Category Archives: Stew’s Log

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Wednesday Night Racing Kickoff

Julian and Tripp in Avocado
Julian and Tripp in Avocado

There are two places to race your dinghy on Wednesday evenings this summer:  Sailing Club of Washington competes their Flying Scots and gamely allowed the scows to mix in for racing in the lagoon.  First race is 5:30.

Also possible to join the Albacores and Buccaneers which race  around channel markers further down river. This is Potomac River Sailing Association’s contribution to the Wednesday racing scene.   Racing starts 6pm. Continue reading Wednesday Night Racing Kickoff

Yards Park is a Happening

The Anacostia is a dusty ol’ river, but no one is joking about it any longer.  With a world class ballpark, condos and restaurants, it is as close to a “scene” as Washington gets.  Friday nights, the Yards Park is swinging with hipsters at the outdoor concert seriees.  July 5 saw an invasion of scows.  Tim had his boat out.  Brian was driving Guacamole with Kathy trimming.  And Steve and Karen made Whistlebritches scoot.  Two  PERF boats arrived.  Bill Davenport dropped anchor near the USS Barry and started playing his Jimmy Buffet loop whilst that new Beneteau First Twenty tied up alongside.  Nice night for sailing too, with a solid 12 knots until dusk.

 

More scow sailors than you can count!

Great team: Bill and Claire, with spoon

I am always on the prowl for scow sailors to share knowledge about our flat-bottom racing boats. So, you can imagine my enthusiasm when one of the winning-est competitive sailors on the Potomac informed me that there was a “Scow Ball.”  As if that wasn’t enough, my good friend also asked if Karen and I would be kind enough to share a table with him and his sailing companion at the “Scow Ball.”

Continue reading More scow sailors than you can count!

Running off the Interloper

Evasive action!

Bouncing across  chop, the scow fleet encircled the Pride of Baltimore II and let fly with all manner of invective.  How dare this privateer ply the Potomac!  Every scallywag with half a halyard knows the British merchant marine is already claimed by Whistlebritches, Chalupa and the soon-to-be-named Melges.

The bow guns rolled to the ports but no fuse was lit as the Melges slid under the sprit of the hulking, wooden sirenia.

Continue reading Running off the Interloper