Chicago Mackinac Race - Southwinds, August 2001

Southwinds - Local News for Southern Sailors - August 2001 Next Story

Racing to Mackinac — the sights, sounds, and smells
By Doran Cushing

Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan during Chicago-Mackinac race

Ex Whitbread racer Fazisi and maxi Sayonara
leave the starting line at the Chicago-Mackinac race.
Doran Cushing photo

Clop clop...clop clop...clop clop...clop clop. The soft clatter of the massive hooves echoed across the narrow main street of Mackinac Island. The ancient sounds and visions of horse-drawn carts pulling both tourist taxis and the island's business provisions alike was occasionally followed by...plop plop...plop plop, and a curt reprimand from the all-too-close driver who got both the visual and fragrant reminder of what horses do when nature calls.
     It's all what one might call the "flavor" of Mackinac...and don't you dare pronounce it "Mack-ih-NACK. It's "Mack-ih-NAW. Both the mainland Michigan town and the nearby tiny island share the pronunciation though spelled differently.
     But I'm getting way ahead of myself. This is about the race from Chicago to Mackinac, a distance of some 335 miles. The race began in 1898 and has been held each year since 1904 with the exception of "the war years." Suffice to say, with more than 300 boats in the scratch book, this is a major sailing event. There were 14 division starts with the maxiboat Sayonara and ex-Whitbread racer Fazisi (plus another nine monohulls with negative PHRF ratings) crossing the line east of the Navy Pier on a sunny Chicago afternoon at 2 p.m. Ten minutes later our 12-boat open multihull division took off chasing after the pack as the last boats to start.
     But I'm still getting ahead of myself. How did my Florida-based Corsair F-27 tri Southwinds ever get hooked into doing a race up Lake Michigan? The idea started after we won the nationals in April. I was feeling good about the boat and wanted to find another event with more than a handful of F-boats. The Chicago NOOD showed promise with nine boats signed up early so I started making plans for the trip north. Mind you, this comes after a full winter season of racing which started with the Ft. Lauderdale to Key West race and closed out 13 regattas later down south with the Clearwater to Key West race. I guess there's some irony in my racing season opening and closing in the southernmost town which breeds a love-hate relationship within me.
     The class coordinator assured me there were no logistical problems doing the NOOD — easy launching, friendly raftups, and handy but costly parking for the trailer. He was 33% right...the launching was easy. There was no space at the municipal marina and I had been advised to avoid the Chicago Yacht Club situation due to bad surge in the harbor. Without an option, we moved to CYC and had no problem tied to the seawall as the population of greater Chicago ran, strolled, biked, and roller-bladed by less an empty beer can throw away on the waterfront no-motors pedestrian boulevard. Overnight trailer parking was not permitted at the marina but I had already been working on finding a spot to store the boat and trailer between the NOOD and the Mackinac race. A self-storage yard 12 miles west was a good — not great — solution to the NOOD parking problem and turned out to be a great solution for the boat and trailer between the June and July races.
     When I headed north in early June for the NOOD, I had already begun the process of getting accepted for the Mac. The race is truly by invitation only and newcomers must submit a sailing resume for skipper and crew, showing offshore overnight experience. That was the easiest part of what became a real challenge — logistically, emotionally, and financially. Without adding up the numbers, I'd guess the Mac easily cost me in excess of $2,000 for the needed ORC Category II safety gear, travel costs (for myself only), provisions, dockage, and the nickel and dime expenses that add up quickly to hundreds of dollars (without buying any sails).
     The logistical challenge was trying to get the truck and trailer somewhere near Mackinaw City before the race started so I could head home soon after finishing the race. It's 350-plus miles from Chicago to the northern tip of the Michigan peninsula and you can't get home from there. No rental cars one way to Chicago. No buses. Air fare from the nearest airport was not practical. Looking at the map and the airline schedules, Traverse City seemed like a workable solution.
     A round trip ticket from Traverse City to Chicago and back was less than $200 and I trashed the return ticket. The early morning drive from downtown Chicago to Traverse City was about six hours and parking the truck and trailer at the airport long term lot was $15 for the week. Adding to the confusion of the logistics was the time change. My flight back to Chicago took off and landed at exactly the same time...just a different time zone.

