2009 Bacardi Cup

Reports By Tom Londrigan

Final Report

Biscayne Bay – The last day of the Bacardi Cup 2009 started an hour earlier.  Peter Bromby and Magnus Liljedahl appeared to be dominating the regatta with superior upwind boat speed.  Those boys seemed to get the jump on almost every race, however, Mark Mendelbaltt and Bruno Prada slowly sneaked up on them in points.  But, Peter and Magnus did it again; they established a quick lead and held Mark and Bruno back as they finished first and second in the race and in the regatta.  Marc Pickel’s P-Star design made a big impact, all three boats were impressive on the racecourse and they are very well-made.  Jon VanderMolen is teaming with Pickel to make these boats in Michigan.  And, as result of the regatta, Jon says he sold five boats to five different teams that finished in top ten of the Bacardi Cup.  Pickel design and construction with VanderMolen promotion is a nice combination.

Stew and I kept with the opposites theme.  The wind was from the southeast and stronger than the other five days.  The last two days brought the strongest breeze, although we still never pulled on the main downhaul.   We decided that the breeze was oscillating.  So, during the start it was to the right, we wanted to get on starboard and drive to the left side for the next wind change.  We held our lane with Mats Johannson to weather (I just wanted to throw the name Mats into my article, thank you for your patience).

 When the boys from the left tacked, we tacked to leeward.  At the mark, we were fifth and fifth at the next mark but the wind was still stuck on the left side of the course.  The fleet drove on port to a cloud marching across the right side of the course.  It brought strong breeze and some sprinkles but as it passed the crews went from hiking to hiking on the leeward side.  10 boats on the left tippy-toed passed us in the lull.  We passed them up the last beat but had to eat a 20 degree left shift into the finish and lost those ten boats again.  It is better to have loved and lost then to never… whatever, total bullshit, lucky wankers.

We enjoyed six days of sunny 80 degree weather.  We enjoyed watching Jon VanderMolen and Peter Wright score sixth and seventh for our beloved District 4, and then it was time to enjoy the spectacle of the closing dinner.  Bacardi flows more freely, skippers and crew imbibe since the racing is over and the emotions, good and bad, wiggle their way to the surface.   Phrases like, “I love you man, and that ain’t the booze talkin” are often overheard at the bar.  The drunkest, Nathan Quist… hands down.

Nathan put together a nice combo of sloppy speech, affection, and the ability to send a heavily muscled sailor over the edge.  Nathan wanted me to be sure to mention him in this article, mission accomplished.  After this wad of muscle came over to where we were sitting and accused Nathan of enjoying a alternative lifestyle, the two started arm wrestling and telling each other that it is “all good” but clearly it was not even “partially good” as the wad was seething and the drunk was spouting.

 Peter somehow peeled Nathan away from the party before hands were thrown which is a blessing for me since I was Nathan BFF all night.  If the fists started raining, and they were surely going to start raining, they were equally surely to starting raining down on my brain as necessary collateral damage.  I am the guy in the old Star Trek series wearing the different colored shirt that you knew Scotty was never going to beam back up alive.   Someone quickly noted to Austin Sperry that Nathan was just like Austin 10 years ago.   Austin reluctantly agreed but I think you need to sprinkle a dash of Mark Strube on top to get the recipe just right.

When, Nathan took off his shirt, I took that as a bad omen (kind of like anytime someone tattoos their face, you know they aren’t going to live much longer).   I tried to find my happy place (“yes mommy, I would love some chocolate milk and cookies”).   I was hoping for a body blow and no shots to the face and then a quick fade to black.  There is no place like home, there is no place like home, two clicks of my dirty flip flops and I would be back in Illinois.

After my BFF left, the wicked witch of the east appeared.  Her name is Amber and in order to make Marc Pickel angry she dropped her top and then mooned him as he rounded the weather mark.  Boy, she really taught him a lesson.

