Bin Ruiter Participates in Classic Sailing Race: Newport-to-Bermuda

By Bin Ruiter

By some amazing stroke of luck, I was asked to participate in the Newport-to-Bermuda sailing race which started June 16, 2006. While I had sailed a fair amount in my life, I certainly did not feel qualified for the race but my friend assured me I’d be fine so I agreed to go. Growing up as a obsessed windsurfer and having done some sailing, including a few years of racing, I had always heard of this classic sailing event but never thought I’d find a boat crazy enough to take me along, especially not on this special Centennial Race celebration. After it was all said and done, we finished first in our division and had a glorious ride down to Bermuda.

In short, there were about 270 participant competing in 16 different classes. Our class contained 17 other boats and we were by far the shortest with some of the others being almost twice as long. Since all boats are different, they are rated and finishing times are adjusted accordingly; so a shorter boat might get there last but then some of the larger boats may “owe” you x amount of minutes or seconds per mile thus equalizing the field.

The distance to Bermuda is about 635 nautical miles (735 miles or 1,176 Km) from Newport, Rhode Island to Bermuda. The rhumbline (start/finish straight line) is roughly 162 degrees magnetic, which means a S-SE course. In the middle of the course is the Gulf Stream, the main obstacle and challenge of the race. The Gulf Stream is a river of fast traveling water that travels the globe and which brings along unpredictable local weather and spins off warm and cold-water “Eddy’s” (large swirls of current).

The "blister machine"

Our boat, the WAHOO, is a 41.5 foot long boat designed by John Corby. Basically a hot-shot boat built entirely out of carbon (no metal or wood on the boat except for some shackles, etc.) Like all race boats, the only design consideration is speed and performance. As a result, the cabin is small, space is limited, and the remaining spaces are not always the most comfortable or convenient. We carried a 10-person crew split into two groups plus one floater (nav person). I had met all but four of these people when I raced with them a few years ago.

Upon learning I was going on this trip, I knew I had to get up to speed on all levels. I started by building a device (a.k.a. the "blister machine") to build up calluses on my hands while doing some upper body exercises. And then for a few weeks, I reduced my diet some and lost a few pounds. Finally, I went through all my books to touch up my knowledge of sailing terminology, boat parts, knots, etc. I was as ready as I was going to be, especially considering I had not been on a boat in a couple of years. In order to get familiar with the boat and to help the owner out, I spent three days with the owner’s son working on the boat in the weeks preceding the race. There is a 22-page checklist that boats have to comply to in order to pass the mandatory safety inspection before you are allowed to participate in the race.

In the week preceding the race, we got word from the first Hurricane of the season hitting the USA. As a result, the weather forecasts were all over the map which made preparing and packing difficult. Normally you would just pack for all weather conditions but space and weight on the boat are at such a premium that you are not allowed to bring anything you don’t anticipate having a need for. The last forecast I remember hearing was that the race was expected to be cold and wet. As a result, I made a last minute purchase of “foul weather” gear in the event these guys were right. They were not.

On the Wednesday preceding the race, my neighbor and I left for Rhode Island. Luckily we had a mutual friend in Newport so we wouldn't’t have to sleep on the boat with the rest of the crew before the race. While we had Thursday and Fri morning carved out to do some practice sails, it became evident that this might not happen upon seeing the boat. There were tools everywhere along with long lists of things that still needed to be fixed. Things like awaiting the arrival and installation of new lines (ropes), wind vane, short wave radio, etc. So we spent Thursday and Fri morning getting the boat ready.

A chart dating back to 2004 showing the location of the Gulf Stream and accompanying Eddy's.

On Friday morning, the skipper and navigator went to an exclusive weather meeting. They signed up for a personalized weather forecast which was presented on the morning before our start. While they received the latest wind and current info, one of our crew loaded the boat with our provisions. It is amazing how much crap you end up bringing for 10 hungry people for 4 days. When the navigators came back, we had a brief team meeting and it became clear that this race would be unique. The exactly location of the Gulf Stream, it’s Eddy’s, as well as the projected path of the low pressure systems, following a tumultuous week in which Hurricane Alberto came and left, made for difficult navigating. At the meeting they discussed that this might be the year of going East, insinuating that even though sailors rarely win taking the easterly route, the conditions were such that this year they might.

Our skipper and navigators decided that we would neither go West nor East and that we would proceed on the shortest path (rhumbline) until new weather developed or an obvious option would present itself. In the end, this turned out to be a great move. On Friday morning we left and the Race for our class and division started at 2 pm. Starts are staged according to division/classes in 20 minute intervals. Certainly anyone seeing us leave the dock would not have guessed we would have had a chance to do well in this endeavor as we were missing some key pieces of equipment (wind gear), some safety stuff (we opted to use a satellite phone rather than SBB), etc. And while individually mostly experienced, many of the crew had never sailed together.

