Third Time Lucky

Four teams from Hudson Yacht Club made the annual crossing to CVMO (Club de Voile Marina d'Oka) for La Régate des Femmes (Women’s Regatta.) Amazing to think that 3 years ago we sent one team of 4 sailors and that 3 short years later we sent a total of 15 sailors on 4 boats! Our thanks to CVMO for continuing to invite us and for their welcoming spread of food (Oka cheese!) and beer.

The rules this year stipulated that the competing boats must be PHRF 3 only… so no J’s allowed. Thankfully we have a generous fleet of PHRF 3 skippers were pleased to lend out their boats. Knot a Clew, Tumbleweed and Maverick made up the Tanzers and Shatterproof, an Independant 20, rounded out the HYC team.

The first race got us all heated up and primed but maybe a little too excited as Maverick caught the pin and dragged it… Maverick did not know that a general recall had been called and set into recovery mode. Jenny Halyard went for a swim off the stern to free the mark from the rudder then got hoisted back into the boat by Helen Henshaw and Nancy Donelly. Fast crew work indeed – then Femke le Duc called the crew back to their stations to get racing and catch the fleet. Apparently 3 boats were OCS and the dragging pin made the RC decide to recall.

The second start went off a little smoother. The course was a triangle and a windward-leeward, all starboard roundings.

In all there were two races, both the same course. Hudson Yacht Club’s “Tumbleweed” took the bronze medal, Oka’s “Apsara” took silver and Hudson’s “Maverick” got the gold. Shatterproof came in a close 4^th place and Knot a clew finished 6^th.

What a great showing from HYC! Even more impressive was the sea of red HYC t-shirts visible all over the race course.

Femke le Duc, skipper for Maverick has now won the gold medal at this event 3 times in a row and will continue to defend the title for years to come!

...Jenny Halyard and Marian Kuiper

Humbled in Hudson

I've let a few of you in on my feelings about my trip back to Hudson last week and decided to state it publicly - simply because I want to state for the record how awesome I think you all are.

Moving to Hudson was tough. Really tough. I left the mountains to move to a town where I was a complete fish out of water. Everyone there knew each other and I was the new girl that seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. And then some personal tragedy struck just a few months after I arrived and I started to see just what kind of a community Hudson really is and proved to be over the next few years.

But there I was with a bunch of accomplished sailors and the only part of the boat I felt at home with was the bottle of rum. Or, I should say, scotch. Bud Cluett fed me so full of scotch on my first long distance race that I had to hold on to the spinnaker pole Ken was carrying back to the parking lot just to get there - swaying the whole way. (That man is a legend.)

It was hard to feel like I didn't live in a bit of a shadow during the time I lived there. While I felt very accepted immediately and all of the stereotypes I had about stuck-up Yacht Clubs were quickly quashed, I sort of wondered how much that really had to do with ME.

Then along came the opportunity to do this regatta and spend 10 days in Hudson this summer. I was a bit nervous walking into the club for the first time but quickly I realized my acceptance there had nothing to do with any shadow. It had to do with a fantastic, welcoming, thoughtful bunch of wonderful people I'm really happy to call friends.

Several of you had really kind words for me through the week and each of them made a difference to me - a big difference. I was overwhelmed at my welcoming and the open arms that greeted me last week. And I now know for certain what good friends I have there.

I look back and am really proud of what I (together with the crew of Penny Wise) accomplished in Hudson. We did well, we broke records and we laughed so hard and had such a good time. I'm so happy the Women's sailing program is still a success. And, best of all, now I feel like I can call myself a sailor. I was taught very well and I am so grateful for that. So appreciative.

Leaving Hudson was a good choice to make. However, I can't tell you how much I knew I'd miss the Yacht Club and how many tears I shed the night of the Sailor's Awards dinner that I missed. And I was right, springtime arrived and I wanted to be sanding a boat. Replacing windows. Rigging. Fiddling. Painting. Drinking beer in the parking lot talking about sailing.

I'm really happy back out west. I love it here. And I have a place to sail here and someone to sail with who thinks I have great skills on a boat. Now I get to wish for the snow to fly instead of the ice to melt and that's equally good, just different.

And I get to look forward to each and every time I'll set foot back in Hudson and am able to see all of you. And I couldn't be happier about racing with an HYC burgee on my sleeve; it just all feels right.

Blatent Nepotism

What goes around comes around; I am a huge believer. I think what you put out to the universe comes back to you in spades so I am going to do a bit of that here.

In 2003 I had the good fortune to take a road trip through Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine visiting family and friends along the way. Along the way we ended up in Portland visiting my wonderful friends Bentley and Brenda Collins, who I really didn't know back then. They work (and live?) for Sabre and Backcove Yachts.

