Efficiency...

Had a short session on the lake today. No whitecaps in sight; at the end of the dock at Lakewood, I measured right around 8 knots. Took the 10.8 and my Finworks LT, and wouldn't you know it, with a bit of pumping, I popped onto a plane and was able to go upwind at a pretty good angle. There were a number of people who couldn't believe it (a bunch of dinghy racers and sailing instructors, who all have dabbled in windsurfing or maybe are even teaching it). When the wind picked up another knot or two (now you could actually spot the occasional whitecap if you looked upwind, especially since it was so sunny), the whole thing turned from being work to being downright fun.

I'm often told that Formula sailing isn't real windsurfing. But the amazing efficiency of the gear (and it's ready and very reasonably priced availability in gently used form) sure makes it a pretty compelling thing to do in those nice light summer thermals. Other than an 18' skiff or similarly technical (and expensive) performance boat, I can't think of anything that's faster or more exhilarating to sail in the kinds of conditions most of us get most of the time.

And that efficiency provides its own thrills - it's fast, fun, affordable. And no matter how far modern slalom gear has come (or modern freeride gear), none of it can provide that sensation of power in that little wind. Racing the stuff makes it even more fun - but just going out for a cruise is pretty sweet as well.

The picture was from last year at Squamish, in similar wind speeds (courtesy Gwen l'Hirondelle). Yes, if I raced in these kinds of conditions, I'd probably get a 12; but just to get planing and go upwind, the 10.8 is already pretty optimized. Yes, I like stand-up paddling. I also like longboard sailing on my Kona. And I can even see teh appeal of light air freestyle. But given that I like going fast, in light air, there's just no substitute for formula...

Gorge Cup DQ Dip'n'Dash

My first Gorge Cup for this season, the Dairy Queen Dip 'n' Dash took place May 31 at the Event Site. Derek Nielsen lined up Dairy Queen as a title sponsor for the event (way to go, Derek!), and he got to choose the course accordingly. On the left you can see what he came up with (according to Derek, that happened in the wee hours of the morning...).

It was a quick course, and I'd think the most apt description would be FW slalom - our regular upwind to mark A just off Well's Island, followed by a quick sprint around marks B, C, the start pin, and a reach to the finish - 4 jibes in all. Conditions were typical early season Gorge - pretty brisk breeze (especially up high near the windward mark - we could have easily raced slalom on 6.0's up there), and quite a few holes down low (which made any thoughts of actually switching to slalom a moot point). The current out in the channel was ripping, which together with the strong breeze and monster gusts made for really lumpy water up there (following Bruce around the windward mark in the first race was the first time ever I detected a hint of hesitation in his jibing; mind you, that was a "hint of hesitation" compared to the rest of us, who were flailing quite a bit). On the inside, there was quite a bit of back eddy, resulting in really smooth water.

Tactics were pretty straightforward - start on port, get into the current as quickly as possible, and then switch into slalom mode. At no point was I really pushing for downwind angle (even the broadest legs were not "free" in that way), so downwind tactics were what you would do in a slalom race - how to pass/cover on straights and in mark roundings (which, when traveling at mach speed on OP'd formula gear, can be extremely interesting). The rough conditions put a premium on board and sail handling and smooth transitions; the big current and shifty (both up and down and oscillating) winds made reading the layline at the top challenging.

Most racers were on 9's; I used my trusty 9.9 (since I chose not to have a 9 this season - hmm, maybe I need to reconsider that...), which resulted in serious handling challenges at the top.

Derek stepped up and performed great, being one with the course he had specified - he clinched second overall for the day behind Bruce (all bullets except race 7, which he sat out) and ahead of me by 1.3 points. I found that upwind in the smooth stuff, I was very much competitive on angle and speed, but that I hadn't nailed it in the lumpy stuff (I was losing angle on Bruce there). I also made a couple of errors on laylines - one such error ended up being rather costly - in the 7th and final heat, I thought I had the windward mark but missed it narrowly; the raging current moved me past it on the wrong side, so I had to sail a big circle around it. All that maneuvering in big overpowering gusts and large irregular chop and swell caused me to flounder badly for quite a while, losing 4 places in the process - very annoying. In hindsight, I should have been more conservative on calling my layline, or just given up on pushing for it a little earlier and just let the current take me up on the proper side of it (it's hard to beat around 5 knots of true VMG provided courtesy of the river with a couple extra tacks); but that just didn't compute in my at that point somewhat addled brain (wrestling the big sail around for seven heats had clearly taken its toll on my mental acuity).

Results at the VMG Events website - another well-organized race, a fun bbq afterwards, and a good time had by all. One thing this day made clear is why Formula sailing works so well for making sure you get a good event. Sure, at the windward mark, conditions were beyond what's reasonable for formula racing - but it wasn't dangerous, just suboptimal. And as a result, we had a full day's racing. We could have run slalom - and had a truly mediocre day's racing due to the large holes at the bottom of the course. It would have been no less challenging - but the stories told afterwards wouldn't have been epic tales of survival at sea (excuse the hyperbole) but lots of grumbling about not being able to plane through the holes at the lowest jibe mark. I'll take holding on over that any day ;)

Twisted

Check out these two pictures (courtesy Emmett MacDonald) - same sail, same amount of downhaul, taken within 3 minutes of each other at the Friday Night race in San Francisco in April.

The obvious difference is that one of them is upwind, with the outhaul fairly tight, and the other is downwind, with the outhaul cracked off a bit, going deep. These two pictures tell the story as to why today's formula sails are so insanely rangey - upwind, there's good drive, w/o the leach going all soft and soggy; downwind, if you get hit with a gust or the board hits a wave and decelerates a bit, there's enough twist to prevent you from being pitched over the handlebars when the leach catches.

Earlier generations of big race sails were huge advances for their time - but there was a lot less range, and twist was a lot less refined. When I started racing in 99, the big sails could be tuned with low downhaul tension, resulting in great performance upwind but a scary ride off the breeze. Or they could be tuned with enough downhaul tension for the leech not to catch off the breeze, which resulted in great speed all around but horrible angle upwind.

Mind you, that night I was on a 9.9 when, reasonably, a 9.0 would have been much faster and more appropriate for all racers on the course except Big Ben Bamer (who later also confessed to his 10 feeling a little big at times...). With all that range, I can realistically get a away with a two-sail formula quiver. My 10.8 is powerful enough for racing in what, for West Coast standards, is stupid light air, while my 9.9 is raceable even when it starts blowing like stink. Sure, there are tradeoffs (I didn't much care for the lower upwind angle the bigger sail forces on you in survival conditions at this particular Friday night race, or in the last two heats of last year's Nationals) - but unless you race in the Bay Area a lot, it's hard to justify a 9.0 anymore, and unless you race in Florida or Europe, the same holds true for a 12. Guess it's time to buy Bruce a beer this weekend when I go down for the Gorge Cup.

Olympics - FOD?

Starboard has finally officially announced their bid to be the supplier for a one design class for the 2012 Olympics. If they are successful, that would end the RS:X debacle (which was a great example of many well-intentioned actors creating a compromise so bad it's almost laughable...).

