2004 Reports

Simply click on the race that you wish to read about - or scroll through the whole lot! Solent Cherbourg Nab Tower St Vaast Weymouth Deauville Beating up the Bay Round the Island Race Gins Regatta Island Double Alderney Cowes Week St Peter Port Nab Double Poole Cherbourg (October)PSC Parhelion Solent

As the long, dark winter nights rolled back and fresh life was bursting into bloom, it was time for the Whistler 2004 campaign to leap into life. The boat had been prepared and was (almost) ready for action; heady with a reasonable result in the Portsmouth Parhelion Series (much more civilized than the Winter Series and it didn't clash with the rugby!) the crew settled (on paper at least) for the season, everything was ready for the flick of the starter switch.

Nothing.

Not the anticipated smooth kick-off and not ideal the evening before a race! However a panicked run up to the marina office, a pleading telephone call and the exchange of a several of the few readies that Gordon Brown is good enough to leave the skipper with and the engine was purring smoothly (well as smoothly as diesel gets!)

Off to the bar!

After more beers than hours sleep, the cold, damp, misty, flat morning perfectly matched the skipper's state but we were off and the world was looking better. Tea was served up with bacon butties and happy chat filled the boat - ferries passed by greeting us with a cheery series of blasts on the horn (not sure that's what they mean - Ed.)

We knew that the delay to the start would mean even more time to perfect our start - we even timed a run from a transit - wow! The only problem was that when the start came we hadn't actually timed how long it would take us to get from our position to the transit - whoops!

The gun went and we were off for a blistering drift to the first mark. The navigational magic was telling us that we were drifting exactly to the mark - great skippering or a well-laid course, you choose. We neared the mark and faffed around, gybing and somehow rediscovering something of a hole whilst watching the world sail by. Round the mark and, as usual in company with the back markers of the whole fleet, we plugged on and on.

Boats were bunching at marks and after very nearly hoisting the pole, genoa and half the crew due an almighty tangle on the penultimate leg we were still in touch and could see a large group of boats sitting at the final mark, all seemingly getting in each others way; if we could get round the edge we were in with something of a chance.

With the exception of a couple from Class 5 they were round as we approached but we were closing in! The beat back to the finish was the best bit of the day, Whistler started to power up and making ground especially on starboard as we headed into the island following the skipper's masterful strategy based upon our favoured tack, wind converging off the land, local tidal knowledge (well at least it sounded masterful when expounded in the pub later).

We crossed the line - and we weren't last - hurrah!

Final result - 11^th out of 17

Cherbourg

The Easter weekend loomed, Whistler was prepped and victualled; the weather forecasts (varied and contradictory) were absorbed, built into our race plan and the crew gathered at Gosport . Undismayed by doomsayers prophesizing a floaty, drifty weekend and the depth reading that implied we would not be able to get out of our berth, we set off to overnight at Cowes for a good night's sleep, a slightly later start on Friday and the added bonus of avoiding the temptation of Gosport's Castle Inn!

A clear bright - and calm - morning dawned but at least one stroke of luck was a free nights mooring at East Cowes , not due to deception but to honesty!

After the start the skipper had something of a brainstorm and stuck the team far too high (planned) and off the pace over Ryde Middle (unplanned) - even now I can't quite get my head round why! We set the reacher and set off to try and catch up.

As the forts approached, we decided to emulate last season's textbook peel but ended up with something resembling an unmade bed dangling from a bit of string, down it all came and we tried again - success and we were off.

Following what the little black boxes were telling us, we opted to try and sail a bit higher and faster, banking on the predicted wind change to give us the opportunity to get back to the west (more fine sounding stuff from the skippers book of plausible sounding navigational strategies!) Rumours that we were merely following Xploiter are vicious, groundless and could result in a letter from my lawyer!

What we weren't banking on was the calm that arrived and resultant slopping around.

