2003 Reports

Simply click on the race that you wish to read about - or scroll through the whole lot! Nab Tower Solent St Vaast Deauville Fecamp Yarmouth Round the Island Race St Malo Weymouth Cowes Week St Peter Port Poole PSC Parhelion Nab Tower

After the long winter lay-off (time to demonstrate that the skipper is as inept on a golf course as he is on a boat) and the skippers mid-winter race training down under, the start of the season loomed a little more quickly than was planned. As usual all the little last-minute jobs took longer than planned and the first time that Whistler and her crew saw each other "in anger" was on the start line. With the infusion of a combination of young blood and experience, the all new crew was ready for it!

Ready for the usual gradual lagging and eventual last place that is...

When it came down to it, it was a matter of rustiness and not being "race fit" - things were cranked on when they should have been left slack and flopping around when they should have been tight. The fleet were in sight as we rounded the forts but we lacked confidence to go for the kite and stuck with the No:1; watching a few other boats it was touch and go but, as the results show, there was a benefit in hanging on to the spinnaker despite the apparent wind angle.

Having rounded the Nab we slipped further behind until, as the wind eased and changed we were in a different patch of breeze to everyone else. Very similar to last year except we had no smokers on board!

Mind you, looking at the results, perseverance pays off - it's always worth plugging on to the finish..

Final result - 23rd out of 24

Solent

Licking our wounds after the Nab result and with yet another infusion of fresh young blood (beginning to sound like a cross between Carry on Nurse and Buffy, which is something worth dwelling on.) For this race we were joined by two members of the Bath University sailing team for a bit of training before the University Sailing Championship; not quite sure what they were hoping to learn unless it was the opportunity to watch the rest of the fleet go past (generally in the opposite direction!) Their influence even encouraged us to try a hoist or two before the start - unheard of - why waste a good hoist practicing?

For a change we were vaguely up with the rest of the fleet as we headed down to the east and very probably not last - result! However, as the leg progressed and we became mixed up in a two handed race we seemed to lose contact with our competition, who seemed to split and either follow the island or mainland shores.

As we rounded the windward mark and hoisted the spinnaker we seemed back in our usual place but not so out of contention that we despaired of catching up a few places on handicap. Whilst all could not necessarily be described as being "well" we were not down hearted and even decided to be a bit clever in getting ready for the drop and rounding the next mark.

It's difficult to describe exactly what went wrong and probably even more difficult to describe what we were trying to do as we shifted the genoa to the other tack and tried to re-route all the string. One thing that is clear is what happened next - an almighty wrap of spinnaker and genoa. Thinking that a quick tug would help (as it always seems to for the skipper) shouting commenced; this time all that was achieved was a gradual mutual constriction of the two sails round the forestay.

The next 15 plus minutes can be condensed into bobbing around getting nearer to the Bramble Bank, lacking real steerage and confused. Somehow we got the head a little more into the wind and combined with removal of sheets, coaxing and luck, everything suddenly unravelled. We still had to get the kite in, string sorted, then hoist the genoa and set of towards Cowes and the next mark. As we sorted ourselves out we discovered the loss of a spinnaker - aaaaah! More string was found and we plugged on wishing for some incident to cause a competitor to retire or have a problem (only joking - we're not really that uncharitable... or are we?)

The last few legs added to the despondency as we plugged the tide and endured the usual inquisitive glances of other competitors who struggle to comprehend how we could be so far off the pace; mind you we are getting used to it!

This time there was no way back..

Final result - 20th out of 20

St Vaast

It was with some relief that we heard that the start had been postponed until Saturday morning - whilst cunning plans had been considered to survive the start in a Force 9 and then hide until it eased - we knew in our hearts that it would have been enough of a challenge simply getting off our berth in Gosport !

After an incredibly moderate night in the pub (more to do with age and bladder capacity rather than sensible preparation for the race), we set off good and early to make the final crew pick up off the ISC. We pottered up to the start but in the current seemed to be having enough of a problem going through the ID gate to spend too much time in pre-start preparation.

We started under the No:3 and switched to the AP spinnaker after the start and set off for the forts, having our usual last-minute slalom around Snowden (more than could be said for some, judging by the voices on the radio!) We were also ahead of Xploiter who was recovering after a premature start.

Through the forts and off toward Bembridge; we decided to stay high on the route across in anticipation of the wind backing as we neared the French coast. We could see Tai-Pan and Electron, sailing a little lower and seemingly involved in their own private battle but we would not be drawn in and stuck to our plans.

Pretty soon we changed up to the No:2 and then the No:1 for an uneventful crossing, except a new and less experienced crew member discovering a sudden aversion to the channel which, after an hour or so retching, left them prostrate below decks for the rest of the race (and they couldn't face a beer at the finish!) We also saw a tanker carrying the sacred JOG "Theta" symbol on her funnels; was this some new committee vessel we wondered?

