Chris Branning '08 and The Morning Light Project

Chris is doing a lot of top-level sailing on his own to prepare for TransPac 2007

We finished another great two weeks of training on Morning Light in Hawaii in the absolute best sailing conditions I have ever experienced, hands down. There was a much greater sense of responsibility among the team as now we really felt the boat had been handed over to us, and we were ultimately responsible for its maintenance. We have worked out so many bugs in the electronics, rigging repairs, sail repairs, and other mechanical problems that Morning Light is actually coming online quite well. We are consistently accomplishing more on the work list than we are adding.

The next few days were ordinary practice. Then came a bit of a test as we competed in our first of two weekend regattas. With a steady 25 knots in the lee of Oahu, and extremely puffy wind, we entered our first PHRF series. I was the port trimmer, which meant I trimmed the jib upwind and spinnaker downwind. Our race on Saturday was a fetch to the whether mark from the start line on port, then a long downwind to another mark left to starboard, and a tight reach to a third mark and then upwind to the finish. When I say “long downwind” I mean by normal sailboat standards, as with our spinnaker up it took us about only 9 minutes! Trimming in those conditions downwind is very difficult, and the spinnaker trimmer ends up steering the boat in coordination with the skipper, it takes both in unison to work the waves. Since we were in such puffy conditions it took a lot of sensitivity to the wind strength and a lot of easing the sheet to keep the boat upright. We only hit about 20 knots since the seas were so calm behind the island, but finished 2nd on corrected time. The next race we did was a Sunday low-key race, and some classes were cancelled due to too much wind. We were racing in almost 30 knots in a similar area, and I experienced my first quasi-knockdown. We did some more practice sailing where I was positioned as navigator.

This wrapped up another great session on Morning Light. We had another night trip planned - this time with no coaches. However we had damaged both of our mainsails in practice and were unable to finish our last training session. So, with a small sense of incompletion, I left Hawaii and headed directly to LA, to be a bowman onboard Scout Spirit, a 78 foot maxi downwind sled, in the Puerto Vallarta Race - a 1000 mile ocean race from LA to PV. This was my break - into professional offshore sailboat racing.

We had one day of practice on Scout Spirit on the day before the start of the race. We had 12 guys, all older, wiser, more mature and refined than young Chris Branning. If I already didn’t feel like the youngest guy on the boat, I realized my sweater said “Youth World Sailing Team 2004.” Any doubt about my maturity was conveniently removed for the casual observer.

I was assigned to the bow position, meaning I was pretty much responsible for the thirty feet of mayhem forward of the mast. This was my first offshore race over 200 miles, and my first paid job for actually racing a sailboat. To say this event was a major break for me was an understatement. In addition to doing bow, I hoped to spend time at the Nav station since there was no one designated navigator and maybe I could help out. I was sailing with a dynamite professional crew and a screamer boat. The crew had over 120 Pacific distance races among them, each one between 1000 and 3000 miles. Yet, as much as these guys knew, they were very friendly and very approachable.

We started the race at 1pm on Friday February 23rd. Our weather forecast had 20-26 knots all the way to the tip of Baja California and a steady breeze from Baja to PV. Our Optimum Router within the program Expedition predicted that we could break the existing PV overall/first to finish time record by 24 hours. Imagine that, my first big race and I will be a record setter!! I figured if we broke the record I would retire from that race having gone undefeated!

The starting line was just outside the break water for Marina Del Ray Yacht Club. We had a fetch to the peninsula just to the south of the start, then 1000 miles of running downwind. We started with a full main, and a number 4 jib (very strong) on a close reach. The wind was 20-25 and seas 6-7 feet and all the extra sails down below in the forepeak.

After 30 minutes we started pulling every single one up on deck and onto the whether rail. To give you an idea of how big this boat is, and how large the sails are it took 4 people to move a jib, and at least two to move a spinnaker. On deck the spinnakers while in their bags were so big you could only roll them, dragging them is not really a possibility unless you have another guy. We loaded up the rail successfully, just in time to change to a mast head jib, which is easily a 150 lb sail on a roller fuller. We hoisted the MHJ and took down the #4, and cracked off a few degrees as we rounded the peninsula. After about 20 minutes with the MHJ, we set up a 4A spinnaker since we wanted to head to a full running downwind. We peeled to the 4A, and doused the MHJ, and were now doing 18-20 knots boat speed in 20-25 knots breeze with rolling 6-7 foot waves. The temperature dropped to about 50 degrees in the afternoon when the sun disappeared behind a few clouds. I was wearing full foul weather gear; warm socks, bibs, fleece top and offshore jacket along with cold weather gloves. All my gear was fine except the offshore jacket. It just isn’t waterproof on the neck. The ideal gear for any condition would have been bibs, boots, and a spray smock with a latex seal for the neck and cuffs. That combination is warm and 100% leak-proof. It will keep the chilly Pacific from dripping down your neck.

