THE FAST LANE ON GOLDEN SHORES ROUND THE COUNTY 2022
by Joe Cline Round the County has my heart. The two-day trip around the San Juans is among the most anticipated races on the calendar, and I would venture that a plurality of PNW sailors would call it their favorite event. Depending on the year, Round the County can dole out the raw power of the Salish Sea’s natural forces, or one of the prettiest race courses on Planet Earth, or both. This was a golden year with sun and enough breeze for at least some of the fleet to complete the course within the time limit each day. As with human loved ones, a beloved race can simultaneously be dear and occasionally infuriating. This race saw high highs and low lows for many boats on the course, the one your author was aboard very much included. Yet, with it freshly in our wake, I know I’m in good company when I say that it was another genuinely wonderful Round the County. The course, the fleet, the location, the hospitality, even the occasionally frustrating conditions. Round the County just nails it, year in and year out. For days leading up to Round the County weekend, and still in the wee hours of Saturday morning prior to the start, most of the smart money placed bets on an exceedingly light wind race — 0-6 knots on Saturday with perhaps slightly more on Sunday. It was forecast to be sunny, though, so things certainly could have looked worse. As the fleet of well over 100 boats motored to the start line, a 10-knot northerly greeted us in Rosario Strait. First: AWESOME, hope it holds. Second, BRRRRR, that is some seriously chilly wind. Mount Baker was on brilliant display, all your sailing pals were there, the breeze was twice as good as predicted — it was going to be a great day. Round the County starts remain some of the busiest, most exciting affairs in PNW racing. They tend to be surprisingly civil, considering that there are approximately 40 boats of varying size and spanning several classes in each start; but it’s fair to say the chaos is a level up compared to what we’re accustomed to in this region. Saturday’s start line felt especially long and offered two apparent courses of action — start on the east side (farther out in Rosario) for what looked like more breeze, or start on the other end closer to Lydia Shoal to begin down a ladder rung or two (or more, it was a really long line). As luck would have it, the breeze eventually compressed against the shore of Blakely Island, 48º NORTH
leaving the low-road starters with a pretty significant advantage of both position and breeze. I was sailing with the TP52 Glory, and we were on the fortunate side of that exchange, charging south under our A1.5 kite with a big lead over our class as we chased down the fleets that had started before us. So that was that, the leaders extended and won easily, end of story, right? HA! Sailing south in Rosario Strait, the breeze began to lighten more and more. The boats behind brought a little pressure with them, and after about 12 of the day’s 31 miles, there was a consolidation at Davidson Rock. Our lead that had felt like a mile was down to boat lengths as we made the turn westward. That’s where it got funky and incredibly light. The islands giveth and the islands taketh away… breeze, that is. On this pretty November day, the islands gaveth, big time, and those golden shores were heavenly indeed. On Glory, we headed out after Davidson, hypothesizing that if a breath of the northerly was going to trickle down, it would be coming up and over the islands, and would be offshore. Instead, shore breeze and a current river gave the inside boats insane wheels by comparison. As Glory and several others bobbed around well south of the island, boat after boat saw the writing on the wall, and tacked into the beach and cruised on by. What breeze there was was hardly consistent, and there were sail changes aplenty both along shore and outside. By the time we were working past the half-way point at Iceberg Point, several of our competitors were pretty much out of sight around the corner of San Juan Island. Oof. Long after our day’s hope for a good result had sailed into the distance, we finally connected a few patches of carpet enough to get to the beach, and we short tacked with everybody else in the most stunning Salish Sea sunset, finishing in the last of the daylight. We headed through Mosquito Pass to Roche Harbor to relish the weekend’s other type of fun, in spite of our challenging day from a racing perspective. Docking at Roche in the dusky blue light was as magical as ever with the amphitheater of historic buildings illuminated with decorative lights. Hot toddies at the dock numbed our disappointment, morale got a big lift, and an evening of good times ensued for all 700-some sailors. Day two dawned just as cold and just as windy as Saturday. If you thought the starting area on Saturday was exciting, it was
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DECEMBER 2022