2007 Race Reports

Race 2 - Cowes to Cherbourg

Report from J Fever, Class 3

We were up with the dawn, tea as we motored out to the start, already calculating at what time we would have to call it enough in order to make our restaurant booking on Saturday night. We were not encouraged watching the other classes and decided there were no prizes for being over the line, and little distance to be made up if we were late, a view obviously shared by Bounty Hunter who passed us going in the opposite direction for a late start.

Our heartfelt thanks to the organisers for such lovely weather and spinnaker changing practice. We had lost count of the changes by the time we got to the forts, and did a few more on the way to Bembridge for good measure, eating hot cross buns to give ourselves strength.

The race was fairly uneventful, a cargo vessel got in our way in the Solent, but the fates smiled on us in the shipping lanes, and although we were only ghosting along, we coincided with a gap in the traffic. Into Cherbourg with time to tidy up and remark that since it was six o'clock the sun must be over the yard arm and so a glass of red would be? in order before retiring.

Report from Cougar, Class 3

What is about the start of the season? The crew of Cougar had obviously been watching too much America's Cup as the talk was of dialling up and peeling over dinner in the Victory on Thursday night. The only peeling that went on was of the onions for the lunch for the cheese rolls ( no special food for us!) And the only dialling up was Ben to his special phone line………. The start was funny, we timed our drift to perfection and went with the strategy of starting late and covering the fleet, Steve even made a special allowance of letting the boats starting late get in front of us by the mouth of the Medina River… what a guy I hear you all say…

By the Forts we were back in the mix and we started to peel down from the Artic Clothing that had been on for the early start. Roasted white saggy flesh was the order of the day and those of us blessed with ginger locks were soon reaching for the factor 900 as the temperature went from hot to hot and sweaty.. The rest of the day was spent following a simple strategy, wind comes up and boats all go fast, wind goes down boats all stop and all bunch up again…As ever Steve was imparting pearls of wisdom to inspire us all " that boat goes well in the breeze!" and generally mumbling to himself about corrected time and how long we need to be in front of this boat and that boat at this finish to stand any chance of not taking last spot…Billy our resident navigator turns out to be a bit of a precise chap, firmly ensconced at the Nav Station as we approached the shipping lanes, was doing his bit to impart fear and fun into the crew with AIS. "Steve, I don't want to worry you but that one is going to be close! It's going to pass 1.235 nautical miles ahead of us and it is doing 18 knots" cue the crew looking at seven ships steaming westwards. "It's the Pride of Peckham and it's carrying spring water!" came the cry from below. " It's registered in the Isle of Sheppey" it just goes to say that a mark one eyeball is useful sometimes alongside the wonders of AIS. A fairly uneventful day saw us exchange pleasantries with the yellow boat somewhere in mid-channel and then with inevitable timing came the split in the fleet. By 9 pm we as the crew had reached "peak rapport" and were discussing the dark secrets that all offshore crews know and love after racing for many hours. Following our technical ?? decision to gybe for better VMG on the tide we were reasonably well placed to come in to the finish. Arcsine was the first boat that popped up over by the finish in front of us, they had sailed well all day to take their deserved win, well done to them.

A long day saw us all tucked up in bed for a short sleep and then off for the sightseeing tour to Cherbourg Yacht Club, where we met our favourite Frenchwoman- Stella- and chatted to her until late on Saturday. After a very nice dinner with Andy Hill and his crew, in the Cafe Rene or something like that, it was a very much needed night's sleep for the crew of Cougar!

Report from Whistler, Class 5

Following the previous weekend it really did seem that the deities responsible for controlling the weather were in need of some advice about how to improve the consistency of their product offering; with a light forecast, the team settled for a sensible sit down meal on Thursday night rather than a visit to the Anchor and a late night kebab…

After a nice drifty start, we aimed for tide on the mainland side of Ryde Middle but in chasing it we ended up a little downwind and having to make a few gybes to bring us back and through the Forts, where we settled down to keep Electron company.

As we rounded Bembridge, the mystery that had puzzled us after the Solent Race (namely why had the nav computer and GPS shut off) was solved - our domestic battery bank had the energy levels of the Skipper after the JOG Dinner and had lost its charge completely - another one for the to-do list! We were picking the holes quite nicely and keeping moving, continuing to exchange banter with Electron until they tacked off to the east, followed by our suggestion that they were going the wrong way - which came back to haunt us later!

