Skippers Report on Round the Island Race

Once again there was a vague and undefined sense of foreboding clouding the skippers mind before the weekend; maybe something to do with the 1,600+ boats expected on the water, or perhaps the 0700 start time… or maybe something else.
 
The team gathered and Whistler departed for Cowes, anticipating a busy port but with the commitment of a space at Shepherds Wharf. It was busy but in a stroke of luck we identified a space alongside our chums Baby Blue, who still had a case of beer on board that by rights was ours! They warned off another boat and we were there…
 
…for at least 5 minutes before the Harbour Master moved us on - it's a long story! The brief sunshine that had played upon the skipper's brow was replaced by a gloomy frown…
 
…which lifted when we found a last minute space in East Cowes…
 
…and then reappeared after a frantic 25-point turn in a space only 40' long and the attitude of the knobheads in “Alchemist” an X362, that we had rafted alongside.
 
A few quiet beers and off to bed, only to be disturbed by the arrival of the crew of the boat moored inside both Whistler and Alchemist (obviously their chums), deposited off the RYS launch and sounding like the bastard off-spring of an ill-considered mating of the Chelsea Pony Club and Monty Python's “Upper Class Twit of the Year; as you can tell this didn't ruffle the skipper a bit!
 
Race day dawned (bloody early for those of us on the boat); we moved to allow the boats inside to leave, parked up and settled down to await the arrival of the rest of the crew and breakfast…
 
… and waited…
 
            … and waited…
 
                        … and waited…
 
Eventually, after a few phone calls, we set off to carry out a mid-Medina crew and breakfast transfer and motor out to the start. The mainsail went up but the first inkling that something was not quite right was the attachment of the genoa halyard, not to the head of the sail but to the tack. Obviously a simple error, perhaps confusion caused by the plethora of sails visible, of all shapes and sizes, on the Thames barges towering above the fleet. Or were more sinister forces at work?
 
We started and hit the kite straight away but quite quickly decided not to try and hang on to it (having the benefit of being well down the fleet and seeing the boats ahead having trouble!). Back to the No:1 and we settled down to reach down the Solent. As we went through Hurst and could see down to the Needles, it was getting very windy and more than a handful to keep going.
 
At the Needles we went wide and tried to hang on out to get some room for a headsail change but ended up wellied by a combination of wind and wave, resulting in a near knock-down (missed by the skipper, which says something about his awareness!)
 
Round the back we changed to the No:3 and pressed on, not as close inshore as some, but as we found near St Cath's, still very much up with the likes of Tai-Pan and Ocean Cavalier, and ahead of Puckoon.
 
We actually had to start doing some tacking and were “rewarded” by the sight of “half-man/half-monkey/half-sloth” trying to coax or tickle the genoa back inside the lifelines with just one finger!
 
It was windy and lumpy out there and sitting on the rail was a real pleasure with doses of wind, water and, occasionally, belches of last night's beer coming down the line! It was taking it's toll and the final straw for one member of the crew was trying to pack the No:1 into it's bag whilst on the bow - he looked like he would have preferred to dump the sail and have himself zipped into the bag and tucked below! Whilst we avoided an epidemic of vomiting, the fishes were fed pretty well!
 
Luckily we also avoided a complete twat in one of the ISC classes, who didn't realize that port/starboard applied to him and didn't try to clear our way until we were initiating an emergency duck - his late move put us on a collision course but with a bit of panic we bore off further and, with the rail crew hurriedly pulling legs in, the idiot shot down our side, no more than one foot away, with the boom swinging across the cockpit. The skipper retained sufficient composure to unload a full broadside of obscene comment at the hapless wankers, before visiting the heads to check his underwear!
 
Somewhere around here Orangemotored past - on lap two, the show-offs, although it was a nice photo opportunity and pretty impressive!
 
We started to go off the boil after St Cath's but boldly went for the kite at Bembridge; not a good move! A duff call from the skipper - wrong side - combined with some general lassitude, gusting winds and lumpy sea, resulted in a major broach and a complete lack of control! Sod that for a laugh it would be back to the genoa - shouting, flapping, pulling, pushing - throughout it all the skipper kept up a constant flow of calm, considered, helpful and motivational advice… mmm!
 
Without the kite we sailed a strange line to the forts and then kept on the rhumb line to the finish, which meant that we lost further ground on the inside boats. There was the consolation of our 10.5-knot speed and seeing several people aground on Ryde Sands.
 
We bashed up toward the finish and went for the kite off Norris only for the wind to vanish behind the hill and other boats - what next? Luckily, the finish - it was over!
 
A tough old day and some lessons to be learned by everyone!!!!
 
Final result - 37th out of 56