     So the truck and trailer were within 100 miles of Mackinac City. The boat was rigged and ready to race, including about 500 excess pounds made up of mandatory safety gear, the needed food and drink for at least 2 1/2 days, and the assorted clothing needed to protect against an unpredictable set of weather conditions. For the first time ever, the boat was floating below the waterlines and the diminished buoyancy (fresh water versus salt water) just added to the problem. Hopefully, all of our multihull competitors were suffering through the same overweight problems.
     I couldn't have asked for a better crew. Rich Carlson is an experienced multihull racer and has done more than a dozen Mackinac races. Garth Reynolds and Jeff Keen are collegiate sailors who were teaching sailing in Michigan for the summer. As it turned out, each of the crew drove the boat, slept when needed, stayed positioned on the boat as conditions demanded (often in the wet and cold spots), and made dozens of sail changes as the wind played its fluky and shifty game. Our race was determined by bad tactics, not bad sailing. We went left and the winners (and most of the fleet) went right. For the record, a carbon F-25 won the class by correcting in front of two much larger and much faster-rated cats and tris while beating the F-31s boat for boat.
     After almost a full day of drifting and ghosting conditions, we sailed the last 12 hours of the race in the dark with strong headwinds and a cold rain after baking most of the daylight hours. That's part of the emotional challenge to this race.
     The course has numerous milestones along the eastern (favored) shore. The dunes at Sleeping Bear Point mark the entrance to the Manitou Passage — the first bit of easting after mostly a north-northeast course. The passage also marks a tactical decision point where you can sail through the passage while paralleling the coast, or continue north to approach the Straits of Mackinac on a due easterly course after sailing above Beaver Island.
     If you chose the Manitou Passage route, there's a long leg northeast to Gray's Reef before you can head for the straits and the magnificent suspension bridge which connects two parts of northern Michigan. The bridge also spans the waters which connect Lake Michigan with Lake Huron as the finish line and Mackinac Island are tucked in the extreme northwest corner of Lake Huron.
     One of the good parts of this race for us southern sailors is the lack of concern about depth. Other than the marked reefs and obvious obstacles like the bridge caissons, you have to really screw up to hit something hard in almost any boat. But with lake levels very low, getting into the less preferred docks at the island posed the biggest depth challenge for the late arrivals.
     Speaking of the docks at the island, the CYC race organizers do an amazing job accommodating the fleet. All usable noncommercial dock space is appropriated for the regatta and the raftups are not too treacherous. The entry fees — $270 for tri Southwinds — included dockage until noon Wednesday at the island and boats staying beyond the free time pay about $1 per foot per day. The skipper's bag also included an assortment of T-shirts, hats, flashlights, and a pair of binoculars. Not too shabby.
     Mackinac Island is undoubtedly a tourist spot...but it's not a tourist trap. The absence of all motorized vehicles — replaced by a fleet of horse-drawn cabs, work wagons, and bicycles — adds a nice touch to an already classy locale. Granted, the people who tend to the tourists and sailors only work there for a few months of the year but they seemed genuinely happy doing their deeds. I'm not sure if that also applied to the cleanup crews who had to scoop the poop and wash down the piss. These very large horses have very large bladders and bowels. Combined with some open air barbecues and the multitude of fudge shops along the main street, the fragrances of Mackinac are a very mixed bag.
     Despite being the middle of July, the weather at the island was cool during the day and very cool when the fog came in or the clouds covered the sun. It's not hard to be reminded you're only a few miles from the Canadian border, surrounded by two very large bodies of cold water.
     The moral victories for the crew aboard tri Southwinds were few. We did beat the other two F-27s even though they went the right way and we didn't. We did stay focused on keeping the boat moving when the winds were tormenting the later finishers. We didn't run entirely out of food — there was one Cup of Soup left — and nothing broke on the boat despite the pounding in the last few hours before the 5 a.m. finish. And the crew swears they loved it all!

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