Now many of you who are seasoned readers of the Whistler race reports, will have noticed that a key member of our crew, the virtual, invisible (or even fantasy) one has been missing so far - Kylie. It was at this moment that she reappeared - not only that she had bought her friend Britney with her (at least in the skippers fevered imagination!)

Undeterred by the depravity around him, Tom, who was filling in for a passportless Kiwi, spotted the wind in the west; up went the No:1 and we were off for a great sail, with Whistler nicely powered up pretty much all the way to Cherbourg. Sadly once again the skipper's nav was not quite on the pace and the team was routed a little bit too far west of the rhumb line, meaning that we probably sailed about 2-3 miles too far.

As we closed the finish we knew we were at least in company as we picked out navlights against the shore and we tuned in to 72 to take down finish times. We lost a little speed as we bore off for the line but we had made it - two starts this year and two finishes!

We stooged into Cherbourg , tied up and cracked open a few stubbies. A few hours kip, a few hours queuing for a shower (perverse French revenge for all our comments about their hygiene?) and we were ready for the fray once again. Not much can be said about the Saturday apart from beer, beer and more beer, a good laugh with the crew of Electron and many others (including watching Paul unsuccessfully trying to find the rhumb line through the door to the bar!) Exhausted no one could face too much on Saturday night - at least we would have a reasonable nights kip before the race home.

Final result - 13^th out of 19

Now follows a report by "Tim the Helm" on the return Race!

As 'Team Whistler' are determined to improve our performance this season, a cunning plan was hatched to ensure that the crew were all fit, well and raring to go on Sunday morning. The plan was to do all our drinking on Saturday afternoon, return to the boat for a siesta and have a relaxed meal in the evening prior to an early night. The first part of this went well.with much beer and a chocolate egg (if I remember right) being consumed with the crew of Electron. However, after this our siesta lasted until nearly 10pm , so half the crew returned to the yacht club and then went out for classic French cuisine of kebab and chips! The other half sensibly rolled over and went back to sleep.

Easter Sunday dawned bright and sunny and we headed out into the outer harbour for the start. Pre-start manoeuvres did not go well as we ripped the number 1 in two places when it caught on the flag halyard cleat during tacks. Our skipper disappeared below cursing and swearing to find the repair tape while the rest of us sensibly kept quiet and concentrated on not damaging anything else. Incidentally, it is now much easier to turn the gas off on Whistler as the cupboard door in the aft cabin was torn from its hinges (accidentally he says, by our new Australian sailing superstar, Les.)

After a few tacks getting out of the harbour, we settled onto a starboard, close-hauled course west of the rhumb line, with plans to tack across to the east before the tide turned. This appeared to be working well, as we were able to maintain a good angle for boat speed and keep pretty much to course. Soon the Island came into sight and got bigger and bigger and then the wind eased and died completely, leaving us and Girolle wallowing around trying to stay pointed at England .

After what seemed forever, the wind started to fill from behind, so we hoisted the light spinnaker and away we went downhill and soon left Girolle far behind. Through the late afternoon and evening the wind strengthened and your correspondent broke the helming speed record for the trip, much to the skipper's annoyance as he had to that point held it, although I suspect he drove us off course to get it!

As we closed the Island South of Ventnor, we spotted Xploiter hugging the coast, but struggling against the tide in little wind, with this in mind we stayed out a bit further and gybed to the East. This made little difference and we struggled for what appeared an eternity to clear Ventnor into Shanklyn/Sandown bay, where the wind kindly died again! Bembridge Ledge Cardinal finally came into view as did lots of other boats all of a sudden. After rounding the mark came what was to be the most difficult and frustrating part of the race; struggling against the tide with little/no wind up to the forts. Early on we saw that other boats were hoisting kites for this torture, so we did the same and it appeared to work, but I don't know how.

It was when we cleared the forts that our team spirit started to ebb as we saw Xploiter, retire and motor into Gosport , where Whistler lives. I have to admit that your correspondent and the skipper had a difference of opinion. I thought it was extremely likely that we would have to retire eventually, as there was now zero wind, so we may just as well retire now and get into Gosport . A team meeting was held and the decision was "carry on come what may". The helm (me) promptly declared himself cold and tired and retired below.

