MEMBERSHIP MEETING
Tuesday, November 18 - 7:30 p.m.
ANNUAL ELECTION OF OFFICERS FOR 1998
WE MUST HAVE A QUORUM PRESENT TO VOTE!!
See Programs for details

Wow, where has the year gone. It seems like only yesterday the nominating committee said “Commodore,” I thought they said “Have some more” so I said “I’d like that.” It turned out to be a very good year. We had a full calendar of events that came off flawlessly, because of all the people in the club that stepped up to organize, work and participate.

We were able to welcome new members and welcome back some old members.

Racers found new ideas and new rules, then went out to seek other competition, and in some cases I understand, may not have been invited back. Recently, an M-26 sailor traveled to our club from Alabama to learn how to improve his racing. Said he had been told the sailors in the Dallas club were the tops in MacGregor racing.

We elect officers at the November meeting. Please mail your proxy vote to Steve Hanes even if you think you will be at the meeting. We need to have a quorum of members represented.

The Christmas Banquet is coming up on December 13th. Get your tickets from Lora Featherston, and dust off your dancing shoes!

My many thanks to the 1997 board members and the committee chairmen for all their work. Thanks to Les and Wilma Liggett at The Rigg Shop for all their support and contributions to the club, including sponsoring and promoting the sailing lessons.

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Aloha!

The membership remained steady at the club goal of 75 memberships. This matches the last several years’ memberships.

The V/MYC won the Lavon Challenge Cup this year. Congratulations! This brings the Lavon Yacht Club and the V/MYC even in the number of wins.

I think October is the best month to sail in Texas. The summer heat is broken, the water is still warm, the sun is bright in blue skies, and the wind blows and blows. Speaking of wind, I got a chance to take the helm of a Santa Cruz 50 in the lee of Maui last week. The trade winds blew over the island and funneled down the valleys, creating windlines and shifts for miles out to sea. There were whitecaps everywhere but no significant swells due to the island blocking the rollers. The wind was gusting into the 30's and the boat had a reefed main and just a little wisp of the jib unfurled; but we were still hauling unbelievably fast. I have a video to prove it wasn't just a dream. I felt right at home on that boat. She wanted to heel way over and round up into the puffs; definitely not a "stiff" boat. I hope the wedding that was scheduled for the next morning on the boat was performed going downwind. This October was a good month for sailing. Although I sailed 5 days, including 2 day cruises, 7 races, 3 boats, and 3 bodies of water, it doesn't seem like I did near enough sailing.

Thanks to Dick Hardin for the loan of the video camera. Charlotte and I have an additional way to remember our recent Hawaiian vacation.

If you have any interest in what is new in marine paint or questions about painting, you don't want to miss the next meeting. We have a representative from Interlux coming to speak to us. Come prepared with your questions! If you are even remotely considering painting your boat (or having your boat painted) this is the meeting you have been waiting for.

IF THERE IS ANY POSSIBILITY THAT YOU WILL NOT COME TO THE NOVEMBER MEMBERSHIP MEETING, SEND IN THE BALLOT TODAY. HECK, DO IT RIGHT NOW! (The average meeting attendance doesn't quite constitute the quorum required to vote on club business.) So even if there is not very much selection on the ballot; the ballot still needs to be cast. Thanks, and Mahalo.

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They say that on a dog sled, the view only changes for the lead dog.

That pretty well describes my indoctrination into sailboat racing six years ago, except that instead of hairy dog butts, I had to stare at some of the skuzziest-looking transoms and sterns on Galveston Bay for over two years. Believe me, I had to gaze for hours at some pretty ugly transoms sailed by some extremely ugly, inept, obnoxious old guys during that time. I won't even attempt to describe our racing prowess as a beginning level of competitive excellence. We fell more into the politically correct category of the protected minority status described as the sailing impaired or the sailing disadvantaged.

To ever achieve a goal in life. you must first be able to visualize it happening. As hard as I tried, I just couldn't visualize us winning a race, much less coming in first in fleet or first in regatta. Instead of closing my eyes and seeing our red 33-foot Beaujolais roaring through the lee of the lead boat to cross the finish line, I saw a different, more realistic vision. It was always the same thing, my crew and I, laughing, giving each other high fives as our bow successfully rammed into the fat transom of the big tub ahead of us, crushing his hot barbecue grill and collapsing his oversized bimini.

