Our only mishap with gear unfortunately occurred right at the docking area at the marina.  Just twenty yards from the particular pier that we wanted to skirt the full length and use the last slip in the thin water next to shore, the sprit crashed to the deck, leaving the sail to flap like a pennant. With the pier downwind, as everything that day had been, including the start, there was little chance of not being carried right onto the end of the pier.  We made a game attempt, with me scooting to unfasten the port covers and rig the oars, and with a quick succession of orders to Ellen in the bow to "DROP ANCHOR ON A SHORT SCOPE -- NO, RAISE IT AND FURL THE SAIL -- HERE'S THE CRANK -- CAN YOU SEE WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE SNOTI'ER?"  Meanwhile, Rosemary had the boat hook in hand at the helm to try and soften the crash.  Fortunately there was a crowd of post-race revelers on the pier and as many who could take positions at the end of the pier did so and fended us off with a phalanx of deck shoes.
Just about then the oars were ready so Rosemary told the rescue party to let go so I could row.

What happened was the figure-eight at the end of the snotter, which hadn't been seriously looked at for years because it always appeared OK, simply slipped off the end of the line. Moments later we had Pil-Pel safely in the slip and secure.  What does that rulebook say?  "The protesting yacht will continue to show the protest signal until contacted by the protest committee". Well, the mast is down on the gallows, but let's keep the red flag on the shroud and in view on deck.  Then it was off to find the committee boat.  I met the skipper of the Rhodes 19 about halfway there.  He'd heard the bad news. "Nick, you can't be serious."  "Yes I am."  "Do you realize what this means? SNIFF will probably win!  Is that what you want? SNIFF? (followed by unprintable expressions)" "Hey, those guys in SNIFF are good sailors.  If they win it's OK by me." "Nick, what will it take for you to withdraw your protest?" "You'll have to withdraw from the day's race, or DSQ yourself, whatever."  "You're nothing but a---------- (extended unprintable passage, with people
walking by on the pier staring)---------------. You were using an illegal sail!  We saw that umbrella!  I kept my spinnaker in the bag all week (so he could sail against the little guys in a boat with a ballasted keel and all the duffel on a bloomin' houseboat) but you used an UMBRELLA!  I'll protest your UMBRELLA!  It's not fair! You'll see, You'll get DSQ'd, too, and SNIFF will win EVERYTHING!

Sensing that somehow Pil-Pel's umbrella was somehow not going to present a serious problem for me and her crew, I asked whether he knew exactly where the committee boat was so I could obtain a protest form. On the way I handed Steve some more ammunition. "You want to protest my dodger, too? We usually put that up on a run to stop some more wind, but if you do I'll just say it was up on account of rain. Did you see the dodger?" I had no idea that yacht racing could be so much fun.

So we located the committee boat together.  I politely requested one of the protest forms mentioned in the rulebook.  Steve went off the deep end some more about the umbrella being an illegal spinnaker and also about the dodger that was in place on my boat.  Then Steve demanded a protest form, too, because he said he wanted to write all of this down.  The judge said that in 29 years nobody was ever allowed a victory if they failed to sail the course, not even the time when almost an entire division followed the leader down a wrong channel, except for the last boat which had a better navigator, so they won.  By this time I had the impression that a number of people would be disappointed if I withdrew the protest, so we just let it ride.  The form was simplicity itself, "Rhodes 19, PELICANOS (how's that for irony) failed to leave Gaherty Island to starboard".  I'll bet the other form was a beaut!  During the social hour before the steak dinner the skipper of SNIFF III and I found ourselves at the bar next to the head judge.  I remarked about how much we'd enjoyed the week, seeing as how it was he who first told Rosemary and me about LOWISA at a civic dinner back in 1988, when we lived in Mound, MN.  Rolf, skipper of SNIFF, possibly sniffing a trophy, asked the judge about the outcome of my protest.  The judge, known for precise expression, said "the PILGRIM PELICAN's protest was upheld and that of PELICANOS was dismissed on procedural grounds".  End of story.  It is worth noting here that earlier the judge had strolled down the pier, exchanged pleasantries with Rosemary for a moment on his way to visit another boat, and he noticed to have glanced at our red flag, which still lay on deck because we'd not been "contacted by the race committee".

When the trophies were awarded. later, PELJCANOS received the big travelling Div.1 trophy to polite applause.  When Pil-Pel was awarded second place, there was palpable warmth accompanied buy calls of "Love that umbrella!"  SNIFF, too, received heartfelt applause.  There was some heavy-duty poignancy here because we already had a deal in the works to trade Pil-Pel for a Shearwater yet our turn in the PILGRIM PELICAN was ending just a bit larger than life, as it had seemed a number of times over the years since1982.

The steak was marvelous, with the crews of SNIFF III, YELLOW ROSE, EDNA MAE, and PIL-PEL gaming like good friends who probably wouldn't see each other for a long time.  Lake Of The Woods is a very worthwhile cruising area.  It has much less cottage development that what we've seen on Baie Georgienne. We're pretty sure that the LOWISA Cruise Week, or a solo adventure, would suit us a little better.  The Chairman and his wife for LOWISA 29 told us that on the Cruise Week which immediately preceded the race, all twelve boats rafted up and ordered PIZZA from Kenora.  Now that is a good way off from Whitefish Bay Were they were cruising, so it probably came by floatplane.  I like people who don't let the small stuff stand in their way.

                                      Ellen M. Scheuer