We had a good start hitting the line on time and away from others. Almost immediately you saw the others in our class either veering down heading East or pointing high heading West. Within a few hours all the others were gone from sight and we were all alone. While some of the larger boats have on-board radar, it is rare for the smaller ones like us to carry this so you have to be constantly on the lookout for objects in the water and other boats.

Our crew was split into two teams of four/five and one floater. We instituted what is called the Swedish Watch system whereby you do 6 hour shifts during the day (2) and 4-hour shifts at night (3). So 6am-noon, noon-6pm, 6-10pm, 10pm-2am, 2am-6am, etc. Because there are only 3 shifts at night, you end up shifting your shifts around every day. Morning shift one day, afternoon shift the next, etc. Clearly the 2am-6pm is the hardest to stay awake and the afternoon shift is the hardest to sleep because it is so warm.

Sleeping on the boat is hard. Above Burt shows how it's done surrounded by luggage, coolers, gear and always on an angle.

Speaking of sleeping, getting sleep is a hard thing to do in a race. You can only sleep on one side of the boat because of weight considerations. Two of the three eligible comfortable bunks (the ones you can adjust to level your bed) are filled with luggage. What remains is one bunk and then some surfaces deep inside the hot boat pitched at 30 degrees or more and you are surrounded by unbelievably loud noises as sails are trimmed or changed. Plus the motor runs from time to time to charge the batteries (used for fridge and nav systems). Any time there is a sail change, everyone is on deck helping out. Eating time, and in my case food prep time, comes out of your sleeping time. And during the day, especially in light wind conditions, it was simply too hot to sleep. Now that is is all over I can state that if you are sleep deprived enough, sooner or later you will be able to sleep anywhere.

Saturday was absolutely glorious day of sailing. The wind was perfect. The waves were low-key. The temperatures were perfect. We put up the big reacher sail and were making awesome time cruising at roughly 10-15 knots. During the day, we say a tuna or two jump out of the water. Flying fish were all around most of the day and we also were accompanied by some dolphins throughout the day. At some point during the day, the water turned a true blue rather than a greenish blue. Sat night I realized that I had not seen as many stars since I was a 10-year old kid living in a remote area in the middle east. I realized I had pretty much forgotten what a star filled sky looked like. Unbelievable! The other fun thing at night was to watch the iridescent algae behind the boat that lights up like small streams of light.

Within each watch the roles were fairly defined. Out of the four people on our watch, two of them took turns driving/steering and the others helped trim the head and main sails. One of the four worked the very front of the boat in case of sail changes, another worked the mast (to hoist the new sails and to help collect and fold sails that are taken down). Especially at night, driving and trimming sails is hard as you cannot see the telltales or the pressure in the front of each sail. We quickly discovered that one of our crew excelled at driving at night and did not need as much guidance from people lighting up sails and reading instrumentation values back to him. He apparently had spent a ton of time sailing little dinghies and practiced doing so with blindfolds all the time. It showed as he did very well and it made our evening watches much easier and relaxed (since we didn’t have to do as much work).

Sunday the winds started to ease just as we were trying to pierce through the fast moving currents of the Gulf Stream. While normally you can expect to do 90-degree tacks (turns), because the current was pushing our bow ‘down river’, we were actually doing close to 190-degree turns. And then when you measured your speed you see that while your speed over the water isn’t too bad, you realize that when measured over land, you are going backwards. No need to say there were a lot of arguments on the boat and disbelief that we couldn’t point the boat any higher into the wind in either direction. After some time, and monitoring the water temperatures to figure out how close we were to the stream’s edge, we made it through and started making progress again.

That night we heard some reports on the nightly race broadcast that large metal objects were sighted at specific locations. These are usually large freight containers that fall of ships and then circle the globe in the gulf stream until they sink. It was a good reminder to keep your eyes peeled ahead and practice in your head what you would do in the 10-20 seconds it takes for your boat to sink in the event we hit one of those. A little late to go digging for essentials at that point...

A pic I found on the web of a Manta ray (minus the sucker fish ours carried)

On Monday morning we started seeing some boats again. Since they were too far for us to see their sail numbers, we assigned them nicknames. As the day progressed, we realize that were were sailing among the big guys and were feeling good about our performance. But we still had a long way to go. Winds were still pretty light in the a.m. At some point, a fin appeared behind the boat. Then another. At first we thought it was a shark or two, maybe dolphins. But as soon as it became light enough for us to see, we realized it was a Manta Ray. It was as wide as our transom, about 10 foot wide, with two large sucker fish attached. A beautiful creature that is very flat, wide and which move so elegantly through the water. What a treat.