She appeared at the party as well sidling up to British Michael Hicks’ son and daughter, Georgina.  Amber is the star of a reality show so base that my children are forbidden from watching even the promotional commercials.  It is called the “Bad Girl Club.”  Michael was sufficiently unnerved by the non-stop attention his daughter was receiving, she is only 20 years old, by the “bad girl.”  Finally, Amber decided that she needed to get Georgina’s father’s approval before taking her out on the town.  This is when Amber approached me and begged for permission to take Georgina out dancing.  I stared at her and was slightly taken aback (do I look this old?).  I thought about what to do, then did what any doting father would do, I gave Amber my unequivocal consent.  I hope it all went well.

Amber, Larry Scott and Georgina Hicks

DAY 5 Report

Biscayne Bay - Opposite day began this morning. Everything seems to be going wrong all week on the racecourse, so Stew and I decided to follow the advice from George Costanza of the Seinfeld television show. George decided that whenever he felt that he knew exactly what to do, then he would do the opposite. His life improved dramatically. We thought this mantra was as good as any.

This morning, we parked the boat in a very impractical spot. We switched sailing clothes, he wore my black suit I wore his hiking pants without the Speedo this time. We switched gloves, hats, and I wore a red shirt. While sailing out to the starting line, we took a detour, it took twice as long. Right before the start, we took our water bottles and emptied them into the ocean.

The mark was set at 115 degrees and it was hiking weather about 10-12 knots, a little stronger than the other days. Every beat this week, we sailed up the middle and to the left. This time we were sailing to the right, like it or not. Every race this week we enjoyed excellent starts not today, baby. I was hell bent of screwing the pooch, I don't care if no other boat sets up on me, I was going to find someone and let them roll me, yeah that's right, you heard me… roll me.

We found two sailors perfectly willing to roll us, George Szabo to leeward Brian Cramer to windward. As George Clooney said in O'Brother Where Art Thou, "Delmar, we are in a tight spot, a real tight spot." Tight spot yes, but exactly the opposite type of start that we normal look to perfect. Our plan was coming together nicely.
The start was so bad that the boat stalled and we slowly roll onto port while the starboard-tackers chugged away from the starting line. We took evasive action, eased the sails, took sterns, and barely avoided the race committee anchor line; things we definitely starting to look up.

We found ourselves covered to windward in bad air and on a header, normally we would have tacked to clear our wind but since we were enjoying opposite day, why not ease the sheets and drive to leeward for an open lane and see if we can find the right corner and the welcoming sign floating in the ocean. ("Welcome to Cornersville, population 1).

We saw the sign and my instincts said tack but we fought the urge and drove on further, well beyond the starboard layline. I asked, "Well, Stew is this enough opposites yet?" Stew said, "not even close, not even close." We rounded about 30th and wrestled with the fleet at a leeward mark rounding that was hard to explain; when we picked our head up we were on starboard heading to the other side of the course. Stew and I thought to tack, so we stayed. We rounded in about 22nd. By the time we were done, we were 15th; things were starting to turn our way, until we arrived at the dock.

The Yacht Club intercom was paging me. My voicemail was full and Jon VanderMolen was announcing to everyone that we are being evicted from our rental home. As it turns out, I did not read the contract closely enough and we had to be out of the house by noon. It was three and the owner was piling up our stuff and calling the police to tow Jack's car. I write this article from a Hampton Inn, not the wonderful home we stayed at all week. Things are definitely to look up.
 

DAY 3 & 4 REPORT

Biscayne Bay-- Sorry for not writing an article yesterday, it is very difficult to write about the day of sailing when your ass is handed to you at every turn.  Stew and I are healthy, well rested, the equipment is excellent, our families love us, and we keep sailing the wrong way; the wrong way every leg.  We have scored poorly, sailed poorly, and been called over for starting early and today is the coup de grace. 