Bentley, keen to show us the coast line from the water side, geared us up in Sabre logos and led us to the most beautiful boat I have ever sailed (and ever will I imagine). It was hull #1 of a 426; a luxury, hand crafted specimen that we would spend the day on.

Low and behold, along came one of the finest yacht photographers to capture this little outing; a pre-planned photo shoot for her inaugural sail that we happened upon at the perfect time. At one point Bentley had to ask me to please stop screaming because it wouldn't show well in the photos. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and the heeling over of the boat was making me quite nervous but I was to look like I was having the time of my life, please and thank you.

I guess I did pretty well because along came the next month's publication of Sail Magazine with our photo on the cover. Sailors work a lifetime for that sort of exposure and there I was, front and center. And then along came the catalog featuring us prominently - a full glossy photo of me at her helm no less. Then along came next year's calendar published by the photographer and weren't we 'a month'.

I didn't know the boom from the mast when that happened but I had a super fantastic day. I certainly had no idea what was to come for me in the sport but that was the start of it all pretty much and now that I know what I'm doing on the water, I'm telling you, that boat, she was a beauty. They just don't get much better - the people or their boats.

http://www.sabreyachtsblog.com/

Motors

There is a great divide between sailors and 'the other people', or motor boat owners. Spend anytime at all on a lake in Quebec and you have to wonder what the joy is all about on the 'other' side. Don't get me wrong, I do understand a good water-ski session and how much fun it is to be pulled behind anything that moves that quickly; the fear and thrill of motor boats is not lost on me. What I don't get is the need to simply go as fast as you can from point A to point B without being able to hear anything but the drone of an obnoxious motor.

If "the other people" had a half a clue about on-water courtesy or seamanship perhaps we could get along quite nicely. And, if I had some experience with decent motors, maybe I'd feel differently about the whole thing. But to now, I don't have that.

When we first bought the Tanzer we had an old Evenrude outboard that was nothing but a constant headache. Mostly, it worked sometimes, until finally the water pump imploded. I volunteered to sink the thing but no luck. Somehow the french navy gets to burn a tank of gas every hour on that lake and sinking a motor becomes environmentally unfriendly. Go figure.

Then we got a Mercury long shaft - and let me tell you how often I heard the term 'long shaft'. There is no prouder moment for a man, I am certain, than being able to refer to his goods as 'long shaft'. Every time we got that damn thing running and propelling a 3,000 pound boat, the success was attributed to 'the long shaft'. As with most things you can call 'long shaft' the thing worked very well, I'll give it that. (You spend 3 summers on the water, 25 hours a week with 3 (dirty) men and something they can call 'long shaft' and you find out what ensues: these are scars a lifetime of therapy couldn't address.)

Onto training week. Evenrude strikes again. I get on this boat, so excited and my heart sinks as I look aft. There's that familiar beige lid. Shit. There is a hole in the gas line, or so we think. And the handy label collar on the throttle that indicates start, shift, faster and slower is no longer affixed in place; it's anyone's guess as to where to hold it. I've somehow been assigned motor duty for the week; Cathy has put her foot down and firmly announced her distaste for dealing with motors. Jenny and Holly look away hoping not to be chosen. Typical me volunteers to conquer the thing.

Conquer I did. By the weeks end my hands and elbows were all cut up and my shoes were full of gas. We'd figured out the fitting was broken beween the gas line and motor itself so it wasn't as simple as a gas line repair. Instead, I had to lean over into the tank compartment and continually prime the pump just right to get enough gas into the motor to have it work without conking out every 5 seconds. And the gas leak ran nicely right into my shoe.

Of course I learned all of this the hard way because that's just how it goes with motors. On Wednesday, I was sweating buckets before the race even started because I'd pulled the cord about 5 million times or so on the way out to the race course, which we didn't even get to on time.

Seque back to Alberta where the guy I crew for here has recently purchased a motor. After having paddled that boat a couple of kilometers (sailboats do not respond like canoes I'll tell ya), this motor was my crazy suggestion. I arrived last night to meet a beautifully restored 4 stroke even equipped with a kill cord so finely tuned one pull leaves her idling nicely.

I had no idea that was even possible. I looked down at my scraped, scratched hands. I can still smell the gas on my sailing shoes. I look forward and see pretty coloured lines running neatly on a clean deck. And I think hey, I fucking love this sport. Everything about my relationship with it is insane.

Crew of 'Girls Round the Buoys I'

Many women begin to sail as a result of the passion for the sport held by their partners; its join them on the boat, or pretty much never see them. Even today, that theme is much more common than you might think. We end up cruising with our partners and crewing for them on race circuits. And, more often than not, we can end up as the only woman on board. For those that survive that reality it means 3 things: we can hold our own on a boat, we can put up with anything and we’re often isolated from other women sailors on the water.

A few years ago a group of us at HYC made an effort to sail and train together as women while we maintained our commitment to our regular crew. I am both thrilled to be racing with (and against) these women from HYC and excited to participate in a regatta of this caliber where, I imagine, we are not the only women with a story like this.

