The Cat of 9 Tails (2022) Race Report
The Cat of 9 Tails was a great success despite the extremely variable conditions that fell upon the course. MSSC saw the attendance of three Hobie 16’s and two Tiki 21’s. The orange Tiki is mine (Brad Ingram and Blakeley Bunch), and the grey and blue one has been refitted and restored by Chris Haslacker. There are only around 12 of these sailing in the US, so it’s awesome two are right here! We did the maiden voyage during sunset on Friday, and then Chris raced it nine hours on Saturday. Legend! For anyone interested in more information on these strange and rare cats, I’ll add a link after the photo stream. Shane and Connor Gaston were on the Hobie with the red sails, Bradley Davis in green, Chris and his buddy Stephen on the grey tiki, and Craig Runnels and Craig Hennecy flew the multi-colored sail. Hobie 16 cultists have special names for all these sail colors, so I’m sorry for the aggravated wincing that may be happening upon reading this description. IT WILL BE OK! Just keep an eye on that lee bow.
For this race, racers sailed up and down the lake around a channel mark on the Eastern sector and an imagined mark 100 meters off the Turtle Point Marina entrance to the West. To win, each boat had to cover the most ground whilst rounding the course during the allotted time. GPS trackers were started at 9:00 AM and stopped at 6:00 PM. Sitting in a pocket of pressure and mowing the lawn (reaching back and forth) was strictly forbidden as the only real rule. Since being lashed with an actual cat of 9 tails is an exercise in mental and physical endurance, racers were allowed to tap into their own grit, utilizing paddles as tools for progress across the lulls. Even when the wind returned, several racers could be seen abreast, sailing and paddling as if they were on a Polynesian raid instead of a modern-day sporting event!
Everyone came in throughout the day on Friday at a very chill pace which was great as this event is meant to be more of a relaxed anti-yachting event overall. Bradley and Craig H, aka “Thistle Craig”, rolled in, set up camp and Hobies, and then opted for the night out on the town (procrastinators partying and getting potluck food at the last minute). Bradley offered to trade me beer as a barter payment for his t-shirt which worked out poorly as their high and low search for Stout at the Devil ended in just finding four 25 oz. Hurricanes and slipping a $30 Venmo my way. Ironically, the slogan of Hurricane is Cat 5, so this was a highly acceptable option, nonetheless. The effort towards searching for the Devil in a small Alabama town was much appreciated, boys! From the phone call I got during what sounded like mid-search……they were already having a great time at the Cat of 9. P.S. Craig grew up in Muscle Shoals but now is a big shot down at Birmingham Sailing Club. Everyone else arrived by eleven pm. We burned a few logs down on Blakeley’s “smokeless” Solo Stove firepit, decided to push the start from 8 to 9 AM, and were all asleep by midnight.
The start line was an interesting experience as the only craft that arrived on time were the cruising cats. That’s right, all three race-machines and their technicolor dream coat sails were still flexing in the parking lot well after the Wharrams were heading to the first mark. We’ll let it slide this one time and leave it up to coincidence. The lack of a pretty beach to use their pricy beach wheels must have caused a temporary black hole to develop inside their chronometers. Despite this, the conch horn was blown at 9:00 AM and, shortly thereafter, they were chasing us down towards Turtle Point in about a 6 mph Northeasterly. The reason that beach cats have kites now became quickly apparent as we slowly pulled away from Chris under asymmetrical, full of guilt but interested to see how the kite/wing sail did against the battened Hobie non-spin rig in the light air conditions. The wing typically hangs with no shape if there isn’t enough pressure to shape it. The lulls today were no different. Approaching the first mark, the VHF came alive with questions like “Hey, what are you doing in that cove?”, “why are people paddling/is it allowed?” and “where is the first mark?”, showing that the NOR and its included mapping was never opened by some cheeky competitors. My radio evidently was destroyed during the Everglades Challenge SUP attempt and could barely send out intelligible gibberish. Bradley was able to read the NOR while drifting and relay the message to the others who needed to hear it. He is a yankee by trade, so clear communication with Southerners is sometimes a struggle without the radio confusion. He does great sail repair right in Madison, by the way. I’ll link it below too. By this time, the Hobies had caught up, and the sail/paddle/blast gangster rap upwind slog was in full effect. Bradley passed us singlehanded, stunting hard with tunes and obscene gestures until he hit a lull. This sort of activity would continue throughout the rest of the leg with lots of position shifting, simul-paddling, and praying that the wind would clock to the South so that our machines could strut their stuff in full reaching glory.