After the jibe, we roll the boat to windward to get the boat back on its chine.  After this particular jibe, Stew goes up to the mast and then the judge’s boat screams out our sail number and accuses us of rocking.  I didn’t even have time to start rocking the boat.  So, despite being in the middle of the fleet and having one DSQ already we were nailed with a Rule 42 infraction.   

I was not sure, so I asked Stew what is the penalty for a Rule 42 violation.  Stew said, “one 360 degree circle.”  My memory of Joe Londrigan earning the same penalty was similar; I thought I saw him spin once.  I agreed, so, Stew dropped the pole and we did a circle, hat in hand. 

Our attempts to remain motionless throughout the rest of the race did not help pass any more boats either. 

After quietly putting the boat away, we checked to score only to find that we were disqualified for not doing two circles.  Two mother scratching circles!   

Two circles as in: 720 degrees, two pirouettes, two losers from the Midwest, or “you spin me right round, baby right round, like a record baby right round, round round” (courtesy Dead Or Alive… all rights reserved).

 Sure enough, the rule book calls for two circles.  I hope that anyone who reads this will never forget this part of the rules, two circles everyone, two mother scratching circles.

 Stew and I have resolved to make this right.  We vow to perform another circle tomorrow and all will be right, the judges will be happy, and maybe our Karma will change.  One circle can change your whole perspective.

 Yesterday….Yesterday seems so far away, it was light wind and the crews were on the leeward side of the boat.  This is about all I recall, there was a lot of sweat, some cursing, and thankfully Jack Jennings’ team kept the vomit out of the mix; well done Jack, well done. 

After the racing, we invited the Netherlands and Irish team over for dinner.  Oddly enough, the Irish have an English coach, and the generations of oppression was duly noted but winning was more important that centuries of bitterness   

The Irish noted, with no promoting, that Ireland had 56 million people and now have only four million and that most immigrated during the famine but failed to put any serious effort into fishing (not sure about the accuracy of these numbers, the beer was flowing).

We all laughed but everyone quickly noted that the Netherlands is underwater and English have horrible food… and but someone pointed out that Irish food is rather… Irish, and nobody could think of one Dutch dish at all.  No hands were thrown.  Brilliant. 

Speaking of the Dutch and immigration, Jon VanderMolen is of Dutch descent and we all enjoy racing for wooden shoes in Gull Lake every May.   Jon is lighting this regatta up.  After four races, he is in second place overall with scores of 2, 16, 6, and 2.  He is sailing in the Marc Pickel designed boat, the “P Star.”  Jon is going to build these boats in Michigan and you could not ask for a better advertisement for the boat that Jon’s performance.  My bitterness is tempered by the sweet sailing of Jon VanderMolen and Geoff Ewenson. 

The 4^th District is looking good Jon in 2^nd, Peter Wright and Nathan Quist in 5^th, and Jack Jennings and Mike Rehe in 16^th.

 By the way, thank you for all the advice for driving to Rio.  Rob Maine even recommended so useful prescription medication.

DAY TWO REPORT

Biscayne Bay-- As it turns out, the first race was not thrown out. Jon VanderMolen and Geoff Ewenson keep their second place finish. Eight boats protested the strange start yesterday and five received redress which, in this case, will mean average points for the next four races. So, those racers better score well.

It was a little cloudy this morning, and the forecast called for 5-10 knots from the east (90) to southeast (135). We arrived on the race course early and recorded wind directions of 125 to 100. When the wind hit 100 degrees, the race committee postponed the race. 20 minutes later, the mark was set at 105 degrees. Stew and I thought that this seemed to the extreme left of the wind spectrum, so we started at the near the committee boat in order to flip to port and exploit the port lift and then flip back when the wind went right as it seemed to be oscillating.

