DATE: Saturday, October 18, 1997            TAG: 9710180315

SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B1   EDITION: FINAL 

SOURCE: BY PAUL CLANCY, STAFF WRITER 

DATELINE: ABOARD THE AMERICAN ROVER         LENGTH:  150 lines

THE RACE OF THE AMERICAN ROVER

The wind is already sighing in the rigging and thrumming in the sails like a runner's heartbeat.

Tall-masted schooners jockey for position south of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge at Annapolis as Norfolk's American Rover bolts toward the starting line.

It crosses between two Naval Academy boats with about two dozen other ships at its heels. Brook Smith, the boat's captain, steers away from the powerful north wind and the Rover's huge, manta-like raffay sail bulges.

``Go for it, Brook!'' urges Smith's father and chief tactician, Sonny Smith, as the countdown nears zero and the starting horn sounds.

``We're going like a bat out of hell!'' the younger Smith exults as the Rover runs neck and neck with the early leaders.

The eighth annual Great Chesapeake Bay Schooner Race, a throwback to the days of fast-working sail, has begun.

It's Thursday at 2:10 p.m. This year, the drama for Baltimore and Norfolk participants is heightened because the Rover and the Pride of Baltimore II, two of the top contenders, are in the chase.

There's only one chance for the Rover: a strong northeasterly wind. And today that's just what's developing.

A cold front has passed through, trailing heavy clouds and ushering in chilly, powerful winds that are beginning to clock around from north to northeast. It could be a wild ride. But the rough conditions promise a heady diet of speed.

The race is mostly for fun, but it also helps raise money for the Chesapeake Bay Foundation and awareness of an era of big, fast boats that were the economic lifeblood of the region.

The event is jointly sponsored by Fells Point Yacht Club in Baltimore's historic working harbor, Norfolk's Town Point Yacht Club and the Portsmouth Boat Club, informal groups of sailing enthusiasts.

The race grew from a challenge Norfolk's Lane Briggs made to the crew of the Pride of Baltimore II to race with the Willoughby marina owner's one-of-a-kind ``tugantine,'' a schooner-rigged tug boat.

The race has a seven-year history of unusual weather. Light winds and strong currents have pushed contenders backward. Heavy fogs have blinded contestants. And raging gales have knocked boats down and shredded their sails.

This one seems it might be no exception, with the name of the game a howling storm.

The Rover, with all its high-tech equipment, lacks a wind-direction gauge, so Sonny Smith ties green giftwrap ribbon to the mast stays to serve the purpose.

The Rover has a crew of 23, more than it needs for the race, but lots of old friends, including seven with boat captain's licenses.

All those skills are put to the test.

The American Rover, weighing in at 62 tons, was not built for great speed as some of the contemporary designs are. Its prototypes are 19th century cargo schooners, not racers. It's a contender in strong winds, but even with its 90-foot height and enormous sails, is no match for newer boats when the wind lightens.

Despite the Rover's start, two fast competitors from Annapolis, Woodwind and Imagine . . . !, jump out to a tug-of-war battle for the lead.

The favored Pride of Baltimore II is hanging back but begins to add sails that total two or three times the square footage of most boats and more than 10 times that of some.

``Next thing they'll put up is the captain's skivvies,'' says Leo Wardrup, a Virginia Beach member of the House of Delegates who once taught sailing at the Naval Academy and today monitors the boat's position and speed for Smith.

The Rover's speed is 7.2 knots, quite respectable. It passes several boats in its class and spirits soar as sunlight dims and shipping lights begin to wink on.

The Liberty Clipper, a classic wooden boat from Boston, is shadowing, as are Ocean Star of Portland, Maine, and Road to the Isles, from Nova Scotia.

Suddenly, as though prompted by the sunset, the wind shifts all the way around to the southeast. And the Rover, with its massive raffay sail pinned against the mast, practically hits a brick wall and stops. As it is hauled down, there's the sickening sound of a tear.

Now the boat slows to a crawl and several opponents that fell behind earlier go sailing by.

Several hours later, just after midnight, a ghost moon shows itself briefly. A red-blinking channel marker sways, adding its note of warning as the wind picks up a notch, then wheels around again to the northeast. Faster and faster the Rover sails, hitting 9 and then a top speed of 10.3 knots.

The boat is rolling and yawing as a following sea shoves it about.

John Glass, Smith's relief captain, points to ``pixie dust'' on the green radar screen: approaching rain and a possible squall.

``All hands on deck!'' Smith shouts and the departing watch abandons sleep and helps take down the top sails. Jack Carpenter and Brandon Peter, agile crew members, go aloft in harnesses on swaying ratlines - or rope ladders - to the upper part of the mast. The topsails add speed but could also result in a knockdown in a sudden burst of wind.

The race was expected to take about 24 hours, although the record, in a wicked storm, was under 14. By 2 a.m. Friday, it looks as though it could be one of the fastest times.

About two hours later and out of sight of the Rover crew, Imagine. . . ! and Woodwind, continuing to duel for the lead, see the lights of the vast Pride of Baltimore II closing fast, then passing.

Nine minutes ahead of Imagine. . . !, Pride crosses the line. It's 4:33 a.m. A boat with an 1812 design has nosed out state-of-the-art schooners.

Woodwind clocks in 15 minutes later.

Although the Pride has finished first, Imagine. . . ! is actually the overall winner based on corrected times to compensate for Pride's greater speed based on its 170-foot length.

Meanwhile, on the Rover, the white stern light and the dark outline of sails shows the Rover is gaining on Ocean Star, which had scooted by earlier. Again, Carpenter and Peter scale the ratlines and put the topsails back up.

Exhaustion is setting in, but the exhilaration of the race keeps erasing it.

Six miles to go to the finish line at Thimble Shoal Light and three-tenths of a mile to make up.

``It's going to be close,'' Smith says.

But the wind slows again, and the Ocean Star crosses three minutes ahead of the Rover.

Dawn has broken as Smith picks up the radio microphone and calls the race committee. It's 6:51 a.m. The Rover has finished seventh. ILLUSTRATION: Photo

Steve Earley photos

Crewmen aboard the Pride of Baltimore II, left, climb out on the

yardarm to add extra sails early in the race.

Capt. Brook Smith, right, of the American Rover, the Norfolk-based

schooner, gets some advice from John Glass, left, during the start

of the Great Chesapeake Bay Schooner Race.

Lane Briggs, the race's founder, gives a safety talk to skippers.

Leo Wardrup, at left, also a member of the Virginia General

Assembly, helps as a crewmember on the American Rover. Above,

Barbara Hardesty, a guest of Brook Smith on the Rover, bundles up

against the chill while watching the other ships.

Color Photos

STEVE EARLEY photos/The Virginian-Pilot

Jack Carpenter, chief mate on the Norfolk-based American Rover,

jumps from the boom as the boat prepares to set sail from Fells

Point in Baltimore to the starting line on the Bay near Annapolis

for the Great Chesapeake Bay Schooner Race, which concluded Friday.

The Pride of Baltimore II, left, and Lady Maryland cross paths as

they manuever for position at the race's start.

Andy Durham stands an evening watch on the American Rover during the

competition.

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