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Sailing a Potter 19 in the 2009 Texas 200!
by
Chuck Pierce, sailing P-19 #1408, Aldebatan
We sailed out of Port Mansfield on Monday, June 8th at around 8 am in the company of Dan Rogers' Balboa 16
Ladybug and Eric Rybczynski and Corey on Wind Waker, another Potter 19.
The wind had been blowing steadily from the south veering occasionally to the southeast since we had arrived
in Port Mansfield the previous Saturday, and it looked like it would continue through the day. Typical winds along
the Texas coast this time of year are 5-10 kts in the morning building to 15-20 kts by the late afternoon, slowly
abatingsomewhat in the hours after sunset. Turning into the channel to the harbor entrance, Byron raised the
already reefed main, unfurled the jib, and I pulled up the outboard.
There were a couple of anxious moments as we sailed through the wind shadow of the houses and condos
clustered around the harbor area with barely enough speed to keep steerage, but as we reached the mouth of
the harbor the wind filled in and we took off behind Wind Waker and Ladybug on a close reach down the
channel to the Intracoastal Waterway intersection about a mile away.
Once we turned north into the ICW, we shook out the reef in the mainsail, winged out the jib and headed almost
straight downwind in the already building chop. After 7 or 8 miles the wind veered more to the southeast, and it
became difficult to keep the jib winged out. At about 11 am we turned a bit more to the east and entered the
Land Cut, a manmade channel that connects the Lower and Upper Laguna Madre. The water immediately
smoothed out and for the next day and a half it was as if we were driving down a freeway.
By noon the windspeed was 16 knots gusting to 20 according to my Kestral windmeter. Where we normally sail
(Lake Sabine, a large brackish estuary on the upper Texas coast) we have wind like this much of the time, but it
is accompanied by heavy, steep chop due to the fetch across the 7 mile by 16 mile lake. This was the most
luxurious sailing I had ever experienced. We even ate lunch as we sailed although this turned out to be the only
time on the trip that we were able to do so.
Shortly after entering the Land Cut, we passed Jason Nabors in Tenacious Turtle, the most tricked out
Puddle Duck Racer of all time. PDR's are 8 foot plywood boats with a slew of different layouts and sailing rigs.
The hulls were the only common element of these boats. Jason had shown us some of the features of his boat
Saturday evening in Port Mansfield. It has a galley (well, OK, a one burner flip-up stove), a portable head, and a
berth inside the tiny cabin. There were jokes throughout the week about future upgrades including a flatpanel
HDTV and BluRay player.
A bit further up the cut we ran across the rest of the PDRs at their rendezvous point on the windward bank.
These guys accomplished some amazing things on this year's trip.
A little after 2:30 pm we pulled up into Hap's Cut, which is a channel between the Land Cut and The Hole, an
extremely shallow bay to the east of the Land Cut. There are fishing cabins and a small dock along Hap's
Cut, however most of us beached on the southern bank of the cut in some of the messiest, thickest mud you can
imagine.
Shortly after we arrived, Dave in Merlin had some of us who were standing around go dig up any extra docklines
that we had, tied them together, and rowed one end of the line over to the north bank of the cut where Skip
Johnson's proa P52 had been blown. After Skip tied the line off, we pulled the boat across and beached her so
that he could join in the socializing that was to be a big part of our evenings.
Evenings in camp were high points of each day-doing any repairs that were needed, comparing notes with the
other folks on the trip and checking out an amazing variety of sailing craft, from the PDR's (at 8 feet the
smallest) to the Bolger schooner (at 32 feet the largest boat in the fleet). There were lots of wooden homebuilts
but a fair number of production fiberglass boats made the trip as well. Most of the boats were beachable, but
Our Way Out, the Reinell 22, Goose, a Vivacity 20, Carl's Horizon Cat and Ladybug, a Balboa 16, were all
deeper draft vessels that had to anchor out. There were several Proas as well as a few catamarans and at least
one trimaran. In all, a pretty varied assortment of cool boats and people.
Tuesday morning, we had breakfast and then headed back to the ICW for another day of mostly smooth sailing.
The winds were not initially as strong as they had been on Monday, so we shook out the reef in the mainsail (a
move that we would regret later in the morning). About 10 minutes after we re-entered the ICW, the waterway
again turned more to the east, making our course more of a broad reach. Within 3 miles, we were out of the Land
Cut and into the Upper Laguna Madre. Crossing Baffin Bay (still in the ICW), we were sailing fast in the rapidly
rising breeze when right behind me there was a loud "CHUFF" sound and we both about jumped out of
our skins! A pod of porpoises had joined us. I grabbed the camera while Byron took the helm and they
entertained us for 15 or 20 minutes before getting bored and heading off to parts unknown.
At green light 207 about a mile from the northern edge of Baffin Bay we again turned slightly towards the east to
a heading of 020 degrees, putting the southeasterly wind just behind our beam. Aldebaran began to show a bit of
weather helm as she heeled past 15 degrees and I had to head up a couple of times in gusts. About three miles
past the turn, we broached.
When the winds are good we enjoy sailing hard. Pushing the boat and pushing ourselves (within reason, of
course) is a great way to gain experience and to see how the boat responds in rougher conditions. In our
normal sailing grounds, people at the ramp will sometimes question the wisdom of going sailing in a 19 foot boat
when the winds are so high.
My reasoning is that I want to gain experience in these conditions at a time and place of my choosing. If I get
caught out in bad conditions that are beyond my abilities and need help, I would rather be a mile from the marina
(and a mile and a half from the Coast Guard station) than on a trip out in the middle of nowhere.
Practically speaking, I try always to recognize when I am at the limits of my or the boat's capabilities and head to
smoother waters, under motor power if necessary. So this is by no means the first time this has happened, and it
normally is not much of an event. One of the admirable qualities of the Potter 19 is its tendency when
overpowered to round up into the wind, come up and stop.
This usually happens at a high angle of heel in gusty winds. The difference here was that we were not in the
middle of a lake or bay with no other boats in our immediate vicinity. We were in a fairly narrow channel
with 5 or 6 other boats within 100 yards of us. I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to all of those
guys right now for foolishly carrying too much sail for conditions and narrowly missing a couple of
them (they know who they are) when we went out of control.
I really do know better than that, I just had a lapse in judgment brought on by my competitive nature on a trip that
really isn't about competition. I was a jerk and I'm sorry.
We quickly drifted across the channel and ran aground on the leeward side as we put the first reef back in the
main. The boat was headed into the wind, so we finished setting the main, rolled up part of the jib, then cranked
up the daggerboard a few inches and sailed back into the channel. Aldebaran settled right down and I felt more
stupid than ever when I realized that putting the first reef back in had no effect whatsoever on our speed.
Although we were still making hull speed, we were much more in control.
