Following a few weeks of doing race preparations on Bodacious IV in San Diego, Capt. Tim Eades, Alan Veenstra and I sailed her up to Long Beach for the start of the 2013 Transpac Race. Along the way, BoIV developed a problem with her mast that nicely upended all our well thought-out plans and schedules for final race prep. But the mast repairs were made, and we were soon joined by the rest of the Bodacious Racing Team, which brought us to full strength prior to the start of the race, which began for us on July 11th at 1:00 pm, PDT!

The whole Transpac had a total of 57 boats competing in three sections with staggered start times, which helps to consolidate the finish times in Hawaii by having the faster boats give the rest of the field a head start. The first start was on Monday, July 8th, and in that start was our friend and fellow Class 40 racer Hanna Jenner onboard Dorade, which is a very special boat, having won the Trans-Pac back in 1936! (I’ll give away the ending of this tale, by telling you that 78 years later, Dorade was once again declared the overall winner of the 2013 Transpac! – of such stories are legends made.)

For this race, we partnered with a wonderful organization called the U.S. Hereditary Angioedema Association (HAEA.) They are great folks working hard to find a cure for all those affected by this rare but devastating disease. Our spinnaker carried their logo, as you can see, and in another give-away, I’ll tell you that by the end of the race, over $11,000 was raised … nice work Bodacious Dreamers!

Concurrent to the race, we also supported a Trans-Pacific Expedition discovery “module” here on BodaciousDreamExpeditions.com … this one naturally covered the Pacific Ocean and Hawaiian Islands. We had the usual overview, maps and study guides. Alas, once again, racing took up the lion’s share of my days and nights, limiting my time to explore as we did on our earlier Baja Peninsula Expedition.

Back to the Transpac … there were 9 boats in our division (Div 6.) Each of the vessels was similar to our own in that they are all 50 or 52 foot Santa Cruz racers, and each like us, carried a crew of nine.

The Bodacious IV team just before the start of the race. From L to R … Christer Still, Matt Scharl, Chris Pike, John Hoskins, Jim McLaren, John Ayres, Skipper Jeff Urbina, Tim Eades & Dave Rearick.

The first night, in quiet air, we were surrounded by the constant baying of seals … a haunting call in the dark of night. We also had a visit from some indeterminate species of mammal. It being dark, and most of us being from the Great Lakes, identifying it with any accuracy was difficult for us. Cool and overcast conditions prevailed all the way into Saturday morning, when the sun broke through allowing us to shed some clothes for an amazing day of sailing at around 12 knots of boat speed and essentially down the “rhumb line” (the fixed compass position indicating the most direct route) to Hawaii.

Sunday arrived like a gift. We set our spinnaker and worked our way down the trade wind route to Hawaii, sailing between 14 and 20 knots. We saw our first flying fish Sunday, which told us the water was getting warmer … AND we had a squid fly up on deck as well, startling the sail-changing crew and leaving some ink stains on the deck.

Ancient mariners used to navigate by such natural signs. They knew that such occurrences indicated they were changing latitudes as the temperatures of the water, smell of the sea, angle of the winds, types of fish and sea life are all somewhat specific to certain regions of the sea … not unlike how various plants and animals on land are recognizably native to particular regions.

Crew spirits remained high the whole trip, with lots of laughs and barbs zinging back and forth. And on top of that, we ate like kings, courtesy of Chef Pierce Johnson! Imagine Beef Bourguignon, Osso Buco, and other culinary delights in the middle of the Pacific!

Our patterns of activity followed closely to our four-hour watch system. And all the while we were attending to our duties, our navigator John Hoskins would be going over the numbers, courses, wind predictions and plot, and then working, reworking and playing out the routing software all to the end of getting us to the right place at the right time. Modern sailboat racing has increasingly become a hybrid mix that melds the very analog physical act of sailing the boat with the methods (and goals) of a digital video navigation game. But you know what? That only adds to the fun of it all!

Bodacious Hands-Free Sailing!

We had some Day #4 excitement when our tack line blew – instantly turning our giant spinnaker into an immense flapping 1850 square foot flag! We all jumped into action … dropping our gourmet lunches and scrambling to pull the spinnaker, rig a temporary tack line – and hoist in its place the heavier, stronger spinnaker. It took only about 10 minutes I suppose, before we were back up to speed and racing again. Such fire drills are not unusual in long distance races, and checking gear frequently is the best way of minimizing the damage and delay.

Day #4 was also the day we began to spot debris ourselves: three fishing buoys, one large piece of plastic in a “T” shape, one large log about 15 feet long and a smaller narrow log about 8 feet long and 8 inches in diameter. There is much talk about marine debris, but there isn’t much that can be done about it short of preventing non-biodegrable trash from entering the oceans in the first place. Much of this debris we understood was from the tragic tsunami in Japan, but still it proved a worrisome thing for us to observe as we moved along.

Day #5 saw us learning more about the “squalls” of the Pacific. Squalls are small, localized rain showers that pop up and create stronger wind in front of them and to their left side. But if you make the mistake of getting behind them or to their right, they shut the winds down. We put some good moves on the first of last night’s squalls, and so found ourselves topping out at 20 knots of speed in 25 knots of wind. But as arrogance will always beat you back, just when we thought we were self-proclaimed experts at squall riding, we found ourselves languishing in the next one. So it is, we keep on learning! Every new part of the ocean you visit, it’s Sailing 101 all over again.

Capt. Tim Eades, John Hoskins, Christer Still, Jeff Urbina …

As we sailed, we’d take our watches with four hours on and four hours off. When you are on, you rotate through the jobs of sailing the boat, steering, trimming the sails, grinding the big winch and monitoring navigation. When you change, it might be your turn to clean dishes, cook, check equipment, take care of personal hygiene or even get a couple of hours of sleep! And then, you start over again. It’s a routine, for sure, but time slips by quickly too.

The one thing that interrupts the routine is the call from the navigator to “GYBE!” This call sets in motion a number of things … first, the four crew on deck each take to a familiar job … one drives, one will be on the release of the spinnaker sheet (rope that trims,) another will be on the take up sheet (other side of the boat rope that trims) while the fourth will grind the big “coffee grinder” winch.

The gang gathered around John Ayres at the Daily Grind

Want to try one? … Everyone in place? Ok, here we go! We’re GYBING! The driver turns the boat, the release lets the line go in a timed controlled flow, the trimmer takes up the new line as it comes around and the grinder turns the handles with all the energy he has, to help pull in the new line, at which point, that 1850 square foot monster spinnaker collapses, flutters and then floats around the front of the boat and shifts over to the OTHER side of the boat where it puffs right up again. And all the while, we are wishing we had a fifth set of hands to help with the other lines and such that get pulled and trimmed as necessary. When done right, a gybe is a beautiful maneuver. When done wrong, it’s a bit of a hot mess. We probably repeated this same ritual of actions 50 to 60 times between California and Hawaii!