2015 Transpac start – Dodging Dolores

by pressure-drop.us on 22 Jul 2015 2015 Transpac – In the early morning light, as we flew above the San Gabriel Mountains, the leading edge of the former Hurricane Dolores became the dominant feature outside the jets windows. Massive pillars of cumulonimbus rose thousands if feet from their solid white base. Looking like heavenly sentinels, they filled the sky with vertical gates of fluffy white obstacles, an indicator of what was going on below.

The forecasters had indicated the storm might postpone its arrival for 24 hours or so, but apparently Dolores didn't get the message. As we descended into Long Beach airport things looked wet. Very wet.

We taxied to the gate and disembarked the plane, the old fashioned way, via a ramp and onto the damp tarmac below. The air was thick, warm and humid. Befittingly tropical. The ground wet and the palm tree lining the causeway still dripping. It felt like we were in Hawaii already! A text comes to the phone from an associate who has been here all week: 'Thunderbolts and lightning! Do we fly in this Sh!t? Hells yes!'

For now the rain had stopped and the clouds appeared to be thinning. A quick detour to the rental car establishment and we were on our way. Destination; Rainbow Harbor, the gathering place of the Trans Pacific Yacht Race. We made the early Saturday morning transition across town with relative ease and arrived at Shoreline Harbor, and found parking with no problem. The early morning quiet was disturbed by the noise of high-octane jets boats and helicopters as the harbor was filled with participants and spectators for a ski race. Not just around the harbor. From the harbor to Catalina Island and back. 40-50' jet boats pulling a human 26 miles out and 26 miles back. Crazy.

After the start of the race, most of the noise subsided and the task of finding an open dining establishment was next on the list. The boardwalk at Rainbow Harbor is a quant colorful village with restaurants, outlets, kiosks a plenty, but most establishments are not open till 11:00 AM. However we are in luck and one of the smaller shops is open and offering the java and fuel needed. An extra bonus it has a prime view of the Pine Street Pier and the gathering spot for many of the final deportees of the 2015 Transpac.

The area and marina were renovated some 20 years ago and a string of new restaurants followed some 12-13 years ago. One enterprising gentleman, John Sangmeister, a sailor and restaurateur saw an opportunity and pounced on it. His restaurant Gladstones of Long Beach has become the unofficial/official gathering place for the pre-race parties and provides a central waterfront local for visiting boats and crews to gather, with hotels and dining in a pleasant environment.

This morning, a skeleton of crew-members finish the final loading of supplies and rations and begin readying the boats while family, friends and fans gather along the pier to say their final farewells. As it is early yet, many of the crew have yet to arrive. One last hot shower and a full meal before the start of the voyage to Hawaii begins.

The Transpac sign has already been removed from the lighthouse across the harbor. The free standing elliptical tent outside of Gladstones still stands, empty and void of all the joyous revelers which partied there just days before. Departure is eminent.

The crews begin to arrive, their personnel gear bag in hand. Time to run lines, load final sails, prepare for casting off. The navigators are studying their laptops, trying to make the final decision on what route they will take. The eastern Pacific is alive with confusion. This late start group will get the most chaotic grib charts anyone can recall in years. The early AM thunder and lightning are another concern. When asked what's the safest place to be when lighting hits, John Sangmeister replies ' In your hotel room'!Sage advise!

The time has come to catch up with our ride for the day, a 36 Grand Banks trawler named Spot. The owner is a friendly fellow, Bill Miller is there to meet us at the dock along with his mate, Chuck Gurr. We do our introductions and soon the lines are cast and we are on our way. Bill and Chuck are members of the Shoreline Yacht Club, which is part of the Transpac support committee and have been plying these waters for decades and are the wealth of information. As we negotiate the channel and avoid interfering with the now returning 'Skiers' they answer questions and local knowledge in rapid fashion with great detail. Having never been in the harbor itself, the size of it is amazing and the first thing that catches your eyes are the man-made islands. ' Are those oil rigs disguised as islands? I ask. ' Yup the big tower you see is the derrick, and it lives on a track and moves from well to well on the island. They were built between 1964 and 1969 and are named after the three astronauts from the space shuttle Challenger and the Gus Grissom from Mission Control'

Chuck and Bill continue to amaze with the harbor facts, including that Long Beach Harbor is the largest port in the nation and the third largest in the world. It has three marinas in Long Beach and 9-11 in the LA Harbor north of Terminal Island. The queen Mary lives here and is a floating hotel and convention center and most of the refineries in Southern California exist here, ironically all the oil that is pumped here is shipped overseas. 'To much sulfur, too dirty, they only refine the sweet crude here' The inform.

The breakwater extends long and far and the inside channel is deep, 80 or so. A kelp bed exists along its flank and we observe folks working the edge. What are the fishing for I query? ' Yellow fin mostly'

Seriously? 'Yep, with the warm waters from El Nino taking effect, the schools of tuna have moved in right along the shoreline, no need to go the usual 60 miles offshore this year:' Amazing!

We motor past the 'Angels Gate' Lighthouse and merge with the building traffic of vessels headed to Point Fermin. Extreme H2o and Rio 100 are already ahead of us and we see many of the other contestants from the LA Harbors working their way towards the start. The sky is overcast and the breeze a genteel five to seven knots, seas flat except for the wakes from passing boats. To starboard lays Pt Fermin and the Rolling Hills and Rancho Palos Verdes estates. T o the west, Catalina Island, 26 miles away and 26 miles long. To my eye, what appears to be a couple squalls near the Island. ' Could get interesting' I mention to the hosts. 'Naw, it never rains in Southern California' they reply.

As we get near to the start line and the 12:30 Multihull Start, the crowd continues to build. I'm guessing 100 boats or so gathered around the start. Is this normal for a Transpac start I ask. ' It's a little more than average, but not by much' is the reply. Hmmm, for our Pac Cup starts you might see 15-20 boats, quite a contrast. Overhead a single R-44 appears and circles, and then a fixed wing craft. Then a second helo, then a third and finally a fourth. Busy here.

The start line is crazy with activity and the three Gun Boats fall into formation for the first start as our Bill works the helm to keep us in a clear space with clean site lines. No easy task. The gun fires and off go the three cats, it's cranking out for the clear air and direct route to Catalina, and with the southerly component of today's breeze it looks like an almost direct fetch. As we watch them depart I notice a faint flash by the Island. ' I think I just saw a flash, did you guys?' I ask 'Nothing here' they reply.

The rest of the fleet, three maxi's, seven boats in Division two and six sleds are all now checking the line and dashing in and out of the crowded fleet of spectator boats. Not a lot room for error. The line is really not that long and it's curious as to how 16 boats are going to sort things out and get across without conflict, but we are about to find out! As the countdown closes you can feel the tension and watch the towering rigs of the maxi's accelerate into the pack and then BOOM! Off goes the gun and no recalls. No OCS, no collisions, just a clean start.

As the boats accelerate and spread out while moving towards the West End, the skies darken and the first raindrops fall. Light and interspersed at first. In the distance, more flashes and squalls line up. The spectator fleet, aside from a few nimble determined ribs and such, disperse and start heading back to port.

We make our way back at the eight knots the boat was designed for chatting about various subjects while the next wave from Dolores catches up. The skies open and we are content to move into the inside cabin, warm and dry, others in the area are getting a free rinse, and we imagine the now soaked crews on the fleet of 16 are wondering about the chances of their carbon fiber lightning rods and what lies before them. Or those comfy hotel rooms they just left behind!