Mini en Mai Recap Part 2
First race this season covering over 400 nm solo in the Bay of Biscay and experiencing autopilot failure.
With 100 Classe Minis crossing the starting line on 17 May, the Mini en Mai race was a great way to kick off my 2022 racing season on Terminal Leave. Originally scheduled for 500 nm, the course was shortened to 413 nm the night before the departure due to light winds forecasted.
Terminal Leave departing La Trinité-sur-Mer for the Mini en Mai starting line
Primary objectives going into this race:
1) Finish: Above all else, I needed to cross the finish line to complete a 500 nm leg race for Mini Transat & SAS qualification purposes…more on that in the next blog post.
2) Test the boat: This was my first opportunity to push the boat in offshore conditions for multiple days. I would rather have things break now than when racing to Fastnet Rock or to the Azores.
3) Focus on boat speed and tactics: Since the Puru Challenge Race last August, we have made many small improvements on the boat. This was my first chance to line up against the competition.
The morning of 17 May, I was ready. I felt prepared and eager to get on the race course. Once I turned my phone in to the race organization, I was focused with no distractions and completing final preparations. This included stowing my gear, entering the final waypoints into the GPS, and rig the boat.
While I initially enjoyed my location on the dock for the preparations, it became a hinderance that morning. The boats were rafted up three wide by six long on each pier of the floating dock to fit all 100 boats. I was the farthest in and one of the last ones out. Compounded by short tacking upwind out of the harbor, it took a while to get to the starting area.
Check out the entire race tracker here: https://yb.tl/mem2022
The starting sequence starts 13 minutes before the gun (1100 start) with the raising of an orange flag. Around this time, I had just made it out and was getting my initial bearings. The wind was softening and I had found a boat that looked like the committee boat. However, it was an identical looking boat and turned out to be the pin end (left side of course looking upwind). I was also slightly upwind of the line. We knew the line would not be perpendicular to the wind, but the race committee did not provide much specifics during the skippers meeting.
I spent the next few valuable minutes sailing on a slow, broad reach back below the starting line. This gave me just enough time to dip below the line, and quickly turn back up to start….killing all of the little speed I had acquired.
The entire fleet was on a port tack reach and I was with a group of the weather most boats. The boats all had a mixture of sails raised. I immediately hoisted my Code 0, a furled reaching sail. However, within a few minutes I found the wind to be too light and from an angle further behind the boat than anticipated. After a quick sail change, I raised the A2 (my biggest spinnaker).
Terminal Leave is the farthest right boat in this picture
This initial segment was called the inshore race and lasted for 28 nm in the Quiberon Bay. The parallelogram shaped course went around three government marks and a drop mark, before heading offshore. It had the feeling of any other day race on the Chesapeake Bay and the fleet was extremely competitive. We saw everything from drifting conditions to wind over 20 kts which forced us to reef our main sails. The wind was mostly from the south east, then shifted to the north west on the fourth leg.
Leg 1: Port tack, spinnaker reach
Leg 2: Light air, upwind against current
Leg 3: Starboard tack, spinnaker reach/run
Leg 4: Port tack, close reach then upwind
At 1845, I rounded the final mark of the inshore course (at the mouth of the La Trinité-sur-Mer port entrance). At that point, it was a quick sail, just off the wind, across the Quiberon Bay and out one of the channels.
That evening we were sailing upwind, with an increasing sea state, and reefs in our main sails once again. Throughout the night the winds lightened and the fleet spread out. At night, all you could see were the tiny glow of masthead lights, either red, green, or white depending on the orientation. Despite a slow start and being towards the back of the fleet, I was still in the fight. Over the course of the night, I probably took about six naps lasting no more than 12 minutes each. I felt strong, rested, and ready for what lay ahead over the next few days.
Early next morning, the wind began to shift. First, I put up the code 0. Then the A2 again. The seas were steep and choppy as the wind rotated around. With the wind against the swell direction, flying a spinnaker in light wind became very difficult. It was a constant struggle keeping the sail filled while the swells were pushing the boat in a different direction every few seconds (this quickly changes the apparent wind).
At around 1100 on 18 May, I rounded the Spineg cardinal south buoy (near the Quimper area and western region of Bretagne). It was blowing 18-20 kts and I was surfing down waves with my big A2 spinnaker up. After a quick douse of the spinnaker, I rounded the mark and started to head upwind. I spent the next thirty minutes cleaning up the lines, packing the spinnaker in its bag, and removing the Code 0 from the bow sprit. This leg would be 118 nm and the longest leg of the race.
Just an hour after rounding the Spineg buoy, it happened. The autopilot hydraulic arm shot across below deck, causing the tiller to slam hard to starboard and crash jibe Terminal Leave. I could hear the noise of the loud whine from the hydraulic ram. I briefly saw an error message on the NKE multigraphic display. One second, I am sailing upwind in about twenty knots, gently passing over large Bay of Biscay swells that are pushing me from behind. In an instant, the boat is swinging around with the tiller locked hard to one side, and the boom now held in place by the leeward running back stay. From the chaotic initial turn, the situation quickly became peaceful as the boat went into a natural heave to position.
