Subject: It's a wrap.
Date: Wed, 20 Jul 2011 13:53:38 -0700


We were hauling ass on that last day. A few hours after going up the mast, Will spotted Moloka’i to port and we ranged in on the lighthouse on the northern tip of the island. 
 
About 20 miles out, we passed a ribbon of blood red water. It was about 4 feet wide and 2 feet from our port side. It took a few seconds to register, but I started calling “Shark Attack”. After 1 boatlength of red water, I looked down in disbelief as I saw a 10 ft shark speed by us, then another boatlenth of red water and it was gone. Later, Will estimated that we had missed the actual attack by only 30 seconds. 
 
Soon after, we saw another spinnaker, our first boat sighting since the start, and a few minutes after that, Hula Girl passed in front of us with a double reefed main and a small jib and under emergency rudder after their quadrant fell apart. 
 
We decided to Jibe above the other boats line for our final approach to Diamond head on bearing 260, and mid jibe, the tackline blew and we lost control of the kite which eventually wrapped around the halyards we had up forward to secure the mast. After the bow was cleared, we hoisted the 3A, but it felt terribly underpowered except in the gusts. Always looking to go faster, we decided to go back up with the 2A, but in the middle of the peel, we lost control of both kites because the tack was spiked early and we didn’t have a retrieving line for the 3A yet. A small, but costly error that took us nearly an hour to sort out as we had a double wrapped kite situation up on the foredeck. 
 
What next? By this point, we were ranging nearly dead downwind and heading straight for the finish under main alone and still hitting 9 knots and surfing the larger waves.  At one point, we had 5 guys on the bow, and with that much weight forward, we submerged the bow in the trough of a wave and briefly buried the guys up there under a wave of white water.  So we decided to go up with the S4. The S4 is a symmetrical kite that we hadn’t used much until now, and when that thing popped open, the boat surged forward and we went from 9 knots average boatspeed, to over 14 average. 
 
During the fiasco, Hula Girl and the other boat walked away from us, but with our new found power, we quickly made our time back up, catching one wave after another, with wind gusts to 28 knots, everyone hiked as far aft and on the rail as possible and the entire front half of the boat completely out of the water as we sped forward and we could see Coco Head in front of us and diamond head laid a few scant miles behind it. It was sunset, and darkness was quickly setting in and we were in for a wild ride to the finish.
 
It was pitch black and we couldn’t see shit. The moon wouldn’t come up for at least another hour and a half and we were halfway across the channel. We passed Hula Girl and radioed them to make sure they were OK.  The other boat soaked low, and we decided to hold a higher course to the finish and we were passing them too. Other than the roar of the water going by and the hum of the boat (the boat hums at high speed, a low mournfull hum at 9 knots, and a high pitch hum after 14) everything was deathly quiet on board. No one else wanted to take the helm and I was driving and then the wave came. 
 
This thing was a monster. There’s no way to estimate it’s size, but we were on a 50 ft boat at a 45 degree incline staring down into the trough ahead of us. There was at least 20ft ahead of us before we hit bottom, and another 20 behind us to the crest, this thing was swallowing us for a midnight snack.  We had been doing 14 knots, but the boat slowed down as the water sucked us up the face of the wave where we wavered and paused for a brief second, everything quiet, no roar of water, no one making a sound, just a calm, scary quiet before gravity took over and we started plunging down into the pitch black of the trough. Later, Jasper would recall that he thought we were all dead. That we were going to endo the boat (flip it over, by stuffing the bow down so deep, that it wouldn’t come up)
 
The speedo started climbing, Michele started calling it. 14 Knots, 16.2, 18, 20.2 knots! A new boatspeed record. In the three years I’ve been with the Deception program, it had never been that high, and that was boatspeed, not speed over ground, which was usually much higher. The bow buried into the trough and the mast loaded up, we felt the boat flex underneath us, and then, the bow surfaced and we rocketed forward, skipping over waves so fast that the guys on the rail had their butts bounced off the deck from where they were sitting. At one point, with both hands on the wheel, I was bounced into the air, both feet hovering inches above the deck from the sudden jolt. Just amazing. I have close to 30 thousand ocean miles under my belt, and I have never experienced anything like it.
 
