2007 Race Reports

Race 12 - Cowes - Weymouth Race

Arcsine-crew report- Weymouth Race

It was the night before the race. The crew met up at the Ketch Rigger for their customary discussion. We had debated the same subject many times before the start of every race, but now it was getting to the critical stage. Decisions would have to be made. And they had now thrown us a curve-ball.

"Do we go for the normal Fastnet logo on our team shirts or the special Rolex Fastnet logo?" This was the last sticking point. We had finally agreed on type of shirt (polo); colour (navy blue); No, hang on, we changed our minds to sky blue two races ago didn't we? Or was it cerise? I think it was Cerise. After much debate we decided that the special Rolex logo was the only way to go. Yes, it was less traditional. But it was only for race crew, so more exclusive, right?
And so to bed.

The following morning, after lashings of tea, Crunchy Nuts and Italian coffee (Caleb had managed to fathom the mysteries of Rocco's espresso maker) we set out to the JOG start line very early and also had a few practice goes at the Fastnet start line. As it happened we had a good start, thanks to our cunning tactician Phil. We then short-tacked westwards through the Solent, with Caleb throwing himself (literally) into Rocco's normal role of clew-diver. Everything was going swimmingly until we spotted a large patch of white water just off the starboard bow.
"Isn't that the Shingles?"
"Yes."
"It's a bit shallow there isn't it?"
"Yes."
We were now experiencing some white water, we couldn't tack away as the huge Hugo Boss was under our lee. A second later the crew on the rail saw a gigantic tsunami-like towering wall of white water thundering towards them. There was just enough time for them to shut their eyes and brace themselves. It smashed over the crew, swirled down their necks, soaked into their thermal layers and filled their boots
"OK let's tack" says Kathy
Having crossed Bridge the wind insisted on building and it was deemed to be a good time to change to the Number Two. Sarah took command of the foredeck and the tack change was executed in very wet but exhilarating conditions. It was all a bit exciting for a minute or two, but we managed to sort ourselves out without too much drama.

We beat out of the Solent and set a course to the south of most of the fleet, but in very good tide. Later we changed down to a Number Three and spent the morning cutting into some pretty impressive waves in gusty conditions. We were sailing in pretty relaxed mode, enjoying the day out when suddenly a yacht (Dash?) dashed just ahead of us on starboard. One of its dashing crew let out a cheer. Well, that was it then! The race was on! Confused, as we tried to identify the yachts around us we found ourselves competing with the Class one boats taking part in the RORC. What a satisfying feeling, later, when we were tucked up in Weymouth and they were getting very wet and blown about in the channel - always a good decision to do the JOG race!

There was a sudden flurry of excitement on the rail when your correspondent unexpectedly decided to jettison his breakfast. Unfortunately his leeward neighbours were understandably less than impressed with their warm shower (sorreee Rebecca and Sarah!!).

As the wind continued to build we took in a reef. We bounced our way past the Anvil and St Albans, then we had a chance to admire the rock formations on the Jurassic Coast.

Eventually we saw Portland loom out of the greyness. We shook out the reef and tacked in towards Weymouth, crossed the line in what, ahem, transpired to be first place and repaired to Weymouth sailing club for a very welcome pint or two and an excellent meal.

Caleb.

Report from Tearaway Too (unofficial, Skipper's on hols!)

To three. . . or not to three. . . That was the question on the start line. Whether to suffer the slings and arrows of the (rather) depleted crew with a change up from the No 3 to the No 1, knowing the wind was going to build and the apparent was going to rise even more by Hurst - by when it was going to be lumpy and wet and a change down back to the No3 would be needed. Spirited discussion convinced Skipper that keeping to the No3 was the way forward - especially as the middle of the boat claimed that tacking the No3 was so much faster - and a bare headed foresail change, courtesy of the roller, would cost us all the advantage anyway.

That decided we crossed the line with the No3 and soon realized that we were somewhat underpowered. With the rest of the fleet we short tacked down the Island side, slowly losing ground. Arcsine slid by us, Dash vanished but we found that by keeping well in all the way to Yarmouth (even though the tide tables suggested a better push further out) we were creeping back towards the front.

