Bay Area Sailors Contribute to ‘Translated 9’s Ocean Globe Race Success
The Italian-based Swan 65 Translated 9, sister ship to the sailboat Translated 9 currently docked in Sausalito, has completed the second leg of the Ocean Globe Race with a triumphant finish in Auckland, New Zealand. Among the crew was Sunnyvale sailor Paul Marshall, who had joined the crew in Cape Town and crossed paths with his wife Teresa Marshall, who had crewed on leg one from Southampton, UK, to South Africa.
We were able to reach Teresa Marshall, who told us Paul was still in “arrival mode” when she spoke with him, but that he still managed share some thoughts after completing the 36-day, 7,500-mile race across the Southern Ocean.
“It was probably one of the most physically challenging things I’ve ever done because it’s so relentless,” Paul said. “It’s like being inside the washing machine 24/7 for 36 days. You adapt physically and mentally after a few days, but it’s still hard sometimes to drag yourself out of your berth at 2:00 a.m. and put on your wet foulies to do another six-hour watch.”
Teresa can relate to Paul’s comments, as she had her own “adaptations” to deal with during her leg of the 27,000-mile race. She was aboard for 40 days, and sailed 7,919 miles.
“We had long stretches of warm weather in between the cold and clammy days and nights,” Teresa said. “What stands out, even now with some distance, is how quickly it became a mental game and how that changes your perspective. Forty days is long. While the days get blurred, periods stand out — the rainy start, the calm concentration of beautiful downwind runs, the heat in the doldrums, the relentless upwind stretches and finally arriving in Cape Town in 40+ knots.”
Teresa and Paul are among dozens of non-professional sailors who make up the crews for the Ocean Globe Race, which is described on the website as an “eight-month adventure around the world for ordinary sailors on normal yachts.” Computers, satellites, GPS, and other high-tech materials are not allowed; only “sextants, team spirit and raw determination.”
Translated 9 shared a press release in which they say the combination of the leg two win and the previous leg one results means the boat is currently placed at the top of the leaderboard in IRC, remains competitive in Line Honors, and maintains its dominance in the Flyer Class.
You can learn more about the Ocean Globe Race and the boats competing here (including the Whitbread-famous yacht, Maiden), and keep up with the race results and live tracker here.
All I Want for Christmas …
Since today is the deadline for the January classifieds, we thought we’d check in to see what’s new. We picked out two things of interest — one a house in which you could put a Christmas tree, and the other a boat that could almost fit under a Christmas tree. If you have boats or items you want to add to the gift list, the deadline to be included in the January classifieds is 5:00 p.m. today.
This townhome neighboring the Richmond Yacht Club at 1314 Mallard Dr. is for sale for $1,395,000. You can learn more here.
Alternatively, instead of buying a townhome for Christmas, you could look at a sweet 14-ft Whitehall rowing dinghy for $6500.
There are many more great-fit ideas that will keep you sailing through 2024 on the Bay and beyond in our Classy Classifieds.
Beneteau Holiday Sales Event At Naos
Still looking for a gift? Don’t miss this exceptional offer, we’ll help you find your Dream Boat. Contact the team at Naos Yachts for more information.
The Sinking of ‘Boat Bum Gal,’ and a Comment From the Captain
During the recent Baja Ha-Ha Cruiser’s Rally to Mexico, a boat sank after hitting rocks on its way into Turtle Bay. In the December issue of Latitude 38, we shared the story as told by Schelleen Rathkopf, producer and owner of Race Week Anacortes. We also published a comment that the boat’s captain, Ray McCormack, had shared on social media soon after the incident. The story begins:
“If we hit an iceberg,” joked Sandra Barnes when referring to her Nicholson 38 sailboat Boat Bum Gal, “it’s the iceberg that is going down!” Seemingly indestructible, the Nic 38 is a heavy masthead sloop designed by John Alden with a two-inch-thick fiberglass hull that boasts an excellent righting capability if capsized. But when the fateful day came to put her iceberg theory to the test, it was Boat Bum Gal that lost, and Barnes had no choice but to watch her slip under the surface of the sea.
It was November 3, and Barnes and her crew of three were nearing the end of Leg 1 of the Baja Ha-Ha cruiser’s rally from San Diego to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Boat Bum Gal was Sandra’s home. She was using the popular cruising rally as a gateway to her move to La Paz, Mexico, where she planned to live after the Ha-Ha, which takes around two weeks to complete. It was around 1 a.m., and Ray McCormack, a USCG-certified 200-ton captain from Vancouver, Washington, was at the helm.
Despite warnings, McCormack approached Turtle Bay near the rocky coastline, and it came as no surprise to many that Boat Bum Gal ended up on the rocks. According to Barnes, she hit the rocks four times before coming to a dead stop. The sound of her impact was excruciatingly loud from inside the cabin, where Barnes was just coming out of the head. Chaos ensued on board as McCormack reportedly shouted profanities and yelled orders at the third crew member, Bryan Hall.
