Tybee 500 Day Six
Joe Blfspk took a left up the coast today and Zhik followed him
Editor's note: Dave Krantz will travel north with the ground support crew for Team Zhik as his son Mike competes in the Tybee 500, a catamaran race from Islamorada, Fla., to Tybee Island, Ga. His daily reports will provide results from each day's race and inside looks at the challenges to compete and navigate 500 miles of ocean.
Day 6 — Daytona Beach, Fla. to Tybee Island, Ga.
Alarm goes off at 6 a.m. and I join Mike, David and Hank in the lobby of Amelia Island Resort.
Little bit of a bummer that our race rookies, Chris and David, have to drop out. The damage to the main beam yesterday was too extensive to risk breaking down on this leg, where help is difficult to obtain.
Typical of those guys, their entire contingent is on the beach helping other teams launch and they drove 125 miles to be at the finish to help and congratulate the finishers. They may have only completed five legs but they are winners.
At 8 a.m. the horn sounds, flags drop and fleet launches into a moderate surf with a slight breeze. Zhik struggles a little early because of boats blocking their path (just part of it) then break free and looked to be about middle of pack as they disappear over the horizon.
Was a little concerned about the fatigue factor, but Mike and David seem rested and ready. Most of the teams have one person steering the boat and the other handling the sails and they seldom switch positions. The one handling the sails has a much more physically demanding job plus they have to fight muscle cramps from being in one position for long periods.
Mike and David feel they are equally skilled in both positions so they switch every hour and it enables them to better compete with the younger sailors.
Hank handles loading the van and trailer and I stay in room downloading pictures and writing some notes and quotes for this journal that I will include later.
A little before 11, Peggy and I load up and drive 125 miles or so between orange barrels on I-95 through Savannah and out to Tybee Island. Mike's wife, Rebecca, has found us a condo large for all of us overlooking the finish line.
Hank has been checking with other crew members and around 3 he calls and says he expects boats to start hitting the beach. Short time later he calls and says boat are coming in. I go out to the balcony with my binoculars and I see boats strung out to the horizon and I start steadying my binoculars on the railing and trying to pick out the Zhik.
Rebecca, Renee and I take turns studying two boats either of which might be Zhik and I'm trying to keep wishful thinking out of it. I'm finally convinced the fifth sail out there is Zhik. I scramble around grabbing camera and cooler and head down the stairs. I misjudged my time to get there, so all I got of the winner and second-place finisher's boats on the beach.
Eight minutes later, Zhik turns into the beach and across the finish line as the fifth-place boat in today's final leg.
When the congratulations had slowed down a little, Mike told me that shortly after the start most of field elected to sail offshore and follow the "rhumb line."
Mike said he and David wondered all day if we had made the right decision. When they neared the point where the rhumb line intersects their coastal path about 10 miles from the finish, they saw 4 boats in front of them and the rest of the fleet just coming over the horizon on the rhumb line.
The finish times aren't posted yet and I'll put them on the tail end of this journal.
I hope Mike and David move up but somehow that doesn't seem important right now. I overheard a sailor say something earlier when the controversy was going on and it's stuck with me since:
"You haven't won anything unless you have won the respect of other sailors."
I'm at a little loss for words to describe why but I know I've been watching 48 winners this week and I'm proud to incude my son as one of them.
Results were just posted. Our guys came in seventh overall and fifth in their class. I'll post a collection of notes, quotes and observations tomorrow that somehow didn't fit this journal. Some will be poignant, some stagnant, some caustic and some funny.
I had some real reservations about trying to write about something I knew little of and about people many years younger than myself. I know I'm a lot richer for the experience. Thanks for following along.
And Joe Blfspk, next time we meet, the beer is on me.
Day 5 — Daytona Beach to Fernandina Beach,Fla.
It's 97 miles if you go in a straight line; sailboats don't.
As mentioned in an earlier entry, our sailors have a lot to do when they get in to get ready for the next day, and we finally got lights out at midnight. Mike and David don't seem tired, but again there's not the light-hearted banter of earlier in the week.
At breakfast, several sailors were eating at adjacent tables and the conversations were centered around the penalty assessed the race leaders for violating the restricted area. Most felt the penalty was too light because they saved 20 minutes or so by cutting the corner, so the 40-minute penalty only amounted to 20 minutes as compared to a 15-minute penalty for a one second starting line infraction. To the leaders' credit, they reported themselves when they checked in.
Start time of 10 a.m. approaches and I go over to Mike to wish him good luck. They will be crossing busy shipping lanes in Jacksonville and I give him a hug and start to remind him about the towboat rule. Mike and I hunted and fished on the Mississippi River when he was young and I told him many, many times that when you cut in front of a towboat, three things can happen and two of them are bad. He knew what was coming and said "Dad, big boat rules."