My understanding of the rules for the 2012 selection process is that it has to be a One Design class, and it has to be established by 2008. The question is whether FOD (Formula One Design) can actually establish itself as such a class - it's hard to see formula racers flocking to it, and the Olympic racers are a bit busy right now.

What I think Starboard got right:

• Yes, full planing racing is more exciting, simpler, less costly, more representative of the sport, etc. - just like they claim.
• Yes, the equipment exists (unlike the RS:X, which was just a bunch of proto-typed gear at the time of the selection - and the production stuff came in way heavier and with huge consistency and quality issues)
• Yes, Formula is the most successful racing format around - and for good reason, as it's fun, challenging, and strikes a good compromise between those aspects and the feasibility of getting events to actually happen. Longboard racing is lacking on the former aspect; slalom is lacking on either the second or, if taken to the extremes of light-air slalom in 8 knots, the former.

What I think they got wrong:

• Anyone else bothered by the assertion that with a 3-cam 11m, a 75% carbon mast, an alloy boom, and ONE standard fin, we'll have quality racing for a broad band of competitor weights in conditions spanning 6-25knots? I think it's safe to say that's over-selling the point a bit. To wit:
• 6 knots is highly marginal even with 12.5m rigs and super-powerful fins on today's wide-tailed boards. Even 8 knots is a bit sketchy. And since race committees tend to be somewhat liberal in interpreting minimum wind threshold requirements when there's a big event at stake. For China, given the conditions there, the 6 knot threshold will probably mean that they'll start racing as soon as the anemometer on the start boat comes up over 5 knots a couple times - and that would make for horrid formula racing (it makes for horrid racing on RS:X, too, but at least they didn't promise anyone exciting performance in that wind range, just that it would be doable).
  
• On the other end of the spectrum, that 11 with a fin big enough to get going in under 10 knots will be a real handful in true 20 knots, and somewhere near uncontrollable for even most pros at a true 25 knots. So for a small surcharge on the equipment (a second rig and fin pale in comparison to the cost of travel and training for Olympic hopefuls), we could instead have real competition over the whole range. Seems penny-wise-pound-foolish to me.
  
• What's up with the alloy boom? Trying to show some cost savings? Racing this gear at anything like an Olympic schedule, that boom will come up for replacement a fair bit - why not be honest and just spec carbon? Again, penny-wise...
  
• And yes, the gear is cheaper and less complicated than the RS:X, but does anyone truly believe that the claim of useful hull lives of 4-5 seasons truly apply for Olympic hopeful-level use? Reality still blows away the RS:X on economic terms - why oversell?
  
• Yes, there'll be less pumping than with the RS:X - but that's not saying a whole lot. Meanwhile, by enforcing one-size-fits-all and cutting off the big rigs, you can be sure that there'll be a ton of pumping if there's any racing anywhere close to the 6knots they're promising the organizers.
• Oh, and then there are semantics - Formula originally referred to the notion that equipment was regulated only by numbers - Formula 3/1 meaning one board/three sails, etc. - with the intent being to strike a compromise between keeping cost reasonable while also enabling innovation and spanning a large range of conditions and sailors weights/sizes. The result is that at the last FW Worlds, the 1st and 2nd placed sailors (Antoine Albeau and Steve Allen) are almost 20kg apart in weight, yet they were racing very competitively - don't expect that if they both have to use the same size fin and sail. Formula One Design, on the other hand, is a bit of an oxymoron.
  

Don't get me wrong - I think this is a breath of fresh air. If windsurfing is to be Olympic, and if it has to be One Design , then something like this is the ticket. I find it ironic, though, that one of the slides refers to FW as one of the feeder classes (along with FE and Techno293) for FOD - it's more likely the top FW racers will keep racing FW (since the competition is fairer and the racing will be at a higher performance level in a broader range of conditions), but will "downgrade" to FOD for trials and Olympics-related competition.

On the whole one-design requirement, I'd have to say that it's pretty hard to swallow that one - it's not like every skier or bike racer has to be on the same equipment for fair competition. In the sailing world, one design is the accepted norm, so I guess as long as we're under their umbrella, we'll have to play by those rules (unless we somehow get the numbers and internal funding infrastructure to write our own meal ticket). Still doesn't make any sense if you ask me, though... ;)

Crissy Friday Night Racing

At the end of my week in the Bay Area, I got to do the Friday night race at the St. Francis Yacht Club. If you've never done one of these - they're something special. The St. Francis is a rather well-appointed, big-time racing yacht club, but throughout the season, they let in both kiters (who have a Thursday night series) and windsurfers. I believe one of the reasons there's so much depth in the SF Bay Area fleet is that they get to race every other week. Note that half of the top ten formula racers at the 07 Nationals were racing on Friday.

The logistics on these events are pretty smooth - show up, pay your $15 drop-in fee, race. Start/finish is run from the deck of the St. Francis around stationary marks, and they run something like 5 quick WW/LW courses (sometimes with jibes required right off the deck to entertain the RC) in about an hour. The whole thing is then capped off with being able to use the club's facilities (showers and sauna - always welcome after a cold evening on the bay) and dinner in the grill room.

It had been a while since I'd raced one of these, and it was windy - the locals were all on 9.0's (except Ben Bamer, who at 230+ used a 10). Since I don't have anything smaller than my 9.9, I had to go down a fin size to my 68 to keep any semblance of control (it got a little wild at times...). Jay, by the way, decided to run his 7.2 slalom sail on his formula board since he, too, didn't have a 9.0 - this from the guy Pepi used to call "the Manimal", so it's safe to say it was windy... Several times, I had the whole board out of the water, holding on for dear life, and I was counting my blessings at the end of the night for only bobbled one jibe and having dropped my sail once.

The combo of a too-big sail with a too-small fin had the expected effect - I was going pretty fast, but couldn't point all that well. For the Friday night races, there's a big premium on getting an inside lane on port (everyone starts on port due to the geometry of the line) due to the lift on shore; footing off for speed is costly. I managed to compound that with being less-than-brilliant in my pre-start maneuvering (there's a lot of current there, and a lot of sailors milling about, and I was trying hard not to hit anyone).

I managed to pull out a fourth overall - mostly because of really good speed upwind (enough to make up my pointing deficit), pretty reasonable tacks, decent tactics, and pretty solid downwind performance (good speed and angle, and I managed not to blow up and take aggressive lines in several jibing duels). Overall, it was great fun and good racing. Of the three guys who beat me, two had done so in last year's Nationals (Seth had been 1st and Eric 3rd), and I managed to beat Ben and Al , who had both beaten me in the Nats (they placed 5th and 7th then, respectively) - so I'm pretty happy with where I am this early in the season.

Full results at the CalCup site (I was driving back home the next day when the locals were duking it out in their first CalCup of the year). Thanks to the St. Francis for hosting, the locals for being welcoming and competitive, and those who volunteered for RC duty (which surely had nothing to do with them wanting to sit out a windy one this early in the season, right?).

