Boat Stories

These letters and stories were written and submitted by the race participants….. enjoy!!!!

Skipper Abandons Ship

While the boats were milling around in Deepwater Bay at the start of leg 4, Time Bandit (motoring) nearly collided with 3D (sailing). Dave Miller, 3D skipper, came bounding out of the cockpit to keep Time Bandit from crunching the port ama in a move worthy of a Volkswagon commercial. He gave a mighty heave on Time Bandit's pushpit, and then came the moment of decision.

There he was, stretched out over the water - no way back! So he leaped and landed on Time Bandit's swim step - high and dry. 3D's two orphaned crew watched in disbelief as their skipper sailed off on Time Bandit. Then they reached for the VHF to submit an amended crew list. But apparently Time Bandit had all the rail meat they needed, so they turned round and gave him back.

Just another day on the Cadillac Van Isle 360.

Submitted by Tom Speers


Cadillac Van Isle 360

A note from Hobbes

June 10, 2000

I remember like it was yesterday; I had just got home from an unfinished Van Isle 360, the Van Isle 348 as I like to call it. My rigging was tweaked and my rudder was broken. I could have sworn that I heard Bob say "I never want to hear about that "##!!@@#" race again". But here we are in Winter Harbour again in 2000, halfway around.

They have smacked my keel on a rock at 3.5 knots. Ouch! Stuck me in holes with no wind. Spun me around in whirlpools near Seymour Narrows. They beat me to weather for days on end. Stretched my half-ounce chute in 20 knots of wind. Drug kelp from my rudder off Cape Scott. Set me back from my course with tides on the line at Quatsino Lighthouse. And they finally decide to clean me up and give me a day’s rest. Thanks guys. I’m doing the best I can.

Bob seems to be doing OK. Frustrated by Ockham’s Racer and Hakuna Matata. But still enjoying the great company. And the great company of the entire fleet. Big boats, little boats, monohulls and multihulls. What a great bunch of sailors all coming together to form a floating community, lots of friendships being built. I think at this point a different colored flag would make Bob feel much better. He is diligent at the helm and a pretty good leader of the mixed bunch. He has brought enough jokes off the Internet to share with the fleet and race committee. One every day (he thinks it is going to keep Tony from telling his raunchy ones).

Speaking of Tony, he is having a blast. Frustrated a little and being the youngest (and admittedly the least immature) he shows his frustrations a little more. He asked the race committee to "please shoot us" after an aggravating finish at Hardwicke Island (Bob didn’t think it was so funny). I know he misses his lovely daughter Phoenix and his beautiful soulmate Cindy, without her he could never have done this. I think if they are DFL in this race it will have been worth it to him, he had an enchanting dinner with his hero John Guzzwell and his lovely wife Dorothy; an evening I know he will never forget and a friendship he will hold deep in his heart for years to come.

John Owens seems to be having a good time. He has navigated me around excellently (except for that rock). He has been the even keeled one, as always and has soothed us at lumpy swells with his harmonica. He misses his wife Judy they can tell by the sparkle in his eyes when they mention her. And he has all my trust in navigating this race.

And then there is Gary. He didn’t take too highly to Bob’s description of him on the crew list. So I think I will keep my porthole shut. I know the guys wouldn’t have wanted to do it without him. And I love the way he can dish it out and take it. And his 5:30 a.m. rise, well that is something new for Tony. He probably wants to thank his former boss for freeing up the time he needed to do the race.

I know we are going to go 360 degrees this year and when we do we will be winners, as will every sailor in this fleet. To have taken on a challenge like this, sailing around a large, beautiful island against all known elements and some unforeseen then down the graveyard of the Pacific.

I tip my mast to the organizers and the race committee of the Cadillac Van Isle 360 and their sponsors., They have done an excellent job and I know the fleet thanks them. Well, it is my day off and I am going to go mingle with the girls. I think I have a chance with Aeriel, she is a beauty. But if not, I will try my luck with Karina.