I never shared this dream before, for fear of the Freudian interpretation the normal perverted sailor would derive from it. Most sailors simplify everything in life by fitting it into one of three major life clusters: Sailing, Sex and Drinking. I was born to be a sailor. As if learning to sail a boat fast wasn't demeaning and frustrating enough, I had to learn and memorize the endless nautical names of every stupid little, overpriced piece of equipment on board. It became very evident that those early sailors had entirely too much free time on their hands. If they had spent more time swabbing the deck or pillaging and plundering, they wouldn't have had the luxury of lying in their bunks dreaming up words like atwarthship or forecastle or gundgeon. Even Berlitz knows better than to offer Conversational Sailoreze to its list of foreign languages you can learn to speak fluently & quote in only two short weeks. I did find comfort in the fact that, like most people thrust into a foreign environment, sailors could bluff their way through most situations by pointing a lot and talking loud.

My crew was made up of my cousin Rudy, a building contractor, and our friend John Boy, a Houston cop. Cousin Rudy decided to buy a plastic labeling gun and make little colored labels to stick the nautical names of everything right on them so they would be easy to learn. John Boy's contribution was to get a different-colored rope for every line and sheetand halyard on the boat. It worked great. I would yell, ”Pull in the red rope, tighten that thing with the red label on it, move that thing with the missing label!” We were fast on our way to becoming a lean, mean sailing machine. John Boy started to have visions of us competing in the America's Cup, but if we won it they would have to rename it the Mexican Cup. The race results presented yet another trauma. They also required an all-new lexicon of sailing terms. All the other boats in the fleet got numbers and times typed by their names on the results postings. Beaujolais got initials: D.N.S. or D.N.F. or D.F.L. On several occasions we wrote in initials by the showoff boats at the top of those lists: B.F.D. Hey, we had day jobs. We were not vying to become racing legends, and if we wanted a trophy that bad we would steal one or buy one at the pawn shop for a lot less money than it would take to buy the kind of sails and equipment the rich big boys used. Our prerace regimen acutely reflected our sailboat racing attitude: we suited up in our matching red and white team uniforms, waxed the shiny red hull, turned up Buffett on the external speakers, iced down the beer and styled our way to the start line. It's not important how fast your boat goes, it's how you look going fast through the water. Sailing fast is a science; looking good as you go fast is an art. After 13 races we three Latin artisans had worked up to the point where we could all hold in our stomachs for 17 straight minutes!

Sailboat racing was much less complicated then - fat, dumb, happy and basking in the euphoria, or ignorant bliss. Then that fateful day arrived, and our land of milk and honey vanished. The boat sank. On the return trip to Legend Point on Clear Lake from the Elissa Regatta, the U.S.S. Beaujolais hit something in the middle of the Houston Ship Channel, breaking the rudder and punching a hole in the hull. The Coast Guard towed us back to Galveston and left us at the Texaco dock at 3 a.m. John Boy and I frantically ran throughout the marina looking for someone with a pump or equipment to help us. When we returned to the boat, she was missing. As we got closer to where we had parked her, we saw that she was not missing -- she was under the water. The only thing visible was the mast, with the boom just clearing the water by 6 inches.

John Boy tried to cheer me up: All right, man, you got yourself a sailboat submarine. All I could see before me was my whole life’s savings. Well, a part of my life’s savings, the rest of it was under the water. Standing there, staring down at the black abyss, in the depths of my despair I heard the Galveston marina security guard approach. He looked down and said, “It looks like your boat sank.” There has to be some very special, unique screening process Texas security companies use to recruit the caliber of people with that insight and power of keen observation. He then told us, “You need to move it out of here before it starts getting busy around 8 a.m. He must not have noticed the absence of sailing wind at that time of night nor understood the difficulty one would most probably encounter in trying to start a diesel engine with Galveston Bay in its fuel tanks.

John Boy and I didn't respond, but instead, walked back to the marina office to find a phone to call home and inform them of the catastrophy. As the phone rang I was struck with the most wonderful, greatest, spectacular revelation I could have ever hoped for: this was not my car, this was my boat. I HAD INSURANCE! As my wife answered the phone, my excitement could not be contained. Great news, the boat sank! The news of the sinking of the U.S.S. Beaujolais spread quickly throughout the racing community Before I even received my insurance check I had calls from people wanting to sell me their old boats. None of them were red. A yacht broker in Kemah told me of a 43-foot I.O.R. German Frers offshore racer I could get a great deal on up in Annapolis. He had not seen her but heard that Andiamo had been built in Buenos Aires, Argentina, for some millionaire in Wilmington. That guy had bought a new Swan and had the Frers dry-docked about four years ago.

