This isn’t your usual sailboat story. It is a story about what long distance racing –in the form of the Solmar Lake Ontario 300 in particular- can contribute to character building.
I’m not really a great sailor, but I have a passion for the water. Especially the water that is far removed from land, crowds and urban issues.
A few years back, pining to spend some extended time on the water, I heard talk of a long distance race that guaranteed I wouldn’t set foot on land for at least two days. The Solmar Lake Ontario 300. This race is a minimum 300 mile circumnavigation of Lake Ontario; a lake known for its ocean-like unpredictable conditions. Unable to resist this challenge, my boat and I set out in search of a partner for the race. Of course we could go with a full crew, but that defeated the purpose of escaping the issues of urban life. I wanted to really feel this experience and looked for someone who shared my vision.
Fast forward a few years and there are now three Lake Ontario circumnavigations under my belt – 300, 400 … nautical miles each time – all double handed. The first adventure resulted in a last place finish and many lessons learned. A year later and with a new sailing partner, Rossi Milev, we took a first place finish – crossing the finish line right up with the fully crewed winners. This year – a third.
The Solmar Lake Ontario 300 experience was pivotal for me. It proved to me my capacity to endure challenges and taught me the value of a truly good sailor. Let me share with you a few of the anecdotes from our winning year, 2000.
“Our Official Plan” is a Beneteau First 42 of the 1984 vintage. Regretfully, I no longer own her, but she was my soul mate – a stubborn and expensive soul mate. She wasn’t outfitted with a lot of electronics or racing equipment and she was inclined to let you know she was boss despite your best efforts to be the captain. We readied her for the Solmar Lake Ontario 300 journey with new and borrowed equipment. She was ready to go for the challenge … or so we thought.
A word about safety on this race. The Solmar Lake Ontario 300 is a very safe race. It is run with the full cooperation of the Canadian Coast Guard and there are extensive pre-qualifying safety requirements. You don’t leave the dock if you don’t pass. You are disqualified if you don’t make your regular radio call ins. The Coast Guard requires that you report in with position every six hours. This is a safety requirement and if you fail to do so they send the planes, helicopters and all sorts of other help. The sailing fraternity who participate in this race are also second to none. There is always someone within earshot if any need arises.
Our Official Plan passed her safety – she just got a little temperamental at sea.
On Thursday, we left Oakville Harbour, the start point of the race. Before we had come to the first mark at PCYC we discovered our only source of power, the alternator, had died. With two of us – and my sailing limitations – boat repairs were not on our radar screen for this voyage. So what did this mean to us for the next two to three days? First we concluded quickly that all the food in the freezer would be good for a day at most in the heat. This was no big deal. June on Lake Ontario is frigid at night and can be cold during the day. I could cook up some things on the stove instead to keep us warm and nourished. The bigger problem was we had two relatively weak house batteries and now no way to charge them. We were thinking: no navigation lights, no radio, no instruments, no auto helm and no G.P.S. Those were the days when my GPS was the size of one of those old portable phones and required 12 AA batteries for a couple of hours of satellite time. Hence the GPS and instruments were turned off to preserve the batteries in favour of preserving power to the radio and navigation lights. True sailing! A few hours past and I went to boil water for coffee and realized the propane sniffer was unhappy and had shut down the valve to the stove. Now the stove was a non-starter. Oh well, we had lots of granola bars to feed us for the next two days!
Not to be deterred, I took my shift at the wheel while my partner trimmed sail. The winds were light but there was no land in sight and I was happy. In fact, we were in the shipping lanes on Lake Ontario on a direct course to the half way point – Main Duck Island – 100 nautical miles away. Awesome!
I had never heard the rumbling of a large freighter before, but as one bore down on us, I experienced this for the first time. There was plenty of distance between us as we took in the view as the freighter neared. Unfortunately, as it neared (and I mean neared!) and while we were under spinnaker, there was a godforsaken SNAP and the chain in the binnacle controlling the steering snapped in two and we were out of control. Boy those freighters move quickly – and they don’t turn on a dime either! I am a safety nut and the emergency tiller was easily accessible and was installed, quickly resuming control, but way too close for comfort. Learned my lesson about freighters that day!
