Hobie Cat Racing — Four

Woodward Reservoir

Except for one little irritation, which I’ll mention below, Woodward was a great place for racing Hobie Cats. Woodward Reservoir is located just north of Oakdale, which is near the Sierra. [*] Due to unique topography, it appears to be at the top of a large, rounded hill. Strange but true.

Woodward always attracted a large turnout of boats. Winds were usually steady there, and it was contiguous with Stanislaw County Park. We could camp and cook on grass right where our Hobies were beached, and everyone was together.

Most racers had big vans or motor homes. They felt sorry for us because we just had a tent. I forgot the tent poles one time, and they really felt sorry for us then. We draped the tent over the boom and didn’t fare too badly though — thank you very much.

The race committee was what irritated me. There almost always was a morning breeze at Woodward. It started around 9:00 am. The races started at 11:00 am, and usually died down before noon. I pleaded to have them to start at 9:00, but it is no good to argue statistics with people who disparage data.

* According to Ansel Adams, “The name Sierra is already a plural. To add a ‘s’ on the end is a linguistic, Californian, and mountaineering sin.”

Half Moon Bay

One year we had a regatta at Half Moon Bay, right where the world-renowned Mavericks surfing competition is held. There were lots of boats there, almost too many. We put in at a little harbor that relied on a big breakwater to keep the waves out.

Of course, we weren’t there when the waves were at 30 feet or more like they are Mavericks competitions. I think they were around eight feet that day, but they not breaking. Nevertheless, we could see big rocks in the troughs. Closer to shore, on the way in and out of the race course, you needed to be very careful to steer clear of those rocks in the shallower water. It was an exciting weekend of racing. (This regatta occurred years before Mavericks was “discovered.”)

Pacific Northwest

Just getting the Hobie Cat to Spokane was an adventure. Marcia, Barb and I were moving to Washington in January of 1980. I was towing the Hobie Cat with our venerable 66 Ford, and Barb was driving the Dart. She had a learning driver permit from California DOT, which probably wasn’t valid in Oregon or Washington, but we didn’t think of that. She also had the measles.

We stopped at Roseburg, Oregon for the night, and then started off early the next morning. After about 100 miles on I-5 we came over a little rise. There we saw a long string of big trucks parked on the shoulder. I soon figured out that they were all putting on chains.

We had planned to go through Columbia Gorge and on up to Spokane. We learned though that a huge arctic blast had coated the roads at lower elevations around Portland and through the gorge with black ice. We had tire chains, fortunately, so we put ours on too. We got through Portland on I-5, and it began to change from ice to snow on the road.

Soon we could go a little faster. We got to North Bend in the afternoon, where we learned that an avalanche had buried two tanker trucks on I-90. We waited in North Bend for an hour or two and decided to go over Stevens Pass instead of wait for Snoqualmie to open.

That went fine until I took a wrong, probably fortuitous turn at Wenatchee. Now we were on Highway 2, which was dark, nearly deserted, and in the middle of nowhere. We found a funky motel at Coulee City eventually. The next morning we discovered the ice storm had followed us there. I took us half a day, but we made it past all the cars and trucks in the ditches and arrived in Spokane.

First time in Idaho

Barb and I took the Hobie to Lake Coeur d’Alene on a beautiful spring day in May. We sailed out in the middle of the lake, and the wind died. Eventually, we noticed what looked like a cloud bank covered the western quadrant of the sky. I figured we were in for a terrific storm, but there we were, stranded.

Finally a little breeze came up, and we made it back to the boat launch. People were listening to the radio there, and I heard one of them say, “It’s killed six people already, and I-90 is closed.” As I hurried on to the car I felt grit on my lips. Then I realized it had to be ash from Mount Saint Helens.

The roads were already covered with ash by the time we got the Hobie on the trailer. We had never been in Coeur d’Alene before, but I saw an alternate route around Mica Peak on the map, and off we went. Fortunately, I missed the turn I wanted to take.

Now we were following a car, wondering what to do. They turned west just before we got to I-90, and I instinctively followed. We were on Appleway. It’s a backroad that was the original main road to Spokane. Thank you serendipity.

Liberty Lake

Yes, there was a Hobie Cat Fleet in Spokane, and Barb and I did some racing at Liberty Lake. Barb was the best crew member I ever had. She understood that you have to move smoothly, precisely and without delay when it’s time to maneuver in a race. We did very well for a while. But then the fleet evaporated into thin air, as they say.