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Day three was marked with very low winds and sloooow sailing. One 4 hour shift was only able to attain 9.6 nm over ground a mere 2.4 nm per hour average. Much use of the “wind seeker” sail was in order, a lifesaver at times like these. The real difficulty in these conditions is maintaining focus, remembering we are racing and chasing every puff, hour after hour.
 
The noise below deck is very loud at times like these too. The back and forth banging of the boom as it flogs itself from the mast swaying side to side as we roll in the waves causes loud reverberations through the deck and hull, a noise magnified in the cavity of the comfort area below. The constant walking on the topside and the dragging of tethers across the deck, the sharp “whack” of a Tylaska shakle against the fibreglass or a metal part of the boat, the reverberating “twang” sound from a tensioning shroud, the “thug, thug, thug” of a sheet eased off a winch, or the ratcheting “clack, clack, clack” of a winch winding up pressure. Even the constant talking of the crew as we struggle to find an answer is heard by everyone above and below decks. Sleeping or awake the sounds continue. We soon learn what is important to pay attention to and what isn’t. When sleep is lacking it is amazing what can be tolerated when the body needs rest.
 
Everyone is eating better today having recovered from the difficulties of yesterdays rolling seas. The food has been amazing, a big “Thank You” to Marie for all the provisioning and planning. Some on-board improvising by Brian saw us eating egg and sausage english muffins with fried mashed potato hash. Almost like McDonalds, but better, wayyyy better! We’re making our way through the fresh fruit and produce trying our best to not let anything go to waste. Unfortunately yesterday’s difficulties resulted in some wasted calories, not intentional mind you, just a result of the conditions and conditioning.  No one is hurting today though, our energy is back up, everyone is well rested and eager to tackle the duties of the day.
 
There has been a new challenge put forth by the “B” team; “Don’s Downwind Demon’s” to the “A” team; “Mort’s Masterly Mariners”, that of sailing more miles than the other team per shift. To date I am not happy to report but it looks like the “B” team as taken an early lead having clocked in just over 2.1 more miles than the “A” team on the first watch set. However, there is a long way to go and many miles and shifts ahead to enable the “A” team to catch up, so look out “B” team, we’re coming for you!
 
The water is starting to change its colour. It has gone from a dark, cold, uninviting black-blue colour to a deep, rich, sapphire blue that light seems to penetrate deeply. It almost looks like a blue glass. You can see into it deeply and are often caught looking over the side to see if there is anything swimming in its depth. It truly is an amazing experience to have the water change beneath you as you travel along its seemingly endless miles. It’s a much needed boost to the morale after the hard slog of the previous days. It signals to us the progress we are making and that the struggle to meet the challenge is paying off.
 
Hawaii, here we come: The Hawaiian Islands, Ready To Excite Every Nerve!
 
 
Quote of the Day:
Mike to Mort: “Your course is Good”
Mort in response: “I know I’m Good!”

48 TST had a rough day 2, we made good time with winds cycling from lows of 8 to 9 knts to highs of 16 to 18 knts invery confused sea state with good sized waves coming from many directions, sometimes breaking and sometimes not. This made for a rocking and rolling, pitching and pulling ride above and below deck.  Clearly the “top side” was the place to be and management of seasickness a priority. It’s taking some time to work with the motions of the boat, the heat from cooking, the unsteadiness when using the head, the noise and motion while trying to sleep, but morale is high and spirits good. Everyone is settling into the routine and no one is going to let a little queasiness stop them from doing their best and enjoying every minute.
 
We’ve sailed down our chosen route quite well sometimes leading the fleet sometimes trailing. It has been fun checking the position of the others and a little odd to find us all quite clustered together for such a long time. The nighttime sailing has been exciting with all the other sailboats relatively close together and their lights easily seen around the horizon. With no stars to speak of due to heavy cloud cover the surrounding boat lights provide comfort like distant neighbours with their porch lights on.
 
