MANZANILLO : This 1,100-Mile Trek From San Diego Isn’t One of Your Run-of-the-Mill Yacht Races

After six long days at sea, Sorcery cruised into this balmy harbor, her large, menacing battle flag waving slowly in the breath of wind.

The flag--depicting the head of a witch outlined in black, with skeleton hands and bright, blood-red eyes--could have just as easily signaled the arrival of the Grateful Dead.

But, this introduction was for Jake Wood, the tough-talking, two-fisted owner of the 82-foot, $1-million-plus yacht and his 16-person crew, as they made their first-finish entrance Friday afternoon as upset winners of the sixth biennial San Diego-Manzanillo International Yacht Race.

And, adding to the measure of victory, the Los Angeles-based Sorcery completed the 1,100-mile course in the record-breaking time of 6 days, 1 minute and 53 seconds.

The next two finishers, the venerable Ragtime from Long Beach and the sleek Kathmandu, the San Diego boat considered by many the prerace favorite, also broke the old record of 6 days, 2 hours, 16 minutes and 40 seconds set by Merlin in 1978.

For Wood and many of his crew it was more than a victory--it was also vindication.

Many thought that Sorcery, a heavy and powerful boat built to hold steady in rough seas and strong winds, would have trouble staying with the ultra-lights, the tailwind racers which, when conditions are right, surf the front of waves.

The San Diego-Manzanillo race is considered the ultra-light’s territory. In ideal conditions, with a steady north-westerly wind, a properly sailed ultra-light can attain a speed of 25 knots.

So, it was with a sense of satisfaction that Wood sailed into the harbor, witch’s flag flying.

“I can beat any ULDB (ultra-light displacement boat) going to weather on a reach . . . on a run of less than 13 knots,” Wood said as he and his crew, four of whom live in Seattle, celebrated on board Sorcery shortly after the finish.

Wood likes things done his way. He is not bashful about making his feelings known and can be downright cantankerous.

He refused, for example, to be interviewed by ESPN the day after the finish. ESPN had set up its gear on the dock and had a mariachi band playing to add atmosphere to the setting. Interviewed instead was Rob Bettingfield, Sorcery’s skipper.

Wood, an entrepeneur who lives in Ventura County and makes his money manufacturing parts for airplanes, has been a competitive sailor for more than 20 years. He had Sorcery custom-designed and built a little more than two years ago.

Sorcery did well in some early races, but there were criticisms made by some of its rotating crew members that the boat wasn’t fast.

“It didn’t make any sense at all,” said Bettingfield, the skipper who also helped design the vessel. “Jake didn’t like that talk and he just said, ‘the hell with it.’ ”

So Sorcery, berthed at Marina Del Rey, sat there from October, 1984 until last week.

Wood didn’t want to talk about any of that, immersed as he was in the beer, champagne and hugs and kisses of congratulations.

“The conditions? They were beautiful for us and bad for them,” Wood said, glancing at Ragtime and Kathmandu, berthed next to Sorcery in order of finish.

But behind the smile, Wood readily admitted there also was a sense of relief. Sorcery nearly blew the race in the home stretch. Not until an hour before the finish was her crew aware they were still in the lead.

The night before, their faces had grown long as it was believed that a major tactical error had cost them the race.

The Race. Any illusions of this being just another contest were quickly dashed on the wet morning of Saturday, Feb. 8.

After all, how many other competitions are fodder for the television program, “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,” whose film crew was busy recording the final race preparations.

It was, in fact, a miserable day. Rain and wind buffeted the San Diego Yacht Club, where 26 sailboats, divided into three classes and handicapped, got ready before heading to the starting line off Point Loma. Several boats were still out at sea Sunday night.

San Diego’s Terry Lingenfelder, joining forces with long-time rival, pediatrician Fred Frye, to co-skipper the new 68-foot ultra-light Trima, looked worried.

“We got our work cut out for us,” he said. “They (Sorcery) love it. We don’t like it. She should go out like a rocket ship.

