone see the tractor it's big it's yellow it's exciting omgomgomg take our picture

Go team Neffy!

Just to pre-funk a little.

Before I delve in to the Nefarious account of our own shenanigans in San Francisco, here's a little taste of just how freaking awesome the conditions were on the Bay:

Rolex short video montage: makes my heart race, especially the awesome wipe-outs of the second half.  At exactly 3 minutes, there's a quick helicopter shot of our worst wipe-out (blue spinnaker.) Wooo!





Not to mention excellent (read: holy photographer skills, Batman!) photos taken by Meredith Block throughout the entire Farr 30 world's.  Amazing photos.  Seriously.  Here's an example:

One of my favorites...breathtaking!

And here's the link: 
Media Photos from the Farr 30 World's

The Prologue.

Rule of Thumb:

When asked, "Would you be interested in competing in a world championship?" (While doing something you love?)

The answer, is always, yes.  Yes!

YES.

Because, seriously, the inability to answer as such would likely result in my own inability to relate to an individual on any level pertaining to the length of our time on the planet versus the amount of fun things that can be squeezed into it.

Maybe it's only fitting that this is the year my life turned upside down.  The year I threw caution to the wind and decided to just be myself.  To question everything and assume nothing.  To live with intent yet without expectations.  It's a process- isn't it always?   So in essence, perhaps it's every bit as much about allowing space for things that really matter, sometimes beyond rhyme or reason, as it is about sailing.

Except, of course, it is about sailing.  It's the part of yourself that stays on the water which you just can't seem to figure out how to take with you when stepping off onto the dock.  It's not the fairweather sailor in all of us- it's the foulweather sailor in a few of us.  I'm learning.  Slowly.  Surely.

I digress.  Again.  (Shocking, I know.)

My point is this:  sometimes, when you're pretty sure you have a passion in life, something happens to solidify it in such a way that it becomes unquestionably real and equally as profound.  For me, it happened in the last three weeks, on a Farr 30 named Nefarious, on the San Francisco Bay, with a bunch of ridiculously awesome people who figured out a loooong time before I did there's nothing like racing a sailboat.  I'd like to share it here.  I'll do my best.

Showin' some love to the (spotless) girl.  Our skipper's level of impeccable upkeep is inspiring.