2008 Doublehanded Farallones Race (DHF) – or how to sail 60 miles in 30 knot winds in a 35 year old Islander 44

As the 78 entered yachts, and a few non-entrants (polar bear swimmers, two dinghies, and a skull), began their pre-race maneuvers, at least one entrant (speaking) had his mind on the events of just two weeks prior. In a warm-up race for the 2008 DHF, the Doublehanded Lightship Race (DHL), two sailors were lost when Daisy, their Cheoy Lee Offshore 31 disappeared.
Conditions for the DHL were rough, with 20-25 knot winds with gusts into the 30s, and 10-ft seas, reports indicate that although Daisy made it out to and around the Lightbucket (a marker for pilot ships approximately halfway to the Farallones), the last sighting of the ship was approximately 6 miles from the Golden Gate. It would not be until the next day when searchers came across debris resembling that ship near the last reported position, and the Coast Guard discovered the body of one of the crew far to the South in Half Moon Bay, still wearing his lifejacket. As no distress call went out by cell, radio, or distress beacon, what happened to Daisy and her unfortunate crew remains a mystery.

Having arisen at 0430, with a breakfast of Dramamine, granola bars and Propel, Tony (boat owner & freakishly talented captain) and I had ample time to enjoy the pre-dawn skyline of San Francisco light up beneath low clouds, and the eerie quiet that accompanies that hour of the day.


With the first divisions of the race getting underway at 0800, we spent the run-up to the race going over safety provisions, tactics and avoiding a Polar Bear swim from Alcatraz that had underestimated the ebb tide and as a result infiltrated the pre-start maneuver field with their safety kayaks & guide boat. At 0830, we were off to the crack of the starting gun, and though we crossed the line slightly behind the other boats in our heat, we were to weather, giving us an early advantage.

Conditions as we headed towards the Golden Gate were calm, allowing us to scope out our competition as we all tacked aggressively to stay in the flow of the channel as it shot us out of the mouth of the bay. However, this rapidly changed as we passed beneath the famous bridge and out into open waters. Though the first several miles of open ocean are somewhat sheltered by the Marin Headlands, this did very little to temper what were reported as 10-ft seas at 7-seconds.

As we passed beyond the sheltered lee of the Headlands, the wind steadily built out of the NW, eventually reaching 20+ knots with gusts well over 30 knots. As an initial attempt to reef our mainsail failed, we decided to continue with only our jib. As we were easily making 7 knots over ground in ferocious seas & biting winds, I decided that Tony had things under control, clipped in my lifeline and decided to take a series of catnaps in the cockpit. The foul weather gear makes one feel like, and resemble a Michelin Man, so this is easier than one may think, even in low interval 10-ft seas.


Although only approximately 27nm from the Golden Gate, the Farallones are quite remote, relying on sail access only for re-supply and staffing changes at the science station, and believe me, an elite group of sailors are required to access those rocks, as they must do in all weather when called upon.


Negotiating the turn is not exactly an easy proposition either; deep ocean swells come out of incredible depths to crash against the Farallones, and outside sets have caught many a skipper by surprise, turning their ships turtle and necessitating a rescue under incredibly risky conditions. With the turn downwind as you negotiate on the lee of the islands, relief comes briefly as respite from the wind allows (some) feeling back into the cheeks, and a chance to set the sails for the reach home.
This is where the venerable Kuewa truly shone. With more combined years of surfing (boat, board, and body) experience than I am sure either Tony or I want to admit, and our mainsail back up along with the jib, we shot back towards the Golden Gate, often surpassing 11 knots over ground, and leaving quite a few of our competitors in our wake. Dodging crab pot buoys as we went, Tony still managed to capture a few shots to provide some context on the conditions. Notice the height of the seas behind our competitors, their reefed sails, and their vain attempt to surf with the likes of the Kuewa.


As the clock approached 1800, we crossed the finish in front of the SF Yacht Club to Kuewa's first gun, indicating that we were the first boat in Division 7 to cross the line, a satisfying finish to an incredible day of racing.