DECEMBER 30, 2025
CLOSE, BUT SO FAR AWAY
I was encouraged with the predictions of 9-11 knots
winds. Through the early afternoon, the
wind was nonexistent. With a heavy cloud
cover, could we get any wind? As we left
the harbor at 2PM there was a wind line showing about a mile offshore slowly
coming in towards the start area. The
very light wind was coming from an unusual 140 degrees. We set a windward mark
practically a stone’s throw from the start line. We set the start line mark and called for
course E7 as boats drifted aimlessly in the start area. With the wind line
getting closer, then receding it was frustrating. It was totally understandable when boats
started retiring from the race to go out and sail in some stronger wind. Ultimately, the wind did fill in and the
boats that had not retired finished the race.
As expressed by one skipper, “we waited 30 minutes for an 8 minute
race”. Kudos to the Nidaros crew who
started in clear wind at the port end of the line and was first of the 4 boats
to finish. It was a frustrating
afternoon with a windward mark that was close but so far away.
To review the track for this race:
PHRF ADJUSTED RESULTS:
COURSE DISTANCE 0.12NM
PLACE BOAT PHRF
ELAPSED TIME CORRECTED
1 NIDAROS 118 20:07 19:40
2 ROSIE 162 27:48 27:11
3 QUIXOTIC 57 32:47 32:34
4 ABSLOLUTE
05 117 37:50 37:23
RESILIENCE!
As we enter a new year, I want to express my appreciation for
the resilience of our group of sailors.
On this evening It was amazing to witness eleven boats coming out for a
sail when there was no wind. During this
season, I have witnessed multiple times when there was very light wind with
boats inching their way to the finish line even in the dark. I appreciate the demeanor, resilience and the
Corinthian spirit displayed by our group of sailors.
ZOOP SCOOP BY PAUL TARA
AN UNFULFILLED FORECAST
This Monday, the
northern edge of the circulation around a low to the southwest of us produced a
beautiful sunny southeasterly (not our usual Santa Cruz Eddy easterly). I
spent the day, gnashing my teeth, fiddling with a shroud roller, knowing that I
could have been sailing my El Toro. But I had to finish the job, because
the next day was going to be the last sail of the year. Mistake. On
Tuesday, even though NOAA stuck by their forecast, the earlier offshore, didn’t
hold. By 1300 the Harbor glassed off with no sign of new breeze and I
reluctantly called off the crew. As Barry headed out, whiffs boxed the
compass; what Neils Kisling calls “Guilt wind — it shows up after you’ve
decided not to sail”. Beneath increasing overcast, Monterey was as clear
as a bell. “If it’s cloudy and you can see Monterey, it’s gonna rain,”
was my parents’ weather axiom. They didn’t say anything about wind.
A CAPFUL O’ WINDage
Last week’s storm
certainly delivered more than a capful, fulfilling NOAA’s forecast of
“wide-spread gales with storm force (55-63 kn) gusts.” It also delivered some
valuable lessons on windage. At one point, early on, the forecast
included the phrase “hurricane force (63+kn) gusts” which made my hair stand
up, but it was later downgraded to “storm force”. They should have left
it in; on Christmas Eve, a 77 knot (91 mph) squall went through that rolled up
the beach cats stored on the hard like so many dry leaves, and left the usual
trail of shredded tarps and roller-furled jibs, broken dock lines, missing
fenders and dock box lids, only to follow it up with an encore tornado warning
on Christmas Day. Mount Hamilton saw a 100 knot gust, which damaged a
telescope dome and adjoining structure. But, not much rain locally, so no
reenactment of 1955.
Let’s talk some numbers.
Wind load increases as a square of the wind speed. At 77 knots,
dynamic wind load is around 15-20 pounds per square foot. The windage of
a 25’ mast, with a 3” cross section (most catamarans have wing masts, which
may, or may not be aligned with the breeze) could easily top 90 pounds.
(Correspondingly, the windage of a 45 foot roller-furled jib, could easily top
200 pounds!) In the case of the cat, given the mast’s lever arm, 90 pounds is
more than enough to flip it and its trailer (not to mention the windage of the
trampoline). This is especially true if it’s not parked head-to-wind.
Most of the flipped cats appear to have been parked beam-on, which would
be silly. But they’re so light they may have been ‘re-parked’ by the wind
.
Now let’s talk
seamanship. Windage is not a new concept. Take a close look at this painting of
the frigate USS President riding out a gale at anchor. Her
topmasts and upper yards have been ‘sent down’, and her lower yards are not
just braced sharp up; their slings have been eased, so they can be pivoted
clear around, outboard of the shrouds and secured fore-and-aft, parallel to the
wind. That’s a lot of work, all to reduce windage.
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Those guys knew how critical windage could be. Sending down upper spars was a standard drill. No Towboat US for them. Come to think of it, it seems as if they may have had a slightly different philosophy than the characters responsible for Bayesian, the 184’ mega-sloop with the 247’ rig, that was knocked down by a squall at anchor in the Med., sinking with the loss of 7 lives. For us, those types of downbursts are rare. Our weather can be so predictable it’s almost hypnotic. But it may be changing. Don’t be lulled into complacency — our winter storms should not be taken for granted — anytime you see the words “gale”, “south”, or “southeast” in the same paragraph, it’s time to pay attention. Double check dock lines, triple check, or lower, roller furled sails. If you’ve got a beach cat on the hard, unstep your rig and chock your trailer head-to wind.
Force increases as a
square of the wind speed. Reduce your windage.
Thanks Paul!
Lets hope for good sailing conditions for next Tuesday and for the new year.
Barry Keeler
Sailing Pair A Dice