Sail choice has been challenging in these conditions. We are still head to wind beating into the seas but with the challenging sea state and up and down winds it has been hard to decide when to change sails. Sometime we have light winds so the #1 is the choice, which only lasts till the winds cycle up to 14 or 15 when the #2 is the better choice. Then we’ll find the wind shifting a bit and dropping back down to 8 to 10 where the A-sail would work well, so we wait for the conditions to stabilize just to find the wind shift back towards the front so the #1 is back in order, so up it goes. Back and forth our “dance of the deck sails” continues, hour after hour.  All three sails reside up on the deck at the moment, the #1, #2 and the A-sail. Although the #1 has been our primary sail, the others are ready at a moment’s notice.
 
Dave has had the best ride of the trip so far having been on the bow working on a sail change when his watch captain, Don, missed riding down a rather large wave and instead launched us up over its top then buried the bow in the following trough with a loud Bang. Dave was framed on both sides with walls of water, a good deal of which drained down inside his foulies as gravity restored order and brought the water, and Dave back down to earth and the deck. Soaked clean through there was never a complaint from Dave, instead his comment was “That was refreshing!”.
 
And so it goes with TST. Everyone pulling their weight, all pulling together, managing their personal needs and those the boat and crew, acutely aware of the task at hand and the task ahead. It was a challenging day but very rewarding.  As Don stated: The Heros In Racing Take Every Event Normally
 
 
Quote of the day:
 
“Guys... are you talking or are you Doing?”

24 Hours that is, day one in the bank and TST (Team String Theory) is doing well.
After a busy day of provisioning and attending to final details, one of which was to replace crew member Paul, due to an unfortunate visa issue with US Customs. Paul was replaced by Brian, who was to be on the return trip bringing String Theory back from Hawaii, and this opportunity was too good for him to pass up. We welcome Brian but are sad to lose Paul who we were really looking forward to sailing with, maybe next time. Cheers Paul.
 
There was great excitement on the docks and with the crew as we prepared to cast off and head to the start line. We said our final goodbyes and released the lines while waving to our loved ones. Many came out on String Theory’s support boat to watch the start.
 
The weather was looking good for quick start and it didn’t disappoint. A quick crew meeting to assign start positions and procedures then we worked the boat up to the line. With Don at the helm we positioned along side the line counting down the seconds. But the hope for a quick start soon faded as the wind dropped before the start gun and we sat on the line trying in vain to get across. Eventually our sails filled and we crossed the line and were off.
 
Once the wind picked up it was a quick passage through Race Rocks and a race down the strait with a speed that would be the envy of any Swiftsure racer. On the way down the strait we had a little excitement as we sailed into a fog bank, which caused us to change to our #2 headsail and then to the #3 headsail very shortly thereafter. After a few rigging adjustments and some other kinks worked out we were on our way at a good clip. We reached the vicinity of Neah Bay around 7:30 PST, and continued on to turn the corner into the Pacific Ocean. A few humpback whale blowspouts were sighted near Tatoosh Island.
 
Twelve hours in. Rounding Tatoosh. Everyone excited now!
 
The evening was satisfying sailing with just a few light spots that the drifter and Code 0 sails took us through. Everyone was very satisfied with our first meal – Marie’s delicious homemade chili. Not a bad way to start the voyage! There were no stars but the phosphorescence were very bright, with the wakes off of the stern very mesmerizing. At one point a crew member noticed three lit up “torpedoes” alongside the boat....dolphins! They were playing alongside and underneath the boat and you could see the entire outline of them underneath the water from the luminescence.
 
Onward south and merging west. Still sailing upwind at the end of the 24 hour mark, but spirits are high as we making good way to Maui!

Blog #6 - Aug 9th

Riding the waves

Clear skies, tropical weather, turquoise blue water, dolphins and Mahi Mahis are all behind us now. We now have 550 NM to go. With that we entered a more northerly latitude and ride in front of a low pressure system towards to coast of Canada. Instead of stars at night, dark clouds are our companions. Strong winds push String Theory relentlessly forward. The stronger winds kicked up the sea to an average wave higth of six to eight feet sometimes approaching 10 feet.