Continuing down the ICW we were treated to a constantly changing panorama of cool and unusual sailing craft
as the faster boats passed us and we caught up to the slower ones. John Wright's Platypus was one of the most
unusual.
John designed and built her with this trip in mind. Platypus had a couple of nicknames on the trip ("the floating
coffin" and "Tic Tac") due to her unusual shape, but she is a fast boat, and the shape gives her advantages like
extremely low windage and a built in sleeping area.
Chris Tomsett finished his Michalak Caroline just in time for the Texas 200. He not only talked his sister Kelli into
helping him finish the boat, she crewed for him on the trip. The Caroline is sailed from inside the cabin,
which has an opening all of the way down the top. The day before we left Port Mansfield someone (John Turpin,
I think) came up with the name Easy Bake upon finding out the boat had not been named. This name was quickly
adopted by anyone calling Chris on the radio or talking about his boat.
Although we could pass them on a reach, on a run she ran away from most of the monohulls in the fleet. You
could see her red sails up ahead for miles.
About 2 pm we came upon the channel to the Padre Island Yacht Club. We turned into the wind, which was
coming almost straight down the channel, cranked up the Nissan and doused the sails.
Coming in we could see a few boats tied off to the seawall, so we headed over there. As we approached the
depth finder showed us getting shallower as I cranked up the daggerboard-I apparently did not crank it up
quickly enough and 3 feet off the wall we abruptly stopped.
Turns out that at the seawall the water is only about 2 feet deep! We were on the other side of a fence (running
to the seawalls edge) from the other boats, so we got out on the seawall and pulled the boat along while
simultaneously fending her off. Crossing the fence was a challenge; I foolishly stepped over into the tall grass to
climb it and discovered that the grass was sharp enough to make small cuts on my legs wherever I brushed
against it.
John Miller graciously pulled his Dolphin forward another 10 feet to allow Aldebaran to straddle the fence and we
tied her off to a signpost. After we checked out the other boats, Byron and I both took advantage of the short line
at the outside shower to clean up before dinner.
While we were getting things in order, the last shuttle to Snoopy's left, so we took a half hour or so to get
together and discuss the next days route with the other Potter skippers, John (P15 Tetra), Eric and Corey (P19
Wind Waker). Phil and Andrea Lea had missed the bus to Snoopy's too, but instead of resigning themselves to
another "boat meal" as the rest of us had, they called around and found an Italian restaurant that delivered to the
area around the Yacht Club.
When the delivery guy came in hauling several bags of stuff they realized that they had ordered way too much
food and offered us a lasagna which we gratefully (and quickly) accepted. I can say without a doubt that it was
the best meal of the trip for us.
Wednesday morning it was somewhat overcast and the winds started building earlier than on the previous days.
We got up and had our normal breakfast, and were underway by just after 7 am. We sailed out of the Yacht Club
and turned back into the ICW in the company of Tetra, Wind Waker, and two Cortez 16's, BluByU, and Baby
Blue.
After about 2 miles we turned in at the Marker 37 Marina for a couple of 20 pound bags of ice. We filled both
coolers, then headed back out to catch up with the rest of the boats in our little group. We were sailing under
main only with a single reef by 8:30 am. The windmeter was showing 15 knots gusting to 20 although it was
early in the day.
By 9:45 we had left the ICW and were headed across Corpus Christi Bay with the wind on our beam. Shortly after
leaving the ICW we put the second reef in the main and unfurled some of the jib. We had a great sail across the
bay in a fair amount of chop. The winds were getting stronger, but were certainly not unmanageable. At 10:15
we were a quarter of a mile off Shamrock Island - halfway across the Bay. We made 5 to 6 knots all the way
across. It was an awesome ride! I was having a great time at the helm and got a bit too complacent and sailed
just a little bit past where we should have made the turn into Stingray Hole.
Big mistake. The water on the east side of the pass gets shallow VERY quickly and we ended up on the East
Flats, a popular wade fishing area. By the time I saw that we were heading into shallow water, the tiller was
twisting in my hand as the rudder's lower pintle popped out of its gudgeon and the force of the water over the
rudder forced it sideways, bending the upper gudgeon to the point that we could neither remove the rudder nor
reseat it.
Byron rolled up the jib and pulled the main down while I held onto the rudder as best as I could, and then Byron
and I both wrestled with it trying to keep it from twisting further, with limited success. John was coming up behind
us in Tetra and could see that we were having problems, and tried a couple of times to raise us on the VHF.
Unfortunately, our hands were full and we could not answer him. I was concerned by this time that the rogue
rudder would break the upper gudgeon, which would have been a trip-ending event. The wind was at least
blowing us generally toward the channel and so the water under the hull was getting deeper rather than
shallower, but no matter what we did we could not control the rudder.
By this time Wind Waker had headed our way and were hanging around to see if they could help while they tried
to figure out what the heck was going on. I was glad to see them, but we still did not dare let go of the rudder and
so could not communicate with them. I finally remembered the old ball peen hammer I had thrown into the tool
box on a whim a couple of days before we left for Port Mansfield.
Byron got the hammer and we were able to beat the gudgeon flat enough to get the lower pintle lined up and
back in. We later discovered that the plates holding the upper and lower halves of the rudder together were bent
as well. The whole episode took maybe 10 minutes.
As soon as we could start sailing again, I called Tetra and Wind Waker on the radio to let them know what had
happened and that we were OK to continue. I was glad to be sailing with these guys, and even as we were
struggling with the rudder it was good to know that if we had ended up needing a tow, Eric and Corey were there
and ready to assist us.
After passing through Stingray Hole, we turned right into the Corpus Christi Channel on a close reach. Right
afterward we spied a large tanker coming up the channel. Fortunately, it was moving slowly and we were able to
get all the way over to the side of the channel as it passed. There were a few moments of excitement at the Port
Aransas Ferry Landing as well. Those things are CONSTANTLY crossing the channel, one after another. IT
NEVER STOPS. We were a bit apprehensive about crossing their path and tried to time our crossing so that we
could cross behind one of them, but they move so quickly and follow one another so closely that it was
impossible.
As we went across the ferry that was originally coming in off our starboard bow gave us 2 blasts of his horn and
went behind us. Watching those guys ease into the landing was amazing-it is always a pleasure to watch pros at
work.
About a half mile past the ferries we turned into the Lydia Ann Channel behind Tetra. The wind was again on our
beam, and we had a nice fast sail past the famous Lydia Ann Lighthouse. At about 1:30 pm we turned northeast
at Green Can 75 and headed out of the ICW into Aransas Bay. The winds had picked up to 18 to 22 knots
sustained, gusting much higher. Tetra was getting bounced around in the 3-4 foot chop, and after a few minutes
John radioed that he was going to head further east into the lee of San Jose Island to see if he could get
into smoother water.
