(Sorry for posting on the installment plan; seems to be a new restriction.)
A Miami skyline I no longer recognize; they have been doing a TON of building since I moved away.
Hate to say it, but Miami is looking Ugly, as though some undisciplined, gigantic, hovering anus was excreting garish cubes down onto the city, with no regard to where they fell.
All these architects trying to outdo each other with their bold and distinctive shapes and massings, only succeeded in canceling each other out, forever lost in the background noise of all the other buildings.
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While I was under way, the wind was clocking around, until I finally noticed an increasing gap in my velocity versus velocity made good, on the GPS.
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(Uh oh.)
2 nautical miles from the committee boat, which was now directly upwind of me.
Had to tack the rest of the way, except that in the intervening hours I was now facing an adverse tidal current.
Everything I gained towards the line on one tack, I lost on the next tack, with the tides pushing me back.
5 tacks and I only succeeded in getting to 1.85 nautical miles from the finish line.
Hmmm . . . I could either keep fighting and only frustrating myself, or I could quit and simply enjoy the Pure Zen of just sailing for the sake of sailing, the rest of the day.
Doing the Math and facing the inevitable conclusion of reaching my goal around 9 o'clock at night, I reluctantly called the committeee boat on VHF and announced I was retiring from the race.
That over-the-air confession unleashed a log-jam and all the other Gunkhole class sailboats also announced in short order they were retiring as well, leaving only one Gunkhole class boat to actually make it to the finish line.
I could see their point.
If I was in another boat and Urchin beat me, I'd probably have to kill myself!
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Not a Bad View, if you're going to slink back to port, in abject and ignominious defeat!
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Coming back to Crandon Marina, this guy in an inflatable boat was towing two inflatable stand-up paddle boards to the ramp.
I looked at him, then at the lissome lassies on the paddle-boards, and asked aloud:
"How do you get THAT job!!??!!??"
He simply smiled and cut over in front of me, preventing me from retrieving my boat.
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Thanks a lot, guy.
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He went to get his truck, so he could throw all the inflatables in the back of the truck bed, while his crew stood guard.
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But eventually, he got out of my way and I quickly pulled Urchin before the tides made retrieval problematic.
Spent the night aboard, on the hard and in the morning, cleaned up and left Crandon to vist some old friends in Miami Lakes, then drove home.
So yet again, Brennan managed to pull Defeat out of the jaws of Success, but . . . . .
There's always NEXT YEAR!! :D
Charles Brennan
By popular demand from one sailor on this board, a rousing cheer for the indomitable and unstoppable racer of the CDCR, who nearly completed this years race!
Braving wildly varying wind speeds and direction, overcoming failure of his tillerpilot with a jury rig, he assured that the skipper did not perish from lack of food or liquid refreshment.
Through his improving skill, he achieved a better start than at least one previous start, passing the committee boat in a timely manner.
Although distracted by a match race with a cocoanut class craft, he returned his attention to the finish line, and trimmed sail for best speed made good. Sometimes this was a negative number, but our stalwart skipper continued to drive his racer through the water on the most favorable tack. Elsewhere, he pointed out that Columbus himself sailed backwards at times, but still made it to this side of the ocean.
Our bold skipper cheated a little bit, starting on this side of the ocean, but that is reasonable, as he had a large handicap to his disadvantage, due to lower tonnage and waterline length. It is reported that Columbus cheated as well, setting his crew to rowing and keeping his motion toward his destination (and getting his money's worth from their wages).
Having left the race course, and returning to the land, his perv nature set in, and he allowed a set of lissome lasses in to the pier ahead of him so he could amuse us with some fine shots. He forgot that some of us are older than he, and did not use a telephoto lens, so I was unable to even get an accurate count of the arms and legs.
Next year, TELEPHOTO LENS for the important pictures! The proper equipment is always essential for a successful race!
We will wait patiently for another year, to see if you can beat Columbus to the finish line. 8)
Remember Charles, it's not whether you win or lose, it's how you lay the blame.
I entirely agree with your decision to enjoy a bit of sailing for sailing rather than sailing for a questionable destination.
Being on a fiberglass boat you didn't have to witness "and how the boards did shrink" and nary an albatross.
I found a coconut on a deserted SC beach well north of Charleston. I think it was either escaping from Cuba, or tired of all the south FL congestion, or abandoning the Bahamas before sea level rise turns them into ocean bottom.
Several of our Flying Scot races this summer turned into bob and bake events. Oh yes, do get a good telephoto!
Late seeing this (how did that happen?) but enjoyed nonetheless.