8/13/25 Shields (The late blog)

Wellllllll, this blog is coming out almost a week late. My memory is probably faded, inaccuracies in events and descriptions are all mine, and who knows, maybe I'll just fictionalize the whole thing anyway. My excuses are that I was between Safe Harbor regatta and Ida Lewis Distance Race weekends, was extremely spacey and tired (turns out I was fighting Covid), and was also trying to work a full time job. Once and while life just happens and the blog falls through the cracks. But! the highs are that I didn't have covid, and my respective boats for both races (Pugilist and Running Tide) both won their classes! So, a pretty epic week overall, filled with some great sailing! I'm feeling pretty high on life.

Back to last week's Wednesday night shields. A strong southwester nearly cancelled the race, but moderated down and the race committee did end up calling us out. We were down Chris, and Cam was driving again and brought out his son to be our fifth. My recollections of the night are, as I mentioned, clouded by both time and a covidesque fugue, so instead of writing a narrative here are some impressions:

Our outhaul snapped out of its splice two thirds up the second beat, and all of us on the boat having a 'well fuck 'moment, followed by a pause, followed by a 'actually the boat is kind of sailing better-- well fuck' moment. On the start of the final beat I wended my way from the bow to the stern and perched, thinking delicate thoughts, and jury-rigged a repair.

The confusion of a last minute call from the back to set the kite at the first offset with no pole so we could gybe immediately. Having to hastily put the pole down, get the kite up, claw my way through a spinnaker that was gleefully draping itself all over the front of the boat and refusing to be pulled around because the sheet was mysteriously caught on something, getting the kite free, and then wrestling to get the pole in place which at that point was wrapped in a loving embrace with the kite halyard and didn't want to go anywhere. Since the first few weeks my sets and douses have been quite clean, and it was humbling to have a messy snafu of a set and to be aware of Cam's maddeningly calm Kiwi voice from the back of the boat repeating like a broken record "the pole is the priority, the pole is the priority, the pole is the priority" while I fought with the ensnaring halyard with single minded and misguided ferocity.

Cam's son's piping and excited voice calling shifts and boat movements, his observations always preceded by "Dad!--." I felt old, grumpy and jaded sitting next to him on the rail.

The general realization that once again, this was a race in which banging a right and staying right with conviction was the move. 33, we see you. Nice job.

We started the race with Hope on our stbd side, neck and neck and pressed together, and ended the race with Hope on our stbd side, neck and neck and pressed together. They got us this time, but there was nice full circle moment in that through the course of the race we went our separate ways, and yet ended nearly back where we started.

I believe on this one we got another tenth, pretty much our perfect average. We're nothing if not constant.

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Sorry this one was late, y'all. I appreciate you reading, and am amazed at how many people are reading! Keep the comments coming, in person or written (are you able to leave them on here?). All of you reading my words inspire me to keep writing them! Cheers