This is what Dad looked like when he was concentrating.

11/2/06

 Letter from Jim to the guy who bought Rampage, Ron Lilienthal (Gresham, OR),

 I was scanning the Nov/Dec Sailing World while making coffee this morning and viewed the word “Rampage.”  I believe Rampage was coined by my mother, Liz, and was the name of a Ranger 29 we had in the 1970’s while I was growing up.  The next version of Rampage was the Nelson Marek 41 that you apparently now own.  This Rampage came on the scene while I was attending college in Michigan, so I did not sail her very much.  There were two memorable times, however.  Here ya go:

 One was when we won the Marblehead to Halifax race.  I’m going to guess around 1984 or so.  I flew into New England and took a taxi to Marblehead and was running late.  The boat had just left the dock as I ran down the ramp to the dock, hollering and waving my arms.  Rampage turned around and picked me up on a moving pass past the dockside.  We sailed that entire race in a dense fog, rarely ever seeing another boat, except for a sunny, howling spinnaker run for a few hours the final afternoon while rounding the cape of Nova Scotia.  I recall that we were trying to see how fast we could surf the boat off each wave.  The helmsman, Luke Brown, coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other, and the tiller under his arm would holler, ‘ here we go’, the main and spinnaker trimmers would readjust for the surf velocity, and I would rap off the speed shown on the indicator, “14, 16, 17 knots….”  What a blast.  When we finished the race, we crossed the finish line in the middle using instrument navigation, never seeing either the committee boat or the pin.  To our surprise, we were greeted by a gun.  As we motored into the foggy harbor, we were wondering where all the other boats were, and it was only then that we began to realize that we might have won the race.  We did.

 Another adventure… was delivering Rampage to the SORC on Thanksgiving (1983??).  I flew into Savannah, GA, we had Thanksgiving dinner at a dockside restaurant in the harbor, and we set off that night, never checking the weather report.  Randy Richmond, Luke Brown, my mother Liz and sister Lisa were along, and my mother’s tennis pro, Lucia.  Lucia had never sailed before, nor since I would guess.  As we began sailing down the North Florida coast that evening the wind and waves began building, eventually settling into a whole-ass gale at an average of 50 knots.  The wind was a Westerly, so there was little chance of ducking into Amelia Island or Daytona as the waves were like walls of water.  We reached Rampage out toward the gulfstream instead, under triple reef main and storm jib, the main luffing with the end of the boom dragging in the water.  Rampage would literally fly off of a wave, sail through the air for a moment, then slam into the next wave, which would summarily wash over the boat, bringing Rampage to a virtual halt.  Then Rampage would wind up again, accelerate and fly off the next wave, dive into the following wave, and come to a halt as the wave washed over us.  Needless to say, nobody’s Thanksgiving dinner was going to digest in these conditions.  For several hours, we were all safety harnessed, sitting on the rail in foul weather gear as Randy steered Rampage headlong into the fray.  As each wave washed over, it would mix with the barf, creating a salty brine that started to encrust everything around us.  Eventually, around midnight, when no one had any more Thanksgiving dinner to upchuck, most went below to slip into a sleeping bag, and dream about whether tomorrow would ever come.  I took the tiller and sailed Rampage like this from midnight to 5 AM by myself.  Same cycle, accelerate, fly, dive, stop, accelerate, fly, dive, stop, accelerate… all night long.  My father, Randy, layed face down in the cockpit, safety harness hooked in all night while I steered through this gale.  Eventually, at dawn, the wind began to moderate somewhat and we were able to set a course for Cape Canaveral, sailing along with the dolphins that seemed to delight in racing next to Rampage’s bow wave.  Lucia got off at Cape Canaveral and headed for the airport.  I think she would have taken an Apollo rocket over sailing at that point.  The rest of the trip to Fort Lauderdale was relatively uneventful as we motor-sailed down the Inland Waterway, enjoying the sunshine, and savoring our survival.  Amazingly, despite the gale, I do not recall any gear failure whatsoever.  Amazing really, considering the pounding that Rampage (and we) took that night.

 
Although these are the only two times that I ever sailed Rampage, at least that I can remember, there are many more stories and pictures from that era.  I have copied this message to my family members and others that have sailed her.  Perhaps some more Rampage history will come your way.  Thanks for your letter in Sailing World!

from Jim

In the Marblehead to Halifax ocean Race in 1985 aboard Rampage, a Nelson-Merek 41, it was patchy fog and light wind and we sailed much of the 400+ mile race, two days and two nights, without even seeing another competitor. Most of the fleet got caught in the adverse tide of the Bay of Fundy, while we sailed Rampage out, further offshore at the most opportune moment.  Catching an offshore breeze, Rampage surfing off waves hitting 16 knots on the speed meter, Rampage stretched out a lead that even caught the Race Management off guard.

When we reached the finish line, the race committee boat was not even there, so we took our own time at the finish bouy.  We continued into Halifax harbor in the fog, and as we came out of the fog at the dock, we wondered where all the other finishing boats were?  We were stunned by the absence of a greeting.  As we tied up to the dock, it became apparent the we had won the race.  We were not even expected in until the next day.