During our best watch we averaged 10 kts of speed with master driver Ronald pushing the boat down a wave at 15.5 kts - currently the record on this voyage. Surfing down the waves is exhilarating. The stern lifts slightly in the approaching sea while the bow dips lower and lower and all of a sudden the helm becomes very light and the boat drives down the front of the wave accelerating more and more until the wave overtakes the boat and we drop into the trough behind the passing wave.

Inside the boat the ride feels much less comfortable. Like an untamed horse, String Theory bucks with every wave, rolling from one side only to jerk back to the other side the next second. Simple tasks like pouring a mug of hot chocolate become a delicate balancing act. The crew has to avoid being thrown from on end of the boat to the other with a pot of boiling hot water to follow them. Coming off watch we drop in our bunks immediately despite the constant rocking of the boat. Driving a boat at night in a following sea is tiring at the best of times.

By now we all have grown our sea legs and settled into our simple routine of: Sailing, eating and sleeping. It's quite remarkable to note how the novice crew developed their sailing skills over the last 10 days. The first few nights the boat was often ahead the person at the helm. Now everybody is fully in command and steers the boat like they have been doing this for years.

It looks like one more day of formidable sailing, before the high will push up from the south, squeezing out the southerly winds we currently enjoy. Until then, we keep riding the waves.

Aloha from String Theory.

Blog #5 - Aug 6th

Dolphins visiting us

Just I as I was reading about Family Affair sighting three whales I heard shouts from above deck: "Dolphins, dolphins". Up I run, donning a life vest on the way, camera ready and there they were: Darting through the waters like arrows chasing String Theory were dozens of Dolphins. They launched themselves into the air with ease then dove under the boat and headed for the bow wave jockeying for the best position. At times over twenty dolphins swam right in front of our bow, dancing a ballet, three, four five dolphins jumping in perfect unison, arching graciously through the air before splashing back into the indigo blue water.

Looking over the to the port side, John spotted dozens more dolphins, heading straight for us,some jumping three, four feet into the air. For a moment they seemed to be suspended above the glassy water, their silver bodies glittering in the dim sun light, before slicing back back into the water.

The spectacle lasted for maybe 15 to 20 minutes before we left them in our wake. Brad noticed that they swam in big circles, behind us, wondering whether we sailed through their feeding grounds where they chased their prey.

It was our off watch time, but I was too excited to go back to sleep. Never have I been surrounded by what may have been a hundred dolphins, jumping all around us, following alongside the boat and diving through our bow wave.

Instead of crawling back into to my bunk I baked some fresh bread, then read a few more pages in the latest Dan Brown novel before finally catching maybe half an our of sleep before getting up on deck again.

Aloha from String Theory.

Blog #4 - Aug 5th

Half Way - 1,162 miles from Maui

Yesterday marked an interesting point in our journey: We were 1,100 nautical miles, or more than 2,000 kilometers from any point of land. In fact the closest point of land was straight down, some 5,000 meters to the seabed. There are not many points on earth where one can be farther away from land. Point Nemo in the South Pacific, the point farthest from land on earth, is only a little bit more isolated than that.

The day started well with a comfortable temperatures and a moderate breeze. After a morning coffee and a hearty breakfast we hoisted the spinnaker and made good progress on our course to Vancouver. However, Neptun had different plans and after three hours we had to replac the colorful sail with the iron spinnaker and continued our journey under engine.

Later in the morning a big squall chasef down String Theory and we raised the sails in anticipation of some stronger wind. Slowly the black cloud mass moved over our boat and then it was like heaven opened its gates: A deluge of water, so heavy we could barely see a hundred meters drenched us all. Heavy rain drops splashed into the sea, turning its color from royal blue to grey. The water running off our mainsail would have filled all our tanks in minutes. Not wanting to waste it completely I took a shower, shampooed and washed my hair under the torrent of water running off of a fold in the sail. The water was lukewarm and it felt good standing in the cockpit, being hosed down by fresh water.