Then the wind shifted and strengthened. With gusts to 28 knots and more abeam, I was in a constant battle to not lose the boat and still make our bearing. Without a forestay, we absolutely had to make the finish line under a kite. The end of the boom was dragging in the water, main flogging, vang completely blown. Van Selst constantly asking me “Do you have it” and each time right before I was sure we were going to wipe out, the rudder would hold, and I was able to regain control. It was a constant battle and my arms felt like they couldn’t take it anymore. My right shoulder was killing me, my left might as well had not existed anymore. And then finally, we made it close to Makapuu and Coco Head and the wind veered aft and we were safe(er). 
 
Still holding speeds of above 14 knots, we raced to the finish. Bill radio’d our Makapuu position and updated ETA, but then thought he should quickly revise it because we were moving about 4 knots faster than he had used for his calculations. The lights of Kohala were in site, and looked like electrical flows of lava coming down the valleys and to the sea. We raced past Coco head and finally the Diamond head lighthouse and the blinking red bouy marking our finish came into view with the city lights of Honolulu unfolding behind it.
 
Bill and Will took the helm and the wind piped up with calmer seas giving them a great finish with plenty of speed. We doused our kite, flaked the main and found Katy, our guide boat to take us safely into the Ala Wai channel (there are reef breaks on both sides). 
 
We tied up to the dock and race inspectors met us to inventory and make sure we had everyone onboard and that we had the requisite safety equipment. We all had to attest that we met and followed the rules of the race and pass the agriculture test which was not a problem since we had eaten just about everything on the boat except our emergency food.
 
And then our fan club was waiting, mai tai’s in hand, hot towels to clean up with before giving them hugs, orchid and Ti leaf leis. After a brief chat, we went to the Waikiki club where there was quite a party put on for us. Deception banners, a spread of food, and a personal bartender. Word on the street was that we had one of the best parties of all the entrants and it showed as it was well attended even though it was near midnight. 
 
Exhausted, food gone, drinks drunk, we meandered the few blocks to the hotel to get some shut-eye. Still on watch schedule, there were more than a few of us that only slept 4 hours and couldn’t get back to sleep. Breakfast was wonderful, showers more so. 
 
In the end, we hung onto our 2nd in division and moved up 3 places in fleet to 11th. Even with our fubars off of Moloka’I, we continued to make gains in our division and fleet. Horizon had better be watching over their shoulders as we more than halved our delta with them from last year and finished just 4 hours behind them on corrected time.  We know where to make our improvements, and they are beatable.  
 
Yesterday we scrubbed the boat and started turning it around for the delvery crew to take back to San Francisco. It’s going to take a few days to get all the parts and fix everything that needs fixing, but we had much less carnage this year than last, and it’s going much quicker. 
 
We would also like to thank some important folks that made this such a great experience. 
 
Tiki’s Bar and Grill on Waikiki: They put on a great party for us at the dock and the aloha welcome couldn’t have been better. We ate their last night and I can attest that the Scallops, Butterfish, Aloha Plate and the 1944 Mai Tai’s are phenominal. You should pay them a visit if you’re in town – they’re at the end of the strip, near the Honolulu Zoo.
 
Giles Combruson: He’s our rigger in SF and he and his team at bay marine did so much to get the boat ready for this race, including getting rid of the old corroded toe rails, new sheets, guys, you name it, and he did it fast with a wry sense of humor.
 
And last but certainly not least, Seadon Wijsen: He’s our North Sails rep in Sausalito – I can’t say how many phone calls we had about routing and sail selection prior to the race, and when we blew up our 2A in the coastal cup, he and his team at the loft made sure it was fixed and ready to go before the race. 
 
Team Deception, Fuck Yeah!
 
-Peter Shumar | Navigator | Deception