Race Week is the centerpiece of many Pacific Northwest racers’ calendars, and has been for decades. In recent years, it has changed homeports and racing areas a couple of times, but its primary draws endure, and it really is the soul of summer sailing for many around the region.
This year, Race Week debuted in its new surroundings of Bellingham and, by all accounts and in pretty much every way, the regatta experience was stellar. There was breeze every day, all day on Bellingham Bay, summer sun, fabulous competition and learning on the water, great live music and themed parties, and the special connections that form or are reinvigorated during a lengthy event like Race Week. One sailor visiting from outside the area (who happens to be a big-wig for an international sailmaker) told a Race Week sponsor he thought this is the best regatta… anywhere.
The fleet that assembled in Bellingham consisted of 44 boats, and offered an extraordinary range of size and style. The smallest were a fleet of seven Melges 15s who raced only on the first three days. It’s remarkably cool to see boats that small sharing the course with some seriously fast 50-footers. There were other one-design classes—J/70s and the ten J/105s representing the largest class on the water—as well as varied handicap fleets with two classes racing under ORC and two under PHRF.
For a great window into the 2025 Race Week experience, here’s a report from Tom Perry, who shares the story of racing his B-25, Blur.
Sunshine and Breeze, Competition, Camaraderie, and Good Chaos: Blur’s Race Week 2025
by Tom Perry
If I ever had to introduce someone to the sport of sailing, Race Week Bellingham 2025 would’ve been the perfect way to do so—equal parts sunshine, adrenaline, tactical puzzles, and humbling misadventures. Five days of racing on Bellingham Bay brought starts from clean to full-faceplant, winning calls and navigational toe-stubs, and a whole lot of champagne sailing to smooth over a few of the mistakes that make you question your life choices.
We trailered our boat, Blur, up from Shilshole on Sunday, rigged her, splashed, and tucked into Squalicum Harbor in postcard perfect summertime conditions—70 degree sunshine making snowcapped mountains shimmer above the bay. What a welcome, Race Week had officially begun!
Day One: Sunshine, Speed, and a Little Bit of Chaos
The week opened with three races in a steady 13–15 knots that gradually tapered as the day went on. We had a secret weapon aboard: guest tactician Alex Simanis of Ballard Sails. From tuning the rig to sail trim adjustments, Alex played boat whisperer and elevated our game immediately.
I admit it, starts are my favorite part of racing. The electric energy, the jostling, a little chaos and a bit of yelling, the surge of adrenaline—when you pop off the line with clean air and good speed, there’s nothing like it. Monday’s starts were aggressive and fun!
We began the day sailing clean and fast and posted a third in race one. Race two was even better—we found our groove, hit our shifts, played the favored left side, and sailed to our first bullet of the week. Another third in race three left us sitting second overall in PHRF-B. It was our best opening day at any regatta, and I was over the moon. We joined the huge group of usual suspects and friendly new faces at the pavilion—beers in hand, sunburns glowing—and felt like rockstars, our tired bodies notwithstanding.
Day Two: The Tow Truck Tango
On paper, Bellingham is the ideal host: a charming college town, craft breweries, mountain views, and brilliant sailing conditions. But it comes with one quirk—Tuesday night street cleaning. At 2:30 a.m., tow trucks prowl downtown like apex predators, hauling away unsuspecting cars. Two of our crew vehicles, including mine, were snatched and ransomed. By the time we recovered them, I was tired, grumpy, under-caffeinated, and nursing a lighter wallet. Not the ideal pre-race mindset.
That fatigue carried onto the water, where there was a bit of fog to start the day. The breeze was a little lighter to 8–10 knots, the fog burned off into sunshine, and the starting line trended toward demolition derby. The protest room did brisk business that evening. Our starts were “interpretive” at best—late, early, or just plain wrong. Blur’s willing speed helped us salvage a few places, but mostly we found ourselves farther back in the field that day.
Still, we found glimmers. The fleet began to spread tactically—less of the automatic “bang the left corner” play, and some gains could be found sneaking right on the beats. We clawed out a third in the final race, which felt like a moral victory after a rocky morning.
That evening’s party pavilion theme? Christmas in July—tacky sweaters, fake snow, and rum drinks in Santa mugs. Cheers to that!
Day Three: Everything Hurts, but We’re Fast
By midweek, the romance of Race Week started to feel a little, well, sore. Every muscle ached, my knees crackled like Rice Krispies, and even my fingertips were tender. But pain aside, Day Three was magic.
The wind held steady at 10–15 knots with enough shifts to keep it interesting, and our class sailed four races. Consistency was our story: a string of thirds with sharp crew work, smooth roundings, and even communication. Best of all, my starts were the chef’s kiss. We hit the line powered up, in phase, and ahead of the fleet in almost every race. After Tuesday’s flailing, the turnaround felt euphoric.
The crew was clicking, too. We found a tighter leeward mark rounding maneuver on the fly that shaved seconds off each leg. That’s what a week like this does—five straight days of racing improves everything. By the time I’m back at Shilshole, I feel like a finely-tuned monster.