For better or for worse, the Girls Round the Buoys I are:

For Cathy Harris, competitive sailing began in the late 1970's doing club racing as foredeck crew on a Mirage 24. Then in the early 1980's on a Kirby 30. We were very active in local club and Montreal racing and also in the Canadian MORC fleet. Women’s club champion at HYC for two years. During the mid 1980's, moved on to a J24 and crewed on this boat for the next ten years - Quebec Champion seven times, participated in five Canadian Championships, and one World Championship. Past two years, local white sail club champion in a J22.

Sara Noyes began cruising and racing competitively in 2004 at Hudson Yacht Club (QC) crewing primarily on a Tanzer 22. Racing success includes winning fleet championships 2 years in a row at the club level and a 4th overall in the 2007 Tanzer North American Championships. As trimmer within a women’s only crew, Sara won 1^st place finishes in the “Regate des Femmes” at Mirabel YC, Oka, QC in 2006 & 2007. Sara was instrumental in developing a women’s sailing program at HYC and in 2006 was awarded the club’s Top Female Sailor trophy. A recent move to Alberta means Sara now is a member of the Ghost Lake Yacht Club sailing out of Cochrane, AB.

Holly Frohloff of Hudson, QC grew up cruising on various boats at the Hudson Yacht Club. Holly’s competitive sailing experience began on a J29 in the mid 90’s. She has crewed on J22’s, J24’s and extensively on a Tanzer 22. Holly has actively raced in Montreal area regattas including participating in the HYC Labour Day Regatta for many years and also the “Regate des Femmes” at Mirabel YC in Oka QC in 2007. Effective as foredeck, trimmer and at the helm, Holly has proven her versatility on keelboats and is currently Women’s Fleet Captain at HYC.

Jenny Marten of Hudson Quebec began racing 12 years ago at the Royal Ulster Yacht Club in Northern Ireland. Enjoying racing at all levels from Club to National competition, her range of experience has taken her from the Irish coastal and offshore circuit upon a Farr 40 to one design inter provincial J24 and J22 Canadian championships. As a member of the winning crew in 2006 and 2007 of the Montreal region “Regate des Femmes” she has demonstrated her skill as a foredeck and is regarded as one of the leaders in women’s sailing at Hudson Yacht Club.

Training

What a week! As a crew that is split up (me being in Alberta) we needed to spend as much on-water time together as possible this week and we certainly managed to accomplish that. We haven't sailed together as a crew before and there was some trepidation as to how well it would acutally go. I knew putting the crew together that everyone was competent in their intended role, but you never really know how it's going to gel until it does. And it did.

Sailing Sunday on a Tanzer 22 gave us the opportunity to talk through responsibilities. It was clear immediately that everyone was on the same page.

Tuesday we were short our skipper so I got to helm a white-sail race so a major goal of my season was accomplished.

Wednesday was interesting - full rig race with full crew. I think it would've gone better had we managed to get to the start line on time. But, due to a not-so-fantastic experience with the outboard, that didn't prove possible so we started DFL and also finished DFL.

Thursday gave us an opportunity to re set some things on the rather tired boat we were sailing; grateful as I am to have been lent a boat by a generous friend, I'm sure he'd be the first to admit the thing is slightly less than race-ready. All the lines are the same color and stiff as old lines get. The blocks are mostly seized or about to blow up in heavy air and the sails have all seen better days. So we spent some time re-rigging things to make our lives easier for the 3 races that lay ahead on Saturday. Thank God for basements full of extra gear.

Well, Saturday did not go all that much better than Wednesday. If you could name a problem that can go wrong on a sail boat, we encountered it. We sailed 3 races Saturday. DFL in all 3. One of the races we finished, doused our spinnaker, hoisted the Genny and were in the start sequence for the next race trying to catch the 4 minute gun having missed the 5 already. It was like one, big 7 leg race.

I'd be amiss to blame all of the problems on the boat - certainly as a crew we had our fare share of mishaps. Tacking through a gybe and gybing instead of bearing off (the latter done in front all of the rest of the boats who had finished already and were watching - how embarassing is that?). However, as a crew through it all we have come together and that was the whole point of spending the week sailing with each other. We know what to do and when to do it. We are clear about our responsibilities. Cathy, our skipper, and I, the trimmer, are on the same page entirely in terms of what decisions need to be made and Jen and Holly worked very well together. And we all had plenty of problem solving to do along the way to test that. Everyone has to work well together to make anything work and we did.

Our confidence grew and we are gelled. And we are excited. And, we are pretty good at solving problems, fixing motors and re rigging boats. That's a lot to accomplish within a week.