Just minutes following the fourth impact, the cupboards in the galley imploded, and the water started pouring in. Barnes, who was barefoot at the time, remembers frantically looking for her shoes while she watched in horror as gear, food, and galley supplies began floating all around her as the cabin took on water. Due to back and neck injuries that required surgery a few years back, Barnes suffers with severe joint issues, and knew that if she was going to be doing any walking on the rocks, or anywhere, for that matter, she needed to be wearing shoes.
Things got real as Barnes overheard Hall make a mayday call on the radio. She remembered thinking how surprising it was that her crew wasn’t giving her any instructions at all. Despite having a six-person survival raft on board, McCormack asked Hall to lower the dinghy, which required a 4-hp motor stored in the aft cabin.
Please continue reading at Latitude38.com.
I Have Arrived! — A Tequila Sunrise in Baja California
A Petaluma sailor who writes under the name Whye Waite was looking back over his archives when he came across a story he wrote after the 2019 Baja Ha-Ha. The memory brought back the bliss and the fun of sailing in Mexico aboard his Nauticat 43.
One by one, we awoke from our tequila-laced slumber and made our way to the aft deck of Tally Ho. It had been a long two-day sail from Turtle Bay, and last night’s uninterrupted sleep was glorious. Becoming one with the serene stillness around us came effortlessly. The view was stunning; before us lay miles of untrodden beach and the surrounding barren hillsides of Bahia Santa Maria, Baja California, Mexico.
Arriving at midnight rewarded us with this early morning gift-wrapped surprise. Sipping piping-hot French press coffee from familiar mugs, we sat in silence, gazing as the tumbling waves ended their journey softly on the warm auburn sand. A lone gray-and-white dolphin swam by, unaware of our presence, its breath punctuating the morning stillness.
George glanced my way and softly said, “I have arrived.”
I smiled, lifting my mug as a toast to this magical moment. Amber, Lorraine, Gena, and Tim raised cups and nodded their silent approval. I absorbed the moment like a well-worn dish sponge. Our plan for the day was simple. Relax.
After a leisurely lunch, we decided to hail a water taxi using the VHF radio and join the other sailors on the beach. This two-day rest stop for the Baja Ha-Ha cruising rally from San Diego, California, has become well known for the rock ‘n’ roll music performed by a band that drives 100 miles across the desert, playing only for tips.
“¡Aqui, Amigo!” I pointed to an area beside Tally Ho where we could quickly jump into the approaching water taxi. The driver nodded and maneuvered alongside.
“Last one in pays,” I joked, trying to hurry our departure to shore, the 20-ft-long blue fiberglass boat bobbing precariously close to our anchored sailboat.
One by one, we made our way down the narrow boarding ladder into the swinging panga, offering our greetings to the friendly driver and his helpful assistant.
“La playa, por favor,” Tim said in his best Spanish accent.
I could feel the faint remains of my everyday reality sink into the feathery sand as I jumped from the panga.
“Oh, my God, this is heaven,” Gena exclaimed, her smile from ear to ear.
George, stepping from the panga with sandals in hand, wiped a salty tear from his cheek and said, “Victor, I now know what you meant when you tried to explain this to me.”
“I’m glad. I had a hard time putting it into words from last year’s trip,” I explained.
Everyone was at peace — five gracious people without a care in the world.
We slowly strolled along the vacant 10-mile strip of golden sand, plucking saucer-sized sand dollars and admiring stones finely polished from years of tumbling. We spoke of nature, the sea, the direction of the wind. We did not talk about our work lives or troubles at home. We were at peace.
We retraced our steps and crossed the warm, hip-deep water, making our way to the bluff holding the makeshift tent housing the band and sandy dance floor.
Each year, the same Mexican family converts one of the outbuildings into a makeshift dining hall, where the visiting fleet enjoys a fresh-from-the-sea meal of grilled mahi mahi, salsa salad, and homemade tortillas. The ice-filled converted freezer holds an endless supply of the best two-dollar beers I’ve ever tasted.
The surreal sight of a rock ‘n’ roll band atop a sand-swept bluff with steep, scrub-brush-covered hills as a backdrop, and the great blue Pacific Ocean in the foreground dazzled us. We danced with abandon, not caring, not judging, just dancing like happy children. Throughout the set, the band would invite would-be singers to join in. Amber nudged me toward the stage, and with three cold Modelos under my belt, I swaggered into the limelight.
The band asked what song I’d like to sing. I suggested they play a blues progression of E, A, and D chords, and I would make up words as the song progressed. They glared at me with mixed emotion, knowing I would fail miserably, as most do. I assured them I knew what I was doing, giving the drummer timed snaps of my fingers to start the song.
Endless sailing words flooded my brain, soon flowing from my lips, through the microphone and out of the speakers to the anxious crowd’s joy. I glanced at Vinny, the lead guitarist, and winked. He smiled — now knowing this wasn’t my first time on stage. The cheering crowd of sailors was also shedding the stress of daily life, as we had earlier. They happily joined in singing, with carefree smiles painted on every face.
I have arrived. Life is for moments like this.
Surprise the Sailors in Your Life With a Gift from the Latitude 38 Holiday Gift Guide