I turn on my camera and things start downhill from there. The camera battery light come on, blinks twice and batteries die after one picture. There was little wind, big waves coming ashore and Mike had warned me it could be worse than yesterday. I'm thinking half the fleet was gonna have problems but not Zhik & wrong ... Bjorn can't help this morning because his team is starting on far end of the line. Hank does the best he can but they just can't punch out far enough.
They keep tacking left and each time they try to punch through, a wave will catch them and throw them back. By this time they are about a mile down the beach and I see them return and pull up on the beach.
Hank tells me later a 7-foot wave caught them, a hole opened under them and the boat pitched up, and the wave slammed them backwards with enough force to break the rudder. I can see them way up the beach, so I get a very bad idea to get the van and drive down the beach road in case they need it to run back and forth to trailer for parts.
It gets worse. I get the van and start down the beach, but 3.5-ton diesel vans do not make very good dune buggys, especially if operated by people like me who don't know what they doing. Apparently I strayed off the hardened sand lane and the van gets stuck. Hank comes back to get rudder parts and tells me to get the van unstuck however I can, and get back on pavement and try to get as near them as I can from the highway.
It's 11 a..m. I'm stuck, Mike's stuck and fleet is out of sight except for one other boat back near the hotel (they later drop out of race). Several people try to hand push me, including crew members from other boats, with no luck.
Finally a guy in a maroon Durango stops with tow strap and drags me out of the soft area and leaves. I make it about 1/4 mile and get stuck again. My Durango comes by 15 minutes later and unsticks me again, and I make it off that cursed beach. I don't know this man's name but if we ever meet again, the beer is on me.
Bjorn and Darrell Moss (both of team Seacats) see Zhik is having problems and the walk 1.8 miles (we measured it) down the beach to help out. They get the rudder switched out, Darrell and Bjorn push and finally at 11:45 Mike and David, already exhausted, punch through the surf and head north.
I'm typing this as we ride north on I-95 and Hank mentions that it's gonna be a long night unless they can catch a thunderstorm and ride it north.
Joe Blfpsk was a cartoon charactor in the "Lil Abner" series many years ago that had a little thunderstorm hovering over his head and followed him around everywhere he went. Joe Blfspk, wherever you are, Mike and David need you bad.
Hank and I arrive at Fernadina, and my wife, Peggy, who is joining us for the final tow, has just checked in, as has Hank's wife, Kip. Shortly after, Mike's wife Rebecca arrives and David's wife Renee will arrive later.
Rebecca is an expert sailor and I explain what happened earlier. We both expect a late night arrival based on the light winds of past two days. Hank calls me at 5 and tells me the wind has picked up and he is hearing reports the fleet is near Jacksonville, which projects to a 5:30-6 arrival for the lead boats. Fifteen minutes later, he calls again and says boats are fixing to hit the beach.
I'm still thinking Mike is going to be another two hours at best, but I head over to the beach with the re-hydrating drinks, and there are boats stretching to the horizon and the wind is blowing 12-15 miles per hour. Hank assures that if Zhik is getting this kind of wind, they are "honking."
Misca Heemskirk and Edward Zanen are first to arrive at 5:31 and by 6 p.m. 12 more boats have arrived. Boats continue to arrive and at about 6:20, I see three boats on the horizon and through the binoculars I think I can see the distinctive Zhik spinnaker.
Wives have joined me by this time and we take turns looking trying to determine if it is Zhik or wishful thinking our part. Another 10 minutes and there's no doubt it is Zhik. They caught the tail end of the fleet and actually passed 4 boats. Seems to take forever but finally they turn left toward the flags, almost flip over but make it through the surf and hit the beach at 6:50.
Mike later recounted that they broke another rudder 10 minutes after they got out of the surf at take-off, probably because the metal was stressed when they broke the other rudder. They used the sails to steer until they could rig the boat to sail with one rudder.
There was a question about going back and trying to replace the rudder and trying to make it out of the surf again. Twenty minutes later, Joe Blfspk showed up and brought them a wind storm without the rain, and they caught the wind and rode it north. The easterly wind allowed them as Mike said "to sail 97 miles without making a left turn, and when they did turn left at the finish line, they almost flipped the boat."
He also thought the fleet probably sailed in light air most of the time while he was stuck in the surf and about the time he got out the wind picked up. I prefer to think it was a combination of Joe Blfspk showing up at my request and their sailing skills that saved the day from being a total disaster.