Hobbes out.
 

Cadillac Van Isle 360

Racing Uphill out of Winter Harbour

June 14, 2000

"Are you starting this race?" asked the skipper of the golden trimaran of the Race Committee just 10 minutes before Leg #8 began. "Yes" came the terse official answer from Gord, the benevolent dictator of the Cadillac Van Isle 360 Millennium Edition yacht race. "Wish you were here", came the ironic response.

The 10 minute flag came down and 7 minutes 30 seconds later the 25 year old 13 tonner Hakuna Matata began its march to the start line in what would prove to be a little like the lead horse in the Charge of the Light Brigade.

Winning the start always fires up the competitive spirit amongst sailors and notwithstanding the already fierce weather the crew of Hakuna Matata worked aggressively to maintain their lead. Ignoring the weather reports, in fact openly welcoming the forecast of heavier weather, the driver carried the maximum sail that conditions would allow. He enjoyed the power and control that the extra sail area gave him while secretly knowing that the extra strain on the rig might well damage the boat. It had already started to happen elsewhere. Reports began to filter in over the radio of the effects of the worsening seas and wind on competitors. The multihulls were reporting 50 knots over the deck and 3 to 4 metre seas. Sails were blowing out, 3D was running off before the wind in a survival tactic and Tsunami had been dismasted.

"More black soup!" hollered the driver as Hakuna Matata forged ahead sailing 35 degrees off the wind and twice the distance up and down waves than the course called for. It was easy to consider the whole experience as fun while dryness and warmth prevailed. Being up with the multihulls and the "A" boats was also adding adrenalin to the emotional soup.

"Something serious is happening to Max" said Sandy, the owner of Hakuna Matata, known to be a man of few words while racing. All hands know that a "serious" designation from Sandy meant nothing short of disastrous. We all strained to see Max’s plight through the driving rain now mixing with the foam blowing off the waves tops. The only pair of eyes not focused on Max were those of Dal, the driver. Already a few hours into what would prove to be a 12 hour marathon, Dal couldn’t risk missing that critical tweak of the tiller at the precise moment Hakuna Matata reached the peak of each successively steepening wave.

Every once in a while Dal would shout "hold on boys", instantly creating "girl-like" features on all the boys as Hakuna fell off a monster wave, crashing 10 to 12 feet down. New personal definitions of "crash" were being written on each wave. There weren’t many "crashes" off waves, but damage occurred each time. Worst was the breaking of 2 stanchions and losing the lifelines on the port side.

Finally, after losing sight of the entire fleet and experiencing a declining sense of control, Dal asked the skipper "do you think we should take in the second reef?", in the understatement of the century. Sandy’s blood red eyes surveyed the horizon, the masthead, the sails and the crew and said "no, I think we should drop the main entirely".

Within 10 minutes the wind had risen to 55 knots. Once again, experience ruled. "Where to now?" was the question. Clearly we were one of only two or 3 boats still racing and we couldn’t see the point of continuing. No race pennant to win, only the sailors’ satisfaction of surviving, not triumphing. There is no issue of conquering the sea, only being allowed to survive.

We came about, cruised back to Winter Harbour, giving up a great start and 38 hard won miles of sailing. We were better for it.

Submitted by Hakuna Matata


Cadillac Van Isle 360

A Cookie Cutter Evening

June 14, 2000

What a gnarly day it had been. Most of the fleet returned to Winter Harbour… Diehler had tucked into the lee of Brooks Penninsula, Mad Max we think trucked on, Hobbes and their now rusted nerves of steel stuck it out as long as they could. Giving up only after hearing the storm warning which they were all ready in the middle of. Tsunami had unfortunately been dismasted and 3D had spent the night at the Scott Islands after being blown 30 miles off course by the 40-50 kt winds that had devastated this leg of the Van Isle 360.