About that time, Byron went below and got our lifejackets. The normal rule is to wear them anytime we go
forward, of course with the lines all run back to the cockpit that is hardly ever necessary except to drop anchor.
However, with the conditions in the bay being what they were, we thought that it was a prudent thing to do. We
headed east with John, but our paths diverged somewhat and we finally hove to for a while so that we could
keep him in sight. Once he and Tetra were closer to shore (and in much calmer water), he turned back to the
northeast.
We could see Easy Bake about a half-mile behind him, so we took off for Paul's Mott, arriving at about 3pm.
The water at Paul's Mott was a very shallow out to about 150 yards from the beach.
We anchored in 3 feet of water so that we could get the boat sorted out and crank everything up before getting
out on the crushed oyster shell bottom (no mud!) and pulling the boat to the beach. Wind Waker came in
right ahead of us, and Easy Bake and Tetra were not far behind. We had about an inch of water in the cabin,
which Byron cleaned up while I finished sorting things out and cleaning up the cockpit and deck. I had never had
that much water in the cabin before, but the gasket on the weighted daggerboard was starting to come off, and
Byron had seen a considerable amount spurting out of the gap between the board and trunk in the rough water
we had been in earlier in the day, so we didn't worry about it too much. I figured hey, we're in a foot of water; we
can't sink too far! The next morning the cabin sole was dry, so we knew that it couldn't be a hull leak.
We pulled the rudder off its gudgeon's before dinner (took a few whacks with the hammer to get it off) and laid it
out on the beach. The metal plates holding together the upper and lower halves had opened up over an inch,
resulting in quite a bit of play in the lower half of the rudder. We disassembled it and were able to beat the
pieces flat with our trusty ball peen hammer. The first time we reassembled it, there was still some play, so we
took it apart and beat it again and this time got it right. The upper pintle was slightly out of true as well, so we
squared that back up and then I flattened out the upper gudgeon.
At that point the rudder could once again be easily installed and removed. While working on the gudgeon I
noticed a small crack starting in it, which we watched closely over the next two days. Fortunately, it never got
worse. I do plan on replacing both the pintle and gudgeons to be on the safe side. After dinner, we got with Eric
and walked down the beach to pick Chuck Leinweber's brain about the route for the next day. Waiting
for Chuck to finish his dinner, I heard second hand about the 5 PDR skippers
building Mike Monies a whole new rig for his Cartopper on a beach out of spare parts in 10 minutes. The rig was
supposed to get him across the bay so that he could withdraw, but it sailed well enough that he turned around
and headed for Paul's Mott. On Friday he finished the trip with the improvised rig! Those PDR guys are
something else.
Chuck recommended leaving the ICW early and hugging the shore of Matagorda Island through San Antonio Bay
because of the extreme chop they had experienced on the bay the previous year. He told us about a pass about
50 yards off Panther Point that was not shown on the charts and was of the opinion that this route would be
better than going straight across the bay to Panther Reef Cut as we had previously decided. We could then take
South Pass into Espirito Santos Bay as we had planned.
We talked it over between ourselves and with John as well, but he was adamant about going through the
shallow water route that had been mapped out to avoid the rough waters in San Antonio Bay. Eric and I decided
that we would take the route that Chuck recommended. Byron and I turned in about 9 pm - we were both
exhausted.
Thursday morning we started the day with breakfast at 6:30 am and listened as we did every morning to
weather forecasts on the VHF. NOAA weather radio had small craft advisories for the bays for the third day in a
row (on the Texas coast that means 20 knot and over winds and/or 7 foot or higher waves for at least a two hour
period).
Winds were expected to be 20-25 knots, waves 3 to 4 feet. We pulled out of camp at about 7 am in 17 knots of
wind with Wind Waker, BluByU, Baby Blue, and Dingleberry, an O'Day Widgeon sailed by Cathy Wright and
her daughter Meredith. At some point (I don't remember exactly when) Stan Roberts in Peregrine joined the
group as well.
We entered the ICW at GC 17 and again turned northeast. By 8:30 the winds were already hitting 20 knots
gusting higher, but the ride in the ICW was smooth. We were sailing with the second reef in the mainsail and
about 1/3 of the lapper unfurled, and made 5-6 knots down the ICW all of the way to Rattlesnake Island. At this
point we were a bit ahead of the others, so we anchored on the windward edge of the channel to take the
sails down and raise the keel a couple of feet. We kicked up the rudder as well.
I figured that if we had at least 2 feet of water through the cut, and the chart showed that we did, that we would
motor through the spoil area at GC51 with just a foot or so of the keel down for directional
stability and we could still steer with the kicked up rudder which does MUCH better than steering
with the motor in high winds.
The alternative was to continue to FL 31 about 3 and a half miles further down and then cut across to the middle
of San Antonio Bay in 6 feet of water. We could have sailed through that, but our goal was to stay as close to
Matagorda Island as possible. That ended up being a good decision.
As the group caught up with us we started the motor and raised the anchor, then headed through the cut over
the spoil area, calling depths on the VHF as we went so that the others would know what to expect. As the chart
showed, the minimum depth that we encountered was 2 feet, and we could see the others following us through,
but as we were raising sail we saw Dingleberry turning back. There were a couple of radio calls, and they were
reported by one of the Cortez 16's to be OK. We found out later that they had been having trouble with their
rudder for a couple of days and did not want to get out in the bay with it once they saw how choppy it was. They
headed back to the ICW and ended up in Rockport. We didn't know what was going on with their boat,
but felt bad later that we did not offer them more assistance when we heard what they went through to get back
to Rockport. In any case, they proved quite capable of taking care of themselves and their boat.
As soon as we were in deeper water we raised sail and killed the Nissan. We had been on pretty much a
downwind run for the better part of three days and so had rigged the jib sheets outside the shrouds to better
allow us to wing the jib. Even after we had headed more to the east the wind was well behind our beam, and the
jib performed well rigged that way. We were now hard on the wind and were having problems pointing as high as
we needed to, so we untied our stopper knot, uncleated the sheet, pulled the sheet inboard of the shrouds and
were trying to get it back through the block when the lines' cover came loose from the core at the end.
A previous owner had replaced the jib sheets with 5/8" line, barely able to go through the block in any case -
it took several minutes to get the frayed cover through. I am sure that Stan, who was sailing right alongside us at
the time, was entertained! Looking at our GPS track it is easy to see when we got it through and started sailing
again as we were able to make a full 10 degrees better to windward.
At this point Peregrin and Aldebaran headed east-southeast towards Matagorda Island while Wind Waker and
the Cortez 16's headed straight for Panther Reef. We all converged on Panther Reef at about the same time
and started looking for the cut. BluByU took the lead and hit shallow water almost immediately.
We tried a bit closer in, and soon hit shallow water ourselves, at which point we immediately executed The
Plan. After the rudder problems the previous day we had come up with a shallow water drill-Byron took sails
down, while I cranked the keel up a couple of feet, then I removed the rudder, we pulled it into the cockpit
and the motor was started.
