Behind the Marks: 41st Schooner Festival Race

This year, a team from the Manchester Yacht Club served as the Race Committee for the 41st Annual Schooner Festival’s Mayor’s Cup Race.  Tony Leggett writes a behind-the-scenes account.

Posted

Gloucester’s three-day Schooner Festival commemorates the era of classic fishing schooners and their importance to the history of
Gloucester, America’s oldest fishing port. 

This modern race includes both traditional and modern schooners, echoing International Fisherman’s Race of the 1920s and 30s “for working boats, sailed by working men.”  That’s in contrast with the “dandified” America’s Cup racing during the J-Boat era in Newport.

These races were so popular and well-publicized at the time, that the victorious Bluenose, hailing
from Halifax, was memorialized on the Canadian dime since 1937. 

The “Mayor’s Race”
The 24 entrants in this year’s Mayor’s Cup Race ranged from massive schooners as long as 120 feet to vessels only 32 feet.  Contestants might be bearded skippers in baggy wool sweaters and frayed Red Sox baseball caps, or they may be Oakley-wearing yachtie types in matching shirts embroidered with a yacht club burgee.  Some participants know the Racing Rules of Sailing, and others navigate by the “ColRegs”, which govern how commercial vessels avoid each other in open sea.  Some began studying weather apps from five days out.  Others might just sniff the wind and say to themselves, “There’s a nice breeze from the north, let’s go sailing!”
Weather Outlook: Uncertain
Last year brought steady south winds and simple out-and-back racing.  This year, the forecast promised only 5–6 knots, shifting as much as 180 degrees.  Schooners don’t like sailing close to the wind; they want a beam reach, sails set at 90 degrees.  That meant we’d have to shift turning marks as the breeze clocked around.

Now, the Race Committee (RC) was comprised three boats: Blue Sky, Tim and Alice Clarke’s 44’ tugboat; Selkie, Emmett Holt’s 32’ lobster boat; and Metal Shark, the MYC’s workboat, a 24’ aluminum scow.  With Blue Sky anchored at the start/finish line, Selkie and Metal Shark would have to move around the perimeter of the three-mile course, dropping the buoys for the schooners to round, then picking them up and moving them to the new position as the wind “clocked” to the south. 

At the Skipper’s Meeting, the RC explained our juggling act to contestants:  Blue Sky, a 44’ tug, would anchor the start/finish; Selkie, a 32’ lobster boat, and Metal Shark, a 24’ aluminum scow, would roam, dropping and moving buoys as the wind shifted.

Just after concluding the Skipper’s Meeting, a voice crackled on the RC channel: “There’s a good breeze now—can we start earlier?”

OK, let’s throttle up.  We decided that we could move the start forward by 45 minutes to 12:15 p.m., but it was going to be a “stretch.” 

Luckily, a contestant radioed that they couldn’t make it in time.

12:30 p.m. might work after all.

The Start
Aboard Blue Sky, we updated the fleet with our plans every five minutes as we approached the new, earlier 12:30 p.m. start time.  We broadcast countdowns, squared the starting line, and shooed spectators out of the way.  Metal Shark flashed sirens at clueless powerboaters while Selkie confirmed the mark position.  Flags went up, revolver was loaded, and at 12:40 p.m. the cannon fired.

Three cannon shots were fired at five-minute intervals, and at 12:40 p.m. the first fleet of Large schooners—12 in all—were off.  Two of the fastest, Malabar X from Key West, and Narwhal from Jamestown RI, fought for the best starting position right next to Blue Sky.  They both bore off onto the reach with their bowsprits crossing the starting line just seconds after the starting gun was fired. 

Five minutes later, it was the Medium and Small schooners turn.  And then at 12:55 p.m., we fired the starting gun for these 12 schooners, the largest being Calabash, a 42-footer from Vineyard Haven, and the smallest, Redbird from Fairhaven and Lewis H. Story from Essex, both 32-feet-long.

Almost immediately, the wind shifted.  Instead of a reaching leg, the leaders were pinching close-hauled.  Do we move the mark mid-leg?  If not, many schooners couldn’t fetch it without tacking.  We moved it once—good for 20 minutes—before realizing the wind would make it tough for the big boats.  We couldn’t reset again without restarting the whole race.

Hazards and Hiccups
Just as we re-positioned the first mark, a tugboat skipper shadowing a commercial barge broke in: “This is tugboat Mary Moran with an empty fuel barge, heading due west, and I see what looks like a big race in progress off my bow.”

We replied, “Yes Cap, 24 schooners are headed for a mark south of Thacher’s Island.”

“Fixed point, like a government mark?” he asked.

“Yes, an orange inflatable,” we said.

“Got it off my starboard,” he answered, swinging sharply south to skirt behind the schooners.

Then, with a laugh, he added, “I’m a racer from Long Island Sound. Looks like you’re having a great day. Good luck to everyone.”

Mercifully, he gave the buoy wide berth, threaded through the fleet, and carried on toward Boston.  Not your typical racecourse hazard.

Then, later, as the Large Schooners began their third leg, we needed the mark another 60 degrees south.  The day before, Emmett Holt and I had measured out 250-foot anchor lines, plenty for Gloucester depths.  But when Selkie dropped the last buoy, three miles offshore, the anchor line ran out with only six feet left.  Not enough to hold.  The crew had to haul it back and use Selkie itself as the mark.

The Finish Line
The last three schooners to round the mark needed to perform a difficult maneuver: jibing once and then tacking to complete a full circle around the mark.  Now, these schooners prefer to go in a straight line, and they slow down dramatically when making tight turns.  Each performed the maneuver with agonizing slowness.  But even with the course of 210, they were having to pinch hard upwind to try to approach the new mark three miles out.  The minutes ticked by, and we realized they couldn’t get to the turning mark and back to the finish line by 4:30 p.m.  They would cross the line with the dreaded DNF or Did Not Finish.

By mid-afternoon, the smaller schooners were finishing.  The Medium and Small division were coming downwind from the southeast to the finish after completing one lap.  Phra Luang, a sleek black 41-footer from Vineyard Haven, crossed first at 2:27 p.m., followed by Calabash six minutes later.  In third was Malabar II, an Alden-designed schooner from the Vineyard, two minutes later. 

Rounding out the Small division finishers were Green Dragon, Bald Eagle and Isabella from Gloucester, as well as Eileen Marie from Boston, Elzabeth from Bristol, Lewis H. Story from Essex, and Sycamore from Wiscasset, Maine.

Among the Large Schooners, Spirit of Newport led the way, finishing at 2:47 p.m. on a tight reach.  Her crew lined the rail to salute as she passed Blue Sky’s stern.  Eight minutes later came Malabar X from Key West, then Narwhal from Jamestown, RI; Hindu from Provincetown; Alert from Bailey Island, ME; and Gloucester’s own Lannon and Ardelle.  Adventure, Tabor Boy, and Denis Sullivan were caught out by fading winds and missed the time limit.

Celebration
Back ashore, Maritime Gloucester hosted a dinner catered by Root and flowing with drinks. Skippers announced their schooners and home ports, and Michael De Koster presented gleaming trophies to cheers and applause.

As Emmett Holt put it: “We were chasing the wind all day—starting at 20 degrees, ending at 140—dropping marks in 200 feet of water. And when we ran out of buoys, we had to use committee boats as the mark.”

Tony Leggett, a resident of Manchester, is an avid, lifelong sailor.  This is the second year he served on the Mayor’s Cup Race Committee during Schooner Fest in Gloucester.  Leggett is also the Varsity Sailing coach at ME Regional High School.

Comments

No comments on this item Please log in to comment by clicking here