Opposite: a log canoe start on the Chesapeake. With some of the boats more than 100 years old, there is an ironic similarity to a line-up of Imoca 60s… the canoes kept apart by their long springboards just as the Imocas keep a respectful distance from each other with their long foils and deck-spreaders (the Mini 6.50s are smarter, they have a rule enforcing a maximum beam of 3m until the start gun fires). Island Bird (above) is now the oldest canoe competing actively – the mainsheet trimmer on her perch aft looks pretty chill
their evolution into extreme racing boats while retaining the strong heritage of their origins in the mid-1800s. The ancient log hulls are now sheathed with smoothly faired fibreglass and epoxy while the solid wood spars sport repairs of carbon unidi- rectional reinforcement. A Harken ratchet block will be married to a delicately curved wood sprit while a Dyneema halyard will be cleated to a wood horn cleat, varnished annually for more than a century. An interesting comparison can be made
between the racing log canoes and the Sandbaggers discussed in a previous article (issue 465). They both evolved from oyster- ing vessels in the mid-1800s. Both became fascinated with sailing faster but took sepa- rate paths, the common elements being a centreboard and an unrestricted sail area. The Sandbagger chose extreme beam and moveable ballast in the form of large crews and bags of gravel. The log canoes went for extreme narrow beam and a more athletic and extreme form of ballasting by large crews perched out on springboards. As far as we know they have never
raced against each other, but the log canoe is the survivor, still racing today, while Sandbagger racing died out in the early 1900s, killed by the excesses of ‘enthusi- asm’ and gambling. I would surmise that
the more pastoral, rural atmosphere of Maryland’s eastern shore kept the excesses at bay and the racing was a more whole- some form of sport, while New York City’s urbanity drove the gambling and poor sportsmanship that was the demise of the Sandbagger. The essence of a log canoe is the pure
improbability of remaining upright under its two masts and sail plan that stretches far beyond its bowsprit forward and out- rigger (boomkin) aft, with an extremely narrow beam. For racing log canoes sail area is unlimited (‘a tax on sail is a tax on skill’). Only the skill and daring of the crew determine the sail area. The narrowest (and usually fastest) of
the canoes is the Island Blossom which is 33ft 7in long on deck and only 6ft 7in wide, carrying a whopping mainsail of more than 1,000ft2
upwind (not including
its vestigial Laser rig-sized ‘kite’). To put that into perspective, it is roughly double the sail area of an International 6 Metre yacht of the same length. She will not sit untended with sails up and will hardly be trusted to do so under bare spars. It is a good thing that the Chesapeake
Bay’s shallow river waters usually reach a bath-like 80° in mid-summer as the canoes readily capsize, dumping their crews in the
water. In fact, the only way that the canoes can be kept upright is by their long, narrow and rather bendy springboards that the large crews balance on, scampering in and out with every puff. The boats carry from one to four of these
boards depending on their length and they are thrown across the boats on each tack or gybe, thrust under the leeward rail in a frenzy of activity while the helmsman care- fully tacks, following their lead. Each board is up to 16ft long and has to be capable of holding the weight of as many as three beefy crewmembers, proudly calling them- selves ‘boardmen’. These guys are the heart and soul of these racing boats and must be agile and strong to toss the boards out of their pocket to leeward, run them across the washboard coamings and out, the end being planted in the new pocket and boards all spread out like fingers to give crew room to run or slide out. Elbows fly as well as curses if lesser crewmen get in the way. While the boardmen provide the horse-
power (nowadays we call it righting moment!) the thinner ‘squelchers’ fine- tune the angle of heel, sliding in and out along the boards while also trying to stay invisible… and well out of the way of the boardmen in a tack. Boardmen scramble to the outboard
SEAHORSE 47
PHOTOS ALAN SCHREITMUELLER
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