SAN CLEMENTE ISLAND RACE
by Frank Abell

Several years ago I did my first distance ocean race. I was hooked. The ulterior motive for buying a boat in San Diego was to have easier access to ocean racing on the West coast. I was also trying to expose myself to the toughest competition available to elevate my own abilities. The latter objective was immediately realized with 7 regattas for 7 last places in my first summer racing there. A trailer was purchased, the boat came home to dry out. 5 layers of old bottom paint removed and a high performance bottom paint sprayed on. The Santana 20 was sacrificed for new sails and onward back into the fray. This summer's schedule consisted of Beer Cans exclusively with finishes creeping up towards the middle of the fleet. Signs of improvement! Time for a real test...
Joe Hagen (Pete 'Crotty's partner on the two Locuras) and I drove to San Diego for the Labor Day San Clemente Island Race. The race is hosted by Dana Point Yacht Club at the start and Silver Gate Yacht Club at the finish in San Diego. A quick afternoon to prepare the boat (Olson 25 Escalation I didn't name it but came to hope that it would represent my finishing positions in the fleet.) and we were off at 6 a.m. the next day (Thursday). Light air for the 60 mile trip up the coast made for a slow but pleasant sail. With the wind dying the motor was put into service. For awhile. It overheated after an hour. We limped into Dana Point around 9:30 p.m. over 5 hours behind schedule and the beer had run out. Great start.
On Friday a.m. we hooked up with Dick Dagget (Aim To Please  II  and former T.S.C. member) and moved him onto the boat and off loaded all unnecessary gear. Joe repaired the motor and we obtained last minute provisions. A barbecue was given at D.P.Y.C. which is a great club. Fun, friendly people that exist to race and no pretension. An early bedtime in preparation of a long haul.
The 11 a.m. Saturday start had us motoring through marine layer in still light air, the result of a lingering high pressure system. The wind was S.W.'ly which according to my research leading up to the race was not characteristic. NOAA has a website that monitors many buoys for wind direction and strength and sea state over a several week period updated every 6 hours. This info had shown prevailing Westerly winds almost without exception. At the start with the first leg to the northwesterly end of San Clemente Island bearing 228 I made the call to start at the pin end on port. Risky stuff as we had to cross the whole of C fleet starting on starboard (A fleet started first, B fleet 5 minutes later, C fleet 10 minutes after A). We ducked one transom and then took a three mile flier out to the right where I prayed the clockwise shift would materialize. Now, I do stuff like this alot, and it doesn't pan out that often and this was probable a crazy way to begin a 140 mile race. But low and behold 3 miles right of the rumbline the wind clocked 45 degrees and we tacked to starboard to consolidate. We crossed all of A, B and C fleets in light but building air on a starboard tack that now was so lifted we were aimed at the middle of the Island we couldn't see, 50 miles away. I felt like a genius.
Close hauled into a slowly building sea breeze, sailing into the setting sun which we couldn't see was made more ominous than normal by the stories I had heard of last years race that encountered 30 plus kts. at 3 a.m. on the back side of the island. We traded the helm after 4 hours and Dick drove on into 13 kts. with boats to leeward, behind, and what is this, a few to windward and climbing past us. We assumed we were being slowly rolled by being in headed wind, lower than the rest.
With the setting sun, came the dying wind and what southern Californians call the 'night fight' for good reason. We tacked to the slot between the two islands (San Clemente and Catalina) to try to round. With more tide than wind we fought all night past 3 big boats and the N.W. end of San Clemente Island with a rock beyond that called Castle Rock that was unlit. With no clear wind velocity the boat was tacking through 130 degrees or more, and at times the G.P.S. (more on this later) showed no or even backward movement through the water. I was sure we would finish sometime Sunday night based on previous races so I pulled an all nighter, Joe and Dick slept only slightly and we pushed the boat hard all night. I'd take the 30 kts. at this point.
With the rising sun on Sunday a.m. came a view, finally of the backside of the island. There were no other sails anywhere to be seen. Anywhere. With the wind out of the west we beam reached with the 0.5 oz. chute and passed the S.W'ly side of San Clemente Island. No sails. Anywhere. We reasoned that the boats we saw climbing over us had rolled us to windward and we were last among the boats still racing, the rest had dropped out.