Results for today and overall have just been posted and Zhik finished 15th (corrected) today and is eighth place overall. They are sixth place in their class, 4 minutes behind the fifth place boat, 1 hour and 21 minutes behind the fourth place boat and 1:46 behind third place.
Our sailors are tired. You can see it in their faces, and they know they missed a good day to move into third place behind the professional sailors.
Tomorrow ,the start has been moved up to 8 a.m. and it's the longest and most challenging leg of the race. Not wishing anybody any bad luck, but tomorrow is somebody else's turn to break a rudder..
P.S. Our race rookies, Chris and David, after being up most of last night repairing their boat, are still hanging in there and finished in 22nd place today even thought they had to limp in with a damaged main beam.
Day Four — Cocoa Beach to Daytona Beach, Fla.
A medium leg complicated by having to go 3 miles offshore around Cape Canaveral, where the winds may be light and sandbars extend far offshore. Security is ultra tight due a space shuttle on the pad.
Stray inside the warning bouys and you will likely be arrested and your boat impounded. They don't play when the shuttle is on the pad and the sailors have been warned repeatedly.
There's a storm cell building behind us as the boats are pushed down for the start, and I can see a wind squall 300-400 yards down the beach kicking up sand, but the wind is almost nonexistent at the start line.
Offshore winds have caused large surf, and David makes a last-minute request for a small telescoping paddle, and I hurry to get it out of the equipment basket further up the beach and get back to him seconds before the start. Getting that paddle might be my biggest contribution so far.
At 10 a.m., the horn sounds, the flag drops and chaos reigns as boats are repeatedly being thrown together and shoved back onto the beach. A perfect start in these conditions would be for the sailors and pusher to hand push the boat over the first wave then hop aboard, turn sharp left, run down the trough beyween the waves a short distance then hard right to punch through the next incoming wave.
If you misjudge your speed and don't make it through, the wave will stop you and throw you back toward the beach. In a perfect world, all boats would turn left, run the same distance to gain enough speed and everbody would go through the wave.
Complicating matters is when the boat behind you gets too close, robbing your sail of wind. This sailing was not perfect this morning and about half the fleet ended up back on the beach. Several of them took 10 minutes or more and several pushes to free themselves of the surf.
The Zhik boat teeters precariously on top of two large waves but manages to break through aided by David paddling furiously. It manages to punch through and break out into clean water early. They soon contend for the lead as about a third of the fleet starts moving offshore. Mike has told me their first waypoint is slightly northwest 8 miles out and then they will turn north and clear the restricted area and sandbars.
Hank and I load up and head north on I-95 and we run in and out of thundershowers, some heavy. Hank feels there is a good possibility that the fleet will be able to get some wind from these storm cells and make it a shorter day.
About 30 minutes later, Hank gets a call from Mike needing a clarification about a bouy marker off Canaveral. Typical of any directive the government issues, there's gonna be some confusion when you try to follow it. We pull off and Hanks gets the rulebook out and the guidelines issued by NASA and reads it to him. I'll try to clarify that situation later tonight.
Hank and I check in at 4 p.m at the LaPlaya resort in Daytona Beach. Pleasant surprise in that there's plenty of room to park the trailer and short distance to beach and finish line. Those cat tracks are heavy. The room on the seventh floor, with a balcony, should let us spot the fleet much sooner.
I talk to Hank and he has heard boats were 20 miles out and are sailing 4-5 mph. Hopefully this will translate into a 8-9 p.m. arrival. At 5:30 p.m., Hanks calls to report two sails on the horizon. I grab binoculars, but even with 10X50 optics, I can't tell which boat they are.
At 6:15, I count nine boats from 2 miles out to the far horizon. Flags are hanging limply and there seems to be no wind. Boats are moving slowly and I'm going to stay in my room and try to shoot pictures from high up as they cross the line. If Zhik boat is among the leaders that changes everything.
The wind picks slightly and nine boats have finished by the time I spot the Zhik far down the beach at 7:30. The wind is increasing but he is a distant third behind two other boats. Although he gains some ground, he can't pass them and is the 15th boat finish at 8:04.
It appears they have finished fourth in their class today. Final corrected times are not posted yet but it appears likely Zhik will move up a couple of spots in his class and possibly overall also.
We learn that the last boat came in 8:57. In a little bit of bad news, our rookies Chris and David, after a great start, broke a rudder midway through the day and had to drop out, taking an 8-hour penalty. They will be picked up, make repairs and rejoin the race tomorrow.
At dinner, Mike recapped their sailing day for me. As mentioned earlier they got off to great start and were following one of the race leaders when they saw the boat go behind a bouy they thought was marking the off limits. Mike was unsure so he stopped and called Hank and the bouy did mark the off limits area, so he turned out and went around.