The wind went a little wobbly off Cherbourg and we spent a fair amount of time bobbing fairly aimlessly in company with Plane Sailing (we tried to make it look like we were driving the boat as hard as possible but would have been smoked quite easily). The mathematically inclined were doing complex sums to work out differences in TCF and required finishing times. We were not alone in this as a number of sails were looking for inspiration and I'm sure like us trying to find the best combination of wind and tide to get past the competition. As it looked like a long one, we started to rest a couple of people for two hours at a time; all except the skipper, who nobly kept going (more like interfering - Ed.) Plane Sailing disappeared in the descending nightfall; we would only know whether they got past us at the finish (they did). We picked our way down the coast toward the finish, listening in on the VHF to hear other finishers; we were somewhat knackered and I must admit it was a little disheartening to hear other boats in our class finish whilst the magic TV screen was still advising us we had 45 minutes to go...

We closed the finish, noted our time with great accuracy (the skipper had spent 20 minutes on his mobile setting his watch and aligning the hands exactly before leaving the UK; mind you, Mickey's so big you can't see the numbers...) Then came the St Vaast ritual of trying to find somewhere to anchor which was not covered in pot markers and hoping that the rusty secondary port and tidal height calculations were OK. Sod that, time for a beer!

We didn't have time to go into the port and set off early in the morning for the usual plod back to the UK , which saw the eventual re-emergence of our sickly crew member (now sticking to inshore sailing!) More inane babble, pasties, sausage rolls, pasta, blah, blah. The only real excitement almost came with the confusion of St Helen's Fort and the Bembridge Ledge CM (OK - the difference between flashing and quick flashing is obvious, but when they both have 10 second periods, there is a lot of background and you are tired... mind you, it makes you wonder what intellect puts similar lights in such close proximity!)

In the final analysis another victory for plodding on!

Final result - 5th out of 9

Deauville

Lesson number one - the company's annual conference is not ideal preparation for a cross channel race; especially not one involving a beat out past the Needles in a fresh breeze.

Lesson number two - if you have to attend the conference try to ensure that only one member of the crew will be incapacitated...

Lesson three - if someone suggests that they are left behind - leave them!

We were in our usual spot (poised to attack the fleet from behind - ouch!) but the combination of wind and tide was rapidly undoing at least one member of the crew (who had only managed about two hours sleep after a cocktail of champagne, beer, wine and various liqueurs). As the unfortunate's face gradually resembled the sea more and more - grey/green and furrowed and the only muscle that seemed to be working was his stomach - a decision had to be made. Showing more sympathy than the previous race the skipper decided to call it a day about half an hour after rounding Bridge. In contrast to some uncharitable thoughts that may have been crossing reader's minds, the decision had nothing to do with the fact that the skipper was seen at 0230 the previous morning with a glass of red wine in one hand and a bottle in the other - his attitude is that you have to tough it out after a big night.

Seriously, the unnamed crewman was in a bad enough way and a prolonged exposure to serious seasickness was not in anyone's interest, especially when it was avoidable.

To cap it all somehow we managed to rip the batten pockets on the number three and break two battens!

Final result - Retired

Fecamp

Mindful of the need for moderation, the Skipper restricted Thursday's intake to 3 bottles of wine (between 2!) and almost a nights sleep (but enough of that!) There was the usual pre-race chase for crew and unusually the Skipper had to take some time off work "officially" to get the boat ready (obviously his MD hasn't quite appreciated what Fridays were designed for!)

Having plugged up the Solent in the rain and greyness we were alarmingly early at the start and consequently fiddled around for ages. A start under the No: 1 seemed a good idea but a last minute freshening of the breeze raised a huge question mark. Too late for the complication of a sail change (and mindful of the extra work at the end of the race) we stuck with it and decided to start well off the line, under main alone, and hope to time it right. We were late but not too late and we were off!

Running down towards the forts we seemed to be having a tad more difficulty than some in holding the kite (perhaps should have used the reacher but it's harder to re-pack!) and bore off a little. The wind went fluky off Ryde and had the galling view of the leaders rounding No Man's Land and seeing Class 3 coming up. Eventually we got bored with the kite and went back to the No: 1 and rounded the forts ourselves. We settled into our usual position at the back of the pack and set out, heading ESE towards the Owers. We tacked quite early off Selsey, still all OK and settled into our watch system (a bit of a first for us!)