As if my actions were possessed by some obsessive, compulsive, divine force, I was on an airplane the next day to Washington, D.C. I rented a car and drove directly to the Annapolis marina. As I got out of the Avis red convertible rental, it was love at first sight. She was the biggest, reddest, sleekest, sexiest sailboat I had every seen in my whole life. I climbed up a ladder to inspect the deck. There were winches everywhere, big, giant, humongous black ones the size of Volkswagens! She didn't have a mast; she had a big, massive black telephone pole with eight halyards hanging from it. That German guy built this momma for some very serious racing. According to the yardmaster, she was almost a virgin, only raced to the Bahamas a few times when she was new. The owner was too busy working to ever sail her. Three weeks later, Andiamo was commissioned at Captain Wick's in Kemah, under her new name Wild Thing.

Two weeks later, cousin Rudy, John Boy and I were stylin' Wild Thing out to her inaugural race on Galveston Bay. The Race Committee had given us a 104 PHRF rating until our official rating could be computed. We were assigned to the first start along with all the other racer/cruisers. The gun went off and Wild Thing lurched over the start line with a roar, pointing almost directly into the wind. Rudy, John Boy and I looked around. Something was wrong. Where were all those skuzzy sterns and transoms? Where were the barbecue pits? The entire flotilla was behind us, and getting farther behind every minute.

As we turned our attention back to the bow of the boat, terror struck all of us at the same instant - there was NOBODY in front of us! For 13 races we had been like sailing concubines, following the fleet from port to port. Rudy, at the helm, yelled to me, Where do I go, what do I do? I immediately responded, Don't ask me, I have no earthly idea where to go. But just keep sailin' this sucker as fast as she will go, the fleet is still getting farther behind! John Boy offered his solution. Maybe we will get lucky and someone will pass us and we can follow them. Rudy recommended that we get on the radio and ask someone for directions. NO!!! Macho men DON'T ask for directions. We would definitely have to buy a map of Galveston Bay before the next race. John Boy found the race packet and saw that the Race Committee had provided lat/long coordinates for all the marks. I made a mental note that on that shopping trip to buy the map, I also needed to buy a loran and instruction manual. Upon further exploration of the race packet I discovered they had also provided us with pictures of each of the rigs and platforms being used as race marks.

Using our binoculars, we scanned the horizon searching for anything that remotely looked like their picture of the J mark. I saw it! I saw it! The big red racing machine was heading right at it, at 7.5 knots! WE DON'T NEED NO STINKIN' MAP! About 20 yards from the mark, Rudy looked again at the picture in the book and realized it was the wrong mark. It was the K mark, our reaching mark. I once attended a sailboat racing seminar put on by John Kolius where he said sailboat races are won by those who make the fewest mistakes. We had made thousands of mistakes in those 13 races - but when you spend your racing career at the back of the fleet, nobody sees them. John Boy expressed our feelings, Man, this is the most embarrassing moment of my life. Let's drop out and just say the rudder got stuck and we couldn't turn it to the right.

The entire regatta of 35 boats was back there looking at us, watching us in disbelief, most probably laughing their heads off at us. The committee boat was most likely on the radio announcing, “And as a new feature at our races, for your viewing entertainment, we present Wild Thing and the Three Amigos.” I turned the page that had the picture of the J mark. Behold, there is a god! The Race Committee had also provided a chart that had the compass headings between every marker in the race! Rudy swung the big red bow through the wind toward our new heading. A major wind shift had occurred that we had not noticed. Our new close reach had us pointed right at the mark again. Wild Thing reached the mark on that tack at 7 knots, rounded ever so graciously, and immediately headed back to the now so intimately familiar K mark. The final leg of the single triangle went quickly. As the big red freight train roared over the finish line, we heard a loud gun go off. NOW WHAT DID WE DO WRONG? The age of innocence was over. We be racers.

