Orcas Island Y


Picturesque Shaw Island, as racers decide which way to go around. Photo by Michelle Beck


acht Club Winter Classic


Mother Nature has a sense of humor


in the San Juan Islands. Just when you think you have her pegged, she pulls a fast one on you in a mischievous, random and almost sadistic method. One never knows what to expect from one wind shift to another. On a cold, sunny Sunday on


February 19th, winds were brisk out of the north. In the early morning, boats coming in from Anacortes and Bellingham fought 40 to 50 mph gusts on the nose in transit to the Orcas Island ferry dock. The stunned and visibly shaken delivery crew barely had time to catch their breath when the start line began to crowd with boats of fresh crews eager for the sequence. Harney Channel lies between Shaw


and Orcas. Not only is it relatively narrow and susceptible to fluky winds and swirling currents, but it is also a very busy roadway for ferries and boats transiting to Canada. After a delayed start for clear traffic, the sequence was on followed by the wind muffled boom of the cannon perched on the viewing balcony of the Orcas Hotel. Almost immediately after kites started going up, things started to get 48° NORTH, APRIL 2011 PAGE 62


“In the end, it turned out to be a spectacular day with some real hard, pipe hittin' enthusiasts feeding their adrenaline habit.”


squirrelly. Then not so much. Then really squirrelly. Then calm again. Then about halfway down the mere mile and a half of the channel, some of the confident cocky boat crews trying to gain some separation with a weather roll or a relaxed crew reaching for a quick swig of beer, soon realized that “puffs” are harder to spot rolling over the island than in more open environments. Some boats swapped parts with one another, some boats struggled with a crowded roundup and some boats experienced the dreaded and often ridiculously violent round DOWN. One boat, Ol' Yeller, managed to break her spinnaker pole in half. Yet a little wild wind wasn't going


to dampen any of the spirits of this goofy cult of sailors, who seem to live for this kind of nonsense. Adjustments were made, prides were swallowed and on with the race. Some boats like Little Blue Dune Buggy managed to carry the kite all the way through the bursts and


make out like thieves of the air. Even the old Columbia 28 Waioli rolled and wobbled and seesawed her way through the turmoil, never giving up the flying sail, right on through Upright Channel to the inevitable upwind bump- and-ride up San Juan Channel. Some boats almost assuredly gazed over to Friday Harbor, longing for a quick pit stop for a pint at Herbs, but soon enough the windward mogul field was over and the boats found themselves in the becalmed waters of Wasp Passage. This is where a whole day’s work can


go right out the window. Anyone who's ever raced around Shaw Island, be it the summer or winter events will tell you, the most agonizing and ridiculous piece of waterway on earth is Wasp Passage. It makes the Bermuda Triangle seem like a pleasant surprise. If you make out, if you can carry your momentum through, you've won. If not, well pray there's some swill left at the bottom of the keg when you finally show up to the party. Nothing left to do but finish. Records


weren't broken but there were vapor trails laid and when the smoke cleared, the Express 37 Ptolomy ended with line honors. In the slow class the elegant,


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