Tenacity Guadalupe Island Race Account
OK folks,
friends, family and fellow race participants,
I thought you
all deserved a recap of my
First, the
attachment above is a Google Earth map of my race route. There is also a
picture of Slacker and her skipper Whitall Stokes, my main singlehanded
competitor alongside me and Tenacity at the start of the race, as well as a
picture of Isla Afuera, the small islet we rounded at the bottom of
http://picasaweb.google.com/gilmaguire1/2010GuadalupeIslandRace#
One caveat:
my boat Tenacity is 43 feet long, much larger than all but one of the other
boats in the race. My experiences in the strong winds and big seas we all
encountered on the long slog back to the finish line, while difficult and
challenging, were far less so than those experienced in the smaller boats in our
fleet. For instance, Brian and Tracee on Thriller, a 33 foot Tartan, were
buried by one large wave, and two succeeding big waves wiped out their tiller
and autopilot. After noticing that the hull was flexing in one of their
bunks, which indicated structural damage, they wisely retired from the race and
headed for
Race Prep:
As some of you
know, I blew out the top of my mainsail in heavy winds in the Bishop Rock race
in late February so I had to frantically look for a replacement. I
fortunately found an old J/133 main that had been donated to
Race Motive
– Issues and Demons:
My eldest
niece asked me why I would undertake such a crazy task as a 600 mile open ocean
singlehanded voyage to and back from a remote Mexican island and wondered if I
had “issues” and/or “demons”. While I admitted to having demons, I explained
that the solitude of being by myself on the ocean, just me and my boat, soothed
those demons and made my land-based “issues” seem trivial. The real
issue for me in this race was tenacity; not Tenacity my boat, but my own
tenacity. I had dropped out of a couple of our recent longer races, to
Begg Rock for lack of wind, and last month from the Bishop Rock race because I’d
ripped my mainsail in a rising gale. In Begg Rock the wind had later come
up and those who remained had a wonderful broad reach back from the rock in
strong winds. In Bishop Rock I later figured out I could have finished the
race under reefed jib alone. It turned out to be a classic race with a
storm front moving through the fleet with accompanying strong winds and big
seas. There is no worse feeling than not finishing a great race and
hearing your buddies talk about it. I decided I needed to do a better job
of living up to my boat’s name.
Jeffry, my
friend and a great sailor who runs our boat in more profitable times, said he
and I should do the race doublehanded. I told him that while I would
prefer his company, I needed to do this one singlehanded as it probably would be
my last opportunity to prove I was a true singlehanded sailor, a lifelong dream
of mine.
Friday,
March 26 – Day 1:
The race
started at 3pm so most of the morning and early afternoon was filled with last
minute tasks. My start was conservative. It looked like a close reach to
the west end of
I had settled
into a sleep routine of 20 minute naps controlled by alarm timers when I was
close to land or other boats, and longer periods of up to an hour or two when
clear of land and traffic. For a singlehander, keeping up on your sleep is
critical, so frequent napping becomes part of your routine both day and night.
Saturday,
March 27 – Day 2:
As predicted,
the wind veered to the north and became much lighter on Saturday. I felt
it was too light and too lumpy to risk flying the spinnaker so I gybed slowly
downwind trying to keep my boat speed up without hurting my VMG (velocity made
good toward
Around 2am, as
I settled in for one of my one hour sleep periods, I heard a loud bang and the
rattling sound of a piece of hardware hitting the deck. This was not good
so I went on deck with lifeline attached and my headlamp on. I found that
the shackle holding the tack of the roller furling headsail had come loose which
would prevent me from reefing that sail. I managed to lower the sail a
foot and found a spare shackle pin which I used to reattach the headsail to the
roller furling drum. That was a close call. If it had happened going
north in heavier weather, I wouldn’t have been able to reef that sail and
getting it down would have been a real challenge.
Sunday,
March 28 – Day 3:
The wind
stayed light through Sunday morning, still from dead astern. I tried
various sail combinations and finally settled on the poled out genoa with a
light air staysail hoisted in the slot between the genoa and the mail sail.
By now there
was a feeling of really being truly alone on the open ocean. The sea was
that deep, special blue you never see near land. I was about 100 miles
from the coast of Baja, and San Clemente Island to the north and Guadalupe
Island to the south were both also about 100 miles away.