That one gun changed everything in life. Sailing is no longer the simple, fanciful diversion from life ... it is life. I don't ski anymore. I don't golf anymore. I don't fly or skydive anymore. I don't fly off to Paris. I sail. I read sailing books on tactics and strategy. I subscribe to three sailing magazines. I go to racing seminars. I go to boat shows in New Orleans, Houston, Annapolis. I work on my boat, kill my time and paycheck are spent on one thing, Wild Thing.

As I sit in my living room looking up at the trophies my new boat and my new crew have accumulated, I still often close my eyes and reminisce of those days, those Beaujolais days when my goals in life were much simpler, much more attainable, much more Bohemian. Back when I could still hold my stomach in for 17 consecutive minutes. Back when I was totally happy with just LOOKIN' GOOD, DRINKIN' WINE AND STYLIN' FINE.

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The Racing season for our Club has come to a close for another year. Where does the time go? I have had a real good time with all this and I have enjoyed all the ups and downs that go with this job. (HIGH PAYING). Like the years in the past, there is always something going on that can keep me jumping.

The final results for the Club Championship have been tabulated. The results were decided by the accumulative totals from the SPRING and FALL Race Series. As in the past, the trophies will be awarded at the Christmas Banquet, so try and BE THERE. Juanelle has worked very hard in trying to get just the RIGHT design for the trophies this year as she has done in the past. I think that you will like this years design as well.

The Racing format for the past two years has worked out rather well, I think. There are still a few bugs to iron out but the next Race Chairman will take care of it, I am sure.

I have enjoyed being on this year’s Board, and I look forward to seeing you all on the water.

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November's Membership Meeting
on November 18th
will feature a representative from
Interlux Paint,
as well as our annual
Election of Officers for 1998.
7:30 p.m.

First Christian Church
1835 Walnut
Carrollton, TX

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Tickets to our annual
V/MYC Christmas Banquet
will be available at the
November Membership Meeting.

Cost is $25.00 per person,
so bring your checkbook or cash.

The banquet is December 13th,
7:00 P.M.at the
Holiday Inn, Richardson, TX

The menu is Prime Rib or
Chicken Cordon Blue.

It’s pig-out time throughout the land.
No sauces made from blue milk.
No pies constructed with sugar substitutes.
No potatoes baked with nutritional value still in the skins.
It’s elastic wasteband time,
when you not only plan on eating everything in sight,
but usually exceed your own expectations.

— Erma Bombeck

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Aloha! Well, this is the last article for the year, and boy am I glad! I am totally out of material! It has been fun and interesting, but I am ready to hand it over to the new fleet captain. I thank you all for your support.

There are a number of November and December Birthday Wishes that we need to do: Dick Hardin on 11/12, Lora Featherston 12/7, Sharon Schneider 12/11, Ken Upton 12/24, Ron Dawson 12/23, Cindy Burton 12/20 and ME on 12/13!

The Election of Officers for the upcoming year will be held at the November 18th meeting. We do need a majority of members in attendaI hope everyone will show their support by attending this meeting and casting their vote. The new fleet captains will also be selected by the various fleets. Don't be afraid to volunteer for this job because it really is easy! You get to call everyone each month and bug them about attending the monthly meeting (you usually get the answering machines), you also attend the monthly board meetings and eat and drink all the wonderful munchies that are provided, plus you get to write a monthly article and ramble on and on about whatever you wish (like this)! So go for it!!

I look forward to seeing everyone at the Christmas Banquet on 12/13! Don't forget to purchase your tickets from Lora Featherston.

Ray and I had a wonderful time in Maui! The only problem is that it gets harder and harder to return to Texas after each trip. We were able to do everything that we had planned and still had time to spend on the beach and by the pool. We spent one day on a Santa Cruz 50. It was the two of us, the captain and his one crew. According to the weather report for that day, the trade winds were blowing 25-35. It made for a very interesting sail! I also went para-sailing for the first time! What a view! The company we used did the takeoffs and landings directly from the boat and launched you up to 900 ft. We also attended a luau at one of the hotels and also took a tour of the Road to Hana'. The tour that we had selected went to Hana and beyond. It circled the complete base of the extinct volcano Haleakala. The nice thing about it was that we got to see the side of the island that most tourists don't get to see because of the bad road conditions. The rental car companies state that it violates your contact to travel that section of road.