Formula Board for Sale

Check here for details - rocking board, at a rocking price.

Flying the foils

Last week, I had this rather nice and unremarkable session on Bellingham Bay. I started out with 10.8 and a "big" Finworks 70cm (more on the rather excellent Finworks foils in a future post soon), having plenty of power to plane and push it up or downwind at significant angles in all of 8-10 knots. Then the breeze started increasing to 12-15, and I changed fins down to a "smaller" 70cm. Worked like a charm.

My friend Dale McKinnon came out for a row and brought her camera (she was the the one to take the picture - thanks Dale!) - which was instantly rewarded with the until-then sunny conditions turning misty and dark. At this point, it was gusting into the low twenties, and I was seriously overpowered (the pic above was shot from behind the protection of a dock; the waterstate outside in the Bay no longer permitted sailing in any kind of control, and she would not have been able to take the hands off the oars for even a minute to pick up her camera out there).

I like this shot - it shows you just how efficient Formula gear can be in terms of reducing wetted surface (and drag).

FW Worlds - lessons from Antoine's Domination

The FW Worlds just concluded in Brazil, and the results speak for themselves. I think it's fair to say that Antoine Albeau pretty much dominated the event. If you look through the reports linked from the Formula Windsurfing website, and you watch some of the videos available through those links, or read some of Dennis Littel's or Steve Bodner's commentary, you'll again and again find comments to the extent that Antoine was just flying - comments made even by people like Gonzalo and Wojtek.

So what happened here? I think the short version is that Antoine is just a force. I raced the 2003 Midwinters in Florida, where he was using a crappy board (an outdated AHD design) in super light air (I was barely powered most of the time on my 12.5, and he was probably at least 20 pounds heavier than me at the time). He won that event, in front of people like Kevin Pritchard and Wojtek B. (who, if I remember correctly, was the reigning world champ at the time). He's been doing great in formula racing even in light air events like the 2006 Europeans and 2006 Worlds - both events extremely sketchy windwise, putting a heavy sailor at a severe disadvantage.

So Brazil served up some conditions you'd consider to be more to his liking - but it wasn't San Francisco style survival FW sailing. If you read Steve Bodner's reports, he rarely got into powered up 9.9 territory. Antoine was still using the 12.5 for most of the regatta. And he just took off on the fleet. He threw out a third, and his next throwout would have been a second. If he hadn't raced at all the last day, he still would have won - yet he came out and competed fiercely that day.

Prior to the Worlds, Windsurf Journal had an article that mentioned they witnessed Antoine testing a stack of something like 30 Deboichet formula fins in preparation for the event (not archived, it seems, so I can't provide a direct link). Is that's what's going on? Did the guy just out-fin everyone? Doubtful - for sure, he probably was the most tuned up, and he probably had some very fast fins that no one else had (that's the perk when you do fin development with the maker). But the top 10 were all on Deboichet or Kashy custom fins, most of which are truly custom and would be hard to come by for any of us (consistency and reproducibility of wet lay up-molded fins is a whole other topic, and one of the reasons I'm so stoked about working with Dave Lassila of Finworks...).

And sure, as the lead racer guy for NP, his NP's were probably more tweaked than anyone else's - but again, none of the top guys would have a hard time getting support from their sailmakers to get their sails to be exactly what they want them to be. That's certainly true of Steve Allen (a former world champ himself, and leading the pack charging after Antoine in this championship).

So some long-distance analysis can't really get stuck on gear - that's part of it, but it's a tuning thing more than the availability of magic silver bullets. And it can't get stuck on his size - as it wasn't THAT windy (Wilhelm Schurman, winner of the lightweight division, can be seen in some pics and videos using an 11.8 on one of the days - a day when Antoine got three bullets). And then you look at the fact that the guy fully dominated PWA slalom racing this year. And you have to take note that, on his first day ever on the Masters' of Speed canal in Southern France, he went over 46 knots in suboptimal conditions - and then goes on to say in the interview that he likes the speed 'racing' format better b/c it's more intense - I think we're starting to understand what's happening here.

Antoine has a lot of stuff going for him (or is making a lot of stuff happening for himself, more likely...). He's clearly incredibly talented. He's physically strong. He's well prepared and tuned. He's got a ton of experience. And, as can be seen from that comment about intensity after the speed thing (as if going 46+ knots wasn't intense in and of itself...), he's very much a competitor at heart (hey, the guy didn't sit out heats or events he didn't need to sail to keep his overall wins - why risk injury or equipment damage unless you're in it to compete, rather than "just" to win?).

But there's something else here - most competitors play to their strengths and minimize their weaknesses. Few seem to be able to convert weaknesses to strengths. There's nothing more logical than for a big sailor like Antoine to always sail larger gear than his opponents - reduce your weakness (that whole light air/heavy sailor physics handicap), and maximize your strength (take advantage of your ability to control big stuff when the breeze picks up). And most of them do it. But it seems like he's managed to do it to an extent that's truly astonishing - check out the gear registration for the event. This place is known to be windy. Like Albeau, Wojtek registered a 12.5. Unlike Albeau, he then went to 10.7 and 9.0 from there. Albeau went to 11.8 and registered 10.7 as his smallest sail.

That was more pronounced in the 2007 PWA slalom events (unfortunately, they don't seem to archive the gear registration pages for those events, so I'm going from memory here) - throughout the season, Albeau would register bigger sails and boards than both Dunkerbeck and Micah Buzianis in pretty much each and every event. Both of those guys are first rate slalom contenders, and the same size as Antoine. Yet they consistently chose smaller gear - probably to "insure" against epic conditions that would enable them to get on smaller gear when things picked up, and then use their size and leverage for out-of-this-world straight line speed. That used to clearly be Dunkerbeck's game plan (and if memory serves, he dominated the World Cup that way for a long time). Antoine has found a way to tweak control over his big gear when it gets gnarly to where he doesn't have a speed disadvantage, while also having ample power in the holes - and he dominates with it.

What's all that got to do with the average sailor, you ask? Nothing really - after all, these are racers, and we all know that racers are a different breed, right? Except, how many people do you see in your spot who always seem to be rigged for their strengths? If you look at big sailors vs. small sailors, you often find that the smaller guys are on relatively big gear, while the big guys are on relatively small gear - meaning the gear-size-gap between people of different size isn't nearly as big as you'd expect (and is it would need to be to equalize planing and control thresholds).

It's almost as if the big guys are so ecstatic when things go ballistic and they're the only ones able to hang on, they live for those moments and generally discount the misery that comes from too-small gear during the rest of their sessions. Conversely, you've got all those light sailors who are always the first to plane, and who seem to be using relatively large gear - as though they're so hooked to planing by a bunch of people slogging that they couldn't care less about getting blown off the water when it picks up.

In many ways, that kind of behavior is pretty natural - we all have our identity, and whatever confirms us in that seems to be accepted. If you're a big guy and you get blown off the water because you rig big, maybe it's not that conducive to your self image. Maybe a little guy can't stand the thought of some heavy sailor planing just as early. So you go out and play to your strength, and just completely write off the other side of the spectrum - after all, a negative outcome on that end is easily explained and involves no loss of self-esteem ("sure, I was bobbing while everyone else was planing, but hey, they're all pencil-necks...").

