I do not know Doc Gilbert--never meet the man. But I know of him now through the legacy of his boat, his crew, and a set of experiences in the 2003 Potomac Cup that he surely must have had a hand in.

I am new to the Washington Sailing Club [PRSA's Fleet 50]. However, after two trips on a Lightning, I told Joe Warren to sign me up for both days of the Potomac Cup with a skipper who will sail when its a screaming wind, and I got the honor of sailing on the "Lord Jim" with Chandler Owen at the helm. [Editor's Note: Lord Jim was sailed by Doc Gilbert for many years; Chandler was his regular crew.]

On race day, I introduced myself to Chandler while he was rummaging in his van which runneth over with sailing gear. He promptly handed me a file to scrape some lumps off the bottom fin [the skeg] of the boat, and my crew mate, Emily Tant, was busy electrical taping every shroud shackle in sight. Chandler was checking line settings, wondering about unfamiliar rigging set ups, randomly musing about the condition of equipment, and generally attacking the Lord Jim's boat rigging with a vengeance. His mantra: every little item makes a difference in sailing. He was on an unrelenting quest to improve the boat's sailing performance.

However, the trailer was lagging in the performance department. On the thirty mile drive to the regatta, the old trailer had nearly given up the ghost and was nearly bending in half at some rusted out locations. Chandler finished the trailer off with his fly weight while rigging the boat, and it went "thud" as the stern bottom hit the asphalt. This caused Chandler to scratch is head. Then he rummaged in the van and appeared with an old spinnaker pole, a random galvanized object and duct tape. Sister the poles to the trailer, tape it up and -voila! Trailer good as new.

When the Lord Jim was ready to sail, Chandler was not in the mood to wait for a hoist. I knew I was in trouble when we were at the launch ramp and he handed me the bow line and said ˜Run!" I looked back as he was shoving the trailer down the boat ramp at top speed. Emily ducked as I ran past her with the bow line and in two seconds flat, the trailer crashes into the water and the Lord Jim does a splash down, floats free and agreeably spins her bow toward the end of the dock. Our 5-second flying boat launch was impressive to all around. Emily and I just stood on the dock with YES, we meant to do that poses.

After sailing out to the worlds longest start line, the race begins and we are on our first beat. BOOM! our main drops like a limp rag. Most other boats have vague memories of some idiot climbing a mast to the spreaders--yes, that was the Lord Jim! After Chandler's quick diagnosis shimmy, and our realization that having the skipper up the mast was most likely to cause a serious Chandler smack-down, he proposed the next best thing--we would lay the Lightning on its side, and he would be in the water to retie a line to the main. Yes, folks, we were hell bent on INTENTIONALLY capsizing our boat in the middle of the race. 

Emily and I were all for this. Sure, we can just roll Lord Jim over, and then climb to the centerboard, and we wouldn't even get wet! No problem! For those of you who have never intentionally tried to capsize a Lightning, let me tell you it's hard to do. Emily and I had to nearly hang off the port side to induce a roll, and with the Lighting's wide beam we went swimming before you could say "bad idea!" With Emily and I flailing, the Lord Jim proceeded to turtle until the mast got stuck in the mud. This was not part of our brilliant plan, and when we couldn't quite manage tying a new line to the main, we righted the boat. 

Funny, the race committee didn't immediately send a crash boat out to the lunatics who capsized their own boat. They eventually did and we got a tow to the dock. Bailing like mad, our bucket rebelled and shredded itself into a nearly unfunctional bucket-like object with dagger sharp edges. We found much of it floating back by the transom as we got to the dock.; we could not bail the boat any more with it. 

Next plan: we'll turn the boat on it's side on the trailer for the repair. Remember the high quality trailer we were dealing with? We didn't. We re-broke the braced trailer as we bent the support poles to the ground trying to get our unbailed boat out of the water. We "liberated" someone else's trailer and proceeded with the repair. We tried hard to clean the mast and sails. It turns out Chandler had "borrowed" these pretty darn new, white, crisp sails without really letting the owner know. Really, they look better with a little mud. We changed our clothes, and let me tell you, there is no better sailing bonding moment than seeing your skipper in his boxers. 

We re-launch the boat and as the wind catches the Lord Jim and swings it around, Emily and I watch dumbfounded as the bow line knot slips away as if it had never been tied. There went the Lord Jim floating free and heading right for a brand new speedboat in the other launch. As I am shouting "NOOOOOOOOO" with my empty bow line waving in the breeze, I still have a vision of Emily's feet as she completes her head first dive into the water to catch the runaway Lord Jim.

So that was our first race on the Lord Jim in the 2003 Potomac Cup. As we told this story, other sailors shared many other Doc Gilbert tales. I think this story is a continuation of his life as a never-say-die sailor who thoroughly and enthusiastically solved problems in any manner that was (and perhaps wasn't) appropriate. Sometimes these solutions worked, sometimes they didn't; but, working or not wasn't the point, doing and trying was the point, the lesson, and the fun of sailing. Like I said, I never met the Doc Gilbert, but I think I sailed with him throwing curveballs at myself, Chandler and Emily, and I am all the richer for having learned a small part of his lessons.