Not long after this came the many retirements announced on the radio due to boats drifting the wrong side of Snowdon . "I told you so", said the thought bubble emanating from the head of your dozing correspondent, but Whistler continued on. After what seemed like hours (because it was) Cowes came into sight and we concentrated on pointing the boat outside of Snowdon and inside of Gurnard. Just to delight and infuriate in equal measure, the wind filled in for a white sail fetch to the finish and we pipped Xara on the line (but not on handicap) and finished a pleasing 5^th.

Team Whistler maintains their 100% record for finishing races - well done everybody. Glad to say that the Skipper was proved right in the end and much humble pie was accepted and eaten. In fact it tasted better than the cold pasta. Bring on the Nab Tower .

Final result - 5^th out of 17

Nab Tower

"Bring on the Nab Tower"

Stirring stuff from our Race 3 report, soon to be replaced with "where is the Nab Tower ", "will we ever get round the Nab Tower " and "sod the Nab Tower , let's go home".

It had all started so well, refreshed from the usual conviviality in Gosport (now doubly dangerous as we are parked between Xploiter and a very friendly Irishman), after at least 4 ½ hours sleep, we set off and arrived exactly at the appointed minute to collect the rest of the fearless wave-warriors that make up "Team Whistler".

Fortified by egg and bacon rolls we made a cracking start (on Whistler all starts are "committee vessel starts" with the crew forming a committee on the vessel to overrule the skipper and tell him where to place the boat!) We picked up the pace as we went down the Solent and passed Ryde admirably well placed.

It is at this point that, with the benefit of the full 20:20 hindsight, we hold our hands up and say we celebrated just a smidge too early. We dropped off the wind, came off a very nice shift and went backwards through the fleet. Scholars of the classics will recognise words such as "hubris" and "nemesis".

The wind started to go but we edged on. We kedged for a good 3 minutes (just to keep the bowman busy). In desperation as we went through holes in the wind (which began to resemble a pair of old underpants with more holes than wind), the crew sat there making "engine noises" to try and convince Whistler that she was under power - it worked once or twice! At sometime around four we crept round the Nab, hoisted the light kite and started to crawl home, finding the balance between boat speed and VMG to keep moving. We teased our way through the forts watching a procession of listless flapping sails up the Solent in the evening sun.

Would it be another Cherbourg ? Sadly this time we were faced with the choice of kedging through a full flood tide in the hope that we could sail/drift from Ryde to the finish (potentially 8 hours away) or bailing out to the comfort of the pub a couple of nautical miles from where we drifted. A 6 to 1 vote, with the skipper democratically hiding his desperation for a pint, and the engine went on.

Disappointing but pretty inevitable. We still had a great sail for much of the day and a good laugh (generally obscene and depraved so I won't repeat it here!)

We'll be ready for St Vaast!

Result - Retired

St Vaast

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 than 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!

Result - 12^th out of 25

Weymouth

The intense race preparations for 'Team Whistler' started as usual on Friday evening with the crew turning up in dribs and drabs at 'The Castle' in Gosport. As it was our intention to motor up to Cowes that night, some restraint was applied to the amount of alcohol consumed (by the Skipper anyway). So it was that once Bruce arrived at around 9pm , off we went to Cowes .

The remainder of the crew, Veronica and Matt, met us in the pub at Cowes along with Princess Leia and Jasper, their respective dogs. We were very impressed when Jasper, with encouragement from Matt, attempted to run through the entire canine Karma Sutra with the Princess. The evening also saw the debut performance (outside the kebab shop) by Matt the Bowman on the new 'Whistler' bugle, which we are threatening will be our ride-out accompaniment for Cowes Week. Apologies to the residents of Cowes for the awful racket emanating from this instrument of torture, there is more to come!