It was time to relax and it seemed Cookie Cutter was host. As a small group of sailors formed aboard her enjoying the gracious hospitality of Peter, Connie and crew, and of course their heater. The topics around the table ranged from the fact that we all must have been crazy to be out there in the first place. To discussions on the rail about gaining carnal knowledge before we all die (nice try guys but I don’t think it worked!)

As the talk of the day’s trials diminished the conversations turned more towards the lighter side. Peter the skipper of Cookie Cutter told of his plans to stop at Hot Springs Cove on the way to Ucluelet since this leg of the race had been scratched, what a cruiser. The guys from Hard Drive stopped by bearing, what else, but more libations. So pass the bottle and fill the glasses and more stories shall flow.

A crewman from Tardis told the story of his Grandmother finally learning to use the Van Isle web site and having them (Tardis) mixed up with Redshift (the other yellow boat!) boy does he have some explaining to do. Occasionally the subject would revert back to the day and the concerns for 3D and the loss felt by Tsunami we could all feel for them and hope all was well. As the evening went on small conversations developed within the group. Tony, a member of Hobbes, did his best to eavesdrop on Ron from Ockham’s Racer hoping to learn of his strategies for the coming legs, but quickly realized this was a social time, a time to put racing aside and enjoy the great company he was amongst. I raise my glass to Peter, Connie, Claudia, Susan, John, and the entire crew of Cookie Cutter… their hospitality warm (as well as their heater)! Their companionship excellent and their stock of libations unsurpassed by any race boat. Seldom in life does such mixed company come together, cruisers, racers, multi’s and mono’s, Americans and Canadians? To convert strangers into friends, and friends into family. A family known as the fleet of the Van Isle 360.

In the years to come I may or may not do this race again. If I do, I look forward to the company, the birth of friendships, and the competitiveness that each of these crews have. If not I look forward to seeing these people in a cruising atmosphere, rafted up in a small fjord or tied up at some destination port. Either way I suggest to any sailor, racer or cruiser, multi or mono hull to take the challenge of the Van Isle 360! It is a race where all participants are winners and the rewards of the memories and friendships will last a lifetime.

Tony Solis

Crew Member, S.V. Hobbes


Cadillac Van Isle 360

Leg 10 – Victoria to Nanaimo

submitted by Bob Diehl

The 10th and final leg of the Cadillac Van Isle 360 was to the most technically difficult of all. The route is filled with tidal and wind challenges and several different courses of travel. Our objective was to save the approximate two hour elapsed time lead we had accumulated the previous nine legs. "Redshift" and "Cheekee Monkee", two Farrier F31’s were our competition and it was to be a tall order to beat Wayne Gorrie’s "Redshift: the previous year’s elapsed time winner. The race turned out to be a 60 mile match race between Diehler, a Santa Cruz 52, and the two tris.

A brief description of the exciting race follows:

It was a beautiful sunny and calm evening in Victoria at the 5 pm Friday start. By the time the westerly filled in, the three of us had worked our way to the front of the fleet. Looking back at all the spinnakers framed by the snow-capped Olympic Mountains and edged by the green golf course of Oak Bay was just spectacular. The intense jibe/tack trading duel had begun.

As we approached Sydney Channel in the moonlit night. The light wind couldn’t keep our progress positive against the current, so the three of us anchored almost side by side. Just before daylight, we sailed off our anchors and headed for Sansum Narrows. It was a spinnaker duel, all the way to the Narrows, each boat falling into various holes and each boat recovering to sail past the others. It appeared the entire fleet excluding us had chosen different routes.

Through the Narrows and onto Nanaimo, a westerly made for a beautiful beat and again the three boats traded tacks the whole way. By this time we were committed to the treacherous Dodd Narrows and would take our chances with the current which would surely be against us by the time we arrived. Dodd is noted for its very narrow confines and "rapid like" currents. (see attached chart)

The wind switched to southerly again, and "Redshift" chose False Narrows because they knew we couldn’t follow them through (and the current is not as strong through False) and Cheekee Monkee arrived at Dodd ahead of us.