Being a superbly democratic leader and an example to all men, the Skipper stoically, took the last turn to rest and after a last look around at the conditions and the boats nearby (a relative term) went for a couple of hours at about 0200. He returned (freshly shaved, crisp white shirt setting off his impeccable tan and rugged jaw-line) at about 0400 and Whistler was alone! In retrospect we probably missed the gradual veering of the wind at around 0300 and ended up going too far West when should have tacked on the shift - easy to do in the miasma of tiredness, coldness and dampness of that morning.

We had a very nice sail during Saturday, spending most of the day concocting increasingly unlikely scenarios that had us out in front after a tactical masterstroke (which is an interesting description of going the wrong way!) The heat built and the breeze declined until off Fecamp, with c.13NM to run the wind went completely........... We bobbed around for about an hour, nothing at all happening, one other boat about 2NM further out in same predicament and one about 6NM in..... did the maths, wound up the clockwork and pointed NW and back to Blighty.

A commiseratory beer was handed out, some fresh pasta cooked and a bottle of red opened. Lacking an autopilot we lashed the helm and by gentle adjustments of the mainsheet we could bimble along (as long as no one moved and upset the trim) and get down to the serious business of continuing to discuss what Kylie should wear if she was trimming for the day, etc, etc. On retrospect it might have been more fun if Kylie was lashed and we discussed trimming the main.

Motored home, absolutely no wind all way across but luckily the tide worked with us (luck, not planning I must admit) and we got in to Gosport with fumes left in the diesel tank at 0600!

Good sail and good crew, so all in all disappointing but I guess on the upside we didn't have to contribute to the surrender monkeys' economy!!

Final result - Retired

Yarmouth

A Friday night of relative moderation - relative to Xploiter that is, some of who were soaking up the sun (and much else) from conveniently located seats at the Castle in Gosport from 1430 onwards - saw Whistler off up the Solent to the sounds and smells of frying bacon. If only the day could continue so well.

Mindful of the importance of rest for a top class athlete, our helm was booked into a hotel at Totland for the weekend, so the first job was the usual pick up off the ISC, which was accomplished with minimal fuss under the eyes of their committee vessel.

With the tide running it was a bit of a lottery as to whether we had positioned ourselves far enough of the line but, as ever, we were too cautious. Not so a certain X-yacht, who decided to re-write the rules of racing to the effect that boats taking penalties for being over the line do not have to keep clear, they simply barge in on port, and tack straight in front of anyone in the way! The skipper had a rare moment of diplomacy, calmed the irate members of the crew (who were bellowing "penalty" and all for unfurling the red flag) and explained that JOG was a little more laid back. The crew were keen to point out to the miscreant that as we have both RAF members and a supplier of defence munitions on board, a "live firing" could be arranged out off Gurnard next time. Off we went!

We opted to come up the mainland shore once the tide started to turn and were doing OK until the unique weather phenomenon that follows us reared it's ugly head, namely a localised patch of variable or zero wind about 32 feet across, centred just around our mast! After some incredible frustration we rounded Royal Albert, down to Peel Bank and back up to Browndown, miraculously catching people up. until the mysterious weather phenomenon returned with its bigger, uglier and more persistent friend. We do have to say they are discriminating because they seem to focus on us and leave everyone else alone!

On the final reach down to YMS we opted for the more direct route under the Genoa rather than try to hold the kite, not sure what it did for us, by that time the conversation and focus had returned to Kylie! As we neared YMS our friend the wind thief was back and we drifted past the mark and had to spend an inordinate amount of time getting back up to it and eventually down to the line (as the result shows!).

We ended the day rafted along side Crew Cut (thanks guys) who were a lot more helpful and hospitable than the Harbour Master!

After a good nights sleep (except the skipper, who found that the No: 4 didn't make a comfortable pillow) Sunday saw an absolutely beautiful start to the day. It doesn't get much better than bobbing gently at your mooring outside Yarmouth on warm day, under clear blue skies, watching the world go by with a bacon buttie and a cup of tea! After watching some interesting yogic exercise on Girolle, we slipped and set off for the start. As the gun approached we joined the rush to get away from the line so the tide would not push us over, pointed at it and were off.

Despite the tide, we tacked inshore for a while to get some clearer air and then back out again, determined to hang on to the fleet and in particular the other 31.7s. All was going well, we kept out to hang on to the tide (perhaps a bit to far occasionally) and kept Whistler moving. We kept fingers crossed for the forecast veer through the south, which if the plan worked would smoothly bring us round, and into the line. Nice!

As other competitors tacked inshore to lay the line and hit the adverse tidal stream, we stuck out and gradually crept up, following Minnie the Moocher (normally when we follow a boat for any distance it turns out they are not part of the fleet but we felt relatively safe here!) Minnie went for it and was swept away so we plodded on.

The wind was getting fluky and we doubted that we could manage to tack inshore and then tack onto the line in front of the boats on starboard. We were particularly impressed by the kedging and even kedge-tacking that was going on; it seemed a lot of work moving everything on the foredeck to us, so we stuck with prayer - and even offered the great wind gods an introduction to Kylie!