I've succumbed to this, as well. Check out this race report I did after the US Nationals long-distance day. You'll note that I seem to just accept the fact that I was under-powered, anticipating big breeze at the bottom of the course. Well, the other guys (especially the lighter ones) clearly were more appropriately rigged. But for a big guy, saying "I was under-powered" is pretty painless (hey, it's the wind after all). Admitting that I chickened out on rigging big (a risk a bunch of lighter competitors who were on the same size gear as me were willing to take) apparently didn't come to mind.

If that all seems like a bunch of psycho-babble, think again. Game theory has confirmed people's tendency to err towards things that confirm their bias, even if "objectively" they are creating suboptimal outcomes for themselves. Antoine seems to have broken through that - he's apparently confident that he won't get blown off the water even with bigger gear unless the whole fleet suffers the same fate. And in return, he's denying the lighter guys their light-air advantage.

So put that on the to-do list for maximizing your racing outcomes (or just having more fun on the water) - along with skill, determination, training, tuning, ....

Formula Fins for Sale

Check here for details and pictures.

9/12/07 update - all gone!

Element as pack mule

Someone sent me an email, expressing disbelief at the notion that you could fit formula gear inside an Element (as I'd mentioned here). Well, here's how it works. It's a bit of a tight fit, but that's true of fitting Formula gear into just about any vehicle, even large mini vans.

What you see in the pictures is a Formula board, two booms (in their full length as needed to rig the sails - no real need to futz with the adjustment and shorten them for fit), two masts (520 and 550; those are under the board so they're hard to see in the pics), two sails (10.8 and 9.9), a box of accessories, a toolbox, a fin stash, a wetsuit and harness, and other odds and ends I happened to be carrying that day (gym bag, backpack for work, etc.)

The driver's seat is not pushed forward; the gear doesn't really encroach on my space, and the stuff sits low enough that while driving I have full use of the rearview and passenger side mirrors, and can see out the back and sides (in the side view picture, you can't really see the passenger side mirror b/c the camera angle is lower than my head would be while sitting in the driver seat). I have fit my slalom gear on top of my formula stuff pretty easily, but then I can't see out the side anymore, which is a bit sketchy.

Pretty amazing for a car that's shorter than a Civic...

Nationals Debrief - Formula

Some notes on the course at the Nationals, and what that meant for tactics given the conditions on the different days. The diagram to the left roughly shows how things were laid out, with the course set off Crissy Field (the start line was just above the St. Francis, and the WW mark outside and upwind from Anita Rock). We ran the same configuration for all course races - Start, A to port, B to port, A to port, B to port, A to port, downwind finish; that's a LONG course - it took the leaders anywhere from 25 to 30 or so minutes per heat.

Generally, the outside (i.e., North side) of the course was favored going upwind; when it was ebbing, you got both the current and the extra breeze working in your favor; when it was flooding, you got the breeze outside, as well as a bit of a lift. Since that's a well-known bias at Crissy, PRO John Craig set the start with a fair bit of starboard bias and made it fairly short to discourage port starting. I did a few port starts, and had to pretty much duck the whole fleet, working to clear the boat end of the start line - it still was worth it for me, though, to get over to the right faster, and to get clear air (more on that later).

While the course was long, once you were around the first time, it wasn't super tactical. Going into shore on the upwind legs wasn't really an option, so it tended to be a parade. Usually, someone in the leader's group would get a good tight rounding at the bottom mark and grind like crazy, resulting in following sailors getting gassed, and the whole fleet getting knocked down by dirty air. As a result, the upwind legs created little opportunity for passing. Only on the ebb could you potentially foot below people and get them through raw speed; on the flood, you'd get knocked down too much. As further risk to footing, there was always the potential that you'd get too far into the shipping lane and would be made to tack by a chase boat to keep you out of the way of oncoming container ships.

Downwind presented a bit more of a tactical opportunity; you could either go for playing the inside in the hopes of a good header (since you often get southerly gusts off the shore), or you could go for more pressure on the outside. Both had their risks - you could find yourself stuck in light air near shore, or you could be forced to jibe prematurely outside to get out of the way of freighters.

The whole layout very much rewarded good angle, both upwind and down. Upwind, good angle gave you options, as you stayed clear of the obstructions (shore for the starboard starters; then the shipping lane as you were banging the corner outside). It further allowed you to sail more directly into the flood for those races where that was a factor, resulting in a more favorable composite vector. Downwind, it allowed you to take risks going inside; passing someone by rolling them was risky, as they could head you up into the light air and shallow water by the beach.

The current, of course, was a major issue. With a strong flood, laying the windward mark had a huge element of chance - if you hit a header or hole on approaching the mark, the ebb would convert what looked like a safe layline into tacking practice. And since the current wasn't uniform across the course (on a strong ebb, there's usually a bit of a flood eddie on the inside; near slack, you can find all kinds of strange currents), local knowledge payed off handsomely for the top Bay sailors who call this place home. I remembered some of the lessons learned many years ago when racing here regularly, but I also had to relearn some of them pretty painfully.

Lastly, the waterstate is a tremendous factor at this venue. Crissy Field is famous for its voodoo chop. On a strong ebb, you've got big, pitched swell (with cross-swell at the eddie lines) teaming up with the innumerable boat/ferry/freighter wakes and reverberation off the seawall down by the start. On a flood, you can have flat water and washboard chop, with sudden cross chop coming at you out of nowhere. Compared to the Gorge, for a given wind strength, that results in generally much rougher and less predictable water. As a result, it's much harder to keep your foils flying.

That was a lesson I learned the hard way on the first day of racing. I was comfortably powered on my 9.9 - in the Gorge, that translates into racing on a 68cm fin. I was on my 70, though, since I simply couldn't get enough power to point otherwise. So in the puffs, I got stood up by a too-lifty fin, and in the lulls (or when I couldn't keep things flowing b/c I was working through the voodoo chop) I'd lose the drive from the fin. On the second day, I switched from my R16 to a Finworks formula fin, and it made a huge difference; I got better angle without losing significant amounts of speed, and the fin just had more range and tracked better and more predicably - that was both a matter of the foil and the softer flex.

Ultimately, the critical success factors for the regatta were

• good angle (more so than good boat speed), which kept options open,
  
• conservative laylines,
  
• covering following sailors (critical for the leaders, as tacking off wasn't really an option for those following),
  
• a setup with a huge amount of range, especially from your fin (due to the rough water and variable wind)
• stamina

That last one deserves another look. The races were long, so 8 races plus long distance, while it doesn't sound like much, translated into a lot of sailing with the hammer down, in challenging conditions. Of course, on the last day, we were racing Formula in well over 30 knots of wind, so there was a survival element at work as well (having a 9.0 would have been very nice indeed...) While I'm in pretty good physical shape, it's hard to emulate the kind of conditioning you get from having an opportunity to reliably train on the water pretty much every day.