Out through Hurst, smug now, as most around us were changing down and off past the Needles. We chose to plough well out past Anvil as most of the fleet took the inside passage. Bumpy and wet (for those of us at the front) but quick. By St Alban's we were some 2 miles off taking the worst of the overfalls but probably the best of the tide. A bit lonely out there as the boats around us seemed to be involved in the RORC channel race.

The lumps and bumps and wet did pay off, though as we entered Weymouth Bay with a virtually clear view in front of us. Our hopes for line honours were "dashed", however as we passed Dash on their way home a good half mile from the finish.

Anyway, we crossed the line happy to finish - particularly as Martin and Ruth were setting off on holiday the next day and we had been carrying the dingy, the outboard, a full tank of diesel, Ruth's Spring Collection and Heaven knows what else!

Parked up, (thank you JOG for splendid moorings), dried out, refreshed and yes - got soaked again on the way to the Yacht Club. Ahh, the joys of the British Summer!!

Many thanks to all the JOG team for another splendid weekend and in particular to Jo and Jackie for an act of supreme JOG spirit in rescuing a couple of cast adrift crew. We can't thank you enough!

Report from Whistler, Class 5

Lloydy's Lessons From The Weekend, No:1 - while sailing shorts and Dubarry boots are OK when posing at the post-race drinks, the addition of a pair of oilskin trousers is recommended when beating into wind-over-tide all the way to Weymouth… this generally avoids sitting in soggy undies for the best part of 8 hours and the attendant risks of "trench bum" and "nadger rot"…

Anyway, back to the start, where the Skipper and Stig's well thought through first leg strategy was dropped immediately the gun went in favour of short tacking past Egypt point and inside Gurnard Ledge, in company with Tai Pan and Alchemist. Those who know the Skipper's aversion to the green bits of the chart (and the costs associated with hitting them) would not be surprised that he relinquished the steering stick and opted to shout directions from the navigatorium…

We settled down, keeping Tai Pan a few yards (no new-fangled metric nonsense here) ahead of us and Alchemist behind all the way down the Island shore, cheating the last of the flood tide and seeking the right moment to get into the building ebb. Farthing were a smidge further back following the same track until they struck out for deeper water before Yarmouth.

Through Hurst the building tide and wind strength were making life a handful so, having passed Tai Pan as they made a bare-headed change of jib, we opted to do a tack change down to our No:3 - which promptly did its Yarmouth trick and popped out of the Tuff Luff, necessitating going down to the No:4 (and a trip to the sail loft). This let both Tai Pan and Alchemist through us.

We headed West before much of our competition, which seemed to make sense. However, it was apparent that either our rig set-up or trim were not quite right, as no matter what we tried we couldn't get into the groove in the lumpiness. The crew stuck manfully to the task of sitting on the rail, keeping the Skipper dry - although Slippery and Sal's morale-boosting sing-song almost resulted in a bit of impromptu MoB practice!

Despite being soaked to the skin and unable to light a cigarette, one event had put a much needed smile on Slippery's face (Lloydy's Lessons From The Weekend, No:2 - when "The Grey Panther" goes the same colour as his namesake, try to avoid sitting downwind of him… this generally avoids quite a lot!)

We had some light-hearted banter with one Class 4 boat who thought that the rhumb line between St Alban's and the finish was due south but, having wiggled away from them, pressed on into Weymouth Bay. We were slightly closing on Tai Pan and Alchemist but Farthing was looming ominously behind. We made a significant mistake when the leaders tacked out into the Bay by not following them, opting instead to (mis)place our faith in the Skipper's tactical reading of the tide atlas and keeping nearer to the shore…

As the sea flattened and the wind eased in the last hour, we went back up through the sail inventory (good exercise to keep the crew warm). Tai Pan and Alchemist were out of reach but we were holding off Farthing - and were pleased to cross the line before heading into port for the obligatory glass or two of red, a shower and some dry clothes… which immediately became as wet as the rest when we walked to the sailing club in a deluge!