Eventually we tacked into a space in front of the on coming boats, having waited until we thought we had a chance of missing them and getting to the finish. Before we hit the westerly stream we were very, very excited - was this a place for the yellow peril?!

No.

The wind died and we were swept ever faster to the west, still on port (although it was irrelevant) and were besieged by whole flotillas of stinkpots who insisted on powering through the fleet at 20 knots destroying any momentum we could build. There were one or two showing consideration but most were mindless idiots who seemed to have zero awareness or comprehension of the impact they were having. The skipper (and some of the crew) spent an hour or so labelling the passing, oblivious tubs with every combination of expletive known to man. We were wild (Wild? Absolutely livid - for those who remember Not the Nine O'clock News!). Not sure they were to blame for the lack of wind but it passed the time.

Anyway, we drifted down past Gurnard Ledge, regretted not kedging, got the kite up but couldn't make much headway against the tide. On went the clockwork, out went the usual message, the beer was opened and we went home.

A frustrating weekend but very enjoyable and great being able to catch up with people over a beer at the Bugle!

Final result - Cowes to Yarmouth - 18^th out of 19; Yarmouth to Cowes - Retired

Round the Island Race

We don't seem to have written a report on this one and a year later I can't remember much about it except we stayed too wide round the back of the Island and didn't get on the shelf for the leg up to Norris...

... we do have a nice picture though!

Final result - 29th out of 37 in IRC Class 8; 124th out of 154 in Group; 411th out of 520 Overall

St Malo

Despite good intentions, Thursday night assumed Friday's role of seeing beer and wine consumed to excess, leaving the start of preparation on Friday somewhat more hurried than planned; mind you, a quick dunk in Gosport Marina certainly clears the head! Boat prepped and fuelled and with two young ladies on board, it was off to collect the rest of Whistlers crew from the ISC (some would ask why the skipper didn't just sail off into the sunset with the girls, rather than add a number of smelly blokes...)

The island contingent had been hand picked for off-shore experience, tactical nous, navigational skills and a willingness to do the shopping. When we arrived at the pontoon, it was clear that the skipper's attempts to save weight on board by bringing sample sized tooth paste were to be undone by the provisions stacked on the shore. A small army of native coolies was employed to transfer everything, whilst the skipper considered recruiting crack shipwrights to rebuild the boat to make more space!

All was eventually stowed and with the skipper adopting the role of a vociferous passenger it was off for the start. After a certain amount of prevarication the no:2 was selected rather than the no:1, which was just as well as we had to drop to the no:3 before reaching the Needles. Hanging on grimly to our usual position at the back of the fleet (probably something to do with the fact that the skipper was on the helm), we made a few more sail changes before settling down to dinner under the no:1.

It was at this time that a minor problem occurred...

One of the ladies appeared from below to advise that the heads weren't working. Muttering to himself (the skipper knows full well that women are unable to understand the working of even a simple seacock and it was probably simply closed) the skipper descended. Sadly on this occasion the problem was with the heads and not in the head! To cut a long story short a certain amount of bailing out was required and the only vessel handy was the skippers special blue mug (note - be wary if offered a drink on board Whistler!) A bucket was arranged for the ladies and a length of rope for the chaps and we settled down for the night...

The next morning saw us sailing nicely past the Casquets and then Hanois in company with plenty of other yachts. Guess what happened next?

The wind died...

Slow but steady progress was made past Jersey in a failing wind. We had some nice sandwiches, read interesting extracts from the papers to each other, the skipper fixed the heads, we did some navigational mathematics and decided that with the forecast and tides we were unlikely to get to St Malo and back with our self imposed deadline of a return to Gosport by late Monday afternoon. Once again the clockwork was engaged and the nose pointed north. In retrospect we had probably stuck too close to the rhumb line and should have stayed further up to the West to keep a stronger breeze...

After a minor tussle with a piece of marine life (which we won) we made our way to Guernsey . A very pleasant evening was spent in St Peter Port (despite the ridiculously early finish of the harbour taxi - 2230 on a Saturday night!) The chaps on the crew will certainly look forward to a return in August as the place seems packed with hen parties - ding dong!

We met a few other boats in St Peter Port, who had finished the race but they had been a long way ahead of us, seeming to endorse our decision.

A relatively civilised start on Sunday at 0930, saw us through the Alderney race and on our way home, relatively cheerful despite the disappointment and as the Channel Island and French coast gradually faded, Whistler was chugging homewards, to the inevitable sound of the skipper going on and on and on about Kylie...