So for me, there are two areas of focus that I'm coming away with after this event:

• Fins - I'll be working with Dave Lassila of Finworks on rangier Formula fins. My current setup (all R16's) is very much Gorge optimized.
• Conditioning - I tend to be fine for one or two day of racing, but at some point my body runs out of steam. At the Gorge Challenge, the last few slalom heats on Saturday were pretty much just about holding on for me, and during Nationals, my body was very much feeling the strain. I don't live in the Gorge or the Bay Area, so I won't be able to simply up my amount of time on the water. That's why I decided to step up my conditioning and work with the folks at Bellingham Athletic Club; these 8 days of racing (with the only break being the long drive from the Gorge to San Francisco on Monday) clearly showed that to be the right direction.

Gorge Cup - 6/18/2007

To maximize the amount of racing, race director Darren Rogers set up two courses at once - a simple windward/leeward formula course upwind of the committee boat, and a 'Gorge Slalom' box course below the boat. As I had just gotten my new 7.2 Sailworks NXsl, I decided to take it for a spin while Darren was setting the courses - since I was powered up pretty well despite some holes, he decided to call me the wind dummy and start out with slalom racing.

The first slalom heat saw the whole fleet late for the start - Bruce got to the line first, at about four seconds late. I managed to mistime the start to badly, I wound up going over the line at something like 10 seconds after the horn, buried in something like 12th place in a tight knot of sailors. In the mayhem at the first mark, I had to go really wide, which didn't help too much. Through the two lap course (each lap including a 'free leg from the last jibe up to the layline for the starting pin, adding an element of upwind performance and tactics to the race), I managed to claw my way back up to 7th - not bad considering I ended up swimming at one jibe to avoid hitting a sailor who had crashed right in front of me.

For the second heat, I was determined not to repeat my bad start. Apparently, everyone else felt the same, as the whole pack was moving aggressively toward the line. At five seconds, I found myself close to the boat (upwind) end of the mark with a sailor above me and the whole pack slightly back and below. I tried bleeding a little speed, but the sailor above kept pushing, so I went for it hoping I'd be OK. Darren blew another horn, but as I looked back I saw no flag; instead of going back 'just in case' I decided to go for it, not knowing whether I'd been over early. I had a great race, rounding the first mark in 2nd right after Bruce and keeping that position throughout the heat. Clean air really helps, especially when it gets flukey - as the race progressed, we gained more and more distance on the fleet, as the packs kept having to pump hard out of the turns. Unfortunately, it turned out that I was over early (by about a board length, Darren told me later). Bummer, but it sure was a fun race.

The third heat saw bigger and bigger holes on the course; Stefan decided to run the course on his Formula gear because of this. I got a clean start and rounded the first mark in 2nd behind Bruce, right ahead of Doug. I kept that spot throughout the first lap until the free upwind leg - when out of nowhere Stefan emerged pointing straight for the pin we needed to round, while I was getting pushed downwind by a header. Bruce avoided being passed and opened up some distance on the downwind portion; I followed Stefan into the three-jibe reaching part of the course and managed to squeeze by him around the second jibe mark (Formula boards take up a lot of real estate on a slalom course...), but the gap I opened up on the last reaching leg and with the faster jibe around #3 was not enough as on the upwind leg, I had to pump through a hole while he just motored straight up to the pin again - I missed him by less than a board length. Given what he had to do to hang on to his big gear through the slalom course, he'd certainly earned that one.

Since it got a little flukey for slalom, Darren switched to Formula - a good decision. We had four excellent, very powered up Formula races. On the first heat, I got a good start on the pin end (again the course was pretty port favored, so there were only a handful of startboard starters). I had great speed and angle and was able to hold my position against Bruce. He called a pretty aggressive layline for the upwind mark, which seemed too dodgy to me, so I went a little further to put some in the bank. That paid off, as we hit a huge header on the approach to the mark, which meant he had to double tack while I could round the mark in first. As I headed off the wind, I saw the breeze on the inside near the Oregon shore all filled in, so I decided to stay on starboard and try to get down to the leeward mark that way. Bruce, apparently deciding that he had a better shot of passing me by looking for more breeze in the channel, jibed after rounding the mark. My call paid off, as I rode a good puff all the way down the course, jibed on the layline, and rounded the bottom mark with a healthy gap at least five seconds before Bruce. I held that position around the windward mark, having slightly better speed but lower angle upwind. Then it was decision time - another ride on the inside, or play for better breeze in the channel? I decided to stay on the inside, having had to work through a little hole on the approach to the mark. Looking back, I saw Bruce rounding just as a big gust came down the middle of the course, which caused him to jibe and ride the glory puff down the channel. I considered covering him, but didn't because there was a big hole between me and him, virtually guaranteeing he'd catch me. As I made my way down, a big hole opened up on the inside, and I lost enough time pumping through that and out of my jibe that Bruce easily beat me to the leeward mark and into the finish reach, so I came in second.

The next three Formula heats saw increasing winds at the top of the course (albeit too inconsistent at the bottom end of the course to switch back to slalom). I had three more solid starts but wasn't able to sneak by Bruce again, finishing second in all of them.

Lessons for the day:

• Slalom starts are hugely important - and the difference between being over early and being late enough to get buried in the pack is a matter of just a few seconds.
• Leaders make their own luck - the further up front you are in a slalom race, the less you're affected by holes, as you're only pumping out of holes, whereas in the pack you're also battling the turbulence and wakes created by the rest of the sailors.
• Don't let up even after a bad start - while it's hard to pass people on a slalom course, it's certainly possible, especially with the free upwind leg.
• Don't underestimate the power of Formula gear in a reaching format - while I had tons of speed and faster jibing on Stefan, he was able to take advantage of his ability to power through the lulls and get boatloads of angle on the free leg. Maybe there's something to the ever-increasing width (and thus planing power) of slalom boards; it's not just about how fast you can go and how hard you can carve your jibes, but also about whether you can keep your speed in the holes.
• Races aren't over until you're through the finish line. I had a flawless 3/4 of a race in the first formula heat, but Bruce still got me by making a smart tactical call for the last downwind leg. I'll need to figure out my downwind tactics a bit better if I want to ever score a bullett.
• The range of our modern gear is amazing. We were formula racing in well over 20 knots, with gusts quite a bit higher than that at the top of the course. It was FUN. We were slalom racing in mostly 20+ knots, with some pretty furry gusts, but also some pretty significant lulls. Again, it was FUN.
• I love slalom sailing. It's pretty close to flying, exhilarating, exciting. On a race course, though, I'd rather get blown off the water on Formula gear than race slalom in shifty, inconsistent conditions. I don't mind the gusts, that's all great - you just go faster; the lulls, however, are a different story, as pumping out of a jibe in a pack with inconsistent winds can be pretty tough. Time to start thinking about a wider board.
  

After the racing was over, I spent a bit more time sailing on my slalom gear, since that's a treat I don't get too much in the summer months in Bellingham. The new 7.2 is simply amazing - locked in, fast, stable, rangey, with great acceleration but very user friendly in the jibes. Bruce was kind enough to take some pictures (see above for one of those - more in the Gallery).