This took maybe 45 seconds. We motored across the reef, steering with the motor-by the way, the Potter 19
steers like an absolute pig under those circumstances...within about five minutes we were back under sail as we
watched Wind Waker motor across. I believe that Baby Blue was the only boat in our group to actually sail
through the pass, which was considerably closer in to Panther Point than we had thought.
We headed northeast towards South Pass about 3/4 of a mile off the island, making good time. It was about this
time that we noticed that our leak was back. We had an inch of water in the cabin again, and even more
disturbing, the good camera was lying in it! My first thought was "Kathy's gonna KILL me!" (she didn't even act
upset about it-apparently she was just relieved that I came back alive). But-no more pictures except for the cell
phone variety, and I sure wasn't going to risk the phone by taking pictures on the water with it, especially in
rough conditions.
We made the turn into South Pass from a fair distance out, wanting to be sure that we got nowhere near the
shallow water. I'll point out here that our GPS had only 16 waypoints entered into it that covered the entire trip.
They got us to the general location of a pass, and then we navigated through using the chart and compass. This
meant that we were not always able to sail directly to the mouth of a pass, as we would get to our waypoint and
then sail a compass heading to and through the pass. In all of the instances where the passes were charted, this
worked pretty well as long as I was paying attention. This did mean that sometimes it took a little longer to
get where we were going.
As it turned out, there were ranging poles at the entrance to South Pass, and cabins and docks alongside the
pass itself, which made it hard to miss. As we were coming out of the pass, we scraped the edge of an unmarked
oyster reef with the daggerboard, but turned quickly and were able to sail away from it. A few minutes later Wind
Waker hit the same reef and her rudder popped up, out, and into the water. Eric recovered it so quickly that we
did not even know what had happened until they reached Army Hole couple of hours later. This brings up an
interesting point about sailing these waters.
There are oyster reefs EVERYWHERE. Many of them are not charted either on the NOAA charts or the
Hook-N-Line fishing maps that we used, having been formed since the last surveys were done. They seem to
slope up from the bay floors fairly steeply, too-there is not a lot of warning on the depth finder that you are about
to hit one. Definitely some interesting sailing.
The rest of the day's sailing was a 5 to 6-knot beam reach to Army Hole. We had passed between Josephine
Mott and Josephine Reef by 4 pm and were tossing our dock lines to Mr. Votaw by 4:30, after dropping sail and
motoring directly into the wind up the channel to the slips. Pilgrim, Peregrin, and a Sea Pearl were the only boats
in the slips when we arrived, with maybe 7 or 8 boats on the beach across the campsite, so there were a
considerable number that had not yet made it in.
As we watched the others in our group come in and helped them get tied off, we started hearing from some of
the folks who were already there about problems at Ayers Dugout. At this point we had no concrete information
what had happened to Dingleberry, Easy Bake, Tetra, or Bobby Chilek's San Juan 21, but there were rumors
that Tetra had been capsized and that several boats had been damaged.
We waited and worried. About 8 pm we saw Easy Bake's red sails in the distance and everyone lined up to see
her come in. We were very relieved to see that John was with Chris and Kelli. He was sunburned and his feet
were in pretty bad shape, but he was OK. He filled us in on the loss of Tetra and the damage to the San Juan,
and their subsequent salvage/rescue by the PDR guys, Chris and some of the others who were on the scene.
The San Juan showed up about then after motorsailing all evening with just her jib up and a damaged
centerboard. No one knew what had happened to the PDR's, but we figured correctly that they had found
a suitable spot to beach for the night. We visited with Bobby, Chris and Kelli until late and drank the rest of Chris'
beer with the goal of reducing the boat's weight for the run to Magnolia Beach.
Some of the smaller boats had been trickling in at the beach on the other side of the camp-the last to arrive were
the two Hobie Adventure Islands, at about 1:30 the next morning. In all, 29 boats made Army Hole out of the 48
that left Port Mansfield 4 days earlier.
Friday morning we slept in. After breakfast (around 9 am I think), we got things together, shook out the reefs in
the mainsail, and headed downwind in the channel towards the ICW. The wind was only 10 or 12 knots-easily
the lightest winds we had all week. Easy Bake passed us on the run down the channel, and then we caught
back up after turning into a beam reach at the ICW. Of course, she again left us in the dust after turning into
Matagorda Bay for the run to Magnolia Beach. We had a pleasant downwind sail after turning out of the
ICW, although we were still taking on a considerable amount of water from the bad weatherstripping around the
daggerboard trunk. An easy day!
We pulled up at the Indianola Public Park about 1:30 pm. It was a bittersweet end to the week. We had looked
forward to the trip for so long that although we were happy to have finished, it was over, and that was a sad
thing for us.
After beaching the boat, we caught a ride with some friends into Indianola and had hamburgers and cold beer for
lunch. The rest of the afternoon was spent visiting and looking over boats as they came in. We got Aldebaran
back on her trailer and spent one last night aboard in the parking lot before heading for home the next morning.
I had watched the Texas 200's birth the previous year through the Duckworks website, and later on the site that
Chuck put up that was dedicated to the cruise. After reading the accounts of the first year, I knew that I wanted to
make the trip if the events' organizers decided to do it again. It took the cancer diagnosis to actually make me
commit.
In October after the biopsy I got an envelope to put gig money in to help pay for the trip, and officially signed
myself up along with Byron Walker, my brother-in-law (and one of my best friends). Through the next 9 months
of surgery, radiation treatments and recovery, the Texas 200 website was always at the top of the list of recently
visited sites on our web browser. I believe that planning the trip and reading the advice and comments of the
others who were planning on going were instrumental to my recovery, both mentally and physically. It inspired
me to start exercising as early as possible in the weeks after the treatments ended and to push myself harder
than I would have otherwise.
Choking down as many calories as possible to gain back some of the weight I lost was a lot easier
with the motivation that the trip planning provided.
It was Something To Look Forward To, and I am grateful to everyone who participated in
any way. I am especially thankful for my wife Kathy, who acted as Head Nurse and Chief
Encourager through the whole cancer thing and never said a single negative word about all of the
preparations for the trip, although I know that she had some doubts as to whether I would be up to
it, and for Byron, who put up with me aboard a 19 foot boat for six days although there were
times when I "hit the wall" and he had to cut me a considerable amount of slack.
It has been 2 months since the 2009 Texas 200. It is in my thoughts at some point pretty
much every day. I have already committed to do it next year, health permitting. As I told my wife
on Saturday when we arrived back home, "If they were doing this again next week, I'd be there!"
I meant every word. Sailing with these folks was a terrific (and humbling) experience. This year's
trip started 128 days after the last radiation treatment; so next year should be easier. Maybe.