Final result - Retired

Weymouth

A full day in the office on Friday meant that preparation seemed a lot more rushed than usual but luckily all was out of the way early enough for a reasonable amount of banter with the crew of Xploiter (who seem to be rather more permanent fixture at the Castle than some of the furniture..)

Up and at 'em, bright and early with the usual lack of wind and we were off, with the skipper desperately hoping that he had arranged to collect the sixth crew member from the ISC and hadn't left them in Gosport ! All was OK and full complement on board it was down to the usual job of allocating responsibilities before the start.

And what a start! We still don't know whether we were OCS but let off in a massive vote of sympathy but as the gun went we saw a view never seen before - the whole Class 4 fleet behind us! Discussion on whether we should take photos, commission an oil painting, or even a sculpture by public subscription, probably accounted for the fact that we were soon at the back of the pack as the inshore boats picked up the advantage from the tide. Never mind a small, albeit temporary victory!

Switching back to white sails off Hurst , we decided to hang on to Tai Pan, a decision that would come back to haunt us. Across Christchurch Bay , we actually overtook some people - another small victory! Round Anvil Point we hoisted the reacher and tried to keep out in the hope of more of a push across St Albans .

After executing what we consider to be a textbook peel to our A/P we felt well placed against the boats that we could see and identify and were confident of finishing and not being last!

The wind started to ease and smiles faded and then and Tai Pan engaged us in a slightly suicidal one on one battle, which whilst fun, ultimately left us both wallowing in little or no wind. We could see increasing number of boats retiring, and as the ETA on the GPS went up and up, our spirits went down and down. Tai Pan retired, we stuck it out in a vain hope but alas, no.

To cap it all as we motored in a length of rope fouled our prop. Luckily, just as our student was about to strip down, we managed to pull it off (the rope, that is!)

Anyway, Weymouth was a laugh and a few beers with the usual suspects made up for the disappointment (although the 0420 start was a bit severe!)

I'm thinking of renaming Whistler "Wallflower" as she stays in the background and retires early!

Final result - Retired

Cowes Week

Fresh from our special pre-Cowes training weekend (only 2 hours actually because it was a bit wet!), at last the big week was upon us, and Whistler was ready - rig tweaked, bottom scrubbed, kit removed - all we needed was some wind.

As a precursor to the week of sun, the motor over on Friday was in dank, damp drizzle and mist - but spirits were high, partly in anticipation of the sailing and partly in anticipation of Douggie's much-heralded harem - not to mention Kylie! We moored the boat in East Cowes and ourselves in the Island Sailing Club as the hand picked crew turned up (Editors note: most of the crew had been hand picked by other skippers and ejected from their boats)

Saturday 2^nd - Not a great start; with the mother of all wraps off Gurnard (captured on film by Tim Wright); we progressed under main with various numbskulls, including a certain Sunsail boat, getting in the way, causing the infamous yachting call of "will you just f**k off!" - which seemed to work... wrap sorted, we scampered across the line under white sails. Position - 23^rd

Sunday 3^rd - The first windless day, with the breeze dying and with the skipper putting his vast mathematical skills (all fingers and toes) to work out that we could not do c.10NM in 1 hour, we went home! Position - DNF

Monday 4^th - OK, OK - who's nicked the wind; ended up down near Ryde in a duel with "Beer O'Clock" as the gate shut. Position - DNF

Tuesday 5^th - Breeze, hurray! A Committee Vessel start in the Eastern Solent , followed by a fly past from one of Douggie's mates and a building breeze - nice! Very nearly t-boned by some plonkers from HSBC (don't bank there) in Hexagon. Crash tack and panic but no collision (well done Tim!) Got out the red flag but as we beat them on the water and on handicap the beer tent seemed more inviting! Position - 26^th

Wednesday 6^th - Sailing 8 up (watch out Snow White!) with Douggie's mate Ryan (the pilot from Tuesday's fly past.) Don't remember much about this, but we beat Tai-Pan - yippee! PS - think that Kylie/Rachel has sussed us... Position - 18^th

Thursday 7th - Yet more light wind and a shortened course; we continued our mini series against Beer O'Clock (we lost today) but once again beat Tai-Pan (or were they losing?) - Position - 24^th

Friday 8^th - The day when we spotted the holes and the wind worked with us until late afternoon!! We were right up amongst it with the leaders and then. AAAAH BUGGER! All breeze died and the tide built as the fleet bobbed between the Brambles and Cowes . Race abandoned

Saturday 9^th - Another Committee Vessel start in the Eastern Solent . Off the pace at the start but in touch until the second mark.. Just how many goes does it take to get round East Lepe ? Recovered a few places and just slipped in front of a large fleet of little boats (who cheekily thought we couldn't be racing as there were no boats from our class nearby), saw one poor sod marking Gurnard Ledge (helpful!), survived an "almost broach" but had to settle for the usual last place duels! - Position - 20th

What more can be said, how much beer was drunk? Just how smelly were the skipper's shoes? How many bruises can you put on a trimmer by trapping her as you recover from a broach? Should you laugh at someone aground on Gurnard Ledge? When did Marky Mark and Helen find love? Did Douggie? Would Ben and Kylie get it on during the Slownet? Just how little diesel was left when we got back to Gosport ? Just how does so much "body" hair accumulate under the cabin sole?