We hit it just right and tacked to port right away but the general recall flag was raised and we all returned to the starting line for another try. Same course, same wind pattern; so we fought for the boat again, maybe thirty yards to leeward. A boat fouled us by driving across our bow, so our boat stalled as he passed, I scrambled to get the boat up to speed with 19 seconds remaining, and we got it going and hit the line at full speed then tacked to port and crossed the starboard boats. After 30 seconds, we tacked and the fleet was in our window. Our plan was to go right, but the fleet was in our window (i.e. behind us) so we stayed on starboard to realize our gains. We did. However, as each boat took our stern they seemed to pass us whenever we tried to come back to the right. A trend was developing. We dealt with it the best that we could but we ended up on the left side of the course. The leaders were all from the right side of the course, this the second time we played it safe on the first leg and suffered, not too much though, we rounded the mark in 15th.

Rick Brethorst and Scott Anderson rounded in 12th, Jack Jennings and Mike Rehe in 10th, and Peter Wright and Nathan Quist in second; quite a nice leg for the boys from the Illinois. One problem, apparently the Race Committee was of the opinion that we started earlier that the other boats, our number was on the chalkboard and we had to retire.

The Illinois boys fought hard in our absence Peter and Nathan finished third, Jack and Mike finished eighth, and Rick and Scott finished 11th. I think Claude Bonanni and Rick Burgess had a nice race too, I only bring this us because I think Claude reminds me of one of the Screaming Meanie's from the Beatles Yellow Submarine movie, discuss amongst yourself. I also thought to describe Larry Suitcase's maneuver yesterday as "ass clown central", not sure what that really means but it seems to fit the bill.

Due to their redress score in the first race, Peter Bromby and Magnus Liljedahl are leading the regatta with two second place finishes and Peter Wright and Nathan Quist are in second.

Now back to the serious issues. I called my Venezuelan friend Camillo. He says driving to Rio from Springfield can be done. He was not sure about the Panama Canal or how the border crossing would go but he too thought he would like to try and make the drive. Since he was the one to stress the importance of having someone who speaks Spanish and that understands the area, I think Camillo just volunteered. We have three drivers, Stew, Camillo and myself; now we just need a sponsor.
 

DAY ONE REPORT

BISCAYNE BAY--  When I arrive in Miami and spend the day on the water in the middle of the winter, sometimes I think that there is the only one week in the year and the rest is just prologue to Bacardi week.  As soon as I arrive, it seems like the day I left but it is 12 months later.  At home, it is dark, cold and shades of brown with a hint of dog poop in the air.  When you step off the plane, it is sunny, warm, and you are greeted with the smell of saltwater. 

Unfortunately, Betsy could not come down this year but she has her heart set on going to the World Championship next winter in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.  Now, I want to go as well, any red-blooded man would want to go to Rio but shipping the boat could be cost prohibitive. Enter Stewart Hall. 

Stewart and I race together and he drove the boat down to Miami while I flew in an airplane.  For those of you who don’t know me, I am kind of a big deal.  Anyway, Stew made it unscathed, rested, and ready.  Stew is young and just out of college; you can’t manufacture this kind of time and energy.  Now, you can see the wheels turning in my head, Rio… Stew… driving… the van and the boat.  

During breakfast, Petter Pederson of Norway sat down next to us, like we just saw each other yesterday.  We picked up talking about racing, naturally.   I told Petter that, whether Stew knows it or not, I am going to challenge Stew to drive the van and boat from Springfield, Illinois to Rio for the Worlds.  Now, everyone seems to be into the debate.  

First, I offered a free drink to anyone who came closest to predicting the actual mileage.  Second, is it cheaper to ship the boat or drive it?  Third, how long will it take to drive to Rio.  Fourth, will he make it alive, if not, will need a back up plan for a teammate?   

Lots of discussion ensued, border crossings, drug searches of the boat, whether or not there are paved road from here to there etc 

I say 6500 miles, paved roads, and he lives.  Petter went with 10,000 miles, paved and he doesn’t make it.  Rick Brethorst went with 5200 miles, unpaved expanses as well as stating that despite Stew’s determination, it is impossible to make it by van and boat, and Stew dies.  Scott Anderson says unpaved, dead, and the boat disappears as well.  Joe Londrigan, by phone, went with 5500 miles.

