Gulfport to Pensacola 2001 – Blow by Blow
The Delivery
For a change, I was looking forward to just stepping on a boat with a 12 pack of my favorite
beverage, a change of clothes and a feeling of ease since I didn’t have to worry about putting a campaign
together for the 53rd annual Gulfport to Pensacola Race. Crewing aboard Ragamuffin, a 50 foot air
conditioned Gulfstar ketch, sounded like a great time while allowing me to keep Sovereign behind the
condo for much needed repairs. Beverly was also looking forward to meeting me in Pensacola after the
race and enjoying a well deserved break from her routine at the club. But it was not meant to be.
Wednesday morning before the Friday start Richard Harris, owner of Ragamuffin, informed me that he had
to cancel since work required him to travel to California the next day. I called Beverly and gave her the
disappointing news, then went back to work putting the race out of my mind.
Later that morning, around noon, Bev called me and said “Hi honey! Guess what; we’re racing
Sovereign to Pensacola.” My momentary surprise was soon replaced by visions of scrambling to prepare
the boat, get crew, deliver the boat to Gulfport, clean the bottom, provision the boat, move cars to
Pensacola, contact the race committee for late registration and a host of other necessary preparations that
had to be completed prior to taking off from Slidell to Pensacola and back. Beverly must has sensed that
my mind was awash with questions by the silence over the phone and said “Don’t worry honey, I’ve lined
up crew, got Diver Dave coming over to scrub the boat bottom and Linda and Lisa are dropping the van off
at Pensacola.” I was finally able to focus my thoughts on the situation and reply “Are you sure baby?”
After several more minutes of conversation, I could see that Beverly had been very busy that morning
making the crucial arrangements. She had assembled a crew consisting of our close friends John and
Yolanda, Lisa and Linda and two new friends from Galveston Texas, John and Rick. With crew committed,
and the clock ticking, I took the rest of the day off from work to begin making preparations. Although many
things were going through my mind on the ride home, I kept thinking “Every man should be as lucky as I
am to have such capable, determined and resourceful Partner.”
Thursday morning the van was picked up on schedule, the boat was cleaned, the bottom was
scrubbed, important repairs were made, ice and provisions were stored, and fuel was taken aboard.
Sovereign was ready to get underway for Gulfport by noon. John and Yolanda were helping make the
delivery along with my friend Ashton. Only two hours behind schedule, we shoved off with a decent
forecast, an icebox full of Heineken, a box of Popeye’s chicken and a favorable southwest wind.
Optimistic estimates still put us into Gulfport by 6:30 PM in time for the skippers meeting. So much for
estimates. A series of events began to set us behind five minutes after we got underway. First, the
Bonfouca Bridge attempted to open as we neared but suffered mechanical problems causing a thirty-
minute delay. After finally clearing the Bonfouca Bridge, the trip was uneventful until we neared the
Rigolets Highway 90 Bridge that was open, but closed as we approached. After another 30 minute delay,
we finally got through. Back underway, things seemed better until we compared the knot meter, which
read 6.2 knots through the water to the GPS that indicated 3.9 across the bottom. So, we were bucking a
2 1/2 knot current through the Rigolets and were going to be a little late. No big deal; Beverly said she
would pick up the race packet at the Skipper’s meeting and we should still make it through the tricky Pass
Marainne channel before dark.
We cleared the Rigolets Railroad bridge and entered Lake Borgne around 4 PM. The southwesterly
wind was filling some and speed over ground was back up around 6 knots under sail. Beverly checked in
on the cell phone and asked how the weather was. She said New Orleans was under a tornado warning
and a severe weather alert. We could see some lightning and dark clouds off to the west, but it looked like
the weather was moving to the southeast and would not be a factor. About that time a special marine
advisory alert came over the VHF radio – still, it looked OK. Bev asked what my ETA was and I said I
wasn’t sure but it looked like we were running behind. I would check back in after a while with a progress
report.