Arriving at Dodd Narrows in total darkness presented a real challenge. A steady westerly had filled and we raised the #3 headsail to prepare for the quick and precise tacking necessary. Dozens of tacks with bowman and light calling off distance to the unseen shore and many failed attempts convinced us to wait until the current eased. Cheekee Monkee had been pinned against the rocky shore and her rigging was entangled in the trees.

As we attempted another try, Cheekee also got loose for another attempt. We got dangerously close to each other and bailed out again to give them room. (Editor’s note: See Diehler’s attached slug trail....and imagine another boat in there with them).

Hearing on the VHF that Redshift had failed to make it through False Narrows next door increased our resolve to make it through Dodd. Cheekee gave up and turned on their motor but we gave it another last try. We made it!!! One of the most mentally taxing exercises we have ever done.

Sailing into Nanaimo at 1:30 am Sunday, we were met with a cheering crowd who acknowledged our feat. Diehler did the improbable, finished ahead of the tri’s and captured the fastest elapsed time award.


 

Cadillac Van Isle 360

Leg 10 Victoria to Nanaimo

Submitted by Peter McMartin

"Cookie Cutter, you’re over early" came over the radio and from the three boats beside us. Oh great now we have to find our way back across the start line against the 18 other yachts remaining in the race, the tide and the dying wind. "You have no rights, Cookie Cutter", Sandy Huntingford gently reminded us as we started to jockey for room to turn around. Returning back over the start line, we got a lusty cheer from Gordie and his dedicated race committee and nearly snagged our chute on the breakwater. The last leg of the Cadillac Van Isle 360 had begun.

After ghosting around D’Arcy Island all night we finally got our anchor into the sandbar south of James Island, the ebb tide showing 2 knots on our knotmeter and not a breath of wind. We doubted if we could move this heavy cruising boat without decent wind through the Gulf Islands to Nanaimo, but we were finally able to fill the spinnaker and sail off the anchor.

Seeing no wind north of Dock Island, we realized our only chance was to go for the shore breeze from Vancouver Island, forget the fleet now presumably in the Gulf Islands, and take the inside passage through Samsun Narrows. John steered us nervously through Iroquois Pass under spinnaker – all praying no big gin palace would be motoring through the other way - and dodged the ferries in Schwartz Bay. The Satellite wind filled in and blew us up the channel at about 10 knots with a 3 knot tide also going our way – there’s hope!!!

What a lovely breeze!! What a super run – past Crofton, past Kuper and Thetis Islands, then Ladysmith Harbour – great wind, no tide problems, a rest from constant gybing …. Ahhhh! And isn’t it nice to see some other yachts up ahead out for an evening sail. Probably out of Ladysmith, we thought. An hour later they were closer and looked like they were running with spinnakers – how nice. Wait a bit! – It’s 8:30 in the evening when all cruisers should be anchored having dinner and drinks – could they be RACING!!? "My Gawd – it’s Diehler and Redshift," I yelled "and there’s Cheekee Monkee ahead with the blue chute!" We’d never seen these boats after the start of a race – how nice of them to wait for us! Looks like Diehler and Redshift are match racing – the tri only just ahead of an extremely determined looking Santa Cruz 52 – but wait!! Wayne’s going around the south end of De Courcey Island. He can’t be going for Gabriola Pass! Oh my Gawd – he’s making for False Narrows – what a wild and crazy guy!! For some reason, Diehler isn’t following him – Bob Diehl and crew are going for Dodd Narrows following the Monkee – but they’ve still got 2 ½ hours before slack – oh well lets just sail the Vancouver Island shore breeze and hope we don’t arrive at the narrows too much before the midnight tide change.