Final result - Overall (6 to count) - 26th out of 32 in Class and 305th out of 369 in Group

St Peter Port

It was a stroke of luck that the skipper had taken a day off on Friday as, in the space of two weeks, Whistler's bottom had gone from a state of baby-like cleanliness (who ever thought of that analogy?) to something resembling an excerpt from wildlife documentary, necessitating 1 ½ hours of good scrubbing (something Kylie might like!) Jobs done, it was time for a few moments rest before the motorway-weary crew was disgorged from the Bank Holiday traffic. Bodies were rushed on board (leaving Ben the student's hazard lights flashing for some reason - but more of that later) and we were off again. Somewhat depleted (there were only four of us) and somewhat late, we thrashed up to the start, ready for the usual in-depth tactical analysis - "looks windy, go for the no:3 and then follow everyone else". We started relatively OK and beat off (sorry!) down the Solent , with some tacks going well and others not - we don't seem to be good at making a plan and sticking to it, preferring to dodge about too much for our own good!

Not surprisingly we were near the back as we exited the Solent - we had decided to go bare-headed when we changed headsails (so as to avoid likely halyard and string confusion later); we were also strangely drawn by the glittering lights of Yarmouth and a lot of focus was lost as we discussed the benefits of an earlier than usual retirement (tempting, very tempting and we did feel that sacking a cross channel race after less than 10 miles to go for a beer would be applauded by like-minded Joggers!) Opting for our usual trick of following the fleet (yes, we were the inspiration for the eponymous film) we set course but on sober reflection, we wonder whether we followed the two handed race to Torquay.

We split into two watches and settled down for the night, with a repeating pattern of one watch reeling people in and the other (perhaps taking our maxim of following the fleet too seriously) letting them all get away again (no names, no pack drill but you know who you are!). The night and next morning was all a bit of a blur with fatigue accentuated by the lack of people on board, but the skipper did have a really fantastic three hour run during the night - stars, moon, breeze - magical!

About this time our domestic battery died...

We were in touch with Gunshot and a class five Sigma and could see plenty of other boats around in the distance so we were not down hearted, especially after a bacon sandwich and mug of tea. Ben the student, who has a cat-like ability to sleep, demonstrated a particularly laid back technique for grinding (sic) from a horizontal position with one foot! As ever high spirits led to a high "Kylie factor" in the conversation but it is not fit for publishing on the pages of the JOG website!

As the wind moved around and seeing a number of kites in the murk, we hoisted and picked up the pace, with Draig o'r Mor on the beam and a few shapes just discernable but as the breeze died and the fog built spirits sank - and so did our speed. Our companions vanished into the murk and we were alone.

Nearing Guernsey , we opted for a cautious approach to Little Russell as we knew we were probably last and felt that the kite could be a nuisance in a tight spot, so we went back to white sails, losing shed loads of speed. We were glued to the highway on the GPS and anxiously looking out for vessels to match up to the motors we could hear in the fog. After 40 minutes of this it was "bugger caution - back with the kite" for the finish in bright sunlight, desperately sorry to have kept the finish line crew away from the beer for so long!

We squeezed ourselves onto a raft and went for one or two halves.

The next day we did it all in reverse, except that in addition to the dead battery, we ran out of gas before even making a first brew.

Final question, what exactly should you say to a student who asks for a jump-start at 0430?

Final result - 17^th out of 18

Poole

The final weekend of the JOG season dawned, well actually the sun had yet to come up, and Whistlers crew were up and at it. Somewhat depleted with the loss of one crew member to sickness (fair enough) and another to shameless poaching and "career" pressure (yes, you know who you are) we were once again reinvigorated thanks to the JOG website and thoughtfulness of our neighbours in the Castle, sorry C&N.

Anyway, back to the narrative. Keen to get up to Cowes to collect the final piece in the legendary Whistler racing machine, we slipped at 0620. Mooring lines were thrown ashore, reverse gear engaged and. nothing happened. A look at the depth sounder revealed a suspicious 1.2M, which may be fine but not if you draw 1.9M! Much swearing, revving and shuffling back and forth freed us from the goo and we headed up the fairway to. stop again. Repeat swearing, revving and a bit of hanging over one side and we were off. for precisely 20 yards. More verbal, etc, etc, etc, and we eventually escaped - somewhat late and so thrashed up the Solent against the tide.