Chuck Pierce 8/18/09
by
Chuck Pierce, sailing P-19 #1408, Aldebatan
We sailed out of Port Mansfield on Monday, June 8th at around 8 am in the company of Dan Rogers' Balboa 16
Ladybug and Eric Rybczynski and Corey on Wind Waker, another Potter 19.
The wind had been blowing steadily from the south veering occasionally to the southeast since we had arrived
in Port Mansfield the previous Saturday, and it looked like it would continue through the day. Typical winds along
the Texas coast this time of year are 5-10 kts in the morning building to 15-20 kts by the late afternoon, slowly
abatingsomewhat in the hours after sunset. Turning into the channel to the harbor entrance, Byron raised the
already reefed main, unfurled the jib, and I pulled up the outboard.
There were a couple of anxious moments as we sailed through the wind shadow of the houses and condos
clustered around the harbor area with barely enough speed to keep steerage, but as we reached the mouth of
the harbor the wind filled in and we took off behind Wind Waker and Ladybug on a close reach down the
channel to the Intracoastal Waterway intersection about a mile away.
Once we turned north into the ICW, we shook out the reef in the mainsail, winged out the jib and headed almost
straight downwind in the already building chop. After 7 or 8 miles the wind veered more to the southeast, and it
became difficult to keep the jib winged out. At about 11 am we turned a bit more to the east and entered the
Land Cut, a manmade channel that connects the Lower and Upper Laguna Madre. The water immediately
smoothed out and for the next day and a half it was as if we were driving down a freeway.
By noon the windspeed was 16 knots gusting to 20 according to my Kestral windmeter. Where we normally sail
(Lake Sabine, a large brackish estuary on the upper Texas coast) we have wind like this much of the time, but it
is accompanied by heavy, steep chop due to the fetch across the 7 mile by 16 mile lake. This was the most
luxurious sailing I had ever experienced. We even ate lunch as we sailed although this turned out to be the only
time on the trip that we were able to do so.
Shortly after entering the Land Cut, we passed Jason Nabors in Tenacious Turtle, the most tricked out
Puddle Duck Racer of all time. PDR's are 8 foot plywood boats with a slew of different layouts and sailing rigs.
The hulls were the only common element of these boats. Jason had shown us some of the features of his boat
Saturday evening in Port Mansfield. It has a galley (well, OK, a one burner flip-up stove), a portable head, and a
berth inside the tiny cabin. There were jokes throughout the week about future upgrades including a flatpanel
HDTV and BluRay player.
A bit further up the cut we ran across the rest of the PDRs at their rendezvous point on the windward bank.
These guys accomplished some amazing things on this year's trip.
A little after 2:30 pm we pulled up into Hap's Cut, which is a channel between the Land Cut and The Hole, an
extremely shallow bay to the east of the Land Cut. There are fishing cabins and a small dock along Hap's
Cut, however most of us beached on the southern bank of the cut in some of the messiest, thickest mud you can
imagine.
Shortly after we arrived, Dave in Merlin had some of us who were standing around go dig up any extra docklines
that we had, tied them together, and rowed one end of the line over to the north bank of the cut where Skip
Johnson's proa P52 had been blown. After Skip tied the line off, we pulled the boat across and beached her so
that he could join in the socializing that was to be a big part of our evenings.
Evenings in camp were high points of each day-doing any repairs that were needed, comparing notes with the
other folks on the trip and checking out an amazing variety of sailing craft, from the PDR's (at 8 feet the
smallest) to the Bolger schooner (at 32 feet the largest boat in the fleet). There were lots of wooden homebuilts
but a fair number of production fiberglass boats made the trip as well. Most of the boats were beachable, but
Our Way Out, the Reinell 22, Goose, a Vivacity 20, Carl's Horizon Cat and Ladybug, a Balboa 16, were all
deeper draft vessels that had to anchor out. There were several Proas as well as a few catamarans and at least
one trimaran. In all, a pretty varied assortment of cool boats and people.
Tuesday morning, we had breakfast and then headed back to the ICW for another day of mostly smooth sailing.
The winds were not initially as strong as they had been on Monday, so we shook out the reef in the mainsail (a
move that we would regret later in the morning). About 10 minutes after we re-entered the ICW, the waterway
again turned more to the east, making our course more of a broad reach. Within 3 miles, we were out of the Land
Cut and into the Upper Laguna Madre. Crossing Baffin Bay (still in the ICW), we were sailing fast in the rapidly
rising breeze when right behind me there was a loud "CHUFF" sound and we both about jumped out of
our skins! A pod of porpoises had joined us. I grabbed the camera while Byron took the helm and they
entertained us for 15 or 20 minutes before getting bored and heading off to parts unknown.
At green light 207 about a mile from the northern edge of Baffin Bay we again turned slightly towards the east to
a heading of 020 degrees, putting the southeasterly wind just behind our beam. Aldebaran began to show a bit of
weather helm as she heeled past 15 degrees and I had to head up a couple of times in gusts. About three miles
past the turn, we broached.
When the winds are good we enjoy sailing hard. Pushing the boat and pushing ourselves (within reason, of
course) is a great way to gain experience and to see how the boat responds in rougher conditions. In our
normal sailing grounds, people at the ramp will sometimes question the wisdom of going sailing in a 19 foot boat
when the winds are so high.
My reasoning is that I want to gain experience in these conditions at a time and place of my choosing. If I get
caught out in bad conditions that are beyond my abilities and need help, I would rather be a mile from the marina
(and a mile and a half from the Coast Guard station) than on a trip out in the middle of nowhere.
Practically speaking, I try always to recognize when I am at the limits of my or the boat's capabilities and head to
smoother waters, under motor power if necessary. So this is by no means the first time this has happened, and it
normally is not much of an event. One of the admirable qualities of the Potter 19 is its tendency when
overpowered to round up into the wind, come up and stop.
This usually happens at a high angle of heel in gusty winds. The difference here was that we were not in the
middle of a lake or bay with no other boats in our immediate vicinity. We were in a fairly narrow channel
with 5 or 6 other boats within 100 yards of us. I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to all of those
guys right now for foolishly carrying too much sail for conditions and narrowly missing a couple of
them (they know who they are) when we went out of control.
I really do know better than that, I just had a lapse in judgment brought on by my competitive nature on a trip that
really isn't about competition. I was a jerk and I'm sorry.
We quickly drifted across the channel and ran aground on the leeward side as we put the first reef back in the
main. The boat was headed into the wind, so we finished setting the main, rolled up part of the jib, then cranked
up the daggerboard a few inches and sailed back into the channel. Aldebaran settled right down and I felt more
stupid than ever when I realized that putting the first reef back in had no effect whatsoever on our speed.
Although we were still making hull speed, we were much more in control.