We had a cracking start, on the line, in a reasonable position and off we went up the Solent managing to keep many class 4 boats behind us. The tactic here was simply to stay in the deeper water to get full benefit from the tide and to stay out of the wind holes that could be clearly seen. This worked fine until we got to Hurst where a combination of light wind and the overfalls caught out a lot of boats, causing them to be pointing in all directions with little or no steerage. One such boat was Scarlet Jester who appeared to be sailing back up the Solent and we had to fend them off. Shortly after this we were in close quarters with them and, obviously referring to us, their Skipper was heard to announce "ready about, I want to get clear of this thing"! Thing? Thing? What kind of way is that to talk about a fellow competitor - only joking guys, you gave us all a laugh!

When the wind started to fill in, it was from different directions in different places, so it was interesting to see the fleet generally heading in the same direction, with some under spinnaker and some, including us almost close-hauled. Crossing Christchurch Bay , we started to believe that we were doing OK, as we seemed to have our own patch of wind all the way, with boats inside and outside us struggling in holes. We concentrated hard on staying out of them and managed to maintain our good progress, we were even managing to keep Independent Bear in our sights, but we soon understood why.

St. Albans Head, that's why! Admittedly, we knew the tide would turn foul before we got there, but there was no real indication as to how difficult it would be in the light wind. We tried everything - short tacking under the cliffs, long tacking out to sea, but we made very little progress. We arrived there at 1pm and finally got round at around after 7pm . We were surprised to see Independent Bear retiring here, and many other boats did as well. It was frustrating to see boats that were behind us, creep through inside and get round, including Electron, who we assumed would then race away and leave us.

It was at this point that the upbeat mood of 'Team Whistler' started to drop. Skipper lost his Oakleys over the side and your correspondent snapped when a crewmember said for the umpteenth time, "we are STILL near those lobster pots". The air went blue as I waxed lyrical about the lobster pots and insisted we were making progress - we weren't.

Once we were round, we decided to head straight for Weymouth in the hope that the wind would veer and free us (note form the Skipper - there was actually a lot more science behind this!). This seemed to pay off as we made solid progress across Weymouth Bay . As darkness fell, thoughts turned to food and whether we would make it to Weymouth in time for a curry, the arithmetic was done and no we wouldn't - b****r! The mood was lifted however when we saw a number of dolphins about 50 metres from our starboard side. They were there for about a minute or two before disappearing - amazing sight. Another highlight was 2 satellites passing overhead, clearly visible in the night sky.

Some way across the bay, we were suddenly aware of other boats around us, including Electron who were now behind us. We tried to keep quiet to not reveal our intentions, but they surely must have heard the incredible snoring of Tony the trimmer, who was enjoying one of many good sleeps (honestly guys, it was Tony and not our engine!) The wind eventually freed and strengthened enough to let us hoist the kite and increase speed sufficiently to pull away from Electron and overtake at least one other boat before finishing at around 0115, in what we hoped was a reasonable position.

After parking the boat, we had a beer or two while we watched a drunken idiot in a small motorboat, charge around the harbour. He aimed at a few of the moored boats and eventually disappeared, never to be seen again. Despite what we thought and said at the time, I hope he didn't come to any harm. We were then invited onto Aquaholix for a glass of wine - thanks girls; we will return the favour one day. At 3am , we decided to head back home with half the crew sleeping rather than stay for what remained of the night. So after spending over 16 hours to get to Weymouth , we stayed for less than two!

The motor back to Cowes was uneventful with the exception of the ritual renaming of St. Albans Head. In Whistler circles at least, it now includes a popular expletive beginning with 'F'. We feel that this renaming should be included in the next chart update.

