No. 46 - December 1981


Don Berrett


The purpose of running a regatta is obviously to conduct a race so I considered this the most important aspect of the regatta. The first thing to do is to set up a race committee chairman that you have confidence in. I did this about nine months before the regatta. This chairman should be well experienced in conducting races for boats of approximately the same size and speed. This makes it easier to set up courses that can be completed in a reasonable amount of time. He will also know how big to make the starting line. This one person can make or break the entire function; if everyone had "bad feelings about the racing of the day (or regatta), the whole function will be a failure regardless of how well the other two categories are organized.


Once you have a chairman, select a date or dates also well in advance (about six to nine months). This allows you the privilege of picking and choosing. If you wait too long, other regattas may get the choice dates. Remember, the early bird catches the worm: This will also allow publishing the dates in the newsletter so everyone can start to plan well in advance.


About two months before the regatta you will have to write the racing instructions. If you can, get a copy of another regatta's instructions to work from (I would be happy to send a copy of mine). These take longer to do than you expect so allow enough time and be sure to work with the race committee chairman since he may think of things you wouldn't and besides, he has to run the race by them so make him comfortable with them. Around this time you should also arrange to have a certified judge (or judges) available for protests. They may not be needed unless someone protests the race committee and then you would like to have an unbiased decision. The USYRU in Newport, RI can supply you with a list of judges.


When deciding where the courses will be set up, try to minimize the advantage of local knowledge by having the races in an area where the local sailors do not usually race; this will make outsiders more competitive.


At this time you should also think of trophies. Of course money will be a concern and you have to stay within a budget. Keep in mind that the race committee may cost money for food and gas; check it out with the chairman. The class association, for regional events, provides a portion of the class dues to help and will also provide class flags for the racing division. If you have a cruising division (mains and working jibs only), you will have to buy flags for that division ($12.50). This past year we spent about $75 on trophies which included first, second and third for each division, a separate regional champion trophy (people out of your region may attend and win), and three "FUN" trophies (i.e. furthest distance travelled to regatta, youngest crewperson, most unique entry). Check with your region V.P. to see how much money is coming from the class.




Here's an accessory you shouldn't be without if you do any cruising: A canopy/awning for sun and dew. Call it the BILL LEET CANOPY after its designer. His plans are submitted for any T-22 owner to follow on the strict provision that a Royalty be sent to him (1254 Crawford Court, Oakville, Ontario, L6J 123 - the amount 25cents).


The sketch is rough but the measurements are exact.


The best battens to use are 1" bamboo poles (smaller diameter will do but not as well).


Bill's recommendation for material (Acrilan) is probably wisest because it's relatively light and manageable. A somewhat heavier vinyl type can also be used for better rain protection but sewing it up is a little awkward.


Bill found an awning maker to put the thing together for him at a cost in 1978 of something over $125. Depending on material used you could sew one up yourself for less than that even with inflation.


Further innovation on the basic structure might be roll-down button-down sides to turn the entire cockpit into a roomy cabin for extra accommodation or a comfortable extension in wet weather.


Critical Measurements:

1.  Distance between two top snaps (under tension) - 68"

2.  A to B (along center line) - 113" (to hook under tension)

3.  A to C (along center line) - 133" (to hook under tension)


#1201 Acrilan

Ties 1/8" braided nylon cord, 60" long

1 1/2" snap hooks - brass

Polyester thread

Batten pockets 2" wide

Ties fixed both sides at bottom pocket

Fringe scalloped, 6" wide

Overall dimensions 68" x 134"





Eugene Kahn (#1214)

New York, NY


This was night racing in Eastchester Bay. The course was "H", first a 3/4 mile broad reach, then a run for a mile and a half to a channel buoy, and finally a beat back to the start. Jeff and I knew the area well, after four years of sailing around City Island, at the western end of Long Island Sound.


The only problem with the course was that both marks were small red nuns, unlighted and hard to find at night. With a long lead on the fleet we rounded the first nun, close in to shore. From there on I had to rely on the compass to find the second mark.