Continuing down the ICW we were treated to a constantly changing panorama of cool and unusual sailing craft
as the faster boats passed us and we caught up to the slower ones. John Wright's Platypus was one of the most
unusual.
John designed and built her with this trip in mind. Platypus had a couple of nicknames on the trip ("the floating
coffin" and "Tic Tac") due to her unusual shape, but she is a fast boat, and the shape gives her advantages like
extremely low windage and a built in sleeping area.
Chris Tomsett finished his Michalak Caroline just in time for the Texas 200. He not only talked his sister Kelli into
helping him finish the boat, she crewed for him on the trip. The Caroline is sailed from inside the cabin,
which has an opening all of the way down the top. The day before we left Port Mansfield someone (John Turpin,
I think) came up with the name Easy Bake upon finding out the boat had not been named. This name was quickly
adopted by anyone calling Chris on the radio or talking about his boat.
Although we could pass them on a reach, on a run she ran away from most of the monohulls in the fleet. You
could see her red sails up ahead for miles.
About 2 pm we came upon the channel to the Padre Island Yacht Club. We turned into the wind, which was
coming almost straight down the channel, cranked up the Nissan and doused the sails.
Coming in we could see a few boats tied off to the seawall, so we headed over there. As we approached the
depth finder showed us getting shallower as I cranked up the daggerboard-I apparently did not crank it up
quickly enough and 3 feet off the wall we abruptly stopped.
Turns out that at the seawall the water is only about 2 feet deep! We were on the other side of a fence (running
to the seawalls edge) from the other boats, so we got out on the seawall and pulled the boat along while
simultaneously fending her off. Crossing the fence was a challenge; I foolishly stepped over into the tall grass to
climb it and discovered that the grass was sharp enough to make small cuts on my legs wherever I brushed
against it.
John Miller graciously pulled his Dolphin forward another 10 feet to allow Aldebaran to straddle the fence and we
tied her off to a signpost. After we checked out the other boats, Byron and I both took advantage of the short line
at the outside shower to clean up before dinner.
While we were getting things in order, the last shuttle to Snoopy's left, so we took a half hour or so to get
together and discuss the next days route with the other Potter skippers, John (P15 Tetra), Eric and Corey (P19
Wind Waker). Phil and Andrea Lea had missed the bus to Snoopy's too, but instead of resigning themselves to
another "boat meal" as the rest of us had, they called around and found an Italian restaurant that delivered to the
area around the Yacht Club.
When the delivery guy came in hauling several bags of stuff they realized that they had ordered way too much
food and offered us a lasagna which we gratefully (and quickly) accepted. I can say without a doubt that it was
the best meal of the trip for us.
Wednesday morning it was somewhat overcast and the winds started building earlier than on the previous days.
We got up and had our normal breakfast, and were underway by just after 7 am. We sailed out of the Yacht Club
and turned back into the ICW in the company of Tetra, Wind Waker, and two Cortez 16's, BluByU, and Baby
Blue.
After about 2 miles we turned in at the Marker 37 Marina for a couple of 20 pound bags of ice. We filled both
coolers, then headed back out to catch up with the rest of the boats in our little group. We were sailing under
main only with a single reef by 8:30 am. The windmeter was showing 15 knots gusting to 20 although it was
early in the day.
By 9:45 we had left the ICW and were headed across Corpus Christi Bay with the wind on our beam. Shortly after
leaving the ICW we put the second reef in the main and unfurled some of the jib. We had a great sail across the
bay in a fair amount of chop. The winds were getting stronger, but were certainly not unmanageable. At 10:15
we were a quarter of a mile off Shamrock Island - halfway across the Bay. We made 5 to 6 knots all the way
across. It was an awesome ride! I was having a great time at the helm and got a bit too complacent and sailed
just a little bit past where we should have made the turn into Stingray Hole.
Big mistake. The water on the east side of the pass gets shallow VERY quickly and we ended up on the East
Flats, a popular wade fishing area. By the time I saw that we were heading into shallow water, the tiller was
twisting in my hand as the rudder's lower pintle popped out of its gudgeon and the force of the water over the
rudder forced it sideways, bending the upper gudgeon to the point that we could neither remove the rudder nor
reseat it.
Byron rolled up the jib and pulled the main down while I held onto the rudder as best as I could, and then Byron
and I both wrestled with it trying to keep it from twisting further, with limited success. John was coming up behind
us in Tetra and could see that we were having problems, and tried a couple of times to raise us on the VHF.
Unfortunately, our hands were full and we could not answer him. I was concerned by this time that the rogue
rudder would break the upper gudgeon, which would have been a trip-ending event. The wind was at least
blowing us generally toward the channel and so the water under the hull was getting deeper rather than
shallower, but no matter what we did we could not control the rudder.
By this time Wind Waker had headed our way and were hanging around to see if they could help while they tried
to figure out what the heck was going on. I was glad to see them, but we still did not dare let go of the rudder and
so could not communicate with them. I finally remembered the old ball peen hammer I had thrown into the tool
box on a whim a couple of days before we left for Port Mansfield.
Byron got the hammer and we were able to beat the gudgeon flat enough to get the lower pintle lined up and
back in. We later discovered that the plates holding the upper and lower halves of the rudder together were bent
as well. The whole episode took maybe 10 minutes.
As soon as we could start sailing again, I called Tetra and Wind Waker on the radio to let them know what had
happened and that we were OK to continue. I was glad to be sailing with these guys, and even as we were
struggling with the rudder it was good to know that if we had ended up needing a tow, Eric and Corey were there
and ready to assist us.
After passing through Stingray Hole, we turned right into the Corpus Christi Channel on a close reach. Right
afterward we spied a large tanker coming up the channel. Fortunately, it was moving slowly and we were able to
get all the way over to the side of the channel as it passed. There were a few moments of excitement at the Port
Aransas Ferry Landing as well. Those things are CONSTANTLY crossing the channel, one after another. IT
NEVER STOPS. We were a bit apprehensive about crossing their path and tried to time our crossing so that we
could cross behind one of them, but they move so quickly and follow one another so closely that it was
impossible.
As we went across the ferry that was originally coming in off our starboard bow gave us 2 blasts of his horn and
went behind us. Watching those guys ease into the landing was amazing-it is always a pleasure to watch pros at
work.
About a half mile past the ferries we turned into the Lydia Ann Channel behind Tetra. The wind was again on our
beam, and we had a nice fast sail past the famous Lydia Ann Lighthouse. At about 1:30 pm we turned northeast
at Green Can 75 and headed out of the ICW into Aransas Bay. The winds had picked up to 18 to 22 knots
sustained, gusting much higher. Tetra was getting bounced around in the 3-4 foot chop, and after a few minutes
John radioed that he was going to head further east into the lee of San Jose Island to see if he could get
into smoother water.
About that time, Byron went below and got our lifejackets. The normal rule is to wear them anytime we go
forward, of course with the lines all run back to the cockpit that is hardly ever necessary except to drop anchor.
