Lake Ontario 300 - Gizmo Wins Overall

by Ric Doedens on 2 Oct 2009 This is the fourth year for me in the Lake Ontario 300 and while each year, our performance has improved, the desire to return and do it again has not. In 2007 and 2008 as soon as the race was over, the first words out of my mouth were, 'Great race. If I even think about doing this again, please take a gun and shoot me.'

But not this year.

The 2009 LO300 was about as much fun as you can have in a long distance race. And that's not to say that we were dancing on the deck like Samantha Davies. No time for that, the competition was too fierce.

The race set new attendance records this year and as usual the 170 boats were split into various fleets and divisions. Gizmo, our Bombardier 7.6 was racing in the double-handed long course around Main Duck Island against eight other boats in Division 3. One of these boats, Emerald, an Elvstrom 1/2 ton had won the overall title two years ago on corrected time, which is an incredible accomplishment. Last year we managed to beat Emerald in our division so when I discussed our goals for this year with Marc, the plan was simple, we are going for the 'overall'. If Emerald can do it, and we can beat Emerald, then ipso-facto, we should be able to win this thing ourselves.  Marc just laughed, 'sure Dad, whatever'.

In the weeks leading up to the race I was growing increasingly tense and nervous. My stomach was in knots and acid indigestion was my constant companion. Last year’s race had not been fun. From the moment we crossed the start line it had been hard bloody work combined with insomnia and hallucinations and my body was rebelling at the idea of torturing myself for three plus days again this year.

Significant changes were made to Gizmo to prepare for this year’s race. First, a brand new set of sails (with the exception of the spinnaker). The furling gear was replaced with a foil luff and in the months leading up to the race we had had to learn how to peel headsails and manage the sail inventory.

Not easy on such a tiny deck and a continuing challenge during the race. Secondly, we had a custom made lee-cloth installed in the port berth so that it would be possible to lie down to sleep when on a port tack. Last year we had to try to sleep sitting up when on port and surprise, it didn't work. Adding J-24 style 'tweaks' to help with spinnaker control was probably the best investment we made for the least money. Lastly, I bought some water containers, which we filled and froze before the race started so that our food wouldn't get soaked like it did last year when the ice melted in our cooler.

With modifications complete and tested, we were ready; nervous, but ready.

The weather conditions were shaping up to be 50/50. The first half of the race was to be a downwind sleigh-ride and the second half was forecast to be a no-wind nightmare. We knew we had to get as far as we could as fast as we could in the first two days if we were to avoid going insane when the wind disappeared.

Race day started off just like forecast. All boats were able to hoist their spinnakers and cross the line under full flying sails. What a site!  We were in one of the early starts so we had the pleasure of viewing the fleet in all its colourful glory for many hours as we crossed the top of the lake. What surprised us as the day wore on was that the fleet was taking a hellova lotta time to catch up.

Gizmo was flying! By the time we reached Toronto Island, Gizmo was starting to plane. The rudder would hum as the speeds increased and from Toronto to Kingston the hum never stopped. This doesn't mean that we were taking off on anyone. Just to keep us honest and humble, Emerald, and Ariadna were always close by.

However as the day turned into night and the wind and waves built even higher, Gizmo was regularly surfing at 10-11 knots. If a boat can have a personality then for sure, Gizmo was smiling.

She loved these conditions. We saw many boats broaching and struggling to maintain control, but Gizmo just kept on going. We thought for sure there was no way our old spinnaker would last but it held on for the whole race, no problem.

Two of our closest competitors were not so lucky. During the night, Ariadna, a Hunter 31 suffered a broach that was severe enough to cause the spinnaker pole to bend in half when it hit the water. Any racing with a spinnaker from that point onward would be with a boat hook. Harrier, a Tartan 30 managed to wrap the spinnaker so tightly around the fore-stay that they continued on under main-only until dawn when they went up the mast and cut the sail off the forestay before they could hoist another sail.

And to think that we are basically sailing single-handed in these conditions. Our general plan was to switch every three or four hours and for the most part that is what we did. Finally this year, I have figured out how to sleep while under way. The magic combination for me is earplugs, a not too exciting book and just a 'wee dram' of scotch before I hit the sack. Worked like a charm. Pretty surreal though to be regularly surfing at 10 knots and find yourself saying 'I think I'll go to bed now'.

We passed the Main Duck Island lighthouse at 7:30 am on Sunday. I think it was 10:30 pm when we passed it last year. Wow. And just like last year, Emerald was right there beside us. We had stolen a victory from her last year and she was not about to give us one inch that she didn't have to. This is racing at its best, to be side by side, hour after hour. What a test of stamina, willpower and determination. We were loving it.
 
All the fun of the previous day was about to change as we headed from east to south. The waves and winds that had given us such a great sleigh ride now became a pounding gut-wrenching mess. Marc and I continue to disagree about how much sail Gizmo can carry and we rounded the island with the #2 and full mainsail. We were overpowered in no time and I scrambled forward to hoist the #3. 

The waves were between 5 -10 feet and even with a double-reefed main we were heeled over at 20-25 degrees so you can imagine what changing a headsail would be like in these conditions. To make matters worse the  #1 was already lashed to the deck where it had remained unused since the start of the race.

There was precious little deck space to store a second sail and hoist a third.  I no sooner had the #3 hoisted and had worked my way exhausted back to the cockpit when Marc yells, 'the jib!' I didn't know what he was talking about at first but quickly saw that the #1 had come loose of its lashings and was being dragged under the webbing and into the lake.

I scrambled back to the foredeck to pull the sail back on board before we lost it altogether. Yelling at Marc to head-up and flatten the boat so I could work (please) was useless. 'Were racing Dad, try harder!' At one point I slipped over the toe rail and found myself up to my waist in the water still holding onto the sail with one hand while trying to drag myself back onto the deck with the other. Don't ask me how I did it but I managed to get everything back on deck and into the cabin.

The sails were everywhere. I couldn't even get into the cabin so once I had rested for a bit, I told Marc I was going to try and organize the sails from inside. I didn't have a choice as I had to use the head. Big mistake. Marc and I were both wearing a 'patch' to prevent seasickness but there is only so-much drugs can do and this was asking too much. After half an hour down below struggling with sails and waves, it was obvious I was not going to win this battle.

I tried to take a nap in the hope I could sleep it off but no luck and half way to Oswego I was feeding the fish wondering what the hell I was thinking when I agreed to do this race yet again. After that I still had to use the head.

The good news is the head was on the low side. The bad news is it was like riding a Brahma bull with a porta-potti