The wind had been northeast all day, between 15 and 18 knots, with a lumpy sea. But by evening things had calmed down so much that I was glad I had raised my biggest headsail, the 145% Genoa. After sundown the wind once again began to fill in and as each division cleared the lee of City Island into the open Sound the crews suddenly had their hands full. But it was good sailing, and things always seem faster and wilder at night on the water.


We never found "46A", the second nun. I stood at the bow pulpit, I scanned the water to leeward, I set up ranges with other lights and finally gave up. We swung over to starboard tack and sheeted in for the beat to the finish. We figured we had overshot the mark and would pass it on the way back. We watched astern as another boat reached the same decision and turned to follow us, blindly.


With the boat now hard on the wind, the lee rail began to dig in deeper. I considered putting the first reef in the main, but the boat was surging ahead so wonderfully.


When I peeked under the Genoa I could see several green lights. That meant another division would soon be crossing us on the port tack. In another few minutes I would have to make a decision. I told Jeff, at the helm, to hold his course. Since he had no view of what was coming up, he had to rely on my judgment.


The boats were closing on us very fast. They were no longer just green lights; I could already hear their bow waves. It was time to act. I shined a flashlight up at our sails, to make us more visible and hailed, "STAAARBOOARD"". Again Jeff asked what to do. "Wait", I shouted, “they’re’ turning. Hold your course". We were committed now, by the rules we had to hold our course.

From beneath the genny again I could see a third yacht coming across our course. Should we bear off? What if they also fall off to avoid me? I could be responsible for the crash. We were closing and maybe ten boat lengths apart. I hailed "STARBOARD!" with all my heart now, knowing that this was no longer a game but serious stuff. I must show them I was over here and with rights. By the time I hailed again I saw it was already too late. It was not going to be merely close, there was going to be a collision. When their bow was hardly a boat length away, I heard a frantic voice shouting at their helmsman, "Fall off, fall off". I screamed at Jeff, "Head up!” Maybe we could glance off each other and avoid their bow tearing right into us.


I still do not remember what I did when they hit. Their lookout on the bow pulpit later said he looked down straight into our cockpit and saw me sprawled out flat. I didn't want to panic and I thought of one maxim from sailing lessons, five years before, "Get the biggest sail down first". So I ran up to the mast and got the Genoa halyard off and punched the sail down to the deck. Whatever happened next, at least the Genoa wouldn't get in the way. I yelled to Jeff to let the mainsheet run out. I was so certain we would be split open, that when I jumped back into the cockpit I expected seawater to start rising around my feet. I only hoped there would be time to get clear of the falling rigging and split fiberglass.


From the stern Jeff was calling for a knife. I didn't ask for what, but dove into the cabin and came up with an eight inch sheath knife, the kind sailors wear on their belt in unsavoury ports. Lying across our stern rail was a mast, with the crane fitting toggled in our mainsheet.


I got ready to slash through the four-part mainsheet when a fit of cheapness took hold of me and I gingerly untangled the good half-inch braid from the mast head. I just didn't want to destroy what was still intact. But as the boats continued

to pull apart, the wire shrouds managed to tangle and jam tight around the upraised outboard motor. I tugged frantically, as Jeff held the fallen mast to give me some slack. The wire snips from any keel kit were dull, rusted and useless. With a last pull of sheer survival energy, I pulled the wire free of the motor's handle and finally the two yachts began to drift clear of each other.


No one was hurt, and the Tanzer was not split open. My rigging was not damaged. The other boat, a 28-ft Pearson Triton yawl, finished the race as a sloop. The Tanzer's hull damage was limited to a jagged fiberglass corner where the deck raises up from the seaming and a five inch split in the cabin topsides slightly aft of the last porthole. The port stanchion was bent over, the lifeline parted from its terminal and the Genoa cleat had its tip snapped off. The plastic track on the mast broke off, we lost a sail slug and a stainless cheek block on the boom end was pulled apart. It was these last three fittings that took the shock of dismasting the Pearson. The aluminum swivel bracket on the outboard cracked apart when the rigging tangled, but we did not lose the motor.


