Just getting to the starting line was a victory for the 16 Moores that, despite it all, made it out. Right till race day it seemed quite likely that some unseen spanner would stop the works … but it didn’t, and we had a good old time.
Masks in place, the preparations were completeish and we were as readyish as we could be. Three days of solid wind in the slot tested every part of us and every part of these chipper boats that just love all that the Bay can dish up. There is a toughness and kindness in both the Moores and the people who sail them, and this is addictive. At one time both rivals and friends, fresh and weather-beaten, pointers and footers; we love em all. The fleet is strong because we know these little boats are still stronger.
Friday was a bouy race then a distance race on a big flood. Everyone agreed that hitting the city front was the call and we slogged our way up to Backaller Bouy, but how to get there first was interesting. Good thing we could find our way along the familiar waterfront because nothing much showed up under that grey sky. Will Baylis’ #85 Orca (Ex Eight Ball) reached off the line just clearing Treasure island and we thought nothing more of them while we were leading the rest of the pack out on starboard, all the while looking to see if someone would opt to play the Cone on the way to the relief on the piers. Orca hit the thin river of favorable current first and made sure to tack on us the whole way up – of course we passed this favor onto Joel Turmel’s Firefly and they passed this onto Michael O’Callaghan’s Wet Spot until Firefly found the very hard bottom right at the end of the spit at StFYC. The run down past Blunt was epic and we passed that slippery black and white Moore only to foul them while we were gybing to the leeward mark; they were surging and we were slowing up a wave-face and we couldn’t get across them before the feared “protest” rung out. Circles done and we salvaged a third. Firefly would be back to fight, but there was much physical damage and psychological too. Joel put his heart into making this regatta happen and there was just no space left to really boat race after their sounding.
Saturday was a day to just leave the #1 on the dock, crawl into your wet foulies and make the best of it as it was honking and the waves were pleasantly huge. We checked in and we were off racing again. Everything was a shade of grey, the boats vanished, and the marks vanished, and we all pounded and then surfed back to repeat. The fleet was so tight that it was hard to find space to slide a wet sheet of grey 8.5” x 11” between the dull hulls.
Everyone was upping their game from Friday and the upwind slogs were interesting as there are now three ways to sail these boats: the fat is fast, the flat is fast and the new big twist is fast. We are fat-fast but the twist-fast boys are nipping.
Sunday grey again and with a four-point lead heading into the final day there was pressure but, as we kept saying, we just have to sail like we always do and this is ours to lose and ohh, we were to come sooo close.
First race great start but then two blasts and a general recall. Okayish on the restart but lucky that the course is long ‘coz we have some passing to do. We got hung out to dry by a boat stuck at the weather mark and things looked grim, really grim. My heart burst but I hid it and pulled those strings like my life depended on it. We have been here before, and we have pulled many a rabbit out of the hat in our 22 years together as Gruntled partners, but this was impossible. We gybed away from the fleet and tried to at least get inside on the fleet at the leeward mark. We caught some great waves and were working in sync and came in about third but … we were roaring in and lost our trusty bow babe as we took the boat out from under her and then shrink-wrapped her in a wet spinnaker. This was getting serious and as I pulled and pulled the wet cloth slid over her face and she was blue then white then blue again and finally there was Claire. I ripped her out of the water, plopped her feet on the deck and we salvaged a sixth that would become our throw out.
Last race and we HAVE to finish behind Will to win, a boat between us would mean a tie and they would win the breaker. We planned a nice conservative start close to the boat but on our dip down to the line a certain black and white Orca roared in and we were OCS and dead last. That’s it, that’s how it ended – in my head. I was speechless. Rob Dubuc was roaring “c’mon guy’s, that is in the past … we can still win this!!!”. I was defeated, Claire exhausted, Rob cheering us on, and Bart was just doing his thing on the tiller. The first weather mark comes, and we are in about 6th in good company with Vaughn, JV, Conrad, Wet Spot, Ruby BUT Orca was leading and Steven Bourdow on Mooregasm is in second – our spot if we are to win. One lap to go and we work the 40 year-old Gruntled HARD and she responds.
As I rotate in at the last weather mark’s layline I feel a BANG as my back blows up. The pain surges and nausea saps any remaining strength. I can’t breathe but I can still half pull. We round the last mark in SECOND and tack. Will, with boarded jib and flogging main, comes over to team race us to the finish. He has to hold us back and is trying to sail us left past the finish line. Mooregasm splits and plays the right. I’m half dead and 7/8 defeated.
Now there are things to hide from a skipper (We now see that the seam on the luff of the #3 is splitting) and then there are things that are harder to hide (Claire is attached to Gruntled, but she is not ON Gruntled) and then there are things to hide from all (I just blew up my back).
We are sailing fast in Will’s dirty air. He is soaking down on us and Bourdow tacks over onto starboard to setup for his finish. We SPIN the boat onto port and reach to break cover. Will can’t react and now we have a boat race… Gruntled gathers her speed, Will finishes first but we beat out Steve to finish second by ½ a length and Gruntled’s name is on the trophy for the 7th time!
One day later: Rob is in therapy, Simon is in gravity boots, Claire is baking her way out of trauma and Bart is doing his thing.
#27 Less is Moore: Scott Lynch, JV Gilmore and crew
#6 Ruby: Steve McCarthy and crew
#68 Gruntled: Bart Hackworth and crew, and #85 Orca: Will Baylis and crew
Left to Right: Gruntled’s crew Claire Arbour, Simon Winer, Rob Dubuc, Bart Hackworth. Photo: Ornaith Keane