Leaving Cowes after dropping some of the crew was spectacularly eventful! Just out of the main channel (thankfully), Whistler suffered a total engine electrical failure, so we dropped the hook to attempt a repair. We soon realised we were out of our depth technically and Sea Start were called, which was not a problem as it was a lovely day for sitting in Cowes Roads watching all the boats go by. However, whilst waiting we realised that the anchor warp was running astern in the same direction as the tide (huh?). We suspected that the warp had become wrapped around the keel, how did that happen? Sea Start fixed the electrics quickly enough, but we could not free the warp. It was about this time that, despite having the anchor ball displayed, a yacht sailing out of Cowes sailed into our starboard side, thankfully causing more damage to herself than the scratches sustained by 'Whistler'. We then had to cut the warp and lose the anchor to free it from the keel. To cap it all the throttle lever jammed (luckily in neutral) just as we turned onto our pontoon!!!!

None of this drama and grief could detract from our pleasure of the 3^rd place that we feel we worked so hard for. Another great weekend!

Thank you JOG.

Result - 3^rd out of 25

Deauville

There was something a little strange (and unsettling) in the run up to this one; was it the different start time (1845!), the different style of sailing instructions, a different ID gate, a different start line - or maybe something to do with a couple of weeks of alcoholic excess (usual theme developing here!) by the skipper.

The appointed departure hour arrived and passed with the skipper standing and scanning the horizon like a salty sea dog of old - unfortunately he was still in the marina! As blood pressure rose and panic set in, the crew eventually arrived with the usual excuses of bad traffic and then, with every fibre of her mighty 18hp power plant straining, Whistler was off! The tide wasn't too bad and we arrived in Cowes spot on time and ready for our usual pre-race fish and chip supper.

As the start approached we opted for the No:1 anticipating a declining breeze.

After the gun we edged and continued edging towards the mainland; not really sure why it wasn't in the plan but seemed to be working and once we were there we stuck at it, exchanging tacks with Imperator and a tailing a few Class 3 boats. Round Gilkicker, we went over toward Southsea to catch a small ebb but ended up juggling with a couple of large ferries and some traffic out of Southampton - which was fun!

Our initial optimism sunk as we rejoined the fleet further down than we had hoped and started to struggle as the breeze built. We were hanging on to the No:1 but the wind was out of its range and the decision was made to change down. Whilst we were doing this a number of starboard tackers approached rather faster than anticipated; amidst a fair amount of shouting we were trying to bear off, but as we eased the main the gusting wind was piling into the genoa and rounding us up. We eventually started to turn only to be confronted by one boat who had given up on us moving and ducked us. Bit of a thought provoker and all we can say to them is "sorry guys we owe you a beer!" When it happened again Tim the helm wisely banged us over and we sorted ourselves out.

Just to add to the sense of fun the gas bottle decided to run out shortly after! A long cold night was in prospect.

Off through the night, we initially stayed below the rhumb line but as time went by we were going further and further towards due south so we decided to tack back over to the east. Cold and knackered we kept going through the night to a delightful breakfast menu of tuna or salami sandwiches with crisps or the delights of a tin of cold "all day breakfast" made into a sandwich, all washed down with our speciality "frappe" coffee.

It was a gloomy day but we could see other boats around us, which is always nice - although the dire prognostications of our navigational electrics were not so encouraging!

The wind started to go and spirits were declining, when lo, out of the gloom who should appear but Electron! Paul crossed our stern and promptly tacked on top of us. Oh goody, 35 miles of match racing in a fluky breeze. When we spoke to him that evening Paul said we would of called him a wally if he hadn't done it; let me tell you all now - the skipper called him a few other things when he did it!!!! Battle was joined and for some time ebbed and flowed with the two 31.7s alternately picking up wind and losing it until after what seemed like a few hours they came gliding effortlessly past us, music pumping out (note to self: buy a set of cockpit speakers for the CD player.) Fair play to them they were moving when we were sitting still and they got ten minutes or so away and we could never reel them back in.

As they slipped away an intriguing sight was presented - the skipper trying to single handedly helm the boat, work the mainsheet and trim the genoa so as not to disturb the sleeping cherubs that make up the crew (Editors note: reliable reports from wild life experts consider a resemblance to a herd of warthogs to be rather more apt.)