Several boats in the fleet witnessed the infraction. Offiicial results have not been posted and we are not sure of the penalty but it could be severe and shake up the standings. These off limits bouys are some 4 miles apart and you can't see from one to another, so you have to use your GPS to create an invisible "string line" and you cannot cross that line.
Today's light winds were definitely suited for big boats as they took 12 out of the first 15 places. Mike said they found themselves several times unable to gain on boats in front of them. They did take different routes trying to improve but were careful not to take themselves out of the race.
Mike did mention they were able to catch several micro bursts of wind and acelerate up 20-22 knots, but they could never sustain those speeds for more than 15 to 20 minutes. (Micro bursts are caused by cold air dropping out of thunderstorms and spreading across the water quickly).
The next two days are the toughest, longest legs of the race (97 miles) and the most tactically challenging, so they feel like their experience will serve them well. It's midnight and lights out.
The results have been posted and corrected times show Team Zhik finished sixth in todays leg and now stands in seventh place overall.
Race leaders Misca Heemskirk and Eduard Zanen were assessed a 40-minute penalty and assigned a 24th place start today for cutting through restricted water off Cape Canaveral. Even with the penalty,they still maintain a corrected time of almost two hours on the fleet.
Mike told me their goal was to win but a more realistic goal was to finish third overall. The first two teams are world class professional sailors and, unless they break something, Zhik's chances of catching them are not good.
The next boat in their class is 7 minutes ahead and to move into third, Mike and David are going to have to make up mintes. They believe they can.
Day three — Jupiter, Fla., to Cocoa Beach, Fla.
Today's trek is 107 miles long, longer when the wind doesn't blow.
It's 7:30 a.m. and David knocks on our door. We've overslept a little, so we scramble around and hop in the van to find breakfast. Yesterday morning's $65 tab (for four) at the hotel restaurant has us out looking for more reasonable fare.
We find another a few miles away and they eat a big breakfast because this is gonna be a long day out there. We are running a little behind schedule, so we hurry back to hotel and they go through their morning routine a little quicker.
I see some ominous clouds building up to the north and Mike and David comment that we may get some wind today and don't seem concerned. As a bass fisherman — and parent — I see danger in ominous clouds; they see an opportunity to go faster.
We get to the beach, already a beehive of activity, and the wind is picking up. There is a thunderstorm directly north of us that I'm eyeing nervously. More ugly clouds are moving east, and they look like they will cross the coast and be directly in their path.
They push their boat down to the line and I give Mike a little stronger hug this morning and tell him as usual to sail fast, sail safe.
The Zhik boat is ninth down the line, and Bjorn gives them another super push and they catch the wind quickly and turn north. I'm taking pictures but manage to wish Chris and David well as they push their boat up.
I look to the north and the thunderstorm has moved out of their path, the ominous clouds are breaking up and the sky is brightening up (me too). Hank tells me that it is not unusual, due to land heating up and the warm air thermals, that the thunderstorms push offshore.
Hank and I head north on I-95 and at 12:30 p.m. Hanks gets a call with a progress report on the boats, and it's not good. They are only about 20 miles from the start and there is very little wind. About half the fleet is 15 miles offshore seeking wind and other half is hugging the beach.
Hank is an experienced sailor and predicts that the shore breeze will pick up later today, but we're looking at a finish somewhere between 6 and 10 p.m.
We arrive in Cocoa Beach at 1:30 and check into a very large Holiday Inn without a bellhop in sight and "go get it yourself" ice machine and a restaurant where you can buy a sandwich for less than $10. I feel even more at home when I get in my room and the internet doesn't work. I call the desk and they say they will dispatch someone to fix it.
I'm thinking "this I gotta see" when a nice young man named Michael shows up at my door with his own laptop and starts replacing "ethernet cables and boxes." While he was working, I told him I was writing this journal and absolutely had to have internet access and his reply was, "you will have internet if I have to move you over to the wireless side of the motel."
In a few minutes, I had internet and Michael left with $5 and a promise of a mention in this story. The afternoon drags on. I don't do waiting so good, and Hank has been out circulating around. I check via cell phone every hour and he hasn't heard anything.
Mike says he went with a group of 6-8 boats about 15 miles out and they had a 15-mph wind for awhile then it started dying and his group of boats came back inshore. He tells me the yellow boat (Day One and Two leader) is just ahead of him and four other F-18 boats are spread out behind him.