The wind
finally picked up around 1pm and I had idyllic sailing conditions the rest of
the afternoon. By 3pm, my progress for the second 24 hour period was 94
miles, half of what I had hoped for. If the winds had stayed strong as
they were the first night of the race, I would have rounded
I had great
sailing the rest of that afternoon and evening. I cleaned up the boat,
retightened that genoa shackle, hoisted the Mexican and
Late that
afternoon,
Monday,
March 29 – Day 4:
As expected,
the wind went light behind the main island and it took me about three hours to
get clear of the island into steady winds. I had intended to tack out to
the west north of the island but the wind was from about 300 degrees magnetic
which allowed me to sail due north. The wind stayed strong and favorable
throughout the day and Tenacity leaped to the challenge, By 3pm we were about 40
miles north of the island. We had made some 124 miles in the prior 24 hour
period. The wind and seas grew steadily stronger and bigger through that
afternoon and evening. By 3am we were 110 miles north of
By this time,
it was getting difficult to move about. I would clip on my lifeline as I
went up the hatch. To make a mainsheet or jib sheet adjustment, I need to
walk along the lee sides of the cockpit seats or back of the cockpit coaming due
to the high angle of heel. It was near impossible to sit on the leeside to
adjust sheets as it was too difficult for me, due to my arthritic knees and
shoulders, to get back to the high side. I got pretty adept at crouching above
the lee genoa winch, hanging onto the dodger with one hand while releasing or
winching a sheet with the other while standing on the side of the cockpit seat
or coaming.
The increasing
chaos was beginning to make my tired brain worry too much about negative
possible scenarios. I couldn’t sleep so I got up and jammed myself into
the highly heeled chart table seat and tried to work things out. If the
wind increased much more I could fully furl the genoa but had run out of reefing
options on my mainsail. It is a difficult sail to get down in normal
weather and even double reefed would be a huge handful for me if I needed to
drop it in 35 to 40 knot winds. I decided that if things got too bad in
the next few hours I could fall off and head for
The lesson in
this to me was that I needed to react to fear but learn to control anxiety. It
is vital, particularly for singlehander’s, to learn to separate fear from
anxiety. Fear is based on an immediate, real problem that requires
immediate action. Anxiety is fear of the unknown, or what might happen if
things get worse. Anxiety is limited only by the imagination and needs to
be addressed and controlled because it prevents you from functioning and
sleeping.
Tuesday,
March 30 – Day 5:
By dawn that
day the wind had moderated to 25 knots. By 1030am the wind had headed me
toward the coast and gone lighter so I tacked out to sea toward the west.
I decided to stay on that tack all day so if the winds picked up that night I
would have an easier time heading north. It was a difficult and slow
sailing angle but by 6pm, when I tacked back to the north I had made almost 50
miles of valuable westing. I was now about 100 miles south southwest of
the finish line at
By 230am I had
made 55 miles more progress toward the finish and it looked like I would be able
to sail in the lee of
Wednesday,
March 31 – Day 6:
By dawn I was
well rested and started tinkering with the sails and helm and managed to have
Tenacity steering herself close hauled toward Catalina. About 1030am I
tacked over and had her again steering herself a few minutes later. The
winds were strong the rest of that day, 25 knots plus and the seas were large
and impressive. After a couple more tacks, I steered the rest of the way,
arriving at the finish line off Catalina Head at about 240pm. It took me
half an hour to get the double reefed mainsail down and secured then another 45
minutes to get hooked up stern first to a mooring in the inner harbor. I
poured myself a stiff gin martini with several olives to ward off scurvy, called
my wife and Chuck our race monitor, then made myself a fine breakfast (at 5pm!)
of bacon, scalloped potatoes and two eggs over medium. I then took off my
gear, downed 4 Ibuprophen for my aches and pains and slept for 11 hours
straight. Before dawn I got up for an hour and then when back to bed and
slept for three more hours. I fixed the autopilot on Friday and arrived back in
Marina del Rey on Saturday.
It was a great
feeling to finish what proved to be a very challenging race. Two days
later I was told I had won the singlehanded class. While good news,
competition with my peers was not why I was in that race. I had sailed the
Guadalupe Island Race to find tenacity and found she was a good sailing
companion. I was also proud of Tenacity my boat, and I think she of me.
To quote Whitall, we do these races to experience the sea and to test our
mettle. Going to sea in the face of bad weather to test and hone our
seamanship skills is what our organization is about. This race proved to be a
good test; our skills were well honed, and our mettle found sound.
Finally, my
congratulations and best wishes to my merry band of fellow competitors:
Chris and Mark on the wonderful, 46 year old, but still fast, 65 foot Ragtime,
Eric and Robin on Runaway, Frank and Brian on Prankster, Brian and Tracee on
Thriller, Rod and Chris on Rubicon III, and finally, to my fellow singlehanders,
Whitall on Slacker and Todd on Solace. We band of brothers (and sisters)
who sailed together will not soon forget the 2010 Guadalupe Island Race.
It was one not to be missed and will be talked of and bragged about well into
our futures.
Gil Maguire
J/133 Tenacity