As we passed by Polecat Bend, boat speed was over 6.5 knots. We were keeping a close watch on
the storm, which still looked like it would pass us by. The breeze was picking up more and veering to the
west. I could see a rain line off to the south that was definitely approaching us. The wind was now
blowing about 25 knots from behind and the Jib would not fly efficiently so we rolled it up. The rain was
reaching us and lightning was starting to strike close by. No use for everyone on deck, so John and
Yolanda went below while Ashton and I put our fowl weather gear on. With Ashton on the main and me at
the helm, the bottom fell out. Severe lightning, torrential rain and wind around thirty knots and gusting told
us we were in the middle of it now. The knot meter was indicating between 8 and 9 knots as we were
tearing through the channel. Although the boat was under control, visibility was very poor due the now
blinding rain. We knew Grassy Island was near, but our biggest concern was running up on a tow or other
vessel in the narrow channel due to the poor visibility. Luckily, only two other pleasure boats were spotted,
pounding against the seas in the opposite direction. With Grassy Island far behind by now, we continued
through the channel with little problems. Things are so much easier now with GPS.
Around 6 PM conditions began to clear and we had made good progress through the Mississippi
Sound. We were approaching Pass Marianne on a reach with speed at about 6 knots. John and Yolanda
came out from below drenched with sweat. Yolanda said that was the worst storm she had ever been
through. I would hear those same words from her again before Pensacola.
I called Beverly and said my ETA into Gulfport was now about 8:30 PM. She said she had been
delayed but would be there to meet us. The wind continued to back giving an enjoyable close reach as we
entered Gulfport Harbor on schedule. Pulling in a slip by Mad Max, plugging in the air, and having a well
deserved drink; things were getting better. Beverly was at the club to pick us up and we headed back to
Slidell to get some rest before heading off to Pensacola the next day.
The Race
Rolling over and realizing that the irritating noise was only the alarm clock, I quickly punched the
snooze button hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep before the day began. Ouch! First a gentle
elbow in the side and then a sleepy voice saying “ Its time to get up Ed. We’ve got to pack, get more
provisions and more ice. We also have to find our race packet and turn in the crew list at Gulfport before
the committee boat leaves the dock.” The fog inside my head was starting to lift now as I realized what
Beverly was saying. As usual, she was right. No time to roll back over; too many things had to be done in
the next couple of hours. The race from Gulfport to Pensacola had begun.
When we arrived at Gulfport, it was a beautiful morning. The skies were clear and there was a light
northwesterly breeze blowing across the water. Sounds of hungry seagulls flying above and barking seals
at Marine Land filled the air. Race morning is always an experience at Gulfport. This year, 111 boats and
their crews were participating in the annual event. Skippers and crews were busy provisioning their boats,
discussing strategy and making last minute repairs. Boats were rafted out from the main pier about ten
deep. Battle flags were flying and the air was full of excitement and Jimmy Buffet music. While I unloaded
gear and made my way to Sovereign, Beverly set off to find our race packet and turn in the crew list. John
Bogil and Yolanda had stayed on board the night before so Sovereign was rigged and ready to go. We
only needed to take the remaining gear and provisions on board. John Davis and Rick had also arrived
and were getting familiar with the boat.
With things in order aboard Sovereign, I went looking for the rest of the crew. I ran into Linda and
Lisa talking with Beverly at the Gulfport Yacht Club Bar. Beverly was sipping a Bloody Mary and waiving
the race packet at me. “I found the packet and turned in the crew list to the race committee. We’re ready
to go baby”, she said. I was now feeling good about the upcoming race. In the last two days, all the
preparations had been made and Sovereign was ready. The westerly winds were in our favor, the weather
forecast was good, our class was competitive and the crew was excited.
With spirits high, we shoved off for the starting line around 11:15 in the morning. Sovereign was in
class “C” and was scheduled to start at 12:15 PM. Looking at the class “C” scratch sheet, the usual boats
were there. Last year’s class winner, Final Finale II (a Shock 34 GP), had just won its class in the
Offshore Challenge Cup the weekend before with Benz Faget at the helm. We decided that the best
strategy would be to cover Benz on Final Finale II. Mark Palermo aboard Awapuhi was also in our class.
If the air stayed light and the seas calm, Mark would be a real problem. The wind was blowing out of the
west-northwest between 275/300 degrees and at 8 to 12 knots at the start. These conditions enabled a
spinnaker start and Sovereign hit the line right as the gun went off. The initial course was a spinnaker
fetch past Ship Island. Sovereign was doing well as we rounded Ship Island and turned a little more
westerly; only Awapuhi and Final Finale II were slightly ahead. Not only was Sovereign doing well in class,
but also we were starting to pass many of the Cruiser/Racer fleet that started five minutes ahead of us.