He said Misca Heemskirk (F-18 leader) disappeared on him as did about half the fleet and he has no idea where they are. While he is talking I pull up the race Web site where they are tracking several boats that have transponders and I see a group about 30 miles south sailing near shore.
We figure out that is the group he is with. Mike asks us to get him and David a large roast beef sandwich (each) from Subway because it's going to be too late to go out and eat. I hand the phone to Hank so Mike can ask him some questions about the wind where we are (really light).
They finish up and Hank's phone rings. It's Team Seacats' crew asking if we want to go to Subway and pick up some sandwiches for the racers. Did I mention that I am a very good worrier?
Now I'm concerned about my son sailing around in a dark ocean with no lights (tiny one at top of mast) and has the rest of the fleet including the F-18 leader found better wind and is gonna come in way ahead of Mike and David. I dispatch Hank off with the Seacat crew and head to the beach with my binoculars and hope I don't see the other half of the fleet coming across the horizon from Cuba or from some shortcut.
I walk to the beach and my second worst fears are confirmed. Word is that two boats are expected to arrive in 30 minutes. Thirty minutes stretched into an hour then I spotted two sails on the horizon, both F-18s and at 8:07.
Misca Heemskirk and Eduard Zanen cross the finish line. The other sail reportedly is John Casey and Carrie Howe. The race co-favorites are living up to their billing. I walk up to the restaurant and while I'm eating, the second boat hits the beach at 8:44 p.m. in the dark.
At 10:15 p.m., Mike calls and reports he is 6 miles out but wind is dying. He can see the flashing yellow light that marks the flag at the finish line. I hand the phone to Hank and he instructs Mike to come to right of the light with the wind's current direction. The boats are sailing parallel to the shore about 30 yards out, right past the breakers and several that finish ahead of Mike have problems when they turn in too soon and have to drag their boat up the beach then across the line.
Over the next hour boats trickle in, first you can see the sail faintly reflected in the shoreline lights, probably 300 yards away, and they seem to be inching along until they get up where you can recognize who they are. Then there's a mad scramble for the one allowed crew member to run out in the surf and grab the end of the boat and help drag it through the shallow water and over the finish line.
Finally after 8 boats are on the beach, I spot the Zhik boat and they cross the line at 11:45.
After showering, we gather in Hank's room and they fill us in on their day. Most of the fleet, including the leaders, went out 10-13 miles to chase the wind around the thunderstorms. The two top finishing boats came back to shore a little earlier than the Mike and several other boats.
The two top finishers were able to skirt the edge of a "washing machine" area (an area where wind and waves are coming from different directions) and sail the tail end of a stronger shore breeze northward. When Mike came in they landed in the "washing machine" and had to fight a dying breeze the rest of day northward.
There's still 15 boats scattered up to 20 miles out so there will be boats coming in all night long. I'll post the arrival times and the corrected standings when they are available in the morning.Our guys have spent almost 14 hours on the water today and probaly held onto fourth place, maybe even moved up a notch. They are satisfied with their finish. I'm relieved (maybe thankful is a better word).
The 10 a.m. morning state will come soon, the real Tybee 500 will continue and those that finished in the wee hours will be tested tomorrow.
P.S. Mike and David went back to the beach to check on our race rookie friends, Chris Zander and David Strickland. Mike just came back in and reported they just came in. Mike said we owed them that because of all the nights those guys worked as our ground crew and had to wait on us. I'm really relieved now.
P.P.S. Early race results just posted show Team Zhik in sixth overall and fifth in their class. Fourteen boats finished after midnight with last boat coming in at 3:09 a.m. Today's leg is 69 miles from Cocoa Beach to Daytona Beach, Fla.
Day Two — Hollywood to Jupiter,Fla.
At 7 a.m., Mike goes to the window, looks out over ocean and comments "grim morning. Beautiful sunrise but no wind."
Mike seems pretty fresh. I'm the one dragging due to some late night laptop/internet glitches keeping me up until 2 a.m. posting this journal.
They each wear a GPS on their arm and they have one mounted to the mast along with combo magnetic compass and GPS speedometer that shows knots per hour.
They make their last bathroom stop and begin suiting up. Mike notes the breeze is picking up slightly but he wants more. At 9, and the horn sounds for the skippers meeting. Race director Chuck Bargeron goes over the normal race rules then warns the contestants that at end of day, their boats must be pointed directly at the ocean.
This is turtle nesting area and they are afraid a turtle could crawl around behind a boat and not be able to find its way back to ocean. It seems one boat last year was left sideways (it was being worked on) and a local woman took a picture which resulted in the race organizers being fined and forced to write a letter of apology.