It was now about 4 pm and 3 hours of being on the bow had soaked me to the bone. Everyone was on deck. The other bowman, Eric and I, had just set up the 2A for a spinnaker peal. We got the 2A on the bow, ready to be hoisted. The 2A was 1,500 square feet bigger and a lighter air spinnaker as we knew the breeze was going to soften behind Catalina Island. I was on the forward grinding pedestal taking my turn at trimming the giant spinnaker. We were on starboard pole, and heard a loud “snap”. The backstay parted about 6 feet off the deck, and the mast broke in 3 places as it came crashing down over the port side of the bow. Since I was on the pedestal facing aft as this happened I immediately hit the deck along with my shipmates before I even looked at what was happening. Next thing I knew the mast that was left standing was in shape up to the first spreader, and broke a few feet above that. As the mast came crashing down it began raining carbon splinters, since the mast was made of carbon fiber. These little buggers are wicked sharp and really skinny, and once inside your skin break off making them very difficult to get out. We immediately went to our assigned battle stations, and mine was on the bow closest to the broken mast which was still attached to the boat by the mainsail, spinnaker, shrouds, and sheets and guys. The most interesting part of this whole experience was that for the first minute, literally, nobody did anything as we wanted to allow the boat to position itself in a stable situation beam to the seas and let the mast settle into the water before we went to work. As we let the boat settle into the waves I began coiling a spare sheet we had out for the 2A. It might seem silly to coil a sheet during a time like this, but my plan was to have at least one line ready to rock and roll if needed immediately, as opposed to having to search around for one when time was critical. After that line was coiled I threw it down the forward hatch along with the other lines just waded up and full of carbon splinters. Then our minute was up and it became a race to get the rig cut away before sunset as it would be a very dangerous mess once darkness set in. We had about and 1 hour and 15 minutes to win that race.

When the mast fell we still had forward momentum on the boat and the spinnaker pole fell into the water. Eric and I rushed forward it pulled it out and stowed it properly on deck. We then were some how coaxed into holding fenders between the mast and port side of the boat, as the mast was chewing the side pretty violently. The only way to do this was to be underneath the mainsail near the cockpit area. We managed to save a few bumps from the mast, but aborted the effort. It was just too dangerous. The mast was snatching the fenders right out of our hands.

The most dangerous part of the scene at this point was the solid rod rigging that came out of the water and arced over the boat from the starboard side chain plates to the top of the mast which was now in the water 70 feet below the boat. Spreaders were still attached to these giant shrouds, and were now swaying back and forth across the boat like pendulums in a dangerous and unpredictable motion. The broken spreaders were jagged with splinters. We somehow managed to tie as much as we could down to what was left of the life lines.

As some crew went to work on getting the top of the mast cut away by releasing parts of the shrouds, I helped pull in our brand new mainsail, made especially for this race. Despite the mast being broken in 3 places, the track which the main cars ran on held intact and we were able to pull the main out of the water with just myself and one other crew member, we did however have to cut the luff tapes in certain areas. The brand new main was soon wadded up on deck, out of the way. One could imagine it dripping wet hundred dollar bills on the deck of this sad and broken boat.

Once the main was on board, we focused completely on the next step of getting the mast over the side. We were able, with much effort and a lot of sweat, to release the deck pins holding the lower shrouds onto the deck, and slid the main shrouds out. They were under tremendous pressure, so as soon as they came free they snapped violently then slide into the water. The only remaining line holding the mast to the boat was the main halyard which was cut away. We had about 30 minutes until the sun hit the Pacific Coast. It was too rough to motor back to our departure port, so we instead motored back to Long Beach Pier. We contacted the Race Officials and let them know our plans.

As mostly a brand new crew, we worked together incredibly well. We were all professionals, and carried our language in a way that did not include “thank you” or “nice work”, but also never said “hurry up” “make it happen” or “go faster.” We knew each other vaguely, but knew each others’ skill sets very well. Our communication was very fluid and direct, always getting the message across in the shortest words possible. Nobody got hurt, the mainsail was saved, and we all have a feather in our cap, whether we wanted it or not.