Hoist

I am enamoured with sailing like I’ve never been with any of the other sports I’ve participated in through my life – and there have been many. What I love about sail boat racing is that it requires the coming together of many elements – strength, balance, team work, communication, planning, practice and dedication. And you have to have a good understanding of the many, complicated rules that read more like legal text than a sport rule book.

Sailing requires enough physical capability to strong-arm huge sails full of wind, the ability to problem solve quickly when things go bad (and something always goes bad) and a knack for reading the wind, the course and your competition well enough to be able to win more often than the next guy. You need to be able to hoist and douse sails quickly at mark roundings with other boats in your way whose crew are often yelling at either you or another boat, adjust crew weight for optimum heel (angle) based on the amount of wind and accelerate out of a tack.

Oh - and I should mention you need a few bucks to sink into parts that are constantly breaking at the wrong time, sails that shred in heavy wind, $1800 spinnakers you tear holes in before the second time you hoist them because it was on the bow pulpit when you crashed into another boat while on port tack (i.e. in the wrong) without the guy who paid for it on board but who is watching – horrified and helpless - from shore, running rigging (ropes) that makes rock climbing look cheap and your clumsy fore-deck guy who needs liability insurance, against himself.

And then there’s all that beer. A healthy appetite for cursing, beer drinking, rum swilling, bar lounging, sun baking, waiting for wind, being scared because there’s too much wind and a whole bunch of particularly awesome people is required above all else.

That all does not account for the extras and the time you spend caring for these often old, rather tired pieces of work. There’s yearly scraping, painting and maintenance that costs a few hundred bucks before you even put the thing in the water in the spring. There’s a winter of dreaming of ways to make it go faster before the lake starts to thaw.

A job that requires regular visits to Hudson, a bevy of wonderful sailor friends, the availability of a welcoming guest room under the roof of a wonderful family and an obsession with all of the above are things I’m beyond grateful for. I know I’ve made choices that have intended for this all to happen but as I sit here on an airplane with a full week of regular work and regatta training ahead of me I can’t help but pinch myself in disbelief that this is my life and this little sailing dream has come true.

Launch

It was early spring 2005 – late April or early May and it was pouring rain. They were down at the club stepping the mast because the boat was scheduled to be launched the next day. I was at home. The phone rings. It’s him. “Hi. I forgot the windex. I need it to put up the mast. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes, of course I know where the windex is. Duh. Do you want paper towel too?”

“No paper towel; Sara I mean the windex for the mast. Do you know what I mean? Do you know where it is in the basement in the workshop on the shelf?”

“Yes, of course I know where it is. I’ll be there in 5.” I get there and hand him a brand name spray bottle of blue ammonia. He stares at me in disbelief while our fore deck guy doubles over laughing.

“This is not what I meant. I wanted the wind indicator that goes at the top of the mast”.

“Oh” I said, “why didn’t you say so”?

He just shook his head and laughed. “This is going to be a steep learning curve girl”.

He wasn’t kidding. That October I took 2 trophies home at the awards dinner. I was presented the Farquherson Vase for Most Improved Female Sailor at the club. 30 boats race regularly – they crash, run aground and drop boats from the crane – but the story told about that day in the parking lot and a bottle of blue ammonia garnered the most applause and the most laughs from the crowd and thus beat all of the other stories. So I also won the “Hooter Award”.

I laughed as hard as anyone. I’d deserved both of them. I was proud of how far I’d come. And I was excited for more. Lots more.

Design

One Sunday in August 2006 I stumbled onto a dock at HYC to find 3 women rigging for a race across the lake at another club. Quick to fill their 4^th spot I was off with them to race the Inaugural Regatte Des Femmes. We won and wore our medals back to the club where a number of people commented on our achievement and told me stories about a women’s program that was once successful but for one reason or another had fallen apart. As a racer on an otherwise male crew I could count the women who raced on one hand most nights.

That got me to thinking. Ten years ago I spent a year in college planning an all-women’s recreation adventure company and know how important it is for women to support each other in sports. I knew HYC had an incredible group of members that would be fully supportive. I was new there and had been accepted and embraced by this group more fully than I could’ve ever hoped for - taught and encouraged genuinely by a very talented group of sailors.

So in 2007 I set out to (re) form a grass-roots women’s sailing group to foster participation by women in the club’s strong racing program. Whether on all female or mixed crews, I wanted more women to feel competent and confident and have skills by which to participate (somewhat) equally. At the Regatte Des Femmes that year we repeated our victory and brought 2 other teams from the club. We had come from 4 nervous women winning the race the previous season to 11 sailors ready to kick ass.

This year crawling websites I found the Canadian National Women’s Keelboat Regatta in Toronto calling for registrants. A quick phone call rounded up a crew to race with me and our excitement spurned another crew to join us. Over the next few weeks I’ve decided to chronicle our training efforts, thoughts and feelings headed into this undertaking and write a bit about what got me here.