Two hours later, a light westerly is helping us tack in ever decreasing legs towards Dodd Narrows. Bright searchlights from two big tugs pierce the night – lighting up the Mudge Island shore and our sails. Oh great….. the tugs are at either end of a huge log boom and are obviously hoping to get through the narrows at slack water with us. We’re doomed!! We’re just ahead of them tacking furiously while the breeze is dying everywhere but 15 feet from the Mudge Island side – the tide is STILL ebbing – THIS IS CRAZY!!!!! John’s on the bow telling us when to tack; Suzanne’s on the radio and radar below, Claudia and I are cranking jib sheets for all we’re worth and Connie is cool on the helm – what a lady! The pass and the tugs are closing in, the wind dies, the current is still against us, and the air turns blue around me until I realize I have to keep the flashlight on the shroud tell-tales and sail on the tell tails alone. Somehow, we inched through the narrows and as soon as we had sea room and some breeze, I went below to call the tugboat captain on channel 10. "A sailboat race," I sheepishly explained. "No problem, Cookie Cutter," came back. "And nice sailing, skipper." What a great tugboat captain!

A freshening nor’wester blew us past other commercial traffic, Duke Point and finally into Nanaimo Harbour. It was wonderful to hear Gordie’s voice welcoming us to Nanaimo with the cheers of the race committee and spectators in the background - we had made it! Ninth boat to finish!! Thank God!! Now for the champagne!!!!!!

Cookie Cutter is a Peterson 36


A View from the Ground

(Ground Support)

While travelling with the Cadillac Van Isle 360 race as ground support for Ockham’s Racer, I’ve met all kinds of people in the various ports. Some nod with understanding when I explain what I’m doing, while others look at me like I’m from another planet. "Why don’t you want to be on the boat?" they’ll invariably ask. Obviously, there is a perception that it is far more fun to be a sailor than a ground support person. But ground support is fun, especially for somebody like me who’s idea of sailing involves a hundred thousand ton cruise ship with automatic stabilisers, bar services and warm comfortable staterooms.

Here are the most important things to remember when deciding if you want to be a ground support person for the Cadillac Van Isle 360 Yacht Race:

1. You will need a vehicle. This is probably the most obvious requirement. While any vehicle will do, you should look for something with lots of capacity. Sailors tend to carry more stuff with them once they realise they’ve got someone to look after it for them. You’ll need good tyres for the gravel logging roads, and you’ll need enough room for yourself to keep dry on those wet rainy days of June in the North Island. The ideal Van Isle support vehicle is a four-wheel drive, high suspension R.V with a cappuccino machine, fridge (for the beer) and satellite T.V.

2. You will need a few good books. Following a sailboat race involves a lot of waiting. A book is a good way to pass the time. I would recommend a real-life travel adventure over something like a Dean Koontz. It is easier to get back to reality if you’re reading a Tristan Jones sea voyage just before meeting a boat. If you’re in the middle of a Dean Koontz horror novel, you’ll be reluctant to meet the boat at night on a lonely dock in the pouring rain.

3. You will need to be able to recognise a sailboat. This is actually quite easy and I think I’ve honed my skills in this area over two seasons of Van Isle ground support. Here’s the secret: Sailboats are pointy at the top while cruise ships are not. Keep that in mind, and you’ll never embarrass yourself by identifying a distant Princess cruise ship as a Dash-34 or Ross 930 sailboat.

4. You will need a good pair of binoculars. Preferably a pair that gives you a single image, and not like mine that provide two images making the fleet look much bigger than it really is. In some cases, like Campbell River and Winter Harbour, you’ll need binoculars to see the finish lines. It helps if the binoculars show only one finish line when you look through them. I think I need a new pair of binoculars.

5. You will need a VHF marine radio. This is very useful for listening in on the boats as they approach the finish line. On the longer race legs, when it is guaranteed to rain, you can sit in the warmth of your hotel room or vehicle, read a good book and listen to the marine radio. The one hour boat check-in to the Race Committee will give you lots of time to get out to the finish line and cheer them on.