Later in the day the sky cleared up, the sun poked through and we dried our soaked cloths and shoes.

John and Marie prepared a gourmet dinner to celebrate half way point: Lamb roast, potatoes, vegetables, red wine and fresh baked brownies for desert. A heavenly meal. We all congregated in the cockpit, listened to the Eagles, watched the sun disappearing behind a curtain of clouds before splitting again into our respective watches.

As we settle in for the night, the engine is humming happily. Looking at the weather charts we start to think about our fuel reserve though. The next Esso station is about a thousand miles away and we simply wont get there without some help by mother nature. It appears that we are perhaps too far east and possibly a more northerly route early on would have kept us in stronger winds. The distance to be sailed would have been considerable more though, so who knows. For know we hope for the low pressure system northwest of us to squeeze the high south and east and giving us a much hoped push to fill String Theories sails once again.

Aloha from String Theory.

The elusive wind

Today was another light wind day. The sun was scorching the deck of String Theory. Early in the morning we fashioned a small boom tent, creating much sought after shade in the cockpit. The Pacific Ocean truly lived up to its name. A gentle swell lifted the boat up and down in a constant rhythm. Ever so optimistic we left the main sail up. If nothing else it produced some shade especially late in the afternoon when the sun was lower on the horizon.

John's tenacity at the fishing rod was rewarded with two Mahi Mahis, one being over 20 lbs. Having defrosted chicken for dinner already, the fish was nicely fileted by our doctor Riaan (who takes such joy in this new task, he is considering a career change). The filets are now in the freezer, while the crew is debating how to best prepare them for tomorrow's dinner.

Sitting on deck during happy hour, gin tonic in hand, we were privileged to be in the front row to watch a spectacular sunset. As the sun disappeared behind three towers of cumulus clouds, the sea underneath glowed like lava, setting the ocean on fire. Words can hardly describe it, a picture does not do it justice. We will carry the glow of the ocean in our memories. It's these moments that wants us to come back to the ocean again and again.

Fish on - Sashimi on the high seas.
The first two days we sailed in moderate to strong winds, the boat crashing through waves drenching everybody aboard with salt water. It took most of us a few days to grow our sea legs but on day three we all started to get into the rhythm of life at sea.

On day three we also had our first happy hour. Between the afternoon and first night watch we all gathered in the cockpit for appies and a drink. The sun descended on the horizon, at times disappearing between towering cumulus clouds producing red and golden rays of light. It was gorgeous. Saturn and Mars are our trusted companions at night and Venus shows as the way early in the morning. Stargazing is perfect as we are near new moon and no other source of light obstructed the clear few of the sky.

On July 30th we celebrated Riaan's birthday with champagne and Marie's home made brownies. Riaan can't imagine a better way to spend his birthday, although he expressed he wished his family would be there to enjoy it with him.

July 31st was truly amazing. John greeted us with his now famous pan cakes only available at the 5 star restaurant String Theory. Here we are, more than 500 nautical miles north of Maui, enjoying fresh pan cakes with fruit all topped with whipped cream.

Black watch (John, Marie, Nik, Riaan and Dave) decided to try fishing again. The previous day the lost two lures, claiming that they had at least a 40 pound fish on the hook breaking the line. Today however, Riaan pulled a beautiful Mahi Mahi (Dorada) on board which Nik skillfully prepared into delicious sashimi. What a treat.

Red watch (Christof, Lyle, Ronald and Brad) enjoyed a leisurely afternoon sail when John suggested we put up the cruising spinnaker. The wind was ideal and up comes that big, colorful sail and String Theory jumped with joy, plowing through the turquoise water. Smiles all around. All hands on deck for happy hour, the sheets cleated-off, beer in hand, we enjoyed yet another sunset at sea. String Theory was perfectly happy , running due north with her crew lazing on deck for a social get together before splitting yet again into their respective watches (shifts).