Mike and David move their boat into position, and Mikes wades out in the surf to determine just how deep he can initially set the dagger boards, which keep the wind from making the boat skid sideways.
The start line is between two flags stuck in the sand at water's edge. The first 12 boats are lined up about 10 feet apart with the nose a foot or so back from the start line. They will start the top 12 finishers from first day and the second 12 will start one minute later. The second 12 boats are positioned right behind the first 12 and they will push up to starting line as soon as first boat moves out of the way.
The start is a "LeMans" type with both sailors pushing, and they are allowed one crewman as a pusher. Mike and David recruit Bjorn Kronkuist from Team Seacats as today's pusher. Bjorn hasn't had as many birthdays as Hank and I — translated that means he is younger, stronger and faster.
The horn sounds and flag drops at 10. Up and down the line boats simultaneously are crashing through the surf, Bjorn does a fine job pushing, and as the Zike boat is still coasting forward, the wind catches the sails.
Navigation strategy for today is go 25 yards due east then due north 67 miles. When I get to my room on the 9th floor, I can see the fleet heading northward. Using binoculars, I can see Mike is already either leading or in second place. Hank and I hurriedly throw our luggage in the van, hook up the trailer and head north on I-95.
After check in at Jupiter Island resort and loading luggage into our rooms, I head down to the hotel restaurant for a salad. Hank isn't hungry so he goes down to beach to check out where the boats will finish.
A word or two about the last couple of stops. Sailors use much more, shall we say, refined bases of operation than bass fishermen. When we checked in, I saw one of the luggage carts and walked over to grab it. A bellman came out of nowhere and almost knocked me over in his haste to take it away from me. That doesn't happen too often at Motel 6, which usually is the best motel near most bass lakes. It's nice to stay occasionally in one of these nice places, yet I was still afraid to ask for some saltine crackers to go with my salad instead of that parmesan flavored cardboard they serve.
I run into one of the crews in lobby and he reports the wind has died mid-course and it may be 2-3 hours before boats start arriving. Hank comes up a short time later and says the boats are less than an hour out. For whatever reason, there are rocks scattered along the beach behind the resort, so they had to move the finish about a mile south. We grab the cooler and drive down in the van.
There's an elevated boardwalk that goes over the dunes, and I stop to scan the south horizon with binoculars. I can see the bright yellow sail of yesterday's leader and 3 to 4 sails further south, but I can't make out who they are.
Monday's winner crosses finish line at approximately 2:27 p.m., and I see several boats behind and finally can make out the Zhik. Seems to take forever for them to turn toward the beach, but they cross the line as the ninth boat at 2:47.
I snap pictures and hurry over to greet and congratulate them. Word from several of the sailors is that Carrie Howe and John Casey, the race co-favorites, have broken a rudder and will lose at least two hours.
I met them several years ago when they were much younger (they are still young) and always appreciated the fine job and the special care they took of Mike and David in some grueling races.
Mike and David make a few adjustments to the boat as Hank sprays it down with fresh water. I go get the van and meet them as close as I can to the beach.
When we go out to dinner, Mike fills me in on their race. They were near the lead early then the wind lightened up. The big boats started outpacing them and they were forced to go deep toward the beach to catch any wind for the first third of the race.
Mike commented that if we had gone any closer,"the lifeguards would have been blowing whistles at us." See the GPS track.
They would ride the wind out as far as they could then cut back shallow and ride it out again, a slow in, fast out routine that produced a zig-zag track toward the finish line. At 12:30 the wind picked up and they were able to reel in all but eight of the boats.
I asked if they were disappointed in finishing ninth today and both assured me "not at all" because this was a short leg (67 miles) and they just ran out of time to move further up.
Mike said the real Tybee 500 race starts tomorrow with longer legs (107 miles), rougher water, more current and chop to deal with over next three days plus he felt when the corrected times come out later tonight, they will have moved up.
The standings were just posted and Team Zhik is in fourth place in their class and fourth overall. They are happy and I'm happy. Tomorrow the real Tybee 500 starts.
P.S. The race co-favorites, Carrie Howe and John Casey, broke a rudder and lost almost two hours, dropping them back to 22nd place. I heard several sailors comment "that could happen to us tomorrow."
Day One — Islamorada to Jupiter, Fla.
It's Day One of racing. At 7 a.m., and we head to Mangrove Mikes for a quick breakfast. Mike and David order heaping plates of eggs, bacon and hash browns to fuel them for a day of what will be pretty strenuous exercise.
They carry gel pac type power bars and fluids in a camelback pouch they continually sip on all day, but the sun will sap your energy if you don't stay hydrated. Back at the room, the boat is ready and Mike and David recheck their GPS way points and get their suits and harnesses on. Both wear long pants and long sleeve shirts plus apply 44 strength sunscreen.