After a great lift finally pulled us out of beating hell and right down the center of the lake on starboard tack for a quarter-hour, it decided that it needed a break and decided to sit back and have a beer on us. Oh no, flat conditions are back! It was during this time that the paddling option came into full effect, and Bradley’s rather honorable lead may as well have had a contract out on its life. The cleverly dubbed “Craig Boat” and Beto, my Tiki, paddled side by side for near a mile until they went in to let Flying Scot Craig’s girlfriend’s dog out for a potty break. It’s worth mention that two dinghy guys were able to get up to Bradley and the Gastons through paddling on a beater boat, making them sweat a bit! By now we were able to catch Bradley and the Gastons towards the Eastern mark. The wind filled in for us along the shoreline, the kite came up, and we were goose winging all three sails on a DDW run right at where the first red buoy should be……but WHERE WAS IT?! We all searched high and low ahead with no signs whatsoever of this restless buoy. Did it get run down by a drunk power-boater? Did it break free of its small-town familial chains and fly to help fight the war in Ukraine? Did it move to Las Vegas to become a dancer? No one knows for sure, so we spent a few minutes trying to communicate through my defunct radio until “follow…….me” was established, and we led the two Hobies around the first GREEN buoy instead. One must be adaptable during the Cat of 9 Tails. Chris, who got lulled out for hours behind us, was now catching up and received an update along with the Craigs who were back in the action from poop scooping as well. Apparently, the Craigs, possessed by Polynesian Viking spirits, full on raided the Tiki where instead of death they received beers. Chris and Stephen are clearly solid in character to reward such malicious tactics, especially after they refused dark beer! Chris told me that Flying Scot Craig’s Hurricane virginity was lost during the raid. Thistle Craig was read on to the Cane several years prior by your humble narrator.
With everyone now in relative proximity, the wind was holding, and we all were in good spirits still, over seven hours in. Bradley, the Craigs, and the Tiki, I believe, stayed towards the N shore while the Gastons and Beto took the Southern option. We sailed behind the Gastons for a bit as the wind died, but we were first to bust out the paddles and chase the next puff, pulling us slightly into the lead. After it filled and died once more, there was promise of a sustained puff off to the West…..a nice grey line all the way across the lake. Radio chatter saw Bradley and the Gastons turning towards the club to be safe in the case of a drift off while Blakeley and I, our few remaining beers, and my SUP paddle whispered “Go West, my son” to Beto. Paddling into the puff, we were met with a gust that saw our top speed of the day. This led us to milk it for more while noticing the Hobies were still in a lull. Once the wind hit them, they “took the roundabout way back” (this may be code for lawn mowing amongst 16 sailors……but it’s all good). Low and behold we ended up paddling the final 20 minutes as we went from full sail and spinnaker to just the kite hanging limp around the forestay. We were the last boat in, following Chris and Stephen to the dock. One could argue that the tikis were the safety boats. Crossing the finish didn’t really matter as the time stopped at 6:00PM wherever you were along and was met with another big-echoed blast of the Belizean conch horn.
Dinner was a potluck with everything from chili to tacos to pork tenderloin to a Boston butt to chips to vegetables to apple pie and ice cream etc. No one starved to any degree. The only apprehension was towards removing the sleeves of blazers for the dinner party. Sleeveless blazers were a requirement. With some being shyer than others and feeling a strange new connection to their paddles that may have them a bit uncomfortable, the sleeves were made optional. Blakeley loved the blazer I got her from probably 1946, and she rubs my feet and drove the boat for most of the race, so she got a pass. One could probably guess that Craig Hennecy took some convincing to drop those BSC ways and let his arms relax with proper ventilation. We ensured that it happened, though, don’t worry. A low-key event indeed, I think everyone crashed out by eleven or so on Saturday. Sunday everyone packed up, and Thistle Craig, Blakeley’s father Blake, Ocean (our boxer), and I had a great day sail before taking Beto apart for a small refit and bringing him home. KUDOS to Blakeley for being the only female and representing for women everywhere!
Everyone had a great time, as far as I know, despite the light conditions. During the first iteration, I sailed 72 miles on the Nacra with just a single reef main and no jib, and Chris pulled 63 on his Hobie 14. This year’s results were a little different, but we grew by three boats and word will get around to all those stubborn coasties for next year. All of the 16’s were asking what we are doing in October and will definitely be returning. The plan is to do a figure-8 windsurfing style course in the AM and a downwind slalom course in the afternoon. These are beam reach starts and mostly reaching legs that our machines are actually designed for. Interest is strong. I may need help with race committee, and I think it would be cool to have any interested mono-maran sailors to anchor out as marks for the slalom course like the Aussies do. If there is wind, then it will be some great spectating of people going fast. Please let me know if there is any interest for this.
Thanks,
Brad (and Blakeley)
Results
RESULTS for Hobie 16
1st Shane and Ron Gaston (25 Miles 2-Up)
2nd Bradley Davis (25 Miles Solo)
3rd Craig Boat (Somewhere between 12-20. Device Error)
P.S. Since sailing solo isn’t exactly as fair as sailing two up, there is an unofficial Charles Bukowski singlehanded class. Bradley won this, just so that everyone knows.
RESULTS for Tiki 21
1st Brad and Blakeley (22 miles) Wharram wing and asymmetrical
2nd Chris and Stephen (14 miles) Hobie 16 rig non-spinnaker
Links
My write-up:
https://smallboatsmonthly.com/article/tiki-21/
Rory McDougall circumnavigated on his Tiki 21 in the 90’s with a sextant. He has also raced the Jester Challenge (solo, no motor, upwind against the Atlantic), and came in 2nd. If interested, look for any issue with his name in it to read about his voyage here:
http://pca.colegarner.com/sea.people.html
Bradley only operates with proper marine materials from Sailrite. He did the reefs on my Nacra mainsail and restitched the trampoline. As an engineer, he likes to get things right but also offer very fair pricing. His place is off of County Line in Madison.
https://www.facebook.com/SailAnotherDay