Today truly was a day to remember: Champagne sailing, fresh seafood, happy hour followed by a salmon dinner with fresh dill sauce (another Mortimer classic) and colorful sunset.

Aloha from team String Theory.

Over the past few days in particular, probably the most anticipated events on the boat each day were the 06:00 and the 18:00 fleet position updates in relation to String Theory's position (calculated by Gunnar). String Theory has been in a neck and neck race against several other boats for a podium finish, both within its division and overall and each update brings news of either String Theory making gains or losing ground against the other boats.  Regardless of the news, discussion will be had about what went well over the last 12 hours and what should be done differently, if anything, going forward. An underlying tension in each discussion is the age old question all competitors face “Do you push things a little harder or do you change your tactics to be a little more conservative so you don't risk losing what you have?”  The race is so close that we're certainly not in a position to have any major hick-ups; to do so would virtually guarantee we'd lose any chance of a podium finish.

One of the side effects of this discussion has been the increased focus of the crew to make sure that: we're checking the halyards and sheets for signs of chaffing, checking the sail trim more frequently, taking a more active approach to our preparation for approaching squalls, more thought about what sails to use (particularly during the night watches), more focus on driving the boat, more talk and thought about what to do should something go wrong (such as what steps to take to help stop a broach from happening), etc. Not that we were casual or complacent about these things before – we certainly weren't – but unlike before, it is now much easier to comprehend why this constant, focused attention to detail really matters during a 2308 NM race (this is the rumb line distance, actual distance traveled is much longer). Each 06:00 and 18:00 update provides immediate feedback on why these things matter. Even as this is being written, a redoubling of the effort to check that we're doing everything we can to eek every last bit of speed out of the boat is actively underway because we're ~2 hours short of potentially finishing ahead of one competitor and we have only ~100 NM to make-up this time.

At the same time as the 06:00 and 18:00 position updates, Gunnar provides an update on the latest weather forecast and the effect on Hal's estimated time and distance remaining for String Theory to reach the channel that leads to the finish line. Each of these updates brings with it an interesting dichotomy; against all measures team String Theory is on the verge of meeting or exceeding most of the goals and stretch goals we set for ourselves before we started the race, except for one – to complete the race in under 14 days (elapsed time). Each update brings news that the estimated time to finish keeps getting pushed back.  So much so now that the latest time slot available in the team pool (created the evening of the halfway dinner) for the estimated finish time – 8 to 10 hours after Hal's estimated time for entering the channel –  is now at least two hours too optimistic (Hal estimated that we'd be there by 08:34 July 19; instead we were still about 120 NM out at that time).

Fortunately, not completing the race in under 14 days wasn't due to any mistakes on our part. It was entirely due to Mother Nature and what she did (or did not do) with the wind – as evident by the fact that all boats this year are taking longer than usual/expected. It is still a little surprising to some of the crew members who have competed in one or more previous Vic-Maui's that this particular race may turn out to be the one that has taken them the longest yet...  And the later than expected arrival time does come with some extra strong motivation for the crew to make sure everything is done to ensure it doesn't slip anymore – and it is regardless of any motivation we may have to end up with a strong podium finish – it is as simple as we're down to the last roll of toilet paper!

P.S. Day 15 – Land Ho (Even Though We Couldn't Actually See Land)

Figuring the Race to the Finish would be a busy one and that there wouldn't be time to write a blog entry once we landed in Lahaina (which has proven to be the case; so I apologize for this very late entry), I had prepared the blog entry for the end of the race with all but the paragraph describing our “Land Ho” sighting of Maui and Molokai on our way into the finish line. I had the fullest of intention of sending the blog off once that update had been completed so everyone could hear how our last day went as we were experienced it ourselves. But as the saying going, sometimes the best of intentions don't quite work as intended. It has taken until today to find both the time and an internet connection. Rather than rewriting history, I'll update the last blog entry via this P.S.