The mast could have broken right at the deck, instead of 15 feet up. If that had happened the hydraulic lines would have been ripped open from the vang and outhaul spraying slick hydraulic fluid all over the deck. It also could have happened at night, as far as 80 miles offshore. The weather could have been worse, and people could have been hurt as we were just about to peal to a large spinnaker and that would mean having guys on the bow. All of this could have happened at once, and we were thankful it didn’t.

At one point during the event I was handed a hacksaw to try and cut the main shrouds. The shroud were 1.5 inch thick super strong rod metal, and would have taken me until the next morning to cut through that thing even if I had a limitless supply of blades. Even though I spent only 5 minutes doing this, I could have spent that somewhere else. Also, typically when a major accident occurs onboard everyone counts off to their designated number to make sure everybody is accounted for. We didn’t not have designated numbers and to my knowledge we did not do a head count, however I knew everyone was on deck.

If a mast falls and you are down below, take the time to put on your boots and gloves. You will be absolutely useless to the crew if you have carbon splinters all in your hands and feet.

Take minute to get together a game plan as soon as this happened. Coil a line then stuff al the others. Our coiled line came in handy.

Never risk crew for equipment. 9 times out of 10 just forget about the mast, it’s usually too big and too dangerous to get it onboard.

The last three weeks have been spent sailing in Hawaii on a TP52 and in Key West on a Farr 40. Both boats have a very high paced training and practice program, and I have only been able to take off a few days of sailing since arriving in Hawaii. I have now been home for two days and begun a marathon of laundry.

I arrived in Honolulu, Hawaii on January second to be greeted by our director and cameramen waiting for me at the baggage collection. Virtually the second I walked off the airplane the cameras started rolling, a quick reminder that we are really making a movie! If you ever felt awkward when someone you were with made a scene drawing people’s stares and glares, try collecting your bags with a film crew trailing your every move.

We do a lot of sailing, training, and learning. We have great coaches who give their all. I'll leave the rest of the details for the documentary movie.

One day we spotted two enormous humpback whales. As beautiful as they were, they were headed right for us so we briskly turned away 90 degrees to ensure they wouldn’t want to sink us. Just last year a sailboat was sunk during the Pacific Cup because they approached too close to these giant animals. They came within probably 50 meters.

The sailing has been the absolute best in the world, better than anywhere else I have ever been. It is windy every day, usually around 20-22 knots with 6 foot seas. The air is a high of 82 with a low of 81, slightly humid and always a rainbow to be found on the island as rain storms come and go cooling off the day.

Our last day of practice with Morning Light was Friday January 12th, and my flight left Honolulu at 11:10pm on Saturday. I flew directly into Key West, Florida arriving at 10:20pm on Sunday January 14th. ACURA KEY WEST RACE WEEK started on Monday, and I was sailing with a professionally based team called TEAM GROOVEDERCI on a Farr 40. I had never met any of my teammates, nor ever even raced a Farr 40 before in my life. Talk about being thrown into it.

Our team housing was excellent, a large house with a smaller cabaña. Unfortunately my jet lag wouldn’t let me fall asleep until 2 am on Monday morning, only to wake up at 6:30am and ride my bike down to the boat with new team. It was still dark and I hadn’t fully met everyone, let alone remember their names yet. While riding our bikes to the dock I asked what the best path to get home is, and was told “just go that way until you hit US 1, hang a left and keep going, you can’t miss it.” I felt very reassured about what I had gotten myself into.

My position was “pit”, the same position I had done on the Mumm 30 in the World Championship but the order of operations was slightly different, and boat much bigger and faster. I blended in right away and on Monday we sailed to a 3rd and 4th place finish, placing us 2nd overall right behind the America’s Cup crew of Alinghi. We were absolutely stoked on this finished after the first day and were hungry for more as the week went on.

The breeze was somewhat light by Key West standards, never really getting over 14 knots, and never sinking below 6 knots. The Farr 40 class recently added a new masthead spinnaker which is 60 percent bigger than its predecessor. This mean in just 7 knots of wind the spinnaker trimmer requires a grinder to help trim the sail!