On Monday late afternoon, we could see Bermuda along with some thunderhead clouds. It is amazing how local weather is and I never realized this until seeing the clouds hover over and along the gulf stream and now over and surrounding the island of Bermuda. That little strip of land (coral reef actually) is heated during the day and as a result, weather systems form directly overhead and in the area. It wasn’t long before we found ourselves in the middle of a downpour and thunderstorm. Unfortunately we made a tactical error during the storm by going through a sail change rather than stay inside the storm and benefit from the increased winds for a while. We easily gave up several spots by not tacking into the storm for a while. So after the rain stopped, we found ourselves in a lull when four or five competitors passed us in the storm.

We finished by midnight on the North East of Bermuda. It was fascinating to me that after not seeing any boats for three days straight, we ended up short tacking with many of them at the end of the race. After we finished, we were confident we had done well but would not find more until the next day. As it turned out, we were 34th to cross the line meaning we beat a bunch of much longer boats and after adjusting for time under IRC ratings, we came in first in our class.

WAHOO (and Allen) in the Bermuda Yacht Club's Winners Circle.

After finishing we headed for shore as fast we could. We were all exhausted. Navigating is tricky around Bermuda because of all the coral reefs. We safely docked behind a giant cruise ship but then we realized that that part of the shore was gated and part of the cruise ship facilities. We then moved our boat to a fuel doc in front of the cruise ship and behind another and raced into Saint George’s looking for liquor. We made a critical error in Newport not packing some rum or beer... Unfortunately the town was dead by the time we got there so we headed back to the boat for some sleep. By the time I woke up, I was amazed to find that both cruise ships had managed to leave without waking me up. Both these monsters were at least 8-10 stories high and we were parked squarely in between and within 50 feet of either of them. Scary...

As soon as we woke up on Tuesday, we headed down to the middle of the island to Hamilton Harbour. That is where the yacht club resides and where people were meeting us. On our way down we left our guard down for a bit and promptly ran aground scraping the keel and probably removing a few pounds of lead. Too bad the depth gauge wasn't working and our navigator was catching up on some Z's...

Upon arrival, we were sent to the dingy club where we spent the rest of the day cleaning the boat. Once we found out we had won our division, we realized that we’d be moving the boat to the yacht club’s “Winner’s Circle” the next day; all the people who attend the extravagant parties that ensue for the next three days, are able to check out the boats that competed and excelled in the race. After cleaning the boat it was finally time for a much needed shower to scrub off days of suntan lotion, goo and whatever else. All I can say is thank god for all the wicking, plastic clothes that keep you from stinking up the place after a few days of hard work and no showers! And almost as nice as the showers was being able to sit on a chair. After a few days on the boat, you are unable to get comfortable anymore and "boat-but" starts to set it.

The next day we all rented scooters and zipped along the island at 30 mph or so. A little confusing to be driving on the other side of the road especially around traffic circles et all. I found out afterwards that 25% of tourists land up in a crash before they return their scooters. I don’t think any of the WAHOO crew landed up with scrapes or dings. After the second day of chores, we finally had some time to take a dip. All this time on the boat and even two days after and we finally got to take a dip. The water was awesome. It wasn’t until I emerged from the water and looking at the horizon that I realized that sailing to some place is a funny way of getting there. The experience didn’t really hit me until after I went swimming in the ocean for a while.

The next few days were spent exploring the island and attending a crew dinner and various yacht club events. From dawn ‘til dusk we drank “dark ‘n stormies” a concoction of Gosslings dark rum and ginger beer; enough to level even an ‘experienced’ gin martini guy like myself.

On Friday, exactly a week after the start of the race, my neighbor and I left by plane to Newark, NJ. From there we took the train back to Philly. While two of the crew returned the boat, the 8 others returned by plane, all of whom probably too exhausted to be of much use in returning the boat anyway.

All in all it was a grueling event but well worth the effort. I would have gladly traded some of the periods of light wind for something on the verge of out of control. But everyone assures me that once you find yourself in nasty weather it will leave you longing for the light stuff. Hopefully I will have another opportunity in the future to decide for myself.

Minutes before the start. Going over assignments and some safety reminders.

The gun sounds and we're off along with 16 other boats in our division.

Almost immediately, many headed East (above) while others took the Westerly route.

The rest of my watch: Rick, Gus and Jake.

Gus at the helm while Jake and Rick attend to a sail-change on the bow.

The members of the other watch: Mike, Burt, Allen, Matthew and Bo.

Bin Ruiter comes up for air while preparing a crew meal.

A picture of a Manta ray similar to the one we encountered.

We encountered some periods of slow winds.

The finish is on the NE part of the island while the YC is in Hamilton.

WAHOO in the "Winners Circle" at the prestigious Bermuda Yacht Club.

The entire crew: Mike, Henry (owner), Gus, Matthew, Bo, Jake, Rick, Allen, Jan and Burt.

Taking a break from scootering to enjoy the sights.

Finally taking a dip.

Gus accepts his well-deserved trophy and plaque.

The Fretz'es: Joanie, Gus and Henry.

For additional pictures of the boat, the race,
and so on, please visit mostlyweb.com/wahoo

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