 It was expected that Top Gun Watch would be the one on duty at the first sighting of the Hawaiian Islands at ~40 NM out. But not surprisingly - with the combination of the heat, the excitement of being in a race to the finish, and the anticipation of being back on dry land where our family and friends were waiting - Black Watch, unable to sleep, was also milling about both below and on deck for the noon to 18:00 watch. While the day started out sunny and reasonably clear with our usual 15 to 20 knot winds, as we progressed towards Maui, the sky grew increasingly overcast. Around the time we figured we should have been able to spot land, ~16:30 or so, the Hawaiian Islands were completed obscured by low lying grey clouds.

The intent was to send out the blog entry with the 17:00 Roll Call but by 17:00 we still couldn't see any sign of the Hawaiian Islands – despite being about ~35 NM out. It was just as well because at that particular moment our internet email service provider decided that it wasn't going to receive or send emails. The sea state and wind had started to pick up a bit as well but we weren't too concerned as we assumed what we were sailing into ahead was just another squall; albeit clearly a larger one then we'd seen thus far (gleefully pointed out by Top Gun Watch as it was expected to hit just as Black Watch was to take over the next watch).

As part of our continued effort to make up the 2 hours needed to finish ahead of one of our competitors, we put up the S3 spinnaker during the watch change to take advantage of the wind shift the squall was causing (we gained a 2 knot speed boost as a result). Also, due to the problem we were experiencing with the email service at watch change, it was more important than usual for us to monitor the single side band SSB radio Roll Call from 18:00 to 18:30. We needed to radio in our update and ETA to the finish line (we're penalized time if we don't make Roll Call and the ETA to the finish line is a mandatory requirement spelled out in the sailing instructions (race rules)). It was during the Roll Call that we heard our first hint of what was to come with an update from Kenetic about a tropical depression that had originated off the Mexican Baha peninsula and was now heading up the east coast of Hawaii.

Don had the first hour at the helm and it was clear by the expression on his face and the way the boat was moving, he was having a blast and we were rocketing along (as Don describes it). The squall had hit by now so it was raining, the sea state had continued to increase and become more confused and the winds had continued to pick up. Tim took over at 19:00 and had pretty much the exact same expression on his face as Don. By this time, we were within 25 NM of the Hawaiian coast (the islands of Maui and Molokai) – and at another mandatory call-in point as part of the sailing instructions – but we still could not see the coast; there was nothing but dark grey clouds in front of us, right down to sea level.

Shortly after Tim took over and after three attempts in a row by both the wind and the waves hitting us just aft of broad side (about the worst angle to be hitting us)  to round us up (i.e. broach), it was clear it was time to switch from the spinnaker to the #3 jib (our smallest foresail). This was a completely necessary move for safety reasons – not to mention for more mundane practical reasons such as the desire to save the spinnaker from shredding and the rig (mast, fore stay, back stay, shrouds, etc.) and the boat itself from damage but disappointing nonetheless because we were really moving at this point; 11 to 13 knots sustained with peaks over 14.

We were pleasantly surprised to see that the sustained boat speed was still about 10 knots (with peaks to 12) given the small size of the foresail, although with winds now peaking about 35 knots perhaps it wasn't that surprising. (I should mention at this point that the apparent wind angle – the wind the boat actually experiences – was only ~15 to 20 knots because of the angle the boat was traveling on with respect to the wind direction so we were well within the capability of the sail). With the sea state up even more, Tim was able to catch the odd surf which provided momentary speed boosts to boot although he was starting to spend more and more of his time working just to keep the boat on course. The large waves hitting us from just aft of broad side were hitting more frequently causing the boat to both try to round up and to heave from side to side. It was also around this time that we'd heard via the VHF radio that one of our competitors ahead of us had been called by the Coast Guard to assist with a dismasting (we assumed that the boat was part of the Pacific Cup race fleet that was crossing our course on their way to Honolulu).