With the light westerly winds, Mark Palermo now had to jibe downwind to maintain good boat speed. We
traded positions several times and passed so close, we could have zinged water balloons at each other.
Final Finale II was just ahead but considering her handicap, I could finish 10 minutes behind her on this
100.2 nautical mile race and still win. We still had our time on her; things were going very well. We were
in the hunt, the weather was holding and the crew was enjoying a very relaxing sail. In fact, there was
quite a party going on the starboard rail, which was only interrupted by an occasional jibe as we followed
Final Finale II toward Mobile.
We were making around six knots of boat speed as we headed east past Horn Island. The crew
noticed a large cloud formation toward shore with what appeared to be a waterspout forming between
Horn Island and us. As we watched the weather, the spout was getting larger and starting to touch the
water as it meandered in a southeasterly direction. It looked like the Cal 45, Tiara, who was way north of
the rhumbline and closest to the weather, was now heading back out safely ahead of it. After about ten
minutes, the spout dissipated and the associated weather moved east along the coast ahead of us.
Linda broke out the muffalattos she brought from Maspero’s and another round of Heineken was served
up from below. It was approaching 6:00 PM as we jibed back out with Final Finale. Several crew
members were now resting on the rail and I was still at the helm. It was about 6:30 PM as we jibed back in
toward the rhumbline. Sovereign was starting to reach what I call the platform farms as she neared
Mobile. Each year when we pass this area, it seems like there are twice as many platforms as the year
before.
Around 7:00 PM, Final Finale II jibed again heading back out to the southeast. She was only a
couple hundred yards ahead but had not yet crossed the rhumbline before her jibe. The rhumbline is
basically a straight line, and therefore the shortest distance between two points – in this case, Gulfport and
Pensacola. After some discussion, I decided to continue on course to the rhumbline. I concluded the
conditions would remain the same throughout the evening and, since we had boat speed on Final Finale II
all day, we could now start to sail our own race. This decision marked the turning point, after which, things
would start going down hill.
At about 8:00 PM nearing the Mobile sea buoy, we were surrounded by platforms. John Davis
relieved me at the helm and I went below to take a good look at the charts before dark. We could see
lightning behind us and toward the shore as a light rain started to set in. No thunder could be heard and
there was nothing out of the ordinary on the VHF weather channel so we continued straight down the
rhumbline with the spinnaker flying ahead. As dark was setting in, I came back out and sent the rest of the
crew below except for John Bogil and John Davis. It was still raining lightly, the wind was still westerly and
our boat speed was still around six knots. Things could be worse I thought. With the weather continuing
to move in a southeasterly direction, I should have known it soon would be.
Occasionally we could see other sailboats around us as lightning struck. Brightly lit shrimp boats
were working ahead of us. Platforms of all descriptions and sizes were everywhere. The last boat we were
able to identify was the class B boat War Canoe, as we both passed by a mammoth platform about a
quarter mile back. We were still on course and moving well through the maze of obstructions off Mobile
Bay. I looked behind us and saw the lights from the platform we had just passed disappear behind a
curtain of heavy rain heading our way. Within a couple of minutes, the deluge hit us and I sent John Bogil
below telling him to close the companionway hatch. It was raining so hard it was difficult to read the
instruments but it looked like the wind was reaching 25 knots. It seemed to be a surrealistic ride as we
plowed through the smooth seas beat down by the heavy rain at 9 knots. Brilliant bursts of lightning would
temporally blind me as deafening claps of thunder instantly followed. Shouting over the wind, I asked
John how the helm felt and got a thumbs up. The wind was starting to gust higher now and I was
beginning to think about dropping the spinnaker when Sovereign suddenly rolled wildly to starboard in a
fresh gust. John was trying to keep her on her feet, when she violently rolled back to the left and was
knocked down to port. As Sovereign lay on her port side, I released the spinnaker sheet from the winch
and watched every inch of line run past me and through the blocks. When she began to right herself, John
Bogil rushed out from below to help bring in whatever was left of the spinnaker. I took the helm back over
as we raced downwind still at nine knots with just the main up. The storm continued to rage furiously while
both Johns were clearing the mess forward. I wondered what the situation was down below while I worked
to keep us on course. I could hear the whistles of nearby platforms over the howling wind that was
blowing about 30 knots now. The shrimping fleet was bow into the storm and straight ahead of us causing
me to alter course slightly as we passed by them. The foredeck was clear now and the crew made their
way back to the safety of the cockpit. John Bogil reported that amazingly, nothing appeared to be broken
forward. He also reported that things were a mess down below. Although no one was hurt, the girls had
rolled out of their bunks onto the floor during the knockdown and anything that wasn’t tied down had fallen
on top of them. Rick was wedged in between some sails forward and was okay. The westerly wind was
still blowing over 30 knots when suddenly, a 60-knot gust from the north rounded us up. I have been
racing this race to Pensacola for 20 years and have been in many bad storms but I have never dropped
the mainsail. Visions of the waterspout earlier in the day made me shout out the order instantly. Beverly
later told me that’s when she got scared. She said it had been terrible below in the darkness with the
hatch shut. All the sounds of rigging vibrating and hardware hitting the deck are amplified down below.