However, with the conditions in the bay being what they were, we thought that it was a prudent thing to do. We
headed east with John, but our paths diverged somewhat and we finally hove to for a while so that we could
keep him in sight. Once he and Tetra were closer to shore (and in much calmer water), he turned back to the
northeast.
We could see Easy Bake about a half-mile behind him, so we took off for Paul's Mott, arriving at about 3pm.
The water at Paul's Mott was a very shallow out to about 150 yards from the beach.
We anchored in 3 feet of water so that we could get the boat sorted out and crank everything up before getting
out on the crushed oyster shell bottom (no mud!) and pulling the boat to the beach. Wind Waker came in
right ahead of us, and Easy Bake and Tetra were not far behind. We had about an inch of water in the cabin,
which Byron cleaned up while I finished sorting things out and cleaning up the cockpit and deck. I had never had
that much water in the cabin before, but the gasket on the weighted daggerboard was starting to come off, and
Byron had seen a considerable amount spurting out of the gap between the board and trunk in the rough water
we had been in earlier in the day, so we didn't worry about it too much. I figured hey, we're in a foot of water; we
can't sink too far! The next morning the cabin sole was dry, so we knew that it couldn't be a hull leak.
We pulled the rudder off its gudgeon's before dinner (took a few whacks with the hammer to get it off) and laid it
out on the beach. The metal plates holding together the upper and lower halves had opened up over an inch,
resulting in quite a bit of play in the lower half of the rudder. We disassembled it and were able to beat the
pieces flat with our trusty ball peen hammer. The first time we reassembled it, there was still some play, so we
took it apart and beat it again and this time got it right. The upper pintle was slightly out of true as well, so we
squared that back up and then I flattened out the upper gudgeon.
At that point the rudder could once again be easily installed and removed. While working on the gudgeon I
noticed a small crack starting in it, which we watched closely over the next two days. Fortunately, it never got
worse. I do plan on replacing both the pintle and gudgeons to be on the safe side. After dinner, we got with Eric
and walked down the beach to pick Chuck Leinweber's brain about the route for the next day. Waiting
for Chuck to finish his dinner, I heard second hand about the 5 PDR skippers
building Mike Monies a whole new rig for his Cartopper on a beach out of spare parts in 10 minutes. The rig was
supposed to get him across the bay so that he could withdraw, but it sailed well enough that he turned around
and headed for Paul's Mott. On Friday he finished the trip with the improvised rig! Those PDR guys are
something else.
Chuck recommended leaving the ICW early and hugging the shore of Matagorda Island through San Antonio Bay
because of the extreme chop they had experienced on the bay the previous year. He told us about a pass about
50 yards off Panther Point that was not shown on the charts and was of the opinion that this route would be
better than going straight across the bay to Panther Reef Cut as we had previously decided. We could then take
South Pass into Espirito Santos Bay as we had planned.
We talked it over between ourselves and with John as well, but he was adamant about going through the
shallow water route that had been mapped out to avoid the rough waters in San Antonio Bay. Eric and I decided
that we would take the route that Chuck recommended. Byron and I turned in about 9 pm - we were both
exhausted.
Thursday morning we started the day with breakfast at 6:30 am and listened as we did every morning to
weather forecasts on the VHF. NOAA weather radio had small craft advisories for the bays for the third day in a
row (on the Texas coast that means 20 knot and over winds and/or 7 foot or higher waves for at least a two hour
period).
Winds were expected to be 20-25 knots, waves 3 to 4 feet. We pulled out of camp at about 7 am in 17 knots of
wind with Wind Waker, BluByU, Baby Blue, and Dingleberry, an O'Day Widgeon sailed by Cathy Wright and
her daughter Meredith. At some point (I don't remember exactly when) Stan Roberts in Peregrine joined the
group as well.
We entered the ICW at GC 17 and again turned northeast. By 8:30 the winds were already hitting 20 knots
gusting higher, but the ride in the ICW was smooth. We were sailing with the second reef in the mainsail and
about 1/3 of the lapper unfurled, and made 5-6 knots down the ICW all of the way to Rattlesnake Island. At this
point we were a bit ahead of the others, so we anchored on the windward edge of the channel to take the
sails down and raise the keel a couple of feet. We kicked up the rudder as well.
I figured that if we had at least 2 feet of water through the cut, and the chart showed that we did, that we would
motor through the spoil area at GC51 with just a foot or so of the keel down for directional
stability and we could still steer with the kicked up rudder which does MUCH better than steering
with the motor in high winds.
The alternative was to continue to FL 31 about 3 and a half miles further down and then cut across to the middle
of San Antonio Bay in 6 feet of water. We could have sailed through that, but our goal was to stay as close to
Matagorda Island as possible. That ended up being a good decision.
As the group caught up with us we started the motor and raised the anchor, then headed through the cut over
the spoil area, calling depths on the VHF as we went so that the others would know what to expect. As the chart
showed, the minimum depth that we encountered was 2 feet, and we could see the others following us through,
but as we were raising sail we saw Dingleberry turning back. There were a couple of radio calls, and they were
reported by one of the Cortez 16's to be OK. We found out later that they had been having trouble with their
rudder for a couple of days and did not want to get out in the bay with it once they saw how choppy it was. They
headed back to the ICW and ended up in Rockport. We didn't know what was going on with their boat,
but felt bad later that we did not offer them more assistance when we heard what they went through to get back
to Rockport. In any case, they proved quite capable of taking care of themselves and their boat.
As soon as we were in deeper water we raised sail and killed the Nissan. We had been on pretty much a
downwind run for the better part of three days and so had rigged the jib sheets outside the shrouds to better
allow us to wing the jib. Even after we had headed more to the east the wind was well behind our beam, and the
jib performed well rigged that way. We were now hard on the wind and were having problems pointing as high as
we needed to, so we untied our stopper knot, uncleated the sheet, pulled the sheet inboard of the shrouds and
were trying to get it back through the block when the lines' cover came loose from the core at the end.
A previous owner had replaced the jib sheets with 5/8" line, barely able to go through the block in any case -
it took several minutes to get the frayed cover through. I am sure that Stan, who was sailing right alongside us at
the time, was entertained! Looking at our GPS track it is easy to see when we got it through and started sailing
again as we were able to make a full 10 degrees better to windward.
At this point Peregrin and Aldebaran headed east-southeast towards Matagorda Island while Wind Waker and
the Cortez 16's headed straight for Panther Reef. We all converged on Panther Reef at about the same time
and started looking for the cut. BluByU took the lead and hit shallow water almost immediately.
We tried a bit closer in, and soon hit shallow water ourselves, at which point we immediately executed The
Plan. After the rudder problems the previous day we had come up with a shallow water drill-Byron took sails
down, while I cranked the keel up a couple of feet, then I removed the rudder, we pulled it into the cockpit
and the motor was started.
