Uncategorized

everybody’s hugging How do you go from discussing the intricacies of Space Docking, Rustry Trombones, and even Two Girls and a Cup one minute, and then carry out a sail change the next, without skipping a beat?

on board

everybody’s hugging

A little onboard perspective of the 2011 Border Run from The Ed’s FT 10m Anarchy…

How do you go from discussing the intricacies of Space Docking, Rustry Trombones, and even Two Girls and a Cup one minute, and then carry out a sail change the next, without skipping a beat?

I really can’t answer that. There can be no written instructions. The things that happen on the good ship Anarchy could not, and should not be explained.

What’s it like to sail on Anarchy? Aside from Scooter being a whining diva (Just kidding, Scot. Sort of), he’s a very good sailor who has managed to rustle up one hell of a group of guys, (and even a few brave girls), who truly gel.

It is fact, well my fact anyway, that no matter how new your sails are, how much you’re paying the guy towards the back calling the shots, how many cool numbers and colors your new electronics can deliver – the one way to guarantee a successful day on the water is crew dynamics. And Anarchy has that in spades.

The 2011 Border Run was a classic Anarchy event: Big black Escalade standing by in the parking lot at San Diego Yacht Club to take us up to Newport Beach. (I don’t think I need to say who was 40 minutes late for his own limo ride.) So much beer and junk food it would hardly fit in the back of the SUV, much moaning about why we were even doing this damn race, blah blah blah. Yet, by the time we left the dock at Balboa Yacht Club for the start of the 68 mile race down the coast, I knew we had already won – well at least our division.

Everyone on board knows their roles without having to be told anything. Sure it’s not perfect: we never know if the VHF is going to work, or the engine to start, or even where the god damn GPS is. You should have seen our code K flag, flying proud from the aft stanchion. We made it while motoring out to the start with a scrap of blue spinnaker cloth, a cheap yellow rain poncho (one less foul weather jacket for one unlucky crew), a shitload of white electrical tape, bobby pins- and voila! Code flag K.

There were several great calls made – the ones that count at least. Putting up the code zero at just the right time early in the race was a good call. I’d say that passing a sled that had passed us just minutes earlier in our little boat right at the finish was a good call. The decision of when to jibe onto port to get down to buoy #1 was another good call. Going from the code zero to the 2A only to have the wind clock left 30 degrees? Not so good. Even so, it didn’t cost us the race.

When we made it to the dock at a little after 10 pm Sat night, the crew was issued new limited edition swag, the little Anarchy was tucked in for the night, and it was off to the bar for some frosty beverages.

Even though we cannot force the weather to do what we want (though we curse at it enough to think that we can – something along the lines of "why in the fuck can’t this fucking breeze clock 20 fucking degrees?"), or explain the conversations that we have on board, I can say with certainty that I look forward to any time sailing on Anarchy. Believe me – it’s not for everyone, especially those with sensitive ears and opinions, but for those demented few that dare step on board you all know what I’m talking about.

And lastly – Flying Tigers are the shizzy. And the Border Run was fun. Now, on to the Newport to Ensenada race this Friday. Good times…

Thanks to Peter Howson for the above pic of Anarchy. More race photographs here, And thanks to Ralph Wiggum for the title inspiration.