Results and photos should be up soon on the VMG Gorge Cup site (thanks Scotia!)

Gorge Cup - 2007 season opener

Blazing sunshine and lots of breeze - definitely a good way to start the season. Darren set an interesting course - a gate just above the start line as the leeward mark for the first lap, with the finish being a reach to below the boat from the starting pin. Everyone seemed plenty eager for the first start, and most seemed to have recognized the significant advantage from starting on port - with the short course, only one tack would be required to lay the WW mark, and the outside was favored due to the strong current in the channel providing an extra boost. In fact, eagerness ran so high, there was a general recall.

The restart was clean; but I ended up in a horrible position way down after having to duck under several sailors just to run into a huge hole in the middle of the course that required some frantic pumping. At this point I was pretty deep, but was able to recover several places by making a pretty aggressive call on the layline for the windward mark - I rounded somewhere around 6th or so, then two more places on the way down due to another aggressive layline call and some very committed pumping. I got into fourth behind Bruce, Rob Mulder (who had the most amazing windward leg with blazing speed and angle, even pinching off Bruce), and Alex Aguera who was running the course on a 24" slalom board and a 7.2 - he had amazing speed off the breeze, and didn't lose too much upwind (he was going a little faster and quite a bit lower, but the short course still allowed him to lay the mark in one tack). As I was chasing Rob and Alex (Bruce had gotten ahead of Rob on the first downwind and never looked back), I witnessed an incredible display on the finishing reach with Rob holding off Alex - he sure put all that leverage to good use.

I gave my 9.9 a bit of extra downhaul and switched down to my 66cm fin (since pure upwind power didn't seem to win the day) and got 2nds behind Bruce in races 2, 3, and 5 - in #4, I couldn't hold Alex off on the second downwind as we rode a big puff down from the mark. When the puff hit, it was like he had hit some afterburners. Throughout, there were some spirited battles with Doug Beaman, who was racing very consistently and starting very cleanly.

As the fifth heat had been *very* powered up, and given Alex's display on his slalom gear, Darren switched over to slalom. To make for a faster switch, he did a slightly different course. Instead of in the middle of the course, the boat was now at the top, upwind from the start pin. Start on starboard, three jibes, then head out into the river for a free leg and tack to make it back over the start/finish line to complete the lap. We ran three two-lap heats. Unlike the old box course which had an upwind mark, the tack was a bit further out - this turned out to be significant. One of the nicest things about this setup was that we never had to jibe around the boat - hence no worries about hitting the anchor line or getting wrapped up in the boat if there were carnage during that jibe.

Alex was still running the same gear as before, except a slightly smaller fin - bigger than Bruce (who had opted for speed and jibing) though, which allowed him to reel him in on the free leg. All those years of pro-racing clearly showed, as in three slalom heats he got three bullets (Bruce was OCS in the second heat). The nature of the course was giving a bit of bias towards bigger gear and pointing - since the closer you were to the pin when you tacked, the more aggressive you could be on the layline. Most racers (me included) ended up tacking a bit too late, as it was hard to call the layline in the somewhat variable conditions. This was clearly underlined by the fact that Stefan was able to score two fourths and a third in slalom on his formula gear - he'd be somewhat slower on the reaches and losing a lot of ground in the jibes, but then he'd just motor upwind.

For the formula part of the day, I would have placed second. With the addition of the three slalom heats, I ended up in third with Alex taking second after Bruce. Always good to place that close to such standout sailors.

There was quite a bit of carnage at the marks - probably as much a function of this being early in the season (and everyone still being a bit rusty) as the fact that after five very overpowered formula races we were all getting a bit tired and sloppy.

Fun racing all around, and Scotia again pulled off a very nice event. Between the site, the race management, the amenities (excellent lunch and drinks and snacks all provided), this has got to be the best value in racing anywhere. Check here for results; pictures to follow.

Spring Fever...

This was taken last week at Post Point - I had several great formula sessions, all on the new 9.9. The last one (on Thursday) was even blessed with brilliant sunshine. The new 9.9 is feeling great - can't wait to get the 10.8 (any day now...). Went to the Gorge over the weekend, got some good sailing there despite early season flukiness in the conditions - winds at the Event Site were pretty up and down; on Friday, we were going back and forth between FW and slalom, but invariably the wind would die after being out on the small gear for just a bit.

Learned that my board handling on slalom gear seems to have improved over the winter (nothing like survival sailing to make you feel like the swell off the White Salmon bridge is a very nicely organized playground). Also learned that I got just a bit too comfy on my FW stuff, with my setup tending more towards control rather than pushing the edge for that extra bit of angle - not surprising if you're sailing in cold water, cold air, and don't have a tuning partner for a few months. Nothing like lining up with Bruce to keep you honest.

Can't wait for racing to start ;)

Knifey

That's how Bruce described the feeling to be expected from my new 9.9 when going upwind overpowered. Thanks to 20+ knots of gusty breeze on the Bay today, I had a chance to try that out - and it's about as apt a description as I could think of. It just settles down and drives with no jerking even in the biggest gusts - allowing you to keep the foils lit up and the hammer down.

Downwind is also really sweet - even with the outhaul all the way dumped off, the draft doesn't move around and the sail stays nice and stable - breathes nicely with changes in apparent wind (from gusts, or as you're hitting the back of swells), doesn't stall (as slippery sails usually do off the breeze), and just keeps driving. With the rig behaving so nicely, you can stay way longer in the outside strap even when the water gets pretty gnarly.

The southern part of Bellingham Bay dished up great practice for Nationals in San Francisco today - lots of breeze (baseline around 20+ knots), with some big puffs coming out of nowhere, confused water, and the occasional VW Bug-sized rollers coming through. Good stuff. Could have easily slalom sailed out there, but that would have been long slog/swim out to the windline and back to shore, as it was early pre-frontal and thus too offshore. Gotta love Formula gear - you just go where you want to and cover whatever ground necessary to get to the breeze.

New Toy

Got my first session on the new 9.9 Sailworks NXfw yesterday. Since the promised NW wasn't filling in and Everett was still blowing SE, I went to Kayak Point instead of Jetty Island (I end up making the trip to Everett once a week for work, so grabbing a session while I'm down there is my little reward for the extra driving).

No pictures yet - I didn't want to take the time before sailing, since I figured it was just a matter of time until the dreaded Puget Sound Convergence would shut things off. So I got about 15 minutes of pretty stout SE (around 20 knots or so), followed by a few minutes of complete calm, followed by 20 minutes or so of W, followed by rain and only the slightest breeze from the SW - classic convergence (and then, of course, I didn't really feel like taking pics in the rain...)

The sail felt good - leaner entry than last year, but tons of shape down low and lots of progressive twist. Definitely slippery, and still nice and stable even if you dump the outhaul all the way. The sail looks good, too - very clean foil, nicely finished construction. I usually spend a lot of time on this size - it's the staple for Gorge racing - so I'm stoked.