The sudden pitching and rolling of the boat and the sound of the sea rushing past the hull are unnerving in
the dark of the cabin; but, she said, to hear the order to drop the main meant we must be in serious
trouble.
The strong shift continued from the north for about 15 minutes, as we lay hove to in the building seas.
As suddenly as it had shifted to the north, it swung back to the west. We quickly got the main back up and
started down the course again. The wind and rain were both subsiding a little now. As I looked back, I
could see some stars breaking through the clouds to the west. The end of the storm was approaching as
quickly as the onset. We reset the spinnaker as the wind continued to lighten. It was now time to check
the situation below. Beverly came up to see what was going on while Linda and Lisa stayed below fast
asleep. Rick also remained forward fast asleep. Must have been some party earlier on the starboard rail I
thought to myself.
We were well past the Mobile Sea Buoy now and it must have been around one in the morning.
Since the rain quit, the seas had become very confused and bumpy. The wind had also nearly quit and we
were barely moving. The wild motion of the seas caused the spinnaker to wrap around the head stay
several times. The wraps were so severe; we had to drop the spinnaker twice to untangle the mess.
Although this took a lot of time, it didn’t matter much since we were barely moving. This is the most
frustrating part of racing. To be doing so well and then have everything go to hell in front of you. All you
can hope for is that your competition is suffering the same conditions as you are.
The wind became dead calm for over an hour as we drifted, sometimes without steerage. Everyone
but John Davis was now below asleep. I caught myself nodding off at the helm about two in the morning
and turned it over to John. About 3:00 AM, a slight breeze started to fill in from the northeast. I woke Rick
up and we changed to the jib. With Rick and John on watch, I went and sat down at the nav station to see
where we were. Right on the rhumbline and about 20 miles from the finish line in Pensacola. Leaning
back at the nav station, I finally began to relax and dwell on the recent events. I knew the boats that jibed
back out earlier in the evening might have missed the storm. I also knew now I should have gone back out
when I saw the lightning back to my northeast since the storm’s southeast track put Sovereign right in front
of the weather. Finally, I knew I should have followed Final Finale II back out per my original plan.
I awoke at dawn to a brisk northeast wind. Rick was huddled up on the port side driving while looking up
at the tail-tails. John was leaning back against the bulkhead fast asleep. I sent both of them below to
send out the ladies and get some sleep. We were making about 7 knots and the finish line was only about
10 miles away. I looked all around and couldn’t see any other boats at first. Linda spotted several boats
close to shore but none were seen outside of us. As we got closer to the finish, we could see the inside
boats more clearly now. There were about ten boats and they looked like they were coming straight out
from shore. The lead boat in the pack would finish in front of us and I was able to make her out now.
Sandi’s Wings, a class E boat that started 10 minutes behind us! We crossed the finish line 19 hours, 11
minutes and 59 seconds after we started. This was a record for Sovereign – the slowest passage we had
ever made.
Skipper’s Note: Final Finale finished first in class C, 1 hour and 36 minutes ahead of us.
Mark Palermo finished 5th in class C
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Email Me: ed@yachtsafun.org
