Racine Recap 2012

Cruel: 
cru·el adj \ˈkrü(-ə)l\ 
1: disposed to inflict pain or suffering : devoid of humane feelings  
2: a: causing or conducive to injury, grief, or pain b : unrelieved by leniency 

I’m pretty sure Racine Wisconsin is cursed. Which is a dichotomy, on one hand you’ve got this wonderful yacht club, and glorious beach. Then in the palm of the other is the weather, which never cooperates until the N flag is flying, or until the masts have started to come down. It’s cruel. Racine is one of my favorite sailing venues, but it’s like chasing the dream girl that just drags you along for eternity, and for her own entertainment. There’s no hope, but you don’t see it, you just love her and you just keep coming back for more punishment. Every once in a while she gives you a glance at what could be, and that just fuels the narcissistic fires. As a general rule, Racine has incredible weather prior to, and after a regatta. I’m sure the Monday morning after was a flawless breeze, just like it had been during the training session with Robbie prior to the event.

This year’s event had a killer turn out. Thirty three boats from all over the place came. Eighteen were competing on handicap, and fifteen of the sexiest of catamarans, the A-Class catamaran, had their own start.

Triton hates us. Friday morning some sailors were greeted by painful sunlight, and a brutal hangover, all were greeted with sub-nuclear winds. Inside the yacht club, and fighting hard to keep a glass of water down, I stared at the wind readings taken from the anemometer on the roof. Like a car crash, or watching a figure skater fall, I could not look away from the horrors the wind was presenting. Upper thirties, which is a whole mess of knots, is what was being displayed. My unsettled stomach was only able to afford the occasional glimpse of the water on the lake, where eight foot, (and then some), waves pounded against the jetty shooting spray high into the air. Some sailors braved walking the jetty, the wind readings they took registered in the upper forties. No sailing on Friday, and the deities of sailing sports chalk a point onto their half of the score board.

No rest for the wicked, and have you seen my other flip-flop? Saturday morning the postponement flag flew at 10:30, with the promise of the wind backing, and the waves settling. The lake is still a washing machine, the wind is still screaming, though in more of a baritone key, rather than that of a tenor, and everyone is questioning why they do this to themselves. Small craft advisories and sailors on standby, are we sensing a pattern here? Down time at an event does afford some tinkering that might not otherwise get done when at home and then there’s the ever popular “sitting around, and watching the world go by” (which I’m a huge fan of). So that pretty much sums up Saturday. When the races were finally cancelled the sailors scattered to hide from the by now, very tiresome wind. Off they go to movies, houses, and dinner.

Wait, are we actually going to race these things? Sunday, you dirty tease…. It was light-(ish) with an off shore breeze, some single trapezing, and some very small amounts of double trap conditions early on. Three races were fired off in short order, and the sailors were happy to turn their boats from lawn trophy, into racing machines. It was lumpy, and there was a little bit of a swell that my crew and I were happy to discover that we could use, employ, and exploit in the art of surfing. The left side of the course was heavily favored for all three races, with very few going right, and the right side paying out for fewer yet. The third race the wind had gone left, and hard. Sitting on the line, and in the middle, making the pin end of the start line would’ve been trying; protecting your position on the line was paramount. For some, (*cough* JJ *cough* Guy…), zipping in on starboard worked well, as those on port tack were forced to give way, and consequently exiled to be buried in the fleet.

So I’m a glutton for punishment. I’ll be back next year to see me dream girl, maybe she’ll give me another glance, and a subtle taunt that will string me on, and bring me back again and again. Hopefully I’ll get to see many of you there again as well as this is one of the jewels of CRAW events.

Oh, and next year I’m bringing an Ouiji board, and maybe a sacrificial lamb. If that doesn’t work I hope someone brings a grill.

Karl Brogger