Kayak Point was a pleasant surprise, despite the $5 parking fee. Gravel beach, lots of parking, grassy rigging. On a SE, if sailing small gear, you'd have to walk up to the point along the beach a bit (since the parking/rigging area is to the lee of the point and pier), and if it's real Easterly, the windline would probably be out a bit (albeit not as far as Post Point), but the launch is definitely nice. Glenn R. warned me about driftwood, and from what you can see on shore, that's apparently a bit of an issue. Didn't see anything in the water yesterday, though.

In depth discussion of the sail, as well as some pics, once I get a chance to really put it through its paces. I've been sailing all winter, but somehow getting new gear and the more springlike temps sure make it seem more real that racing season starts next month.

Beach sport? Yachting? Both!

Windsurfing mag has a feature on power sails this month. Looks like the Hucker got some good press - for good reason, I'd say. Interesting to me, however, were some of the comments made by the sailmakers (this is only available in the print edition, not on the mag's web site). In his blurb, Dave Ezzy says something to the effect that Formula was this big diversion - huge sails for going upwind/downwind, and the average sailor, he contends, got 'reamed' by that development.

Which begs the question - how exactly does the average sailor get 'reamed' by a small segment of the market going off and doing its own thing? I race Formula and think it's awesome, but I don't have any illusions about this being something that's applicable to everyone. What's learned in the process can and does filter down to the rec market, though - you can't tell me that all the stuff sailmakers learned in making these huge sails rock solid didn't play into what they did to apply rig tension to smaller sails in ways that allowed more low-end combined with good stability at the hairy edge.

Instead, this to me looks like more of the old "that's not really windsurfing" attitude I see a lot. There's this apparent division between people who think windsurfing is a beach sport (something to be enjoyed only if planing on small gear, with an emphasis on waves and Bump & Jump), and those (a much smaller group, I admit) who think of windsurfing as sailing in the yachting sense (racing on upwind/downwind courses, sailing big gear in light winds, etc.)

To the beach sport crowd, sailing in 8 knots is a way station - something that needs to be done to learn how to windsurf in the first place. Later on, when skills have advanced, they'd consider 8 knots time to play volleyball on the beach, have a beer, and bitch about the lack of breeze.

To the sailing (yachting) crowd, 8 knots is an invitation to play - be it on longboards (for those who just want to cruise around and enjoy the gliding sensation), or be it on Formula gear (for those who have the racing and performance bug).

If you live on Maui, it's easy to see how you would fall exclusively into the beach sport camp. With ample breeze most of the year and tons of wave action, that seems natural. Dave Ezzy lives on Maui. He certainly has proven to be a very capable wave sailor, and he's passed on the stoke (those pics of his son Graham ripping it up with the pros are truly inspiring). Good on him! What he's apparently not getting, though, is that there's a world where reliable 20 knots and waves don't happen. In that world, you're dealing with 8 knots and flat water most of the time. And even in places where you do have lots of times with lots of wind (think San Francisco Bay or the Gorge - noone's ever complained about those not being B&J friendly...), there are lots of people who, because of work or familiy commitments, or traffic etc., can triple their time on the water easily (not to mention lengthen their season to year-round) by finding a way to enjoy 8 knots of breeze.

There are different ways to enjoy 8 knots. If you're on Maui, you get one of the new SUP-inspired long boards, slog out through the surf, and basically get to go surfing without needing to paddle. Cool. If you live near flat water, you can putter around on a longboard in sub-planing mode. Or, you can go for the high-performance option and sail Formula gear. If you're a competitive person, you know which one you're choosing.

So there's an option to have a rewarding, high-performance, exciting sailing experience in 8-12 knots. It's called Formula, and it works. I know, you can plane on big slalom gear in 10 knots these days - but nursing my plane in hours of ho-hum BAF sailing isn't really doing it for me, and I like to range around and go places - Formula will get me there in a way nothing else will (not even the highest-performance racing longboards).

So exactly how providing a high-performance option for those 8 knots and up means the average sailor gets 'reamed' is beyond me. Maybe the mag can get Dave Ezzy to clarify that - I simply don't get it. You could argue it's because everyone now thinks they have to have monster sails and boards and buy stuff that's not appropriate for them. Hmmm.... - coming from the wave-camp, I'd be careful with that one, lest someone might seek to place blame for the thousands of flat-water inland sailors getting skunked at their home spots every weekend because the conditions aren't right for their small wave or freestyle gear...

The cool thing about windsurfing is that it's not just a beach sport, and it's not just yachting. It's got the best of both worlds, and it spans a tremendous range. All of it's fun - as long as you're not hung up on what someone else tells you is proper windsurfing. There's lots to do in this sport, and lots of people get different kicks from all kinds of things. Racing (small gear or large; downwind or on UW/DW courses or long distance), wave sailing, freestyling, B&J sailing, longboard racing or cruising, tandem sailing - it's all good stuff. What the sport needs is stoke, and fortunatly there's lots of that around. What the sport doesn't need are judgmental attitudes. Nobody's getting reamed if we on the lunatic fringe go off and race formula gear UW/DW. Nobody's getting reamed just because magazines show inspirational (and aspirational) shots of sailors ripping it up on Maui. There's no need for that kind of rhetoric - just get over it.

Of chickens and little piggies...

Michael of the Peconic Puffin had this post on his astonishment upon seeing center straps on formula gear in a picture posted by Steve Bodner. The chicken strap has been a vital piece of equipment on formula gear since its inception - rather chicken out downwind and go a little slower (but at a deeper angle) instead of swimming (which, as Rob Hartman used to put it, is surely the slowest point of sail). Of course, there's that point where even that won't do - that's when you start straddling the board and use the leeward strap (which Hartman used to call the little piggy strap - since when you're ready to use that, you're surely frightened to the point of squealing - cue theme from Deliverance here...)

Of course, real racers don't use these, right? In 2004, on the day before racing started at the US Open in Corpus, I was out sailing with Dale. He was on 9.8 (the smallest he brought), I ran a 9.1. The chop in the bay there gets really nasty - there's swell pitching up very steeply, then refracting off a number of seawalls, so by the time you get close to where the leeward marks and start/finish line were going to be off McGee Beach, you found yourself in a landscape of VW Bug sized moguls. On one run, we came downwind behind Micah Buzianis and Jimmy Diaz. I distinctly remember actually catching up to Jimmy (a feat never to be repeated), as he was alternating between the windward rear strap, holding that for a few seconds, then scrambling over to the leeward strap, then looking for middle ground. An hour later, he was seen on shore mounting a chicken strap...

And at the 2004 US Nationals in SF, Phil McGain (who had often announced that chicken straps were unnecessary) found that racing in the voodoo chop created by the ebb, tankers, container ships, ferries, and fishing vessels off Crissy Field could benefit from a chicken strap as well. He was asked about this by someone and replied: "I may be a proud man, but I'm not a stupid man."

Of course, speaking of downwind speed - Hartman used to credit his uncanny ability to hold the hammer down off the breeze in even the roughest water to his ability to simply turn off the frontal lobes...