We also imbibed in several different drinks during the week: Lava Flow, Raspberry Pina Colada, Blue Hawaii, and of course several Strawberry Daiquiri's. We also purchased several Wyland prints that are being framed and will be shipped to us in about a month.

An able-bodied seaman meets a pirate in a bar, and they take turns recounting their adventures at sea. Noting the pirate's peg-leg, hook, and eye patch the seaman asks, "So, how did you end up with the peg-leg?"

The pirate replies, "We was caught in a monster storm off the cape and a giant wave swept me overboard. Just as they were pullin me out, a school of sharks appeared and one of 'em bit me leg off.

"Blimey!" said the seaman. "What about the hook"?

"Ahhhh...," mused the pirate, "We were boardin' a trader ship, pistols blastin' and swords swingin' this way and that. In the fracas me hand got chopped off."

"Zounds!" remarked the seaman. "And how came ye by the eye patch"?

"A seagull droppin' fell into me eye", answered the pirate.

"You lost your eye to a seagull dropping?" the sailor asked incredulously.

"Arg..." said the pirate, "....it was me first day with the hook."

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Lavon Challenge Update:

The 25 Fleet was well represented, and we took home some of the silver. Les Liggett won 2nd place, and Marshall McKenzie won 3rd place trophies, to help with the overall win of the Challenge trophy. Al Barboza was so proud to accept it for the club. Our club has won six times and Lavon has won six times, so next year 1998 we really need to get out our top guns and win again. This was a very good race, and the clubs worked hard to keep it fair.

For those of you who missed the October Pot Luck Supper, the brisket was wonderful, thanks to Larry Featherston. Don’t miss the November meeting for the election of officers for 1998. Also, I will be bringing a cake for all the birthdays during the last quarter.

November started with a fun race, The Bay View Charity Regatta at Lake Ray Hubbard. Les and I stayed at the Best Western Motel, which included a continental breakfast. If you live far like we do, it was great to only be five minutes from the marina. The regatta started with a sponsors’ race Friday evening. Les launched his “new” Merit 25, and the crew was Marshall McKenzie, Milan Rakich from the Lavon club, Ryan Liggett from The Rigg Shop, and Joan Prew and Wilma Liggett with Mary Kay (I was a double sponsor). We had a fun time sailing and checking out the boat. Les named it Predator, with eyes on the stern. Watch Out!

Saturday started with the Rowlett High School marching band, Shrine Honor Guard, Skippers’ meeting and the race, and dinnner sponsored by the Hard Rock Cafe. Trophy presentation was sponsored by Whataburger. Les won 3rd place. Gus Gusler sailed his “new” V21 in the main and jib fleet and won 3rd place. We had a charity auction and then music, and we danced until 10:00. Beer was furnished by Best Western Motel. It was a family party, and children were welcome.

Sunday was the poker run (or walk). It was raining, so they decided to do the race on foot on the dock. Hooters furnished chicken wings and presented the raffle awards. Music was from 3:00 to 6:00, and we all went home happy but very tired.

Lake Lavon is still down, but hasn’t stopped us from enjoying the summer.

I want to thank you for the privilege of being your Fleet Captain this year. May the Lord watch between you and me when we are absent one from the other.

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The November General Membership Meeting
of the Venture/MacGregor Yacht Club will be held
November 18, 1997 at 7:30 p.m.
at the First Christian Church in Carrollton, Texas,
for the purpose of electing officers
for the calendar year 1998.

If unable to attend, please use the enclosed ballot
and vote by PROXY
to assure a quorum is available to elect officers.

The following members have been nominated:
Commodore: Ray Pryor
Vice Commodore: Ed Kremer
Secretary: Jennie Taylor
Treasurer: Bobby Allen

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We sincerely appologize for being so late with this issue of the Venturing. Just as we were almost finished, our computer went down—REALLY down!!

We ended up having to take it in to be repaired, where it stayed for about three weeks trying to figure out how to fix it and still be able to save all of our work. We had blown both the pentium processor and the mother board!

Right after we got it back, we went out of town for the four day Thanksgiving weekend and had just returned when Marshall had to spend an unexpected three days in the hospital for tests with a gall bladder attack.

All is well again, and the Venturing is about to arrive in your mailboxes— just in time to remind you all not to miss the Christmas Banquet on Friday, Dec. 13th!

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