Good morning from Mackinac Island!!

For me, the race finished at 1:37pm ET on Tuesday. For others, its 7am on Wed and they remain on the lake, sailing, yawning and pealing back their eyes in the Northern Michigan Fog looking for Freighters, bridges, ferries, navigational aids and the occasional hallucination that comes from lack of sleep. Needless to say, this has been a very long race for everyone, but a very fun one as well.

The finish at Mackinac is a great time for the solo sailor. The “Welcome” call from the gentle, sweet voice of the race committee tops off this great adventure. From there, you tidy up ship and head into the docks where a warm hug always awaits you. I can only wonder about the talk that goes on behind our backs–who gets the unofficial,smelliest sailor award?! Beyond the handshakes and hugs comes the inspection for safety gear, some photos and receipt of the bottle of Bacardi’s Finest Rum, checking in with Race Committee and a hot shower, some more rum and time to reflect on the race with close friends and fellow competitors.

I had hoped to be able to send dispatches from the water during the race, but technology got in the way and that didn’t happen. Maybe not such a bad things as this particular race tossed so many different variables at us it might have been difficult to get much else in. Then again, there was plenty of time spent going very slow where something other than raising frustrations at weather drones would have been welcome. For this race, I’ll have to do it mostly in reflection over the next few days.

The Start on Saturday was wonderful. This was the 10th running of the Chicago Solo, I was there the 2nd year and 5 additional years as well and from my vantage point, as a new competitor that 2nd year when we had just 9 boats, looking across the water at 30 boats sailing against the backdrop of the Chicago skyline was remarkable. A tribute to the hard work the GLSS board has done in the past years to build the participation.

The day dawned clear and calm in Chicago with just a light NE breeze-something we’d be familiar with by the end of the race. The start gun fired by JT, our personal RC for the start complete with our own RC start flag, the now famous tie died Grateful Dead flag, sent us on our way. Now this race is simple in some ways, first of all, the first 180 miles is at a course of 017 degrees. That NE wind I was talking about came at us from a direction 017 degrees?dead on the nose. &nbbsp; Most of the competitors sailed up the Wisconsin shoreline with the exception of Joe Turns on Renaissance, Skyhawk and myself. We went for the middle of the lake. By late afternoon, Joe and I amused ourselves over the radio at how far behind we were. Our experience had taken us out of the race within the first 6 hours!! But crafty as we are, by the middle of the night, the competitors on the Wisconsin shoreline were having problems with light winds and slow speeds while we sailed nicely up the lake on our private wind. By mid day on Sunday we were caught up with the fleet.

Most of Sunday morning was spent in the rain with light or moderate winds on the nose.

We spent our efforts trying to get somewhere—- North, North East, North West but just anywhere. Light winds from 3 to 6 knots on the nose with an occasional brush 10 knots and a touch or two at 15. But just the slightest rain cloud or sun peaking out creating land heat would send the wind away for hours and leave us spinning in circles complaining of the dreaded triple 0’s. 0.00 on the boat speed indicator!!

Sunday afternoon found Renaissance and myself duking it out up the Michigan Shoreline. Joe Turns and I have sailed against each other many times and once again we were enjoying our friendly rivalry trying to out smart the other. Joe had the jump on me and seemed to always get just the right shift at just the right time leaving me with only the option of pulling rabbits out of my hat. The first big rabbit for me was coming up to Little Sable, Joe had 2 miles on me and I dove for a shore lift and thermal at the end of the day just as Joe tacked out and worked his way North West, patience paid off and I found that thermal breeze I wanted and scooted up the shore making up all the distance and looking like I was going to shoot out in front of him. As I came to Little Sable point it was if the laughing wind gods stood in front of me with their arms crossed across their chests blocking any further advance. As I stood there bucking a new wind and falling off to clear the point, I watched Joe sail off regaining his mileage and even more.

This pattern continued thru the rest of the race and I’ll fill in with more in a short bit. For now, its time for some breakfast and to help some fellow competitors dock after finishing.

Dave Rearick

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