Time for you to weigh-in on the debate; can it be done?  How far, how long and shouldn’t some off-road vehicle sponsor the trip as a reality-based TV show promoting its latest SUV?  Email me your thoughts at tom@stargear.net.

Jack Jennings and Mike Rehe of Detroit started the first day out properly with a little vomit, a little hangover, and soft voices; a secret recipe  They tippy-toed out to the dock and sailed out to the course in total silence; such a peaceful team.

The wind was ranging from 115 degree to 135 degrees and 10-12 knots.  The line was square but the wind favored starboard tack off the line.  Stew and determined that it was an oscillating breeze, so our best bet was to get on the lifted tack soon and drive towards the next shift and since the shifts were quite far apart, we wanted to be about a 1/3 from the RC boat to carry out the long starboard lift as long as possible until the port shift came in.  We also remembered from past years that that it was important to finish on port at the end of the leg.  Game plan established.

With a minute until the start, we had a comfortable position 1/3^rd from the race committee boat with Mark Reynolds and Hal Haenel to weather and Mark Mendelblatt and Bruno Parada to leeward.  With 17 seconds, we all tried to get up to full speed, the gun went off, then another gun went off.  Usually, that means individual recall, so we focused and sailed on hoping we were not over the line early.  After about 45 seconds, a race committee boat sprinted across the bows of the entire fleet with an obtuse looking flag flying.  Thirty seconds later it cut across the fleets bow again.  Under normal circumstances, this means that a general recall flag has been flown and the racers are to return to the starting to try another start.  We paid it no attention and raced to the weather mark but it did cause some confusion.

Stew and I were right, it was a long right lift taking us and most of the fleet on a long starboard tack.  We held are lane and four boats around us eventually had to tack away.  We decided to tack to port and only Mark Reynolds crossed us.   O’Leary, VanderMolen, Diaz, and others gratefully let us cross on port, little did we know that those crossing threw us off the plan to finish the leg on the left.  Sure enough, each one of those boats crossed us approaching the weather mark and we rounded eighth.  The RC moved the leeward mark to 300 degrees, a five degree change.  As we rounded the offset mark, a crazy man was sailing upwind on port with another port boat to weather of him and we had to take evasive measure to avoid a major collision.

Now, most good coaches will tell you that the worst place, wait… the stupidest place on the race course is heading in to the weather on the port tack layline at the offset mark while the rest of the fleet is rounding that mark.  I have done it once, not out of stupidity but due to a 30 degree windshift that put us and other way past the port layline.  Needless to say it was harrowing and I apologized to all as I sifted my way from one potential collision to another.

So who was this boat, none other than perennial coach Larry Suitcase.  The thing is, there was not major windshift to put him in that position, on top of that he had a boat to windward of him which implies that he drove the poor guy past the port layline… for reasons unknown, was hanging the poor soul up past the offset mark for no apparent reason other than to cause major damage to boats that he had the obligation to keep clear.  Larry Suitcase has some explaining to do.  I will assume that this is not part of his coaching tutelage?

We sailed to the next mark very slowly.  As the leg wore on we got slower and slower and slower.  The wind was dying and I failed to close the bailers, the boat was deep with water and we lost 22 boats in the last ¼ of the leg.  Upwind the water drained and we rounded 16^th.  Meanwhile, the lead changed at every mark.  We ended up 25^th but only two hundred yards from the winners.  In second place, was Jon VanderMolen and Geoff Ewenson sailing his new P-Star boat.  He sailed fast and smart, way to go Jon.  It was an exciting race.

Due to the strange starting sequence, seven racers filed for redress, the race could be tossed out entirley.   For you 4^th District fans, Rick Brethorst and Scott Anderson were 24^th and Jack Jennings and Mike Rehe were 30^th, and Bill Allen and Bruce Hatfield were 32^nd.