6. You will need lots of patience. The wind is not predictable and you might find yourself sitting for two days in the pouring rain in Ucluelet while your boat has returned to Winter Harbour to wait out a storm. But don’t feel bad when you call them at their warm bed and breakfast in Winter Harbour to hear that they’re watching T.V. and enjoying the hot tub while you’re sitting in your ground support vehicle watching your little pup tent slowly disintegrate under the heavy rain and wind. Be tough and show those sailors that you can handle a bit of weather. Camp in the cold rain and wind. Eat dinner in your vehicle while reading a tourist brochure for the sixth time. Or do what I did: go home and spend two nights in your own bed.

7. You will need to eternally optimistic. Greeting the boat at the dock is very important. No matter how badly they placed in the race, always always greet them with a big smile and positive comments. This is right: "Hi, good to see you again. You looked great coming over the finish line." This is wrong: "About time you showed up. What did you do? Anchor and have lunch or did you take the scenic route?"

8. You’ll need to know details of the port to pass on to the sailors. On arrival at a port, make sure you know the location of washrooms, location of the beer, location of the hotel room, and location of the pay phones. If you don’t know, just fake it by vaguely pointing towards the dock. The sailors will be so tired they’ll think they misunderstood your directions.

9. You’ll need to be willing to do some odd jobs for the racers. This applies to all racers, not just your own boat. For example, Crossfire’s ground support assisted Myrrh’s ground support when they punctured three tyres on the Winter Harbour logging roads and Ockham’s Racer’s assisted the Hobbes crew by arranging for the retrieval of a lost boat part from the depths of Hardy Bay.

There you have it. Some of the more important things to remember when deciding if this is a role you would like to play. It is a great way for none sailors to be a part of the race and the associated camaraderie.

So the next time you see somebody standing in the rain with a Dean Koontz novel tucked under one arm while looking hopefully out to sea through a pair of damaged binoculars and they tell you that they are ground support for a boat in the race, don’t look at them strangely and ask why they’re not on the boat. Instead, nod in understanding and offer them your pair of binoculars and recommend a Tristan Jones adventure.

David Marlor - Ground Support for Ockham’s Racer



Thanks Guys!! - From the crew of Lordelpus

Our hats go off to the Race Organizers!!! We didn't think we would find anything to compare to our 1500 mile trek across the Caribbean four years ago, but the 2nd annual Cadillac Van Isle 360 provided us with another unforgettable experience. This race is going to be BIG !!!!!! Lordelpus (alias Beneslow, slug, Lord of the Pus) was not expected to do well and our primary goal was not to finish last. But with the first start gun our competitiveness kicked in and we set our sights higher. The support and encouragement we received from the Big Boats played a huge part in our achievement. We would particularly like to thank Sandy Huntingford from Hakuna Matata who showed enthusiasm and support for the slower boats in the fleet. Had it not been for a seized engine I think we could have done even better.

We would like to thank the Tofino Coast Guard for watching over the fleet during the storm off Brooks , Coast Guard Auxiliary 38 and Stacey for towing us in to Ucluelet. Thanks also to Dave from Deiflynn in Hot Springs Cove for his tow and hospitality (this is a place you've got to see). Without an engine it would have been easy to throw our hands in the air, pull the plug and have the boat towed home to Vancouver, but this kind of experience creates strong bonds and friendships and we knew we had the entire fleet and our race committee-Gordo, Shauna,Kevin and Henry looking out for us as we sailed down the west coast to Victoria.

Well, the millenium Cadillac Van Isle 360 is over, and although the thought of getting off the boat FLEETINGLY crossed my mind during the 55 knot storm off Brooks, I am sad to be home. No doubt the entire fleet and then some will be back next year- I know we will be!

Sabrina (on behalf of the skipper and crew of Lordelpus)