A fine breakfast of bacon and black pudding was served in pitta bread - an idea we got of a report from another JOGGER - and we actually made the pick up on time; a good omen for sure.

Off to the start and to discover that, as expected, we would be sailing the alternative course; we hoisted the main (took three goes, which shows the danger of fitting the slides into the mast at 0600!) A quick discussion on roles and we elected for the lazy start and got into position under the main alone before a hoist at the gun.

Having agreed as a group (superb democracy or lack of conviction?) that we would go down the Island shore we instantly followed the group heading toward the mainland! Seemed a good idea at the time and with our legendary ability to formulate a plan and stick at it (sic) we did actually stick with it until at least Beaulieu! Then the seeming lessening of the tide tempted out and over to the Island , the usual loss of wind, and the sight of Tai Pan who we had been relatively (for us) in touch with disappearing round Hurst as we bobbed along... bollocks!

It all picked up and we exited the Solent , a few sail changes and we were into the bay for the dash to the line. Time to engage the navigational computer and play the wind and tide with infinite skill to destroy the competition. Alternatively go for the time-honoured Whistler strategy of going straight for it (with just a hint of help from the GPS!)

We had a few boats from Class 4 around us so we focused (yes we did, honestly) on trying to keep ahead of them. It was also fun spotting the tow behind the survey vessel - and even more fun as it turned and started heading for us! It would have been a typical, albeit newsworthy way to finish the day and so much better than our usual bland retirement!

The survey vessel passed and we neared the line; excitement built as we contemplated a finish - and not being last. However Mother Nature had one last trick to play and once again the wind started to play tricks. This time however we were having none of it and with Churchillian resolution we stuck to our task and ghosted across the line, moved more by tide than wind but we were there!

Clockwork on, a pleasant motor (is there such a thing - Ed?) up to Dolphin Quay, where this year no one had pinched our berth! Snug alongside Tai Pan, it was beer, beer, beer, wine, beer, food, argument with some dodgy women (with suspiciously orange tans), more wine and off to bed, where the gentle sound of the skippers snoring provided an effect akin to a vibrating bed for the crew sleeping on deck!

The next day saw yet more bacon and black pudding and the apparent loss a crew member until the skipper remembered to count himself! It was a beautiful sight to leave the marine, turn east and see the fleet motoring out into the sunrise... ah!

We opted to start on starboard and charge in hoping to create mayhem with all the port tackers getting their kites up. Only joking, we always planned to sneak in and tack round Obsession, although it was a tester when someone shouted at us - good job we are such a nice bunch! Mission accomplished, we hoisted the light kite which proved a slight misjudgment.

We tucked in behind Electron, well we were behind them and concentrated on keeping the kite flying as we pinched along, watching a number of interesting broaches and so on. On reflection the reacher would have served better but we stuck at it until a spectacular bit of flapping snapped the spinnaker pole mounting ring from its base plate on the mast... mmmm!

Up went the No:1 and except for a few moments lost as we made the bare-headed change we kept speed up pretty well. After some deliberation a sturdy ring was lashed to the mast to take a kite for the leg from North Head; it held up OK and it was back to white sails and off homewards.

We settled down after a change of helm and for once really paid attention to keeping on course and keeping speed up - so much so that no one was really hungry, which is why the skipper now resembles "half man - half pasty" as he ate the leftovers during the week!

What a great final few miles of the JOG season, sun shining, wind blowing, boat booting along with the tide under us - at last everything seemed to be gelling! A bit of a wobble near the line but then we were across and the season over.

Final result - 25^th out of 31 in the Cowes to Poole Race; 27^th out of 32 in the Poole to Cowes Race

PSC Parhelion

We (I) decided to do this as an end of season wind down and a chance to meet new crew in a slightly less pressured environment than the Hamble Winter Series; it also had the added advantage of taking place just outside Portsmouth, on Saturdays, and not clashing with the Rugby World Cup!

Race 1 - It started to go wrong whilst we were still in Gosport . The skipper mused that Ben, a new crew member, looked remarkably underdressed for a cold days sailing - until it gradually occurred to him that he should have bought his spare oilies down! A quick trip to Fairview Sailing and an extortionate £20 later, the new boy was togged up... ouch!

We motored out and had the usual sail deliberations (or were we just torturing the foredeck crew?) Our first problem occurred when we realised that we did not have all the marks on our Cowes Week chartlet - never mind, we were confident that we would be following at least one boat! An appalling start (about three tacks to cross the line) and we were off, with the skipper helming and proving conclusively that men cannot do two jobs at once!