To add to the wobbly wind the rain started to dump down. The only good thing (!) was that it happened when the skipper was down below "navigating". A tough choice was presented - show solidarity with the crew by standing on deck in the rain or stay below and "navigate" (and keep dry); one look at the drowned rats around the cockpit and the decision was made!

At last we were moving and went through a goodly proportion of our sail wardrobe as we gradually worked down to Deauville . We were down to a few miles to go and could hear that it was unlikely that we would get in but we kept plugging on in the hope that we would pick a good breeze or watch a hole envelope the boats ahead; sadly for us it did not happen. Then to cap it all on the final leg a nice breeze filled in!

We crossed the line and dumped the sails before following Electron and Zara for a few further miles up to Le Havre where we slipped into a nice berth for a few beers and sampling fine French cuisine - burger and chips. A good nights sleep beckoned until "je m'appelle" Les arrived back on the boat at 2.00AM with four French schoolgirls - but that's another story.

We had a great sail home on Sunday though!

Result - 10^th out of 22

Beating up the Bay

Our first one design regatta and a last minute drop out from one of the crew left us light with only six bodies (however, it did make the sleeping arrangements easier!) This is the "official" published report - look out for the important bit near the end!

The Royal Lymington Yacht Club "Beating up the Bay" Regatta held on 12th and 13th June gave the opportunity for the Solent fleet to pit their wits against each other for the first time in a separate class. Racing was close, with places constantly changing and seconds separating many results. Going into the final race the top three boats were on level points, but it was the Bateson family on Starspray who finally emerged the winner. The Royal Lymington also ran a J109 and an IRC event as part of the regatta.

Place                        Boat                         Sails                         Points
1                              Starspray                 Quantum                    8
2                              Tai-Pan                     Sobstad                      9
3                              Kurketrekker              Banks                        10

Three windward lewards were raced each day. With experience varying from the seasoned campaigners of Tai-Pan, to the new crew on Chied, who had only spent a few months on the boat, the fleet was more spread out in the early racing in Christchurch Bay . However, the back of the fleet went up a steep learning curve, and the racing on the Sunday was increasingly tight.

David Jobson's Tai-Pan set the early pace. Having traded the lead with Peter Bateson's Starspray throughout the first race, Tai-Pan took advantage of a wipeout by Starspray in the blustery conditions to sail through and take the first bullet. Tai-Pan also made better work of 60 degree windshifts in the next race to take a second win ahead of Stephen Parry's Kurketrekker. In race three Kurketrekker's bright pink and blue spinnaker marked the front of the fleet for much of the race. Tai-Pan finished third on the water, but was bumped up to second after Kurketrekker successfully protested Starspray for a mark rounding incident.

Sunday morning conditions were perfect for sunbathing, but of little use for sailing and crews had the chance to sleep off their headaches from too much hospitality at the Royal Lymington the previous evening in an hour-long delay before a sea breeze kicked in. The first race got under way in 8-10kts, with the whole fleet starting well and a lot of places exchanged on the first beat.

Tai-Pan was first to the windward mark in front of Kurketrekker, but it was her turn to be overtaken as Starspray found the best wind on the left side of the run to take a lead she held, finishing in front of Kurketrekker with Tai-Pan third. Starspray's upwind speed proved crucial in the next race, to take her second win ahead of Kurketrekker with Tai-Pan in third. Further down the fleet, Race 4 saw Cool Penguin and Whistler only 18 seconds apart whilst Race 5 had Baby Blue, Whistler and Puckoon in 5th to 7th places separated by 35 seconds.

The results meant that, after the one discard, the top three boats were equal on points going into the final race. To finish the series, race officer Tony Blatchford set a course with one windward / leeward lap, before going off to North Head buoy and running through Hurst narrows, finishing after a short beat off the Lymington River .

In 14-18kts, Starspray managed to stay in control under No1 genoa to take a 30 second lead at the windward mark, with Cool Penguin, Kurketrekker and Tai-Pan neck and neