Not All Like It Hot

by Fred Steinman  

1994

Saturday, July 10, 1993 dawned as had the previous days that week-hazy, wan-n, and humid with barely a trace of wind. The forecast for the New York area was for a third straight day of temperatures breaking the I 00 degree mark. Winds were expected to be light westerlies. I could not think of a hotter place to be than on a sailboat in I 00 degree heat with no breeze, but our love of the sport brought me and seven other masochists out for the 1993 Schooner Chaser Race aboard Joe Falzone's Blue Parrot.

It's already 89 degrees when we arrive at the dock, loaded with plenty of cold water. Our fine Race Conunittee, who had to endure this day in an anchored boat, was kind enough to us (and themselves) to post a short course of about 12 miles.

The slight northwesterly breeze was already fading when the race began at 10:00. With Joe Falzone at the helm, the strategy was to take the right side of the bay to the slot between Kings Point and the two red nun boys south of the Stepping Stone triangle. We were followed by Sailin' Shoes and White Goose. Wuestwind and Margaret E headed up along the Fort Totten shore, then tacked and headed for the slot. By this time the wind was dying and if it hadn't been for the slackening ebb tide, we wouldn't have made any headway.

After 45 minutes we were about 100 yards southwest of the Kings Point Academy and barely moving. Wuestwind , who had tacked above us, found a small breeze line and was making way toward the slot. Desperate to reach that wind, we hoisted our spinnaker when we thought we detected a southwesterly wind shift. No sooner had we hoisted and set our chute, when the wind made an about face and headed us. In the meantime, Margaret E had broken from the pack and headed north towards Stepping Stone lighthouse.

Now we were faced with an important decision: head through the slot, where Wuestwind was making slow progress, or follow the Margaret E up and around the Stepping Stone triangle. Captain Falzone asked for suggestions. After a brief discussion with the crew, most of whom were undecided, Bob Gordon volunteered that the slot was "like death in there." Joe headed north. A third the way up the western side of the triangle, what little wind there was died again. Our decision looked bad as Wuestwind and Sailin'Shoes made progress through the slot. We continued to drift north and east in the last moments of the ebbing tide, searching for that magical breeze on which we could safl out of our hole.

Our spirits were fading with the wind. Joe was asking me for the time limit on the race when the boom began to creak and the blocks began to rattle. A breeze was coming. It got us and Margaret E around Stepping Stones and enabled us to head northeast toward the first mark. Looking around we noticed that Steppin' Stones, Wuestwind, and Windspiel which had headed through the slot were now turned westward and appeared to be drifting into the Stepping Stones triangle. It was plain that with no wind on the south side of the Sound this morning our strategy was clear: stay north. The breeze, which carried us to a point about 150 yards south of Hart Island and Margaret E about 100 yards to our northwest, died.

As we continued to languish south of Hart Island, the Margaret E began to make some headway on us in a fresher breeze up near the island. When she passed the rock pile on the southern tip of Hart, they found what we had been searching for this hot morning, wind- just off the eastern shore of the island. Margaret E quickly accelerated and was soon making progress toward Can 1. The Blue Parrot , in the meantime was inching toward this new wind as quickly as we could in these fluky conditions. We reached it, thankfully, before the turning tide could push us farther away. With Margaret E was almost on the horizon.  Joe proclaimed that there was no way to catch her now.

Heading east of Han Island, we hoisted our spinnaker for about ten minutes, the longest period we were able to fly the chute all day. We must have tried six spinnaker hoists on this day, all of which were immediately followed by headers and a return to jib reaches. The spinnaker did help us make up some time on Margaret E. When she rounded Can 1 I hit my stopwatch to get a fix on our standing in the race. The Blue Parrot rounded about five minutes later.

As we headed on a south-southwesterly course toward out next mark, 46A, Dennis Grunbeck, who had relieved Joe at the helm, noticed the wind shifting more toward the south and farther up the east side of Hart Island. To stay in our breeze, we headed right, into the mouth of Pelham Bay off the eastern tip of Hart. The Margaret E had veered toward the center of the Sound and was about 100 yards east of us as we approached hart Island. By now we had pulled even with her; the wind shift had left her in the hole we were in earlier. We made two tacks within a stone's throw of the Hart Island shoreline so as not to sail out of the breeze.

As we passed hart, we first encountered the rest of the fleet making their way up toward Can 1. Tom Holman on Night Moves passed close by looking a little hot and bothered. Joe, kind-hearted soul that he is, yelled "The wind is on your left, Tommy." He thanked us and sailed by. The rest of the fleet was bunched together in the center of the Sound.

Sailing in the best breeze we had seen all day, the Blue Parrot quickly passed Hart and City Islands and headed for 46A. As we rounded the second mark, we looked back and saw the Margaret E had made it into the wind. As the crew debated about another spinnaker hoist, Joe said, ":Let's do it; Jay came from behind to beat me in the Sappho Race last year, I don't want to take any chances." True to form, we were not able to carry it long. By now a southerly had built in and we were able to sail to the finish on a jib reach. We crossed the line at about 2:00 P.M. and Margaret E about twelve minutes later. She was followed about a half-hour later by White Goose.-who had also made an early decision to head out of the fleet- and by Wuestwind and Sailin' Shoes.

As a novice to the sport, today was my introduction to localized, fluky winds. I learned two valuable lessons: finding and staying in the breeze is crucial, and never give up hope when you are behind because you may be the first to pick up the next wind shift. Even though we still had some water left, we headed for some other liquid refreshment at the Douglaston Club.