Riding the Trade Winds

Racing yachtsmen who have made the long, downwind thrash from California to Hawaii are convinced that the trans-Pacific race is the toughest test of men and ships yet devised. Sail, rigging, hull and nerves are strained to the breaking point as crews drive their craft before the northeasterly trade winds over most of the 2,225 miles of open sea between San Pedro and Honolulu.

Fortnight ago, when the 19th race got under way, San Francisco Manufacturer Richard S. Rheem (steel containers and home appliances) and the crew of his 98-ft. ketch Morning Star knew they had small chance to win. Four times they had made the long haul, and twice they were first across the finish line off Diamond Head. But in both races the complicated calculations of the handicap formula* had given another ship the prize. This year Skipper Rheem, sailing against a record 52 other yachts, was ready to settle for the satisfaction of breaking his own uncorrected record crossing time.

Dream of Danger. Pushed along by winds up to 30 knots, strongest ever recorded in a trans-Pacific race (the Los Angeles Weather Bureau had predicted the weakest breezes yet), the Morning Star made the most of every gust. But her crew paid a rough price for their speed. All ports were closed against the high following seas, and sleep was almost impossible for the watch below. Boiling ahead of the trade winds, the white-hulled yacht climbed wave crests and planed down like a surfboard. The mainsail boom sliced dangerously through the sea. One night Crewman Bob Carlson dreamed that a mast fitting had broken and dumped the boom overboard. He awoke, went on deck and found that the fitting of his dream had indeed worked loose. A bit more stress and the boom could have gone to complete the nightmare.

At midnight just 9 days, 15 hrs., 5 min. and 10 sec. after clearing the No. 2 buoy in Los Angeles harbor, the Morning Star glided like a ghost ship into a searchlight beam off Diamond Head. Once more she was first to finish; she had trimmed 19 hours off her old record. Said Rheem: "I wouldn't want to try and break that one." Then, as before, he settled back to wait and see who had really won.

Shotgun Watches. Just 14 hours behind the white ketch, the 75-ft. schooner Constellation crossed the line. She had carried a spinnaker all the way-a tricky test for her helmsmen. They had to fight the wheel so hard to keep the big-bellied sail full that sometimes, with two men working at once, they could stand only 15-minute "shotgun" watches without relief. On corrected time, no boat seemed to have a chance to catch the Constellation, and Dutch Captain Frank Hooykaas did a happy jig of victory.

Then, out of nowhere came the 39-ft. ketch Staghound. She had been unreported and counted out of the running for days. But race officials had forgotten that in 1953, when she won the race, Stag-hound's owner and skipper, Los Angeles' Ira P. Fulmor, kept radio silence as he searched for favorable winds. Now Fulmor and his navigator, Robert T. Leary, were pulling the same stunt. When they broke silence they were less than 200 miles off Diamond Head, with more than enough of their 98-hour handicap left to take top honors. The times were too close for comfort, but, under the formula, Staghound won her second trans-Pacific victory by six hrs. and two min.

* By which length, beam, displacement, sail area, past performance and a long list of lesser factors are used to correct a contestant's total sailing time.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.