A Tale of Two Races

A Tale of Two Races

This column first appeared in the May 2019 edition of Freshwater News. And proves that opposites can attract…

It’s Oregon Offshore Month, that annual Pacific Northwest yachting ritual that celebrates, in no particular order, hypothermia, sleep deprivation, endless lee shores, and upon reaching that most beautiful of finishes in Victoria, B.C., scores of sailors swearing that they’ll, “NEVER DO IT AGAIN.”  That is of course until the second beer at Garrick’s Head or the Sticky Wicket dulls short term memory just enough that everyone starts planning for next year.  It’s…well…an Oregon Offshore tradition.

What warm looks like. The start of the Newport to Ensenada.
Photo Credit: Don Leach / Los Angeles Times

It’s a bit ironic that at almost the same time that the Oregon Offshore fleet will be coming to the line at buoy 2 off the Columbia River Bar, another west coast international yacht race will be doing more or less the same thing.  The 72nd annual Newport to Ensenada International Yacht race kicks off less than two weeks prior to the Offshore, starting off the Balboa Pier in Newport Beach and ending off the Coral Hotel in Ensenada, Mexico.

That’s where a lot of similarities end, however.  Yes, both are on the west coast.  Yes, both start within a few days of each other.  And yes, both cross international borders.  After all of that however (at least at first glance) these two races diverge.  Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve never sailed in a N2E (for my readers who are roughly my age and learned to write before texting abbreviated the entire English language, that’s the new alpha-numeric designation for the Newport to Ensenada).  But as a few of my sailing friends have been known to say, “Never let a lack of knowledge on a subject keep you from having an opinion.”  So let’s take a look at both races.

Dressing light before the start of the Oregon Offshore.
Photo Credit: Diane Rouzee

I actually got the idea for this column a couple weeks ago when I watched an admittedly old but still awfully entertaining documentary on the Newport to Ensenada entitled, “Pacific High.”  It was an hour-and-a-half documentary on the 1979 race, the crews’ shorts and haircuts mostly spilling the beans about the era of the film.  “Pacific High” was produced by one Roy Disney, nephew of the guy who came up with the mouse-inspired Southern California theme park.  More importantly to ragboaters everywhere, Roy was of course an avid sailor with a series of successful TransPac campaigns, to say nothing of any number of other inshore and offshore regattas.  Which included several Newport to Ensenada runs.

But back to the aforementioned comparison of the races.  The N2E is 125 miles of offshore racing, with the Oregon Offshore checking in at 193 miles.  More often than not, the winds for the Offshore are squarely out of the northwest, often via the Gulf of Alaska and often residing in the 20-25 knot range.  And we all know how comfortable those breezes can be.

Again, I haven’t personally done an Ensenada race, but I’m guessing that whatever direction those Southern California winds are coming from, it’s somewhere warm, at least based on the shorts and tee shirts the crews were wearing at the start during “Pacific High.”  My usual attire out at buoy 2 leans more to fleece and foulies, and definitely not a Lacoste polo shirt (unless I have one buried on my person under four layers of thermal underwear; who knows, and I probably won’t know until at least Sheringham Point).  Now, I’m not sure if that makes Pacific Northwest sailors just plain tougher than SoCal sailors, or simply not as smart.  I’m going with the former, but in all honesty, the jury is out.

Night sailing doesn’t really balance the hypothermia scales either.  On board the boats heading south to Ensenada, when the sun set, most crew members donned windbreakers or relatively light jackets.  On the Offshore, once the sun sets…well…you’re screwed, because just how many more layers can you put on?  Your only recourse as you pass Destruction Island in the dark is to berate yourself for deciding to do the Offshore again, and swearing that THIS IS THE LAST ONE.  (See paragraph #1).

Then there are the comparative shorelines.  Once you head south from Newport, your choices should you need to bail are…well, I can’t count them all.  Suffice to say that if something hits the fan and you absolutely need to head for dry land, you’ve got plenty of choices, at least until you cross the border.

On the other hand, once you leave the friendly confines of the Columbia River Bar and beat north of Grays Harbor, your only choice until you reach Neah Bay is La Push.  I’ve looked at the charts for that one, and the idea of heading in there in the dark when the chips are down looks like about as much fun as a root canal.

Both races have their share of tactical decisions to make.  Heading south to Ensenada, one of the big calls is to go inside or outside of the Coronado Islands, based on what the offshore winds are doing, or what navigators and tacticians think they’ll do.  Meanwhile, Offshore skippers have to make the call on staying close to the beach and dancing the rhumbline to the Duntze Rock buoy, or going out in search of better winds, but having to work their way back to Cape Flattery.  And let’s not get started on tidal flow in Race Passage.

After the finish, the N2E crews migrate to bars like Hussong’s, which apparently was established in 1892, and also claims to be the oldest bar in the Baja, to say nothing of the birthplace of the margarita, which is pedigree enough for me.  The Oregon Offshore crews (after knocking back the free champagne at the finish) tend to end up in a variety of Canadian bars, including Big Bad John’s, which claims to be the birthplace of…well, actually nothing.  I do know one Offshore crew that managed to get kicked out of Big Bad John’s, which is technically harder than brain surgery, so on the weight of that incident alone, I give the nod to the Offshore warriors.

Working the Race Passage flood. Rage during the 2015 Oregon Offshore.
Photo Credit: Andrew Haliburton

So let’s take stock: Ensenada is a shorter race in warmer climates.  The Offshore has a long, lonely lee shore to get past before the Big Turn at Flattery.  Ensenada crews spend most of their time in shorts and tee shirts, while Offshore crews shiver in their most expensive foul weather gear.  Ensenada crews get together post-race and enjoy the camaraderie of their fellow sailors at legendary Mexican bars, while Offshore sailors get together post-race and enjoy the camaraderie of their fellow sailors at Canadian bars.

I guess these two races aren’t all that different.

4 thoughts on “A Tale of Two Races

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