Race Report - CalCup - August 19 2006

Being back in the Bay Area for a short visit, I got a chance to race CalCup. Like all CalCup races, the location was announced the afternoon before; the RC makes a decision based on weather conditions to ensure good raceable conditions, and they usually do a great job on that. This day was no exception to that as we raced in the waters of Pt. Isabel (but launching off Marina Bay in Richmond - a much nicer path to the water without all those barnacle-encrusted rocks and the dog turds you'd find at Isabel). Jason Voss ran a clinic before the skippers' meeting which was very well received (just witnessing the tail end of it, I must say he does a great job of picking apart technique and complex movement in digestible form on land).

Mike Percey, usually the driving force behind the CalCup, was not there, and neither were perennial top dogs Mike Zajicek and Steve Sylvester. Conditions were great - starting out perfect for the 9.9 and my big fin. I figured I'd switch down a fin size later if it picked up, forgetting about the way CalCup races are run (a fair bit offshore, and back to back unless there's a huge change in conditions so that the whole fleet will go in and change gear).

The course was WW/LW - WW mark rounded to port, LW gate consisting of the start pin on one side of the committee boat and the finish pin on the other. It looked to me like there'd be an advantage starting on port (a bit of a lift on that side of the course, plus one fewer tack), but that it was offset by the risk of shooting for the corner and trying to guess a long-distance layline for a barely visible WW mark. As the RC pulled the boat to WW a bit to make the line more SB favored, I chose to go on Starboard. Steve Bodner and Ben Bamer started port and ducked only a handful of board (me among them).

My plan paid off, as both Steve and Ben way overshot the layline and had to play catchup. I got to the windward mark just ahead of Jean and Eric, then held on to that off the breeze. At the gate, I decided to go around the start pin, go up a little ways, then tack over onto port to avoid being too far out when trying to hit the layline. That worked OK, and I got to the WW mark with a comfortable lead over Jean and Eric (Ben and Steve were in 4 and 5 at this point). And this is where I made a bad call, going way too far down on starboard looking for the finish in the hazy conditions instead of playing it safe down the middle of the course. I way overstood the layline to the boat and ended up in a photofinish with Eric and Jean, giving me a third.

Second race, Steve had apparently decided that port was a risky proposition (he also ended up being called OCS in the first heat), and he started just below me on the line. I had good angle and speed off the line, and was climbing on him when I had to slow it down and duck Ben who came on port but couldn't avoid me without running into another port starter below him - so we all avoided a collision (Ben exonerated himself with spins), but this pushed me just far enough down that I was now getting gassed by Steve. I tacked away as quickly as I could and ended up rounding the WW mark just behind him - the rest of the race was me trying to reel him in and him doing a flawless job of covering me, and we came in 1 and 2.

In the third race, I started feeling the big fin as the breeze picked up. Even though I had dropped the boom down a bit, I was just a bit overpowered and inefficient - all that lift didn't buy me better angle upwind anymore as I was having control issues, and certainly cost me off the breeze. Ben, on the other hand, was now ready to redeem himself with a vengeance. He, Steve, and Soheil started on port and this time they all called the layline right. Steve took the race, with Ben in second and Soheil in third; I followed in fourth.

Race 4 saw conditions pick up a bit more. I again stayed on starboard, this time because I was having control issues with the big fin and didn't want to risk threading through the fleet with my kit going all over the place. Ben really kicked it in this time and got a rockstar port start, followed by Steve. Again they made a perfect call on the lay line and held on to the lead - finishing Ben, Steve, me, Eric, and Soheil.

Race 5 now had a larger number of port starters. I stayed on starboard with the same rationale as before, not noticing that the breeze on top of the course had backed a bit more, making the right side of the course even more favored. Ben again took the race, followed by Steve and Soheil, with me in fourth.

Overall, Steve took the day ahead of Ben, I came in third. Jane Morson ran a tight RC, with clockwork starts and a nicely laid-out course allowing for good tactical variety. Oh, and the RC supplied water - welcome relief since I had neglected to bring my Camelbak and there was no time to go to shore between races (we do get kind of spoiled at the Event Site...).

As always CalCup was fun. The fleet is friendly and had several strata of very tight competition. No matter where you are in the fleet, you'll always have someone to compete with. And at the top, the fleet is pretty dense - no room for small mistakes.

Check for pictures in the gallery and for results at the CalCup site (click on the little trophy next to the August 19 date, or follow the results link in the left hand side frame off the homepage).

Just another day in Berkeley...

Ever wonder how come the SF Bay fleet tends to clean up in formula races around the country? And is there something we can learn from that? Visiting in Berkeley, I got a chance to go for a sail and meet up with Mike Percey and some of the Berkeley regulars. And it just hit me again how great an incubator for formula racing this place really is.

Start with the conditions - pretty much every afternoon from April through October, you'll be able to sail formula gear out of Berkeley. While most of the rec sailors spend a fair amount of time slogging, the racers go upwind into the Bay, where the breeze is consistent and quite a bit stronger. It sure helps if you can schedule your practice sessions.

Then there's the fleet - it helps even more when those scheduled practice sessions include other sailors with whom you can tune. In Berkeley, the pack is pretty much led by Steve Sylvester, Mike Percey (both are there almost every afternoon), and Mike Zajicek (at least two or three times a week). Strong sailors, and always tuning and figuring out what goes and what doesn't. And always willing to wait up for slower sailors when going up through the bay, and to help out with advice on technique and tuning to anyone who asks. Very supportive.

Then there's the place itself:
As you go up from Berkeley (lighter breeze, reasonably flat water), you get into higher and higher wind speeds. In the Olympic Circle, as well as south of the Berkeley Pier up to Treasure Island, the waterstate tends to get slightly bigger, and depending on current also more confused. As you get up to and then past TI, the breeze kicks up another notch, but the water smooths out a bit - cross chop gives way to a bit more swell and slightly more organized chop. As you get up to Angel Island, you're definitely in for some breeze, and depending on current, the swell can get pretty large. Oh, and then there are ferry and freighter wakes to contend with. Did I mention that the place is scenic, too?

So in the course of an afternoon session, you'll go up through a range of conditions, with a fleet of sailors who are solid benchmarks. As you're making little adjustments, you instantly find out what works and what doesn't, in which conditions. And before you know it, you've been sailing for two hours pushing it the whole time (as your competitive drive makes sure you're not just hanging back) - great conditioning for sure.

I'd say the only drawbacks are that you can't go into shore for a quick tuning adjustment, and that you definitely need to wear a real wetsuit all summer. Not a bad tradeoff, I'd say. Of course, if you tell the hordes of people waiting for the conditions to improve at Berkeley and Pt. Isabel that these are perfect sailing spots, they'd probably laugh. After all, they're hanging out waiting for the wind line to move close enough to shore to where they can get there with small gear - and are often frustrated in the attempt. To the racers, though, all that talk of Berkeley being light and flukey doesn't apply - and neither does the frustration of East Bay sailors who sit in traffic to make it to the Treasure Island launch in the afternoon.