It was dusk by the time the #3 went up and by then we were within ~5 NM from the Hawaiian coast, We still could not see land, just really dark grey clouds (almost black). Even so, shortly thereafter the shout went out – Land Ho – at about 20:15, not because any of us had actually sighted land, but because a light from a navigational aid on the coast of Molokai had been spotted. The visibility was such that we were sailing by compass and chart plotter alone; there wasn't a chance of actually seeing anything of use in front of us; even the light from the navigational aid was just a light glowing in the cloud.

By the time we could see the light on the traffic separation channel marker at the entrance to the Pailolo Channel between Maui and Molokai, we had basically given up on the notion of actually “sighting land”. We could now see the dim glow of city lights on Maui reflecting off of the clouds which would put us at the equivalent distance from “land” as one would be if they were about to sail into English Bay from the Straight of Georgia. The dim lighting from the city lights did provide us with one useful bit of information though - they back-lit a new set of clouds, very black, very low lying, and with a very flat bottom, directly in front of us.

These particular clouds certainly weren't a sign of smoother sailing ahead and, of course, by now we knew we weren’t in a squall but a full blown storm. The clouds ahead signaled that the storm was about to get worse. In addition to the wind, the really confused sea state and the rain, we were also being treated to a lightning show in front of us as we approached the channel (which perhaps should have been unnerving because we were, after all, sitting in a boat with a ~60 ft metal pole sticking up in the air). Time to be proactive and put a reef in the main (or in this case, we decided to go straight to two). However, just to make things interesting, given we were about to enter a channel with reefs on either side and we were now in a sea state with waves so high (~15 ft) and confused that maneuvering the boat head to wind wasn't an option, we set out putting in a double reef in the main with the boom still out as far as it could go on the starboard side (i.e fully powered up).

Excellent teamwork by all carried the day and the main sail reefs went in about as smoothly as they could have, just in time before the worst of the storm hit. And being still in full race mode – now only about 15 NM from the finish line –  it was more important to maintain 9 to10 knots of boat speed than focus on the storm, despite the crazy sea state and continued hits by large waves just aft of beam.  That was, after all, largely Tim’s problem and he wasn’t complaining (although none of us asked if he was just too busy to complain as he swung the helm from one side to the other side and back again, but that’s a minor detail (ok, I’m kidding, we did ask multiple times but each time it was a simple “I’m ok” or “I’m good”).

As we passed through the storm and into the channel the sea state calmed down almost immediately, the rain stopped, and the wind died down. At this point we could clearly (finally) see the lights, buildings, and even car headlights on eastern shores of Maui. Boat speed was still about 7 to 8 knots; still quite fast given the small sail area we had up but the comments made by more than one of us was that after days of 9 to 10 knot speed on average and 10s to 14s for the last few hours it seemed really slow (in English Bay, you'd be really happy with 7 to 8 knots of speed with a full main and your largest genoa).

The wind continued to drop to the point that we were getting concerned. With a double reef in the main and only a #3 headsail up, there wasn't a lot of sail area to catch the rapidly dying wind. However, the storm was still clearly visible behind us – lightening and all – and the risk was we'd shake out the reefs just in time for the storm to catch back up to us. With boat and wind speed still dropping as we continued deeper into the channel and with the finish line only about 3 NM away (about 40 minutes away at the speed we were presently going at) it was clear that the storm was likely staying put at the entrance to the channel.

The mail sail reefs came out just in time for the wind to continue to drop. Boat speed was still about 5 to 6 knots, but now it felt like we were ghosting along as the wind was light (or more specifically felt light because it was coming almost from behind us) and the sea was basically flat. This particular situation, one of the wind appearing to be about to die to nothing and being within sight of the finish line, brought up memories of 2012 Vic Maui race for those crew members on Team String Theory who were in that race and were stuck for over 3 hours at this very point; often moving backwards because there wasn't enough wind for the boat to overcome the opposing current. Not a pleasant thought and not a moment anyone wanted to relive.

Fortunately, as we were making moves to put the genoa back up, the wind picked up a little – really more a series of light puffs – just enough to keep the boat moving at anywhere from 4 to 8 knots and across the finish line at 22:15:44 HST. What a way to end the race, both with the last few hours having the strongest winds and worst sea state we saw the whole trip and with us basically ghosting across the finish line not more than an hour after passing through the storm. What a memorable and dramatic finish to a fantastic two weeks of racing with Team String Theory!