So, to recap – no power, limited food, no instruments, no auto helm, no wheel. I decided the gods were against us and asked my partner for his consent to turn around. In retrospect his answer was logical. At the time I was despondent. “It’s just as far back as forward – away we go!” and so it went. For about eight hours of winds that shifted from strong to light I pushed 20,000lbs of boat on the emergency tiller while my partner was upside down under the cockpit up the binnacle jury rigging the chain. Remember – as two people we needed someone to navigate, someone to steer, someone to do sail changes, one of us to organize some nourishment and somehow also some rest!
Now let me tell you about radio call ins. I wish we had a picture. Yes, a picture for a radio call in! Our first challenge was limited power. Our second challenge, however, once off shore, was to deal with the antenna that wouldn’t function to send messages – we could receive and hear the others near to us, but we couldn’t transmit. As fate would have it we had brought a hand held radio and some electrical paraphernalia which served, along with our racing mates, to meet our reporting requirements, Every six hours we would open the locker with the house battery, hook up the hand held, and stand in the cockpit like the Statue of Liberty with arms reaching to the sky for radio reception, transmitting our call in. Once or twice our dear friends relayed our faint messages to avoid a missed report. What an ordeal!
We never did sort out the antenna problem as once back home it, the propane sniffer and with a few adjustments, the alternator, all started to function again. Like I said, “Our Official Plan” had a mind of her own and I guess she figured it was time I proved to myself my capacity to sail with just her – the heck with all the technology.
As we moved closer to the race mid point my partner emerged from below to announce the steering chain repair was complete. On went the wheel – alas port was to starboard and starboard, port. Back to the emergency tiller for another hour or two.
Eventually, with wheel back in place, the mid point of Main Duck Island approached. Shoals and navigation hazards abound, which is one of the high points of the race. However, in rolled the fog and with no GPS we thanked Lady Luck when we rounded the island and headed for home. The Solmar Lake Ontario 300 is one of the only in-shore races that is a serious test of navigational skills. There are several marks to be rounded and all require time and attention, many of them being encountered in the dead of night, the fog or some such other weather challenge.
Having now successfully rounded Main Duck, I felt the rest of the race would be a “breeze”. Oh how naïve!
Don’t know why, but I opened the lazerette and discovered it full to the water line with Lake Ontario sea water. My partner had had a mere couple of hours upright after his binnacle work and he was yet again upside down, immersed in the latest problem. Fortunately, despite my partner’s insistence that everything non-essential (and I mean even the fenders) stayed on the dock, we had stashed away a container of parts for moments like steering chain and leak repairs. We carried water in the lazerette all the way home, but we didn’t sink – problem solved!
On these races you are often mid lake with no one else in sight. While invigorating and inspiring it is also a bit spooky. When the lightening and thunder started in earnest on the second evening , it reflected and echoed on this immense body of water surrounding us. The power of nature was awe-inspiring.
Sleep eluded my partner and me for the whole race. Just as one of us tried to catch a nap the wind shifted or we needed to change sails, figure our position or set up for a radio call in. No rest for the wicked! It had been two nights without sleep and the guy hanging off my boom started to move from hallucination to a false stage of reality. The slapping of the sails in the storm brought me back into focus although my friend dangling from the boom shone in the lightening and didn’t disappear until daylight.
As daylight came Saturday, on Day 3, and we began to realize that we had overcome these obstacles and were doing well in the race, the adrenalin kicked in. The last hours of the race were spent in an invigorating tacking duel with another double-handed boat. We were pumped and tacking in heavy air was our forte.
Our finish was awesome. The rush was indescribable. We won. We were just behind the fully crewed winners. We gelled as a duo. It was true sailing when all we had was the rig, our brains, some helpful radio relayers and our instincts. No artificial power (okay, a bit of battery), little food, no sleep.
Before I left I would have said that faced with these circumstances I would have quit. What this race teaches is discipline, ingenuity in the face of adversity, honour amongst competitors, team work, respect and confidence. Where else in life can all this come together? My hat goes off to those who conceived the Solmar Lake Ontario 300 and to those from Canada and the U.S. who compete every year.
This race is one of a kind. It requires stamina like all long distance races, but also requires navigational skills and offers ocean-like sea conditions. To finish this race is a badge of honour that I wear proudly and will retain as one of those life experiences that takes you to the next level.
Lynda Townsend-Renaud aboard The Itch is Back