Why did it happen? At the protest hearing later that same night, two witnesses came to my defence. The skipper of the yacht astern of me, on the same tack, said he had heard my hail. More important, the skipper of a boat abeam of the Pearson yawl testified that he had seen my boat and heard my Starboard hail, even though he was further upwind of the Pearson.


This was my first protest and I was very nervous and unsure how the result might affect the insurance settlement. I won. It was ruled a basic port/starboard situation. My hail was verified by witnesses from two separate boats, and according to the rules I was exonerated from blame in the collision. (The witnesses for the other skipper were both his own crew). For just a moment I felt like crying in relief. By doing what I thought to be right I had a terrifying accident. Yet, I had been right. I didn't feel good, I just felt relieved. The other skipper bought me and Jeff drinks, and his lookout helped me sail back to my mooring.


Apparently the other crew had been concentrating solely on the two boats close to them, the same two boats I first saw change course for me. Perhaps those boats blocked the Pearson's view of my boat, even with my running lights and flashlight on the sail.

There is no moral or conclusion, just some practical advice for the skipper of anything bigger than a Sunfish: Shine the flashlight into the other boat's cockpit, and carry a good wire cutter.




Diane Dunn (1/841)

Willowdale, Ontario


When Grant confirmed that the 1981 North American Championship was being held in Newport, Rhode Island, our holidays were all arranged. Not knowing my geography very well, I agreed, thinking a six week sailing adventure would be fun. It was only when people started making comments such as "I'm glad it's not me", "I wouldn't do it", or "And you're taking the kids too" that I realized this holiday would be different.


Our vacation started July 11 with the Lake Simcoe Championships. With no wind for the races, followed by a three hour struggle to get the boat loaded onto the trailer (ramp retrieval), it did not seem to be a great start. The one hour trip home was uneventful.


Fitting a house into a T22 isn't easy, especially when you plan to have a 5 year old and a 2 year old on board. It took 3 days to pack the boat (much to Grant's surprise), but when we finished, we had everything we needed, including the toaster and kettle) tucked away inside the storage space. We were not sure the boat would float, but it did (the waterline stripe disappeared).


We launched the boat at Ashbridges Bay Yacht Club, Toronto, and finally set sail on Thursday afternoon July 16 at 1600 hrs. We had to motor half way across Lake Ontario to reach Wilson, N.Y. at 2200 hrs. We learned the hard way not to enter a strange harbour at night when we ran aground by entering the channel on the wrong side of the Javex bottles used for channel markers. Fortunately for us, T22 #1729 (a centerboard model) came into harbour about 20 minutes later to assist us off what proved to be a gravel shoal. At midnight we were entertained by the local fire department personnel who came to put out a fire on the opposite side of the harbour. We had never seen a pumper towing a motor boat before, and the boat was used to get to the scene.


The next day, we motored most of the way to Oak Orchard, N.Y. Not being too impressed by the swampy nature of the harbour combined with the 950 heat and 95% humidity, we tied up to the outside entrance wall of the harbour. Sure enough, at 0300 hrs a storm came up and we had to cut our mooring lines and then stay awake until 0500 hrs to be sure that our anchor was holding.

On our third day of motoring in unbearable heat with a leaky head, I was ready to call it quits and the kids wanted to go home, but Grant had a determined look on his face that said it all, "Newport Within Reach". We arrived at the Rochester Yacht Club that day. With its swimming pool, showers bar and very friendly members and staff, we stayed three days. The members took us into their homes, helped with laundry facilities, and drove us to grocery stores. The holiday was starting to look promising.


A beautiful sail to Fairhaven, N.Y. (on a broad reach for 8 hrs), a one day stop­over at the state park, and another 16 miles of motoring on the seventh day of the trip and we arrived at Oswego, N.Y., the Lake Ontario entrance to the Erie Canal System. We finally got hold of D.S. Customs, one week after our arrival in the States, to obtain our cruising permit.