Sure, we were sore, but the vibe on the boat was so good, the learning was real, and our performance was trending up.
Day Four: We Chose Poorly
Thursday brought the pursuit race—a 20-mile loop from the harbor south to Eliza Island, around Vendovi and Viti Rocks, and back. The kicker: you had to choose whether to sail the course clockwise or counterclockwise. Each boat got its own staggered start time, and if everyone sailed perfectly, we’d all cross at the same time.
With no local knowledge and nothing but weather apps, tide charts, and hunches, we gambled on counterclockwise. Cue the Indiana Jones scene when the villain chooses the wrong grail and turns to dust: “He chose… poorly.”
We started strong in 16–20 knots, with reefed main and #2 headsail, Blur charging upwind like she was on rails. But then the current turned traitor. Every tack felt like pushing uphill on a treadmill. We pinballed around Viti Rocks in slow motion, watching our rivals disappear over the horizon. Nothing dramatic, death by a thousand paper cuts compounded into a tactical shipwreck and last place.
By the time we hoisted the chute for the downwind run home, the boat flew but the ride was a quiet mix of resignation and reflection. We finished still clinging to third overall by a thread.
Every sailor knows this truth: some days, you just get humbled. Thursday was our turn. But despite the tactical trainwreck, the conditions were stunning, the wind was exhilarating, and Bellingham once again served up a spectacular day on the water.
Day Five: Big Breeze, Bigger Beating
The final day dawned with whitecaps already flecking the bay. The breeze was a steady 18–20 knots with steep chop, and we were shorthanded—down a crew member when we needed weight on the rail most.
Three races, three slugfests. Blur was quick and pointing well enough, but we were overpowered and getting tossed about, every maneuver demanding more bodies than we had. We were overwhelmed, physically and tactically, and it showed in the results—fifths and sixths were all we could manage. It was the kind of day that rewards a fully crewed, dialed-in team, and punishes anyone who isn’t.
By the time we rolled the boat back onto the trailer, I was utterly drained—salt-crusted, bruised, completely wiped. We finished fourth overall, just missing the podium.
Disappointing? Sure, but this was our best Race Week result ever. We held third place for three out of five days, and had some of our cleanest, fastest sailing ever. The competition was fierce but fun—especially with the J/27 Zephyr and her crew, who ultimately edged us out for third. Racing them was an absolute blast. The kind of rivalry where you’re trading barbs, cheering each other on, and cracking jokes every time your boats cross paths. That’s what good racing is all about.
* * *
So there you have it, the Blur skipper’s excellent recap of a full, fast, fun week at Race Week Bellingham. Perry’s compatriots in PHRF-B pushed him to the limit. In the end it was the Cal 39 Back Bay taking the class win ahead of the Santana 30/30 Jasmina and Blur’s sparring partners on Zephyr.
Perennial Race Week attendees and consistent performers on the Dash 34 Mad Dash stood atop the PHRF-A podium with a single-point edge over the fast-sailing locals on the Beneteau 36.7 Vitesse.
In ORC-A, the biggest, fastest boats on the water, another longtime Race Week participant, Charlie Macaulay led his friends and family team on Farr 39ML Absolutely to the win ahead of the accomplished sailors on the Santa Cruz 52 Rosebud.
ORC-B’s group of fast mostly 30-something boats went to yet another Race Week regular, John Hoag’s 1D35, Shrek. Always well sailed, the Shrek team was on fire in Bellingham, winning every race and sailing into the coveted winner’s circle for the Race Week Overall title. Congrats!
The J/105s saw 48° North’s #1 Race Boat of the year for 2024, John Aitchison’s Moose Unknown, continue to display their speed and smarts with a dominant performance. Rounding out the podium were Jaded and Panic.
Paul Garner’s Jabberwocky sailed to a class win in the J/70s, followed by Mike Powell’s Tally-Ho! and Boris Luchterhand’s Riff. And the Melges 15 class went to Brian Savery’s Bote Blanco who outdueled longtime Race Week supporter Paul Krak Arntson on Arntson Marine.
Around the fleet, in vessels and classes both large and small, from Race Week lifers to first time participants, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who didn’t think 2025’s Race Week Bellingham was a genuine all-timer. This was the kind of week when a less-than-ideal finishing position in your class couldn’t dampen your spirits. This experience with this group of people is the stuff of dreams.
Race Week Bellingham was a display of good times and success on every level—the committee ran a stellar event, the organizing was spot-on with terrific parties, and there was a smooth competitor experience throughout.
Perry summed it up beautifully, “This week was a gift. Five straight days of champagne sailing, steady breeze, and great people. I’ve never seen a Race Week deliver so consistently on conditions. I’m running on adrenaline and ibuprofen, totally wrung out, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. We left it all on the water. And that, my friends, is how you finish a regatta.”
Full results at www.raceweekpnw.com
Photos courtesy of Jan Anderson.