From then on it was something of a blur, following the wind, worrying that our bumper-sized box of Mars Bars would run out, questioning whether Tim would get hungry enough to try a Pot Noodle and noting the ingratitude of the off-duty watch - who instead of thanking us for gybing without waking them, complained about the noise as the Skipper acted as bowman!

After drifting to the West our gybe was bringing us back towards Cherbourg but once again, the wind went, and with the lack of progress we found ourselves plugging against the building ebb tide; for an entire watch our course described a nice symmetric curve - but sadly getting no nearer the finish… we stuck at it, got within a stone's throw of the coast to beat the tide, and slowly, slowly beat up to the finish.

In the end a minor result for perseverance but another reminder to keep on top of the nav at night… now, where's the bar!

With main sail & number 3 repaired in record time after the windy conditions of the previous weekend we got the call…"we're on...boat call 0530am"….gosh, what a pleasant way to start the bank holiday weekend! All crew members arrived, somewhat bleary eyed and still half asleep, and we set off in the direction of Gurnard in good time….very good time as it turned out, arriving somewhat prematurely at the start area…we're just so keen!! After a few mutterings of "could have had another 30 mins in bed" our start seemed to come round rather quickly as we watched Class 5 start and drift in the direction of Snowdon with kites up…some going high, others going deep and looking like they were going to struggle to get round the mark! 2 mins before our start and skip was sweating…not due to heat, more due to the fact that we seemed to be heading for the start line a little too soon and were struggling against the tide to keep the right side of it…we managed it….just….and as the gun went, up went the kite and we were off!

The race started a little frustratingly…trying to find the wind and precisely what direction it was coming from….the ciggy's were lit and weren't much help…so we stayed in the deepest tide and carried it down to the forts,ending up white sailing it for better boat speed. The slow slog down the back of the island as the tide turned against was tedious…we stayed out at Sandown Bay a lot further than some and it was difficult to judge who was going to come out ahead…as the wind began to fill in slowly it looked like we'd done ok and not lost out! Spirits were raised with the new breeze but unfortunately it didn't last for long…as we entered the shipping lanes we had a number of boats around us, including Longue Pierre down to leeward and Zest out in front, again out to the east of us. We opted to stay high and to the west, thinking we had another 6 hours of easting to carry us nicely back to the rhumb line, and into Cherbourg. Then we met a ship.

The game of chicken didn't seem to be going our way and the AIS system was turned on. After a very quick basic intro into how it worked, Chris was positioned to watch the sperm trail and let us know when she altered course away from a direct beam impact! She didn't, so after a period of testing all our favourite nautical terms, we had little option but to tack and gave the bridge a friendly wave as they passed. We seemed to lose a lot to Arcsine who had been relatively close in front. From then on the wind kept dropping and it was looking very likely that our easting carrying us into Cherbourg would soon turn into a westing carrying us to Alderney, and so after much deliberating and debating over a number of hours (well, it took a little while!) we opted for the engine and a half decent sleep in Cherbourg, ready for the reception the next day, one or two beverages and the race home. Well, you can't win them all ;-).
Life's not all about sailing after all!

Some may doubt our stamina, but the box of wine and gin consumed when we arrived in at about 0200am may put pay to that - and so another sensible plan bit the dust. Well done to all those that stuck it out and beat that darned tide.

Report from Electron, Class 5

Skip has a theory, it goes like this: "I reckon in any given season there is a finite amount of wind. Therefore, if you get a strong wind race, some of the later races will have to be light airs. Conversely, a lot of light airs races guarantee a race in a Hooley!" The forecast for the Easter weekend had Skip smugly grinning saying: "I told you so!" particularly after the beasting the fleet received in the Christchurch bay race. As the crew arrived on Electron the evening before the race he reminded all of them that "it's gonna be a long un" and that he "had no intention of retiring" Skips last comment did get some interesting looks from the crew. Jim winced and could clearly be seen calculating how long he could manage without Calvados. Jo just shrugged her shoulders and eyed up the food. Liz and Vickie looked at Jim, then each other and grinned.