This took maybe 45 seconds. We motored across the reef, steering with the motor-by the way, the Potter 19
steers like an absolute pig under those circumstances...within about five minutes we were back under sail as we
watched Wind Waker motor across. I believe that Baby Blue was the only boat in our group to actually sail
through the pass, which was considerably closer in to Panther Point than we had thought.
We headed northeast towards South Pass about 3/4 of a mile off the island, making good time. It was about this
time that we noticed that our leak was back. We had an inch of water in the cabin again, and even more
disturbing, the good camera was lying in it! My first thought was "Kathy's gonna KILL me!" (she didn't even act
upset about it-apparently she was just relieved that I came back alive). But-no more pictures except for the cell
phone variety, and I sure wasn't going to risk the phone by taking pictures on the water with it, especially in
rough conditions.
We made the turn into South Pass from a fair distance out, wanting to be sure that we got nowhere near the
shallow water. I'll point out here that our GPS had only 16 waypoints entered into it that covered the entire trip.
They got us to the general location of a pass, and then we navigated through using the chart and compass. This
meant that we were not always able to sail directly to the mouth of a pass, as we would get to our waypoint and
then sail a compass heading to and through the pass. In all of the instances where the passes were charted, this
worked pretty well as long as I was paying attention. This did mean that sometimes it took a little longer to
get where we were going.
As it turned out, there were ranging poles at the entrance to South Pass, and cabins and docks alongside the
pass itself, which made it hard to miss. As we were coming out of the pass, we scraped the edge of an unmarked
oyster reef with the daggerboard, but turned quickly and were able to sail away from it. A few minutes later Wind
Waker hit the same reef and her rudder popped up, out, and into the water. Eric recovered it so quickly that we
did not even know what had happened until they reached Army Hole couple of hours later. This brings up an
interesting point about sailing these waters.
There are oyster reefs EVERYWHERE. Many of them are not charted either on the NOAA charts or the
Hook-N-Line fishing maps that we used, having been formed since the last surveys were done. They seem to
slope up from the bay floors fairly steeply, too-there is not a lot of warning on the depth finder that you are about
to hit one. Definitely some interesting sailing.
The rest of the day's sailing was a 5 to 6-knot beam reach to Army Hole. We had passed between Josephine
Mott and Josephine Reef by 4 pm and were tossing our dock lines to Mr. Votaw by 4:30, after dropping sail and
motoring directly into the wind up the channel to the slips. Pilgrim, Peregrin, and a Sea Pearl were the only boats
in the slips when we arrived, with maybe 7 or 8 boats on the beach across the campsite, so there were a
considerable number that had not yet made it in.
As we watched the others in our group come in and helped them get tied off, we started hearing from some of
the folks who were already there about problems at Ayers Dugout. At this point we had no concrete information
what had happened to Dingleberry, Easy Bake, Tetra, or Bobby Chilek's San Juan 21, but there were rumors
that Tetra had been capsized and that several boats had been damaged.
We waited and worried. About 8 pm we saw Easy Bake's red sails in the distance and everyone lined up to see
her come in. We were very relieved to see that John was with Chris and Kelli. He was sunburned and his feet
were in pretty bad shape, but he was OK. He filled us in on the loss of Tetra and the damage to the San Juan,
and their subsequent salvage/rescue by the PDR guys, Chris and some of the others who were on the scene.
The San Juan showed up about then after motorsailing all evening with just her jib up and a damaged
centerboard. No one knew what had happened to the PDR's, but we figured correctly that they had found
a suitable spot to beach for the night. We visited with Bobby, Chris and Kelli until late and drank the rest of Chris'
beer with the goal of reducing the boat's weight for the run to Magnolia Beach.
Some of the smaller boats had been trickling in at the beach on the other side of the camp-the last to arrive were
the two Hobie Adventure Islands, at about 1:30 the next morning. In all, 29 boats made Army Hole out of the 48
that left Port Mansfield 4 days earlier.
Friday morning we slept in. After breakfast (around 9 am I think), we got things together, shook out the reefs in
the mainsail, and headed downwind in the channel towards the ICW. The wind was only 10 or 12 knots-easily
the lightest winds we had all week. Easy Bake passed us on the run down the channel, and then we caught
back up after turning into a beam reach at the ICW. Of course, she again left us in the dust after turning into
Matagorda Bay for the run to Magnolia Beach. We had a pleasant downwind sail after turning out of the
ICW, although we were still taking on a considerable amount of water from the bad weatherstripping around the
daggerboard trunk. An easy day!
We pulled up at the Indianola Public Park about 1:30 pm. It was a bittersweet end to the week. We had looked
forward to the trip for so long that although we were happy to have finished, it was over, and that was a sad
thing for us.
After beaching the boat, we caught a ride with some friends into Indianola and had hamburgers and cold beer for
lunch. The rest of the afternoon was spent visiting and looking over boats as they came in. We got Aldebaran
back on her trailer and spent one last night aboard in the parking lot before heading for home the next morning.
I had watched the Texas 200's birth the previous year through the Duckworks website, and later on the site that
Chuck put up that was dedicated to the cruise. After reading the accounts of the first year, I knew that I wanted to
make the trip if the events' organizers decided to do it again. It took the cancer diagnosis to actually make me
commit.
In October after the biopsy I got an envelope to put gig money in to help pay for the trip, and officially signed
myself up along with Byron Walker, my brother-in-law (and one of my best friends). Through the next 9 months
of surgery, radiation treatments and recovery, the Texas 200 website was always at the top of the list of recently
visited sites on our web browser. I believe that planning the trip and reading the advice and comments of the
others who were planning on going were instrumental to my recovery, both mentally and physically. It inspired
me to start exercising as early as possible in the weeks after the treatments ended and to push myself harder
than I would have otherwise.
Choking down as many calories as possible to gain back some of the weight I lost was a lot easier
with the motivation that the trip planning provided.
It was Something To Look Forward To, and I am grateful to everyone who participated in
any way. I am especially thankful for my wife Kathy, who acted as Head Nurse and Chief
Encourager through the whole cancer thing and never said a single negative word about all of the
preparations for the trip, although I know that she had some doubts as to whether I would be up to
it, and for Byron, who put up with me aboard a 19 foot boat for six days although there were
times when I "hit the wall" and he had to cut me a considerable amount of slack.
It has been 2 months since the 2009 Texas 200. It is in my thoughts at some point pretty
much every day. I have already committed to do it next year, health permitting. As I told my wife
on Saturday when we arrived back home, "If they were doing this again next week, I'd be there!"
I meant every word. Sailing with these folks was a terrific (and humbling) experience. This year's
trip started 128 days after the last radiation treatment; so next year should be easier. Maybe.
Chuck Pierce 8/18/09