We cleared the S.E. end of the island around noon and contrary to local knowledge we dove down towards San Diego as the wind was out of the S.W. ( a W'ly or N.W'ly wind would cast a shadow caused by the island). All afternoon we sailed the rumb line (I thought) to SD 1 (actually the whistle buoy at the entrance to S.D.) No sails in sight. I've been here before where the fleet splits and you try to maintain racing intensity. Without a visible boat to pace, it's impossible on distance races. I marvel at Whitbread or similar ocean racers, who out of sight of competition never let up. After a day of sailing at a maximum of 5 kts. in light air and 50 miles to go in dying air I realize it's 1 more night out here. I should have prepared a watch schedule. I should have gotten more sleep. I thought we could do it marathon style. Throughout another spectacular night- new moon, phosphorescence, whales (greys), dolphins etc. (I bet you thought only cruisers paid attention to such things!) ,we worked the boat in the lightest of zeps tried to sleep more which was becoming easier (we hadn't seen another boat in 24 or more hours).
With the rising sun came a hail by the R.C. (Race Committee) looking for boats in the "San Clemente Island Race". I waited for several minutes to see who would respond. Silence. We hailed Escalation  and our position (10 miles out). I also thanked them for hanging out for the stragglers as we were sure at this point we had been hammered. When they responded that we were the first boat in that day (2 F-trimarans and a J-120 finished late that night) we were back in race mode instantly.
Coming into S.D. from a distance and a bearing of 87 degrees we began to converge with blossoming spinnakers behind and below us. The problem became quickly apparent that we were not converging enough. Parallel would be more accurate. The course mandated keeping "SD-1" to port and then finishing 3 miles up channel. What could go wrong? My experience with approaching a familiar land mass from a distance at sea said plenty. I frantically checked my coordinates, re-entered them into my G.P.S. and still made the same way. The boats to the South (now 3!) were keeping about a mile abeam. I finally over-rode the "Route" function of my G.P.S. and inversed directly to "SD-l". The bearing clocked by 90 degrees and we immediately jibed to the correct mark which was now abeam. I now feel sick. Joe thought he saw the correct mark an hour earlier, I demanded proof. Dick said we should cover the fleet, I was a slave to numbers. My friend Minnella would later, correctly remind me that in that position it didnit matter what the correct course was, with that much lateral separation that close to the finish you cover the fleet no matter what. Period. He was right of course.
Whether it is because I'm a slave to numbers in my technical profession, lack of sleep, stupidity, or a hidden Freudian desire to lose I blew the race right there. We finished 5 minutes (corrected) behind the first place boat. What I lost was first in Class, Fleet and most probably fastest corrected PHRF boat on Silver Gate's perpetual trophy (Merlin, Pyewacket, Swiftsure, Escalation! ?-Cool) . I now have a 2nd Place trophy to remind me of the single biggest screw up in my racing "career". It's also the only trophy I have from So. Calif.(I call it "Sooo Cal"). Bittersweet to say the least. From genius to idiot in 48 hours. Not bad.
There comes a time (this is a revelation to only me I suspect) that technology takes a back seat to intuition. The next day, after my real trophy-a crab omelet and a Bloody Mary at Red Sails Inn we paid a visit to Jon Gardner at North Sails. I drove Jon crazy throughout the sail purchase/ recut process and he generously dispensed gifts for our meager accomplishment. He then proceeded to relate to us how that very weekend he had raced a "Big Boat" regatta in San Francisco for a client who had just bought a brand new Santa Cruz 52. With a paid crew they beat out of the bay under the Golden Gate Bridge and headed for a mark to sea-ward. The problem was that the rest of the fleet was on port tack going up the coast and they were on starboard taking a flier to a buoy. After a heated exchange with the "paid" navigator as to which course they were sailing, the Notice Of Race was checked and, no turn mark was found to be required upon a closer reading. They finished in last place. By an hour. I like Jon, but he"s trying to sell sails. I Sabe the parable of the story. Someday if I get paid to sail I'll let you know how it feels to blow a race for a client. Right now it sucks letting down 2 friends.
We put over 250 miles on the boat over that 5 day period. I'm sitting at work trying to concentrate. Distance racing is worse than drug addiction. I haven't caught up on my sleep yet and I'm planning next years trip already. Unfinished business in the San Clemente Island Race. There is a guy at Southwestern Yacht Club with a 1st place trophy who owes me a beer. Make that 2. And then there is always the Bishop Rock Race.......

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