We hung onto one competitor (who must have sportingly been towing a bucket to give us a chance), passed them and then threw everything away with the most appalling leeward mark drops ever seen - about three hundred yards passed the mark and still going the wrong way!

Would the lesson be learned for the next race? Position - 7^th

Race 2 - No. What was worse that we were so slow finishing the first race that we didn't have time for lunch!

A better start and we were off to the windward mark where, once again, the bowman had threaded the kite through the lifelines (God knows how!); however we were not last. Up to the leeward mark, round it (after a fashion) and where next?

"What's next?"

"#"

"What's it called?"

"Middle gate"

"Where is it?"

"Not on the chart"

"Where's everyone else going?"

"Back to the windward mark"

"Better follow them then!"

We eventually worked out that the course was to go through the start line on the way back up to the windward mark, and that "Three Times" was the number of roundings not yet another buoy - muppets!

Anyway we finished second from last, although not sure we had sailed the correct course - luckily we had! First blood and all to build on... Position - 6^th

Race 3 - A beautiful Autumn day, warm, sunny, excellent visibility and not a breath of wind! Motored out to the start with our new crew positions and bobbed around for a couple of hours - which gave us time for some interesting lateral thinking puzzles and a relaxed lunch.

At around midday things started looking ominously like a race would be run and at 1225 we started in about 4 knots of breeze. This was after something of a panic when we were alone on the line, which caused us to head up, spin around and then realize that were right - the opposition had been using the tide to push themselves down to the committee vessel!

The breeze died to virtually nothing and we bobbed trying to stem the building current until we had to kedge (another first for us). About half of the fleet gave up very early which was exactly the chance we had been waiting for - perseverance could pay and if one more went we were in for a place!

Eventually the breeze fitfully came back and we edged across the start line shortly after the winner had finished! In a race that was reduced to about a ¾ mile up and down we managed to use the kite and No:1 without mishap.

The gentle run in was adequate time to clear up ready for an early beer! Position - 4^th

Race 4 - Abandoned

Race 5 - Another bright day, although bloody cold; more bacon sandwiches (the food admin was at least hanging together well!) A tad off at the start but sailed most of the race well, with only a little hiccup on the final leg to the finish, when a knock from the growing breeze probably cost us a place. This was despite yet more course confusion as the skipper was convinced that there were a couple of roundings to starboard, which everyone else was taking to port (the more logical direction). Ignoring the skipper (who had confided that all he had to do was the "navigational bits") we went to port! Position - 5^th

Race 6 - Once again the race was called whilst we were having lunch with the No:1 down in preparation for a change to the No:2 - panic! Managed to get sorted and dipped back across the line for a pretty good start managed to identify the windward mark but then there was a major problem - where the hell was the leeward mark? To make matters worse we were going faster than the boats around us so we couldn't fall back on the tried and tested policy of following them! Found the bloody thing and off we went. Rounded it and back through the gate where a decision to stand on cost us about 3 to 4 minutes against the immediate competition - bugger! Then compounded this with a completely fucked up rounding - pole up, pole down, tack, stall, tack, tack, round, pole up and off we went now about 10 minutes off the pace. Next rounding ended up with a pole and string tangle which prevented us tacking for the gate, so had to stand on, sort it and come back again - double bugger! Carried on despite being given the horn (ooh err!) by the committee vessel who thought we had finished! Completed the final lap and avoided last place thanks to the generosity of Xtrovert who "exocetted" the Committee Vessel at the start - thank you! Position - 6^th

Race 7 - Another beautiful autumn day, which went completely pear shaped after breakfast! Started OK but when we came to the main beat we struggled hugely due, we later found out, to a problem with the mainsheet, which we could not fix until we were running down wind (by which time we were a mile adrift! We battled on hoping for someone to retire and to salvage some pride by beating Baby Blue; sadly we were disappointed on both counts! We were not sure exactly what the time limit was but kept going hoping to get more points than those who did not compete. Oh well. at least the beer tasted nice!

PS - Exocet was disqualified so we weren't last! Position - 9^th

Race 8 - Somewhat greyer, colder and windier than previous weekends but that did not dampen the blondes on Whistler! Wind was gusting to a 6 but consistently in the 4/5 range which meant that most boats opted to stick with white sails all through (we did get the kite set once but much to the disgust of the foredeck crew we put it all away again!) Sailed pretty averagely and didn't play cleverly enough with the wind/tide combination and so limped in last (although once again there was a retirement) Position - 7^th

Race 9 - The last one of the season and we just about managed to get back to the line with the rest of the fleet. We settled down to our usual "tail-end-charlie" game of avoiding last place and this time managed to sneak past Baby Blue at one mark before stretching away to the finish. Position - 4^th

Good fun and a good bunch of new crew and friendships and, as usual, persistence pays off!

Final result - 5^th out of 13