“I think we got the fastest boat in the country . . . but racing is like life. Things change out there pretty fast.”

Standing in the rain nearby and finding it difficult to mask his elation was Bettingfield, knowing the stormy conditions were made to order for Sorcery.

“We’re happy to have the wind on the nose,” he said. “That’s what this boat is designed for. If this keeps up, we’ll kill them.”

The race began and sure enough, Sorcery jumped to the front, followed by the pesky Ragtime, the sentimental favorite.

Ragtime is a 21-year-old, 62-foot ultra-light, made of kauri wood from New Zealand. The mere mention of her name brings out unsolicited stories of past races from veteran sailors who have competed on and against her.

In 1976, in the inaugural San Diego-Manzanillo race, Ragtime was the first to finish and first overall, based on corrected time.

“People think they have to have new boats all the time to compete,” said Dick Deaver, a Ragtime crew member from Long Beach. “But I think we showed that isn’t necessarily so.”

Almost from the outset, problems with the fleet developed.

Silberrad, an Islander 40-footer, broke its mast and dropped out.

The one-year-old Kathmandu, a 68-foot ultra-light, took to the outside and cut a path between the Coronado Islands.

In doing so, however, it blew out its three-quarter-ounce spinnaker. As the race continued through the week, this loss proved significant. Without the heavier sail, Kathmandu was forced to rely on a lighter, half-ounce sail. The crew remained worried about placing too much stress on the lighter spinnaker, thereby potentially leading to another breakdown.

“It happened in the first part of the race and it put us 10 miles behind and it was tough to catch up,” explained Reggie Cole, Kathmandu’s skipper. “What I can compare it to is not having your third gear on a motorcycle.”

As it turned out, Kathmandu ended the regatta about 12 miles behind Sorcery.

But Sorcery also fell victim to mishaps. Its electronic navigational system was dead for most of the race, forcing the crew to rely on celestial navigation.

Near the end, this contributed to Sorcery’s last-minute error and caused much confusion, particularly among the front-runners, as to Sorcery’s exact location.

Typhoon, a Long Beach-based 45-footer, pulled into port at Cabo San Lucas because owner John Olsen had severe back pains.

And Encore, the 39-foot Diva which won the prestigious first-overall title, based on corrected time, had a much more serious accident just hours before its finish Saturday afternoon.

Crew member Arnold Swagmaker was knocked unconscious by a wayward boom, which opened a nasty cut on his head that required 16 stitches.

Veterans of the San Diego-Manzanillo race will tell you it really consists of two races.

“It’s a race to the cape (at the tip of Baja California) and then another race across the cape and in to Manzanillo,” said Lou Starkie, captain of Miramar, a boat owned by John Scripps of the Scripps publishing family.

For only the second time since the race began, Starkie sat it out.

“It could turn into a parking lot there at the end of the cape and then you could just drift for a while,” he said. “Then again, it could be dynamite. It’s a crapshoot. You may win one time but not others while using the same strategy. The weather is what makes it so unpredictable. Like I say, it’s a crapshoot.”

By the second day, the race had turned into a three-boat affair.

As the weather changed down the Baja coast, so did the leader. Ragtime surged ahead, taking an outside course that owner Pat Farrah said averaged 50 miles from shore.

“We were way outside and they (Sorcery) were way inside,” Farrah said. “We like being on the outside . . . where boat speed is the key.”

“It was,” said Deaver, a Ragtime crew member, “good boat-to-boat racing.”

But Ragtime’s lead was short-lived. Rounding the cape, Sorcery caught the wind and took a lead she never relinquished.

Victory seemed not only in her grasp, but assured. But then the wind, which had remained steady throughout, disappeared.

By Thursday afternoon, it had dropped to a half-knot. Crew members said the ocean was so calm that one could have used it as a shaving mirror.

Searching for wind, Sorcery’s crew made their mistake. A debate ensued on whether to go closer to shore or stay outside. The decision, in part based on Sorcery’s presumed position, was made: head closer to shore and get an off-shore breeze.

But the boat got too close and the expected wind never materialized.