And just when you think there couldn’t be more to the story, Team String Theory was treated to an absolutely amazing reception at dock side by our Lahaina greeting party. The lays we and the boat were adorned with were beautiful, and there was an absolutely huge selection of home cooked food at the party: BBQ ribs, pulled pork, spaghetti with Italian sausage sauce, boiled eggs cut in half complete with a toothpick mainsail with String Theory printed on the sail, and I could go on – three table’s worth of food and drinks to choose from actually – all of it fantastic (boy did we wish had skipped our dinner earlier and brought more of an appetite then we did). The String Theory welcome poster was a particularly special touch as it was hand painted and quite beautiful. Team String Theory would like to send out a special thank you to our greeting party. Such a wonderful welcome, complete with all of the personal touches, made a memorable race just all that more memorable and special.

Of course, by now you've probably heard through the Vic Maui website blog or from friends or family that the “squall” we passed through was actually tropical depression Wally. Our competitor, who we thought was heading out to help a dismasted boat, was actually the boat that had been dismasted. To their credit not only did everyone on their boat escape without injury; they were able to jury-rig a sail and enter port under their own power, crossing the finish line at a respectable 4.5 knots or so, taking line honours for second division. Fantastic seamanship on their part given they only had a third of their mast left. And from reports we heard the following day from boats still competing, we figure we made it into the channel before the worst of the storm actually hit. One boat saw wind gusts up to 60 knots at the top of the mast; we only saw 42 knots. Another boat reported that it blew out its mainsail. And at one point they were also surrounded 360 degrees by lightning strikes and even had a corona discharge occur on the boat (basically one level below being hit by lightning). Quite the storm!

What is important to record in this blog is that there are two people Team String Theory owes a tremendous debt of gratitude to: John (Mort) and Marie.  John and Marie are why Team String Theory exists and a huge component of why Team String Theory has exceeded the goals it set for itself. While it took a team effort to sail String Theory from Victoria to Maui, without John and Marie first providing a competitive boat for us to sail (String Theory herself), the 1000s of combined hours John and Marie spent: preparing her for the race (proactive maintenance, modifications, upgrades, additions, participating in various race committee inspections), working out the cabin logistics and its organization for 9 people, provisions for 18 days (again, we're all quite sure we're been the best fed crew in the Vic-Maui race), and all of the other planning, logistics, blood, sweat, stress and tears that goes with preparing a boat and putting a race team together for a 15 day race across the Pacific, we would have never even made it off of the dock.  Please accept a heartfelt thank you from all of the Team String Theory crew members for all that you've both done for us.

And on a more personal note, Mort has been heard multiple times on this trip saying that one of the key motivations behind all of the effort he has put into making this race happen for Team String Theory (including providing String Theory herself) is simply so that he can share the experience with the good company of others; otherwise what's the point?  Well, without hesitation, I can say that all of the members of Team String Theory consider themselves very fortunate to have been able to spend the last two weeks as Mort's crew (company); we couldn't have had a better Skipper (and host) at the helm of Team String Theory.

Signed: Before Attempting New Activities Nay Adventures Bring Real Energy And Determination

P.P.S. – The signatures at the end of each blog entry are an anagram of “Banana Bread.” This is a play on a PACE (Plan, Assess, Communicate, Execute) anagram label maker sign that was made up and stuck to the bulkhead over top of the door to the forward state room the day before we left Victoria. By accident, when Marie went to make the PACE label, she hit print instead of clear which caused the last thing in the print queue to print: “Banana Bread.” We didn't feel this label should be wasted so we stuck it up over top of the door to the aft head and challenged the crew to come up with inspiring Banana Bread anagrams. As this blog is a team blog with contributions made by all team members, the various Banana Bread anagrams the team came up with seemed like a natural choice for signing off each blog entry.