Report from Whistler
Chastened by our retirement from the Nab Race, we prepared ourselves for St Vaast with a will; the skipper even took a day off work to learn the arcane mysteries of the magic black box that sits emitting light, draining power and frequently crashing in the navigation station!
Despite the best attempts of the armies of trolls who inhabit the vast, coned-off sprawl of England's motorways, the crew turned up within minutes of the appointed departure time; luckily our noble skipper had once again sacrificed some of his meagre annual leave allowance to ensure all was ready (or more accurately delegated all the work elsewhere).
We motored up the Solent in depressing weather with the skipper trying to decipher the various, conflicting weather forecasts and get a plan together… but spirits soared as we approached Cowes to be informed that not only were the rest of the crew (and provisions) waiting but that a fish and chip supper was awaiting us on the pontoon - top stuff and an excellent start to the evening!
Opting for the No:1 we had an averagely average (not overly surprising as this was the skipper's first start on helm for quite a while!) start but were moving nicely along with Tai-Pan and later Electron in company. You all know what happened as we approached the forts but we scraped past in the fluttering and dying breeze, although the skipper has a few more grey hairs! We also saw the lady in the window - perhaps next time the Race Committee could import a couple of ladies from Amsterdam and a red light just to liven it up a bit!
It is dispiriting to flap around when you still have 75 miles to go but we stuck at it, trying to keep Tai-Pan behind us. Electron and some others seemed to be going in towards the Island in hope of wind or avoiding the tide; we considered this but felt that at some time everyone would have to come out again, so stayed put - a good choice as it turned out! The wind filled a touch and we coasted towards Bembridge Ledge, which was getting busier as everyone converged. It could have become a little tense but then a miracle occurred and a gap opened in front of us which we ghosted through leaving the shouting and flapping behind - obviously the skipper's recent abstinence from pleasures of the flesh has paid off…
A little later we decided to try holding a kite which boosted speed but was dropping us down below the fleet and the rhumb line, so we decided to go back to the genoa after half an hour or so. It was at this time that our luck reversed… somehow Matt (the Muppet) bowman had contrived yet another of his wondrous, unsolvable puzzles using nothing more than the genoa and starboard spinnaker halyards and the forestay. Vital time was lost as we went bare headed to get things straight again. Spirits were dented and in the poor visibility with no one around it was easy to fear that we were well off the pace (again!) During the night we went back to the light kite as the wind backed and we went past a couple of boats (who spotted that we had it up, hoisted theirs and eventually came back past us…
We stayed pretty much on the rhumb line until well over half way across and then started to climb above it in anticipation of the most likely of the forecasts.
As the daylight grew spirits raised for two reasons - we could make out shapes of other competitors and we discovered that we had a new, secret weapon in our armoury - "Auto-Les" the tireless, Aussie who can helm all night and half the day fuelled on coffee and biscuits. We are thinking of cloning him (it worked on a sheep which we have heard is genetically quite similar to an Aussie …)
We were playing a game of trying to work out who was who from their kites as the wind strengthened. We peeled to the medium kite then as it veered and built went back to the No:1; it kept building and with the skipper back on the helm it got interesting! We considered the No:2 but by the time we had finished considering the wind had eased.
We had been tacking toward the shore in the wind and now had a nice line down the coast with, praise be, both Electron and Ocean Cavalier inside us - even better the various bits of electrical wizardry still offered a finish time that would see us inside the lock for a full day of carousing!
Once again the weather gods would use us as their playthings…
The three boat race continued in a dying and changing wind; it was difficult working out relative positions but we were determined to hang in there, particularly as Ocean Cavalier had beaten us by just over a minute on the drift race back from Cherbourg - could this be revenge?
Our decision to go inshore (as reported by others) was more of a desire for a change of scenery - well, being honest we had worked out that we could get a slight angle toward the line and would at least be moving because we would be going across the tide not straight into it and we would have to go that way at some time so it would keep spirits up at least! As we neared the line in a fickle wind Electron were slipping back but Ocean Cavalier followed us in hoisting their kite and were gaining. The skipper was using all his trimming and motivation skills with cries of "they are catching up, make us go faster". With a lot more activity than is usual on Whistler after 18 hours we kept climbing for speed and dropping off for the line to keep the pursuing and looming Ocean Cavalier at bay… it worked… just… was it 9 seconds over 18 hours?
We dropped the hook, had a beer, did some maths on who we could see and had a kip… woke up to see a lot more people had arrived during the afternoon… lock opened… wine flowed… beer was drunk… had another kip… woke up… motored home.
Great weekend!
sailingkiwi
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