“We were 100 yards off the beach,” Bettingfield said. “We were looking for rocks. We ended up tacking up and down the beach.”

There was what could politely be called a debate on board.

“We thought we’d screwed it up,” Bettingfield said.

Looking through binoculars on Friday morning as Manzanillo appeared on the horizon, Bettingfield looked for Ragtime. But to his surprise, he couldn’t find it.

Then, about an hour before the finish, someone on shore radio announced the leader, describing it as a boat with a red spinnaker.

“That was us,” Bettingfield recounted. But if there was sense of relief on the part of the crew, you couldn’t tell. Given new life, they set about making sure no more resurrections would be needed.

“For the most part, we had a totally rookie crew who had never sailed on anything this big,” Bettingfield said. “But they worked their hearts out, especially near the end.”

Ragtime, five miles behind, and also caught on the same calm seas, finished 48 minutes later.

The Place. Mike Eldred, a Kathmandu crew member and veteran of past San Diego-Manzanillo races, described it this way:

“It’s the Disneyland of Mexico,” he said good-naturedly. “For a long time, I thought this was Manzanillo. Then one night we were up on a hill and there were all these lights across the bay. Someone said ‘That’s the real Manzanillo.’ ”

Pardon Eldred’s initial confusion. It happens to just about all newcomers. That’s because it’s difficult to imagine that anything exists beyond Las Hadas, the luxurious resort that serves as the finish line and postrace host.

With nearly every want attended to, it becomes an effort to venture outside its confines.

Built by a Bolivian developer, Las Hadas (the fairies) hugs steep hillsides overlooking Manzanillo Bay.

Its white-washed walls and Moorish-style architecture, with towers resembling the swirls on soft ice cream cones, were backdrops for the movie, “10.”

The only thing out of style at Las Hadas these days are Bo Derek’s braids.

There seems to be an equal proportion of well-to-do Mexicans and Americans, all vying for coveted lounge chairs around the swimming pool and spots at the poolside bar.

The white, flag-topped beach tents, with their Arabian knights motif and serviced by on-the-sand cocktail waiters, are also a hot item.

But the hottest thing in Las Hadas, other than the sun, is the yacht race.

A cannon blast announces the arrival of each boat and a mariachi band hustles out to the end of the Las Hadas jetty to greet them, anytime of day or night.

Awaiting each crew at the dock is a volatile concoction of rum and tequila, encased inside large green coconuts, called “Coco Locos.”

The sun-worshippers, children and even the old couples playing card games leave their poolside lounges--most staked out since early morning--to greet the first boats.

But by Saturday afternoon, the novelty has worn off for the non-sailors. The cannon blasts and mariachis become routine, drawing scant attention.

And so it is with the locals, who, if they know of the regatta, ignore it. Business in downtown Manzanillo, with its busy markets and old busses, belching acrid diesel smoke, goes about as usual.

A tourist is a tourist, whether he comes by plane, car or boat.

To the casual visitor, there seems to be a building boom of sorts. Following the curve of the bay from to Las Hadas, other beachfront hotels are in various phases of construction, though none on a scale to rival the megabuck Las Hadas.

The thought of money brings up a curious thing about the crews competing in the race, more precisely the economic disparity among them.

The older men--the crews being overwhelmingly male--have rooms at the hotel and have wives or girlfriends waiting for them. Some of the younger crew members do not have either. They sleep on their boats or share an expensive Las Hadas room to take showers and freshen up. Sometimes it’s simply a way of saving money for more expensive things such as buying drinks.

But don’t cry for anyone. Sailing an ocean race of more than 1,000 miles is an adventure, as owners and crewmembers, regardless of age, are quick to point out.

“This is a great way to spend seven days,” said Doug Baker, co-owner of Saga, a 69-foot ultra-light and the owner of a Los Angeles-area industrial waste business.

“It’s good camaraderie, you know, laugh and scratch,” he said. “It’s great when you’re out there. You have a purpose and that’s getting there the fastest. It consumes you. It’s not like a vacation. It’s better.”