You would think with each of the boats costing around $250,000 that people would be tender in their maneuvers and boat to boat encounters. But I saw just about the same amount of bumping, scrapping, yelling, and collisions in this fleet than just as in any dinghy regatta. At one starting line I was calling the time down from 20 seconds until the gun, we were just inside the starboard tack lay line to the committee boat end of the starting line. I was in the fully hiked out position as now we were going for full acceleration. My legs were hanging out over the side, my torso was doubled over and I was looking down as my watch yelling the time out, trying to be heard over the confusion of a starting sequence. Out of nowhere came a German team sliding their boat between ours and the committee boat's, and collided rail to rail with us. Just as they came into my field of view I folded my legs back inside the boat before they would have been crushed between our two shiny hulls. I kept on yelling the sequence but it was too late as they had taken us from a great start to dead stopped. Luckily I still have both of my feet.

The leeward gates were by far the most exciting part of each race, as here we had to raise the jib, take down the massive spinnaker and stow the spinnaker pole all in a few short lengths. Sometimes there would be so many boats coming into these marks at once there wasn’t enough room for them to even round, and there were forced to the wrong side of the turning mark, meaning they had to re-round and then continue on with their race. I honestly felt that our boat was one of the quietest boats at the leeward gates, due to mostly the absolute confidence and skill of our bowman. Our bowman was the type of guy who smoked a cigar before and after every day of racing, and when it came to the leeward marks he ran the show. While other boats were yelling at their own and each other we somehow slipped passed the chaos every time, only to look back at ripped spinnakers, sheets draped over the bows, and boats on the wrong side of the turning mark. We had only one mistake in crew work the whole event, and that mistake was minor and fixed very quickly without anyone in the back of the boat knowing.

Unfortunately our performance slipped and slipped as the regatta went on, ending us up in 5th overall after day two, then to 6th, then to 10th, and finishing out at 11th for the 5 day event out of 18 boats. It was a no drop, 9 race series and even Alinghi, an America’s Cup skippered and crewed boat, had a 2nd to last finish one race. This was actually the closest big boat racing I have ever experienced. During the last race after having sail 3 legs we rounded the 2nd weather mark overlapped with 4 boats. If that’s not tight racing I don’t know what is!

Key West was a great event with perfect weather. The opportunity to network with other sailors for rides in the future was endless. I was able to secure a ride for the Marina Del Ray to Puerto Vallarta Race, a 1000 mile ocean race from California to Mexico. I will be racing on Scout Spirit, an R/P 77 foot sled. That will mean when I leave from Sarasota on February 7th, I train in Hawaii until the 21st then fly directly to LA to practice on the 22nd, and start the race on the 23rd. We should arrive in Puerto Vallarta by March 1st.

Our schedule for our 2nd training session is to sail around the island of Molokai with our coaches, then do it alone. On top of our training sessions we will be having an engineering course on our Yanmar diesel engine, and a celestial navigation tutoring session. TransPac is one of the last races in the world which requires the navigator to submit celestial lines of position.

I hope all is well. Please feel free to email me at any time, it’s so great to still be in touch. My cell phone is 941-223-8264 and email is christopher.branning.2009@usmma.edu I hope this is a good summary what has happened and there is more to come! Take care.

Right now I am exhausted, tired, and ready to go to bed early after the first day of racing at the Mumm 30 World Championships. My day started are 0630 when it came time to eat a quick breakfast before spending close to an hour cleaning the bottom of our boat, called TEAM SIXX. This regatta is for all the bragging rights, so we are making sure everything is in order with no expense being spared (either financially or in terms of manual labor). It took 6 people working 3 hours to get the boat ready for racing today, and we came in around 3 pm only to continue boat work until well past sunset.

We sailed 3 races today, each a 4 leg course (windward-leeward, windward-down wind finish). Each leg was 1.75 miles long and the wind was a steady 16-20 mph with gnarly 4-5 foot seas. This made for very challenging sailing both on the crew’s part and the helmsman’s part.

The first race we started at the pin, and barely made the pin end work as our tactician (past America’s Cup and Volvo skipper) Kenny Read saw an advantage on the left side. We rounded the whether mark in 2nd place and were able to hang onto that position all the way into the downwind finish. We had incredible speed upwind which is attributed to the absolute talent of our helmsman, Tom Lihan, to sail in such rough and sloppy conditions; and the desire to sail well by the rest of the crew as we hiked so hard to keep the boat flat. A boat that is kept flat has over a half knot increase in speed than one with a lazy crew. Tom’s local knowledge of the area also helps. Tom is a Kings Point graduate class of 1984.