About 9:20 they push the boat down to the beach and by 9:30 launch and head out to the starting point some 250 yards offshore. Typically the race starts "LeMans" style, with boats being pushed off the beach, but they can't do that here since there's only a coral rock shoreline.
The start point is an imaginary line between two powerboats. The race starts at the drop of a flag. There are two classes of boats. Seven of the contestants, including Mike and David, are racing in 18-foot boats and 17 contestants have 20-footers.
The shorter ones are faster in higher winds, and the 20s are faster in light winds because they have more sail area. The 20s must give the 18-footers a 3 minute handicap for every hour of racing. An example of this would be a 20 could finish 20 minutes ahead of an 18 in a 7-hour day and lose by one minute. At 10 a.m., the horn sounds, the flag drops as several boats come across the start line. Several boats open up some distance and the boats behind lag back in the turbulent air trying to find fresh wind to pick up.
Hank and I grab our luggage, throw it in the van and head north. We cross a bridge and can see the leading boats out in the bay but they are too far out to identify. We arrive at the Marriott in Hollywood about 1:30 p.m. The race finish will be right across the board walk so we drop he cat tracks (dolly wheels) on the beach and grab a quick salad for lunch.
Some of the crew members tell us they have been in contact with their racers and expected arrival for the first boats is around 4:30 p.m. Hank mixes up a cold drink for Mike and David that contains ingredients to re-hydrate, rid their muscles of lactic acid and keep them from being so sore the next day. A little after 4, the first sail appears on the horizon, then several more. At 4:27, Steve Lohmayer (in a 20) is first to cross the line. We spot Mike's sail six boats back and at 4:41 p.m. He slides up on the beach.The finish line is two flags stuck in sand at waters edge about 40 yards apart.
Between the flags is semi-controlled chaos. Boats are flying in at full speed as they hit the beach and teams are pitching in to help each other get the cat tracks under their boats and drag them out of the way as more hit the beach.
Fortunately this day there are no collisions but one boat does flip over 10 feet before the finish line. The crew manages to scramble free and drag the boat the last few yards across the line.
Mike and David help several other crews pull their boats clear then down their drinks and start preparing the boat for tomorrow. Hank sprays down the boat with fresh water paying particular attention to the pulleys and ropes. If salt is allowed to dry in these, they will bind the next day.
After about an hour of mingling with the other racers and swapping stories about the days racing, Mike and David head for the fresh water shower to try to get as much of the salt water off them and their clothes as they can.They will shower again and rinse their clothes out again when they get in the room. They simply can't take a chance on the salt chafing you to the point of rubbing the skin raw or you will likely get an infection that could put you out of the race. We learn with the corrected times, Mike and David are in third place, only 7 minutes behind the Heemskirk team and four happy guys head down the boardwalk to find some pasta (energy food for next day).
During dinner they recount their sailing day. Mike said "the first two hours were not good. We were back to about the third boat from last. The wind was lighter than we expected and we didn't have the boat tuned right but fortunately the leaders were still in sight.
"We saw where they were having to veer out to hit the channel going around Key Largo and we were able to start veering out gradually early on and about then the wind picked up to where our boat has an advantage. We were able to power up, slingshot through the channel and keep the power up all the way up the coast, which enabled us to pass every boat but six."
On the way back from dinner, Mike gets a call from a race official informing him that when the race committee reviewed the start pictures, Mike and three other boats were being penalized 15 minutes for crossing the start line early.
Mike and David hurry to our room, pull up the Web site pictures and believe the pictures are inconclusive. After reviewing the pictures and talking with one of the race officials (who came to our room), Mike and David call back and tell them they will not contest the ruling. This ruling will bump them back to sixth place..
I was disappointed obviously as were Mike and David but proud of him and David for "taking the high road." As Mike said, "if you don't get flagged every now and then, you are not racing aggressive enough and we will make it up tomorrow."
At 11 p.m., these guys hit the sack. Tomorrow, it's a short leg to Jupiter, Fla., and Mike promises a drag race.
Racers take off
The Tour de France of sailboat racing is under way.
The Tybee 500, a sailing race from the Florida keys to Tybee Island near Savannah, Ga., began Monday morning. As much endurance as sailing skills, two-man teams have six days to travel 500 miles on a beach catamaran, basically a square trampoline between flotation tubes and a tall sail in the middle.
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There is no navigation equipment except for handheld GPS units. There's precious little body fat on these sailors, something about hanging on a wire with the boat cocked at 45 degrees to obtain the maximum speed for six days does that for you.
