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  Windy Protection Island Race—Sailing news from North America & beyond
 | | Dark Star approaches Whidbey Island during the 2014 Smith Island Race. Races around Protection Island are held on odd-numbered years while even-numbered years see the fleet sail the slightly longer Smith Island Race. David Schmidt |
While spring's march north to the Pacific Northwest has shown zero signs of hurry or haste this year, the flipside for us sailors, of course, is that the pregnant clouds often bring wind, and while there's zero danger of having to water lawns around Seattle anytime soon, there's also been some great opportunities to race and to get reacquainted with moderate-air sailing. Take this past weekend's Protection Island Race, which stretched some (ballpark) 37 miles up Puget Sound from Seattle's Shilshole Bay Marina, through Admiralty Inlet, and out into the Strait of Juan de Fuca to Protection Island, some seven nautical miles to the west of Port Townsend, and then back to the Emerald City for a total distance of (ballpark) 74 nautical miles.
A thin breeze stirred the treetops at Shilshole Marina the morning of the race, but the overcast skies weren't delivering precipitation, and the mood on the boat was a happy and upbeat one, especially as real-time wind readings-courtesy of the Washington State Ferry System and smartphones-were consulted. True, no one would be setting a new reference time between Shilshole and Port Townsend, but the tide cycle couldn't be better, especially for the quicker boats that could cover the 37 nautical miles out to Protection Island in time to catch a fast flood tide back to Seattle.
The Race Committee began their time sequence, and our crew nailed our downhill start, quickly transitioning from our J1 to our big asymmetric kite and then rolling into our first gybe. As predicted, the southerly breeze began by delivering perhaps ten to 12 knots of pressure, which steadily built as we cleared Point No Point and the transition into Admiralty Inlet. The boat felt fast, and our afterguard was doing an excellent job of balancing the needs of keeping the boat in the best pressure and swiftest ebbing current.
Sure, we might have been wearing more clothing than is required for a typical day of downhill skiing in February, but the point wasn't lost on anyone that-despite the season's agonizingly slow change from winter to spring-we were enjoying a heck of a spinnaker run that was made all the more magical by the fast-flowing stream of ebbing water that was making a strong contribution to our VMG numbers.
 | | Puget Sound under still wintry-looking skies David Schmidt |
The breeze became more of an easterly affair as we passed historic Port Townsend and nosed our way into the heavily white-capped waters of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Here, the water was just starting to change from an ebb to a flood-perfect, given that we were fast approaching our turning mark and the race's halfway point-and the wind angle added several knots of boatspeed to our fun-meter.
A big puff hit and Dark Star hopped up on a plane, her graceful-yet-athletic 45-foot carbon-fiber hull having no trouble delivering speeds in the mid-to-high teens as we screamed towards Protection Island. Glancing ahead, I could see four rigs, one belonging to Crossfire (nee Rima II) a Reichel/Pugh 55, the others belonging to Smoke and Glory, a pair of TP52s, and a fourth, significantly closer rig belonging to Neptune's Car, a Santa Cruz 70. Not bad company to keep, especially considering that we were at least a mile or three in front of the other 45-footers.
The call came to hoist the J2 and take down the kite, and Morgan and Erden and I moved into position on the foredeck. A brief battle with a lot of air and even more kite material ensued, which we won, and-sliding aft to my spot on the rail-I noticed that the sail change only cost us a knot or two of boatspeed. I also noticed that there didn't appear to be a lot of leeway around us as we prepared to round Protection Island's southwest corner.
The call came to gybe, all hands scurried into battle positions, the boom swung quickly overhead but something didn't feel quite right. Milliseconds later, our skipper noticed our mainsail, which was in the process of shredding itself from the leach to the luff, the victim of at least a few failed battens and a few too many heavy-air gybes. There was no way to salvage damage of this extent, so the gut-wrenching call was made to lower the mainsail and begin the long motorsail home.
Still, as rough as this circumstance was, especially considering our strong mid-course position, there's no question that we enjoyed the finest sailing that the day had to offer.
 | | Seattle's skyline is often a welcome sight after a long distance race Clipper Ventures |
The raindrops started hitting maybe two hours later as I took the helm for my delivery-duty watch back to Shilshole Marina. I cursed it at first until I realized that we were getting enough precipitation to remove the salt from my sunglasses but not enough to risk killing the jovial mood in the cockpit. Life could be a lot worse, and while there was still the matter of our tattered mainsail, our skipper made darn sure not to allow this setback to overshadow our day...after all, we had just enjoyed some truly world-class (chilled) champagne sailing, we were onboard a boat full of our friends, our larders were over-filled with nutritious (and otherwise) goodies, there was plenty of (chilled) beer and tequila aboard, and the sun was still hanging several inches above the Olympic Mountains.
Pulling my hood up against the thin rain, I realized that the right attitude, coupled with a bit of breeze and a great group of friends, can help get you through even the most reluctant of springs.
May the four winds blow you safely home,
David Schmidt, Sail-World USA Editor
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