Now, followers of the tough little boat Electron will have noticed a subtle change in crew. Yes, a lot of the regulars had failed to get a weekend pass. So, there was Electron, motoring out to the start line early Friday with three girls and two boys. Skip was outnumbered and horrified: "Kiwi fruit, who has bloody kiwi fruit on a racing yacht?" Jo just shrugged and said: "I like Kiwi fruit, what about you girls?" and there was a twittering chorus of "oh yes, lovely"Electron's start was inauspicious to say the least. However, as one of the back markers of the fleet it was easier to see where the breeze was and progress was slowly made up the fleet. Drifting past the forts the wind seemed to oblige by slowly veering, allowing the kite to be flown past Bembridge. In the end the kite had to be dropped and in the light airs Electron suffered sailing on her number 2. Slowly, contact was lost with the fleet.

One benefit of there being more female crew members was Jim and Skip seemed to get naughty. A whole raft of sexist jokes did the rounds like: "Why do women have smaller feet than men? So they can get closer to the sink" and "If you had your dog barking at the back door and your wife shouting to be let in the front door. Who would you let in first?" Answer - the dog because he will shut up when he is let in!!!! Anyway, Jim and Skip came very close to being chucked of the boat!

Approaching the French coast Electron looked in a good position. Well up tide of the finish and chugging along nicely. The wind died. Then it died some more and the tide started to push Electron west. In the end, a short tack in the entrance to the harbour allowed Electron to finish.

A long race in light airs - very challenging, being outnumbered by girls - mostly pleasant as long as you can tune out the talking!

Report from Arcsine, Class 3

Reveille on Friday morning was set for 0530 and our gallant crew's first challenge was checking that Rocco, our Italian master chef, did not set his alarm for his usual hour earlier to give himself additional 'showering time'. Fueled by bacon rolls we set of for the start line, to arrive in position a good hour early. Rocco was heard to mutter something about his shower being sacrificed for no good reason.

In the absence of wind the start was a matter of judging when the tide would sweep us over the line. Skipper Kathy judged this to perfection and we went with the flow, albeit with no steerageway. This wasn't a problem initially, but when a large yellow steel buoy appeared under our bow it quickly became a very big problem. As the buoy grew nearer it seemed to accelerate and when collision was inevitable there was a desperate shriek for fenders. 'Crew Boss' Phil dived into the lazarette and quickly untied two fenders which thank goodness had been tied in with slippery hitches that most surprisingly slipped as advertised. There was just enough time to get the fenders between fragile gelcoat and unforgiving steel before we hit and bounced off.

The next thing that looked like we might bump off it was the rather large ship! But thankfully it was happy just to send a couple of waves over the bow and completely shake every breath of wind out of the sails, mind you there were a few choice words directed at it! We then settled into a routine of sail trimming and crew weight distribution. Joe delighted the crew with his culinary prowess; it is certain that Gordon Ramsey could not have boiled in the bag any better. A plentiful supply of hot cross buns reminded us it was Easter.

Routine was interrupted for a while with the excitement of a luffing match with 'Lutine' but it was a largely solitary crossing. We spent the night making ground slowly southwards. What little wind there was swung behind us, so we hoisted the spinnaker and leaned out the main. Later we came across a combination mailsail / spinny trim that was so effective that Pat, chief spinny trimmer, has requested that it not be divulged here! Effectively we sailed her like a dinghy. The early hours saw us practically becalmed off the French coast, well to the west of Cherbourg. We were momentarily excited by lights on shore. France! But was it Cherbourg? Progress towards the lights was agonizingly slow. We then decided that it wasn't Cherbourg, but a nuclear processing plant glowing in the dark.

The wind swung around again and a cluster of green tricolour lights began to appear to the east, growing closer as our courses converged. We ghosted past another yacht and had the satisfaction of seeing it flash torches onto its foresail in an effort to improve sail trim and keep up. Now we could see the twinkling lights of Cherbourg. It was a close race to the finish, and we rounded the fort and crossed the line a little ahead of Njos and the rest of the fleet. The excitement was not over as the race committee had thoughtfully placed a few lobster pots on the finish line to keep us on our toes. Top marks to Kathy for helming for around sixteen of the twenty hours or so.
And so into Cherbourg, where our gallant crew availed themselves of rest, wine and crisps. And more crisps. And where Rocco, clearly anxious to outdo Joe in the ship's cook stakes, ventured into a French market and came aboard with several kilos of mussels, scallops and fresh herbs for the return journey. But that is another story…

Thanks to all the shore crew and especially for them making good use of the prayer mat and the 'flashing' from JOG line on our return was most welcome.