The second race had yet another great start but we were all pretty spooked when the boat immediately to leeward of us at the start was called back for a premature start, meaning we were within 15 feet of being over the line as well. We rounded the whether mark in 3rd, had a pretty good downwind run, and however struggled immensely on the douse at the leeward mark. After I raised the jib and stowed the spinnaker pole the next step is for the spinnaker to be doused. This means I run forward inside the boat, stick my hand out the forward hatch on the bow and pull in the spinnaker as it is being eased down. This began perfectly except that the spinnaker came over the port jib sheet instead of under the port jib sheet, fouling everything. I remained in my little fiberglass rollercoaster being pounded by heavy seas pulling with all my might as this spinnaker had friction everywhere as it was wrapped pretty good. Soon that problem was taken care of, but not before we lost another boat. We brought up a smaller spinnaker (a spare because the original one was too fouled to quickly be resorted out) set it beautifully and took off downwind to finish 4th.

The 3rd and last race of today we started much more conservatively at the boat end of the line, and were soon 0.25 miles behind the leader of the race! We were able to make the right side work with a small shift that saved our day, allowing us to round in 11th. Downwind we held our position pretty well. Upwind I feed some heading information to our tactician as well as make sure the boat is ready for a quick spinnaker set. Downwind I hoist the spin pole, hoist the spin, drop the jib, then grind, grind, grind and grind some more for the spinnaker trimmer. Grinding is basically taking an L shaped handle and sticking one end in a winch, then cranking in circular motions almost non stop for the entire downwind leg; this allows the spinnaker sheet to be pulled in to trim the sail properly. After the first downwind of a race I am absolutely exhausted, after the second downwind my arms are so tired I can barely pull the spinnaker through the hatch during a douse. I am dripping sweat, panting like an old dog, but loving every minute of it as this awesome sport boat surfs from wave to wave at speeds of up to 18 knots!

We caught 5 boats on the next upwind, mostly due to our great boat speed. We held our position of 6th downwind and finished out the race. We were glad this day was over.

Right now we are currently in 3rd place overall out of a 30 boat fleet. We are two points out of first and behind a professional team from Ireland, and another pro team from France. We are a point ahead of 4th, MEAN MACHINE, which is the team from the Volvo Around the World Race syndicate; they are also reigning world champs in another similar class. To say there are some big names at this regatta is an understatement.

I have more boat work bright and early in the morning, so I better sign off. I will do my best to write tomorrow. As a team we are thankful we didn’t have any collisions as there are 3 boats that are right now re-fiber glassing parts of their hull after today’s racing.

Today was an emotional rollercoaster aboard TEAM SIXX in the Mumm 30 World Championships. We started today in 3rd place in the overall standings, right where we wanted to be…..

The breeze this morning was windy to say the least; we started the first race sailing with our smallest jib. We clearly won the start and then listened on the radio if our bow number (06) had been called meaning we were over the line early and had to restart. We did not hear our name through the first rotation of numbers and felt relieved, knowing we pushed the line pretty hard. But then a voice broke through after moments of silence saying boats 06 and 04 had not restarted. Our hearts sunk and anger roared as we headed back to restart over 4 minutes after the gun. After we finally restarted we fought through 3 squalls packing a mean punch with both rain and increasing wind, causing us to loose sight of the whether mark every time. The runs were smoother than yesterday, and we ended up fighting back to a disappointing 24th place.

The next race was picture perfect in every sense of the word. We had a great start (a little more conservative) and punched out to round the top mark in first. We are off the pace on the runs, and lost distance on the first run but still rounded the leeward mark in first. Our speed upwind is unmatched, and we jumped out to a commanding lead. We rounded the last top mark in 1st, with second place about 10 boat lengths behind us. We gave it everything to hang onto our lead, and we cross the finish line in first. For one race, TEAM SIXX was clearly the fastest boat in the world. But as quickly as it came I found myself exhausted while in the bottom of the boat bailing water, repacking the spinnaker, and clearing the pit area while rerunning lines setting up for the next race. There are about 15 minutes’ in-between races, and every second is packed with a checklist of duties that never seem to be completely done.