I had heard this sound a few times before, but never since we re-wired all of the electronics two winters ago (prior to shipping the boat to France). My initial instinct was to turn everything off for a reset. When I turned the electronics back on, the autopilot was not connecting to the electronics and there was clearly still an issue somewhere. Since the upper jib battens are pressed onto the mast, heave to is not a great position for the boat.
Quickly jumping below deck to fetch the backup auto pilot, I wanted to start moving towards the next waypoint again. This backup auto pilot is an electrically powered ram that connects in the cockpit above deck, directly onto the tiller. There is an external power socket (which I recently replaced due to corrosion) so the pilot is powered by the boat’s batteries. The benefit (and downside) is this system is simple to get working and does not connect to the NKE electronics. There is an internal compass within the system that it uses to follow a specific heading.
The backup autopilot worked initially, but it seriously struggled in the waves to hold a course. The boat would either be luffing into the wind or 30 degrees below course. Although thankful for the backup autopilot, this was not going to work for the race.
From this moment on, I started to focus on hand steering towards the next waypoint. I was still racing, thinking about my competition, and the next wind shift. There was plenty of day light to think through a way to solve the problem.
Over the next eight hours, I was never able to solve the problem. At this point I assumed there was an issue in the main computer of the autopilot that was beyond my expertise. I shifted my focus from trouble shooting, to racing as fast as possible without an autopilot. This involved trying different techniques such as tying down the tiller and just balancing the boat.
Through this time, I managed multiple sail changes. Throughout this day the wind shifted requiring me to change to the Code 0, then A3 reaching spinnaker, and finally to the A2 running spinnaker. As the evening approached, the wind picked up to a constant 18-20 kts. This is the upper range for this sail and the boat likes to wipe out at 22 kts of wind.
I continued to push the boat with the A2 spinnaker for as long as I could hold it. As the darkness set in (2146 sunset), dark storm clouds began to appear. As they continued to approach, the temperature began to drop, wind speed and direction would fluctuate, and occasional drops of rain would hit the deck.
The spinnaker was still flying, in part because I did not want to slow down, and because sail changes are difficult without an autopilot. Then lightning started to appear.
As I got closer to the dark clouds, the wind continued to increase and rotate. It was now time to drop the spinnaker. I boar off, headed dead down wind and dropped the sail (while trying not to jibe). As I turned back up, the decision was on where to go next.
My primary concern were two areas of these squalls because we could see the lightning breaking through, lighting up the black sky, and striking the water. What made this a greater challenge, however, is these two clouds were moving in different directions….both towards the fleet and where we were going.
At the time, I was on starboard tack paralleling the rhumb line with my main and jib. As one of the farthest west boats, I was experiencing this first. The weather system was moving west to east. One set of lightning and clouds was perpendicular from my direction of movement, meaning if I were to bear off or jibe, I would be at greater risk of being struck by this lightning. The other set of lightning and clouds was a little farther away, but 45 degrees off my starboard bow, going right to left. Essentially, at the time it appeared I was going to be stuck in the middle of these two squalls.
Despite not understanding much on the radio, I could hear my fellow competitors get nervous on the radio as the tone in their voices shifted. I was later told that some were asking what to do if they get hit by lightning. Others were providing recommendations like unhook your batteries or simply pray and keep sailing. Some went below deck, others stayed in the cockpit. The newer sailors were certainly scared as lightning was striking the water in different directions around the fleet. I ended up doing a few jibes as I tried to figure out the direction of these squalls compared to the wind direction. For at least an hour, I was in full survival mode focused on the preservation of the boat and myself. My primary mission at that time was to survive, the race does not matter if we get struck by lightning.
Eventually, the lightning passed, the wind shifted and started to get light. By first light I was exhausted and falling asleep while driving. I had not left the tiller for more than a few moments in about 16 hours at this point. My body needed sleep and I needed to figure out a way to make this happen. There were not many boats within view on my AIS display and I was feeling pretty discouraged about my performance so far in the race.
I connected the backup auto pilot, but it still would not keep the boat on a steady course. Down went the spinnaker and I eased the main sail. By slowing down and reducing the pressure on the sails, the pilot finally was able to hold a steady enough course (still not great though). Since it was just getting light and no ships on AIS, I set my alarm for longer than normal. After 15 minutes of sleeping, I woke up before my alarm, surprisingly refreshed, energized, and ready to get back in the race. It was probably the adrenaline and caffeine, but I just could not sleep any longer, I wanted to pass some boats.
At over 80 nm west of Île de Ré (an island next to La Rochelle), I jibed for a perfect port tack layline with the spinnaker. As more boats started to appear on my AIS display (VHF range so about 10-12 nm), I knew I was still in the race and my spirits rose a bit.
At this point, I still had yet to hit my low point in the race. Keep an eye out for Part 3 of this race recap coming out soon. There is more lightning, intense currents, and pure exhaustion ahead.
Are you enjoying these blog posts? Make sure to send them to your family and friends! Sign up here!
Want to support my mission to race in the Mini Transat to raise awareness for U.S. Patriot Sailing? Please donate through my GoFundMe page: https://gofund.me/dc565273
Thank you for donating, without your support this racing is not possible!
Thank you to my sponsors and supporters for making this possible!