Four days were spent in the Erie Canal. It was built for commercial traffic and does not cater very well to pleasure craft. On a Saturday we travelled for 20 miles to meet another boat - an oil barge: In 186 miles there was only 3 canal parks and the marinas were few and far between. The only excitement we had occurred when Ryan (2 years old) fell off the docks, an event he will remember for some time to come (Many thanks to Mustang Sportswear!). The scenery was pretty, but Karen and Ryan got very bored being on the boat with no break at all. The rubber dinghy proved very useful for towing the children. It seemed to settle any differences they might have had.


Although the Hudson was dirty, we found the accommodation excellent (Van Schaick Island Marina, Watertown, N.Y., Shady Harbour Marina, New Baltimore, Noree State Park, and the Nyack Boat Club, Nyack). The trip on the river was very picturesque and pleasant, although we were only able to sail a total of one and a half days of the four due to lack of wind.


We had to start worrying about tides and currents, and as a result, left the Nyack Boat Club (just north of the Tappanzee Bridge) at 0300 hrs in the company of a Cal 25 on the way to New Rochelle, N.Y. (Long Island Sound). New York harbour and Hell's Gate had been bothering me since we left Toronto. Having expected to tie Karen and Ryan to the boat so as not to lose them in the maze of boats and rough water, I was disappointed to see that we were the only boats on the water when we reached the Battery at 0700 hrs. I think I saw the Statue of Liberty although the smog was so bad I couldn't be sure (My pictures didn't clarify the matter at all!).


Long Island Sound (Port Jefferson, Mattiluck Inlet, and Coercles Harbour, Shelter Island) proved to be the same as Lake Ontario - no wind: The water contained a sufficient quantity of jellyfish to effectively prevent us from swimming in what otherwise appeared to be a great place for all beach activities.


We headed from Shelter Island to Montauk Point (tip of Long Island) and discovered a printing error in latitude on one of the charts that would enable us to get to Block Island, R.I. Based on an underwater electrical cable which appeared on all 3 charts, we charted our course to Block Island and set sail for the 18 mile trip across open water with about one quarter mile visibility due to fog. Trying not to think too much about our guide book comment, "If you miss Block Island, the next stop is Portugal", I was greatly relieved to see harbour entrance mark to the Great Salt Pond about 100 yards off our port bow. We had successfully navigated "blind" for the first time since we had purchased "Within Reach" in 1975.


Two days later we set sail for Newport (in excellent visibility). Our arrival at the Newport Yacht Club 3 weeks after leaving Toronto caused quite a stir locally. The Club members treated us with exceptional hospitality during the next week while we waited for the North Americans to get underway. We were told about all the nice local cruising spots, but after 3 weeks of mobility, all we were interested in was solid ground.


One of the highlights of the week prior to the racing was a Sunday rafted up with five of the local club members in Brenton's Cove, Newport Harbour, for an afternoon of making ice cream, swimming, drinks, etc. It was after the ice cream treat that I decided to take Karen out for a rowing lesson using our friend's fiberglass dinghy.



I had just been told that I didn't need a lifejacket "cause the captain has to go down with the ship". No sooner said than done. Being used to our rubber dinghy, I had no sooner stepped into the dinghy, when I capsized it with Karen caught under it. Needless to say, Karen was no longer interested in a rowing lesson from Mommy.


Once the North Americans were over, we repacked the boat and ventured out to Martha's Vineyard on a four day cruise. Tides and currents became a problem because we had left our books in the car (our crew had brought the car and trailer from Toronto). The night we spent at Edgartown we found ourselves sitting on our keep along with Dave Dougal (T22 - #1418) who had anchored beside us. Luckily it was only a two foot tide.


We got back to Newport on Friday, August 21, trailered to Montreal the next day and launched the boat at Pointe Claire (with Rod Hayes T22 - #142 assisting), ready for the Quebec Regionals on August 29-30. On August 31 we made it back to Toronto.


The friends we made on the trip and at Newport will remain in our memories for a long time to come. Although I doubt that we will make the trip by water again, Grant and I are looking forward to cruising in the waters of Rhode Island and Cape Cod in the near future with some of the friends we made while in Newport.