The Tybee 500 has its origins as a barroom bet back in the mid 1970s. In the early years, the race was 1,000 miles from the Keys to Virginia Beach. Several factors contributed to shortening the race, and it's been run in its present form since 2003.
"If X-Games had sailing — this would be it," is how USA Today described the event. " ... the longest race of its type in the U.S.A. attracts almost a cult following and this year will have some of the world's best catamaran sailors."
This year's race was to start Monday from Islamorada, with the first leg ending 70 miles north in Hollywood, Fla. Similar legs will be run each day up the coast, with the final leg Saturday, 121 miles from Fernadina Beach to Tybee Island. Boats launch in the surf each day at 10 a.m.
Heading to the islands
Friday at 2 p.m., my son mike and his crew chief Hank Goodman pick me up in Albany, Ga., for the 700-mile trip to Islamorada in the Florida Keys.
Mike has two F-18 Fusion catamarans on a trailer behind his diesel van. One is the primary raceboat and the other can be pressed into service if the primary boat is severely damaged, but it more likely will robbed for parts as the race continues.
We finally call it a day at 7:30 p.m. and pull into a motel in Homestead, Fla., after 400 miles down I-75 and the Florida Turnpike. An early start the next morning and after quick breakfast at Mickey D's, we are back on the Florida Turnpike.
Next stop is Miami International Airport, where we collect Mike's teammate, David Lennard, who flew in from Wilmington,N.C. We also pick up Tad Pecorak, who came in from the Atlanta area, as he needed a ride to Islamorada.
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Tad called Mike on his cell phone mid-morning, and we were happy to oblige because it might be our turn next to need a ride.
We arrive at Island Resort on Islamorada Key a little after 1 p.m. and after checking in, our group is hungry. We make a beeline to one of the restaurants on the water nearby that reportedly serves a great grouper sandwich.
The quality of fare was not exaggerated. When we return to the resort, the staging area was a beehive of activity with contestants swarming over their boats to prepare them for test runs in the morning.
The spirit of cooperation between teams is noticeable as one will hop immediately off their boat and lend a helping hand when a nearby team needs help erecting a mast or pushing a trailer or boat around.
There is a large tent erected beside the boat staging area with a 5:30 p.m. wedding scheduled. Every few minutes the resort owner walks by, reminding the race guys that all vehicles and trailers must be removed by 4 p.m. Apparently the bride's mother approves of boats being lined up on the grass as a back drop but no vehicles or trailers.
The day before the race is Mother's Day. There's not a wife in sight among the crews, so there has to be some understanding women back home.
It's a lazy day but nevertheless busy as the teams do the final rigging on their boats to pass safety inspection. There is some serious (and sensible) safety equipment required, and because they are at the mercy of the wind, some legs of the race might not be completed until late at night, which complicates any emergency that might happen.
Some of the equipment required is a life jacket, and in or attached to it are several safety/rescue aids. A device, called an EPIRB, sends an emergency signal to the Coast Guard and emit a signal.
Racers also carry a combo flashlight/flashing light, a flare gun, whistle, three GPS units, paper chart showing sandbars, reefs and restricted areas of the day's leg, cell phone, VHF radio, small tools for repairs, tether line for attaching themselves to the boat (it's not uncommon for these boats to pitch pole (go end over end) or flip over at high speeds and throw the sailors 20 to 30 feet from the boat).
For food and drink on their 8-hour day that can turn into 20, they have camelbacks in their lifejacket, a container filled with a high-tech drink with a tube and mouthpiece on their shoulder. They supplement this with powerbars.
By late afternoon, Mike and David are finally satisfied with their rigging and launch the boat for a trial run. To launch, they use "cat tracks," which are balloon tires on an axle. The boat is rolled out through the shallow water until it floats free.
At 5 p.m. is a meeting for all contestants and support crews. Tournament director Chuck Bargeron goes over times and says, since there is not a suitable beach launch, the start will be a mile offshore to prevent damage to boats from shallow coral.
Twenty four teams will compete and pre-race favorites are Team Whike with Misca Heemskerk, an Olympic sailor renowned in Europe and Eduard Zanen of the Netherlands. Another strong contender is Team Velocity with Carrie Howe, one of America's premier Olympic sailors, and John Casey, a previous winner of the Tybee 500.
Because of the physical demands, most of the sailors are appear to be in their early 20s to upper 30s. Mike and David, both in their mid-40s, are the oldest team, but have two top 5 finishes in the event.
Both are somewhat reluctant to predict their chances, but as Mike's father, I know him well enough to know he is a competitor and in this case, an experienced competitor.
