Race 11 - Cowes Dinard St Malo Race
Report from Draig o'r Mor, Class 4
Preparation for St
Malo started with a good clear out of Draigy prior to her being officially
measured for her endorsed TCC, it is amazing what you find in the bottom
of lockers, hidden away for a rainy day. After putting everything that
was required back on board her, Draigy then had a bottom scrub, which
was followed by an emergency cutlass bearing change.
A reduced crew gathered on Thursday evening at Gins Farm for supper and a strategy debate, the supper was great, the debate came to a grinding halt after a couple of bottles of excellent wine.
Friday dawned a lot
grayer than forecast lowering the Draigy spirit as we headed towards the
line, however, spirits were lifted when we saw Sandie on the checking
gate boat, where we displayed various items of hardware and had a quick
chat about what we had just eaten for breakfast.
The start was a down
wind start with RORC sending us out via the Forts. We had a great charge
down the Solent cutting inside No Mans Land fort for the first time in
our lives (a spooky feeling). At the Fort boats ahead were broaching out
all over the place, therefore, we decided to drop the kite whilst we had
room and cut inside the carnage. After this point the hard beat started.
At West Princessa we started the tacking dual into the island shore allowing
us to keep pace with the big boys who couldn't get in as close as us in
the smaller boats. By staying in close we were able to steel a lead on
a number of boats, however, the battering we were taking started to tell
on the crew (all of us) hence after confirming the forecast we made the
tough decision to retire from the race.
In hindsight on a
race the length of St Malo we would have been in a better position to
carry on beating into a choppy sea had we had a full experienced crew
of 8 rather than the 6 (3 experienced) crew that we set off with. Well
done to those who finished the race.
Report from Independent Bear, Class 3
Just getting to the start of the St Malo race was interesting - owing to confusion about the start time, the first crew to arrive found the boat out of the water, and the Medium #1 in the sail loft. Some gentle persuasion later, and we found ourselves joining the 222 boats queuing to get through the identity gate. Colin, promoted to start helm, got us a great start, and had a big grin on his face as he helmed down the Solent, powered up with the 1.5oz kite. The wind increased at the forts, so we bore away, hoisted the #2, then hardened up and cut inside No Mans Land Fort to start the close reach to Bembridge Ledge.
At Bembridge we debated going offshore to get out of the foul tide. However, going West seems to have been the winning tactic in every St Malo race I can remember, and the weather forecast suggested that this year would be no different as the wind was forecast to veer to WSW behind the occluding front. Consequently, we decided to short tack up the island shore to cheat the tide. A few close calls followed, as boats on port tried to edge in front of those on starboard, or give away as little ground as possible when ducking. We stayed on port after passing St Cats, eventually tacking to head off across the channel when the wind veered to about 235-240 deg M.
The Bear loves beating, and we sailed high and fast towards the Casquets. Sadly, it’s crew don’t enjoy beating, and seasickness claimed around half the crew as its victims. First prize for artistic impression goes to Colin, who managed to carry on helming whilst throwing up over his shoulder until I could lurch across the cockpit and grab the wheel. We changed down to the #3 around nightfall, getting our bowmen, D.C. and Andy Adams thoroughly soaked. D.C. then retired below decks for the rest of the beat, making himself a little nest out of spinnakers and fenders in the stern.
D.C.‘s chilli con carne was served as dark approached, and was voted the best meal of the season so far, although spilt and regurgitated chilli did make for a slippery deck. Visibility slowly decreased, and we switched into fog mode, donned lifejackets and hoisted the radar reflector. The lights on two of our lifejackets turned themselves on, as the water activation was triggered by waves washing across the deck and the crew perched on the windward rail. The deck took on an eerie glow, illuminated by the two flashing lifejackets and the light on the lifebelt, which was easily triggered by heeling or going over particular waves. The inside of the boat gradually filled up with water, and turned into a bomb site with assorted sails, clothing and discarded lifejackets everywhere.
Craig stepped into the vacant bowman position, and his turn to be soaked came when we changed back to the #2 around sunrise. A tack onto port for a few miles was required to clear the Casquets, then it was off to Hanois. Will pointed out the tidal shadow behind Guernsey, so we ducked behind the island to cheat the tide before heading West around Hanois, which we passed at 8am in the company of the French yacht, Codiam. Things were looking good, as we bore away and were passed by Farr 40s and Timberland. Then the wind eased until we found ourselves pointing back where we came from with a boat speed of 0.00 knots. Slowly we gained steerage, and after a few hours of being almost parked the arrival of boats from the West heralded the approach of the sea breeze. Meanwhile, the deck was slowly turning into a Chinese laundry, with wet clothing draped everywhere to dry in the sun. We amused ourselves for a while after spotting D.C.’s hairy feet, and deciding that he looked like a hobbit, but as we couldn’t agree whether he deserved the nickname Frodo or Samwise, he will be known as “Hobbit” from now on.
We gybed around SW Minquiers and started the slow run into the finish, soon realising that we had no chance of getting the last lock. A downwind race with Predator, Incisor, and Wings of the Wind to the finish was shortly followed by a race to get over the sill before low water, to get some much needed food, beer, diesel and, of course, sleep. We were relieved to finish around 7pm, before the sea breeze died, and our fears were justified when we set off for home the following afternoon and saw a steady stream of yachts under spinnaker heading in to the finish.
We then enjoyed a splendid sail home. Colin had yet more fun on the helm trying to maintain a steady course over the ground through the Ortac channel, whist contenting with a five knot tide, a big sea, a starless night, and Andy at the mast, using a torch to jury rig some navigation lights, after both our tricolour and bicolour failed.