The first race

We capsized the U20 - let's just start there. That should tell you the wind was high (20-24 knots/mph), and our new team was getting some things figured out. Our captain - our most seasoned member - had shoes that were slipping; he fell down repeatedly, including onto the tiller several times, finally breaking it; we only realized at the end we hadn't put the safety cable across the back to prevent anyone from falling out (I had him by the ankle at one point). He has also agreed to wear a PFD in the future, as well.

With a tiller tied together, we bailed from the first Wednesday race day early and got it back to the marina.

So backing up, the capsizing was a favorite moment ever. I "went high side," clambering up and over the hull as it rolled, and got one foot onto the keel before she rolled back. I didn't quite make it back into the boat, and had to heave myself out of the water - not easy. Brad went into the water, but held onto the rigging and was scooped back in. It was utter craziness, with perhaps 5 boats within 30 feet of us - all in quick-zagging tacks and moves.

But the real chaos began in a 4:00 meeting that I thought would completely screw up my first race day, and possibly my position on this crew for the season. A last-minute meeting was scheduled that I couldn't get out of, right when I needed to leave a little early to make it. I got out at 5:00, ran all the way to my car, and out of breath, sped through traffic downtown, into freeway gridlock. Brad called at 5:45 to check in, "I'm speeding toward you, ETA 20 minutes... any chance?" He told me to run down the dock and they'd pick me up. A few minutes later and it wouldn't have happened.

But what a great, great night. So much to learn. I'm still confused by some of the lines. We spent a while once she was trailered walking through the lines, how the spinnaker works again. My crew still doesn't know what to think of me, I think. They both have so much experience (decades on boats over 20 feet), and I didn't have any idea how to operate the furling jib.

And, both the boat (fast) and our captain (savvy and well-known at the marina) make for a very intriguing opportunity: not just race, but be competitive? How lucky can I get?

Feels like I'm earning my keep by being the younger, physically flexible boat monkey who can jump all over, go down on my knees over and over, climb into the hold and back out repeatedly quickly. Kind of funny, seeing how I'm 41, but why not.

Had a nice flashback of the year in Alaska tonight at one point. Not long after the capsize, when we realized the tiller was seriously damaged, Brad said he had duct tape down in the hold in a yellow bag. Down I went, into the cramped, wet, cluttered space. We pitched hard starboard, and I ended up laying on the wall with everything loose piled on me; I realized the outboard engine was among the loose items. As I stowed it over the (550 lb) keel, we lurched hard port and I did a face-plant into the motor as it landed on the opposite wall. Yes, a special kind of chaos, not meant for the closterphobic. And about then I had a good smile, realizing I still just can't seem to get sea sick. I went through all the bags and never found the tape.

We all took some injuries tonight. My knees are quite tender. Brad had blood all over his hand - I never asked him what from. And our poor captain, after falling on the tiller repeatedly, said in all seriousness he wondered at one point if he'd broken his back. But what a great time.

Okay, the obligatory media... I'm trying to include a photo and video from each trip. The video above is after we were back on land and raised the spinnaker to dry it out.

I shot this video as it blew in the wind. Kind of a nice effect, really.