The last race of today was a heart breaker. We started fairly well; conservative considering we are now eating a 24th place finish from being over the line early. As we approached the top mark we were in about 9th or 10th place, just inside the port lay line. At this point the fleet was the closest I have ever seen it together, with 15 boats within 15 lengths of each other rounding whether mark. We were forced to tack inside of a boat on starboard tack, making us unable to lay the mark. We were 10 feet shy of laying the mark, but we punched the bow hoping to just hit the mark, still be able to round it, then complete one penalty turn, and only loose a few boats. Instead, we did not have enough speed while luffing up to the mark, became stuck on the mark, while another American boat just one place behind us had the same idea, and began rafted onto our starboard rail in the exact same position as us. Our bow pulpit got caught on their lifeline as our 30 foot boats collided rail to rail. They tore out our pulpit leaving a gapping hole in our starboard rail, with numerous dings down our side. They actually somewhat pulled our boat around the mark and we completed two 360 penalty degrees turns to be sure we could not have the race ruined even further. We rounded the whether mark offset in last place, having gone from 9th to last in just one courageous decision. We still had 3 legs to the race left, and were able to finish in 15th place. It was a very quite sail into the marina. We completed the evening boat work and fiberglass repair well into the evening.

Today’s results ended up a 24, 1, and 15. That only moved us down to 5th place, from 3rd the previous day; however we were now 27 points out of first place.

Everyone thought today was going to be a lighter air day; however it was still as windy as ever. In the first race of the day we rounded in 6th place, biting at the heels of the Germans and Italians. We held our position downwind, which we were happy to do. Downwind is by far the hardest work for the boat as it takes the most teamwork to maintain proper heel of the boat, spinnaker trim to allow the helmsman to maneuver down surfing waves, and for the tactician to explain to the rest of the crew what he wants to do. Everyone is so focused on their specific job that we become shut off from the actual race around us. I get about 12 seconds total a race to look around at the fleet, which means the rest of the time I am hiking hard upwind with my head down and body over the rail, or grinding for the spinnaker trimmer downwind meaning I am looking only at the spinnaker because one second of hesitation means a collapsed sail, lost boats, or possible capsize. The work never ends for a grinder downwind, and the runs usually end up with me so out of breath I have trouble forming sentences.

We then won both the 2nd and 3rd race for the day, crossing the finish line in first for two races in a row. Three total for the series was absolutely awesome. It certainly boosted crew morale!

Today’s finishes put us back to 4th overall, 9 points out of 1st. A French boat called TWINS was in first, and Australian boat called FOREIGN AFFAIR was 2nd, and another American boat called GROOVEDERCI was in 3rd. It was a ten race series and we had now completed 9 races, with one more to be sailed on Saturday. We all went to bed very early.

We were all hoping that today’s single race was going to be longer with extra legs. We had been sailing windward leeward’s with 2 upwinds, and 2 downwinds, finishing downwind. Each leg was 1.75 nm long. Thirty minutes before the sequence started the RC announced the course was to remain the same as before. Had the course been longer it would have fit better into our strategy which was to simply win the race. We knew at this point we were the fastest upwind, and able to maintain our position downwind. If we had gotten aggressive with either TWINS or FOREIGN AFFAIR we seriously risked not winning the race and being forced into a fouling position. We had to win the race, have TWINS finish worse than 9th, FOREIGN AFFAIR 4th, and the other American team 2nd. It was a long shot, but possible.

Unfortunately, we got pinched out at the start, fought back to 4th at the whether mark with the Australians 4 boats behind. GROOVEDERCI was close behind but we felt comfortable that we could beat them. TWINS was winning the race so at this point the plan was to forget moving into first, but hold off FOREIGN AFFAIR and GROOVEDERCI to move into second overall. Another boat called BARKING MAD, a top notch American program, took out GROOVEDERCI in a radical head to wind maneuver which was totally legal on their part but still very aggressive. I guess MARKING MAD just wasn’t in the mood to have their wind taken away and wanted to set the example…who knows.

We gibed away from the pack in hopes of more wind, but found ourselves in a small lull of wind, which caused 5 boats to pass us before we rounded the leeward mark. GROOVEDERCI’s day got worse as they collided with another boat resulting with injuries and damage, but everyone was ok, nothing serious. They retired from the race. We were unable to catch any boats on the 2nd upwind, and the Australians and the French kept their position on us. We finished the race in 8th, the French won, and the Australians were somewhere in-between us.

So we ended up 3rd in the event, which isn’t bad for our first regatta ever together as a team. These foreign teams train year round together, and their ability shows though in their boat handling. Our speed was great, some of the best, our boat handling had some weak areas but we always got the job done. It was a very well run event and a lot of work, but worth every minute. It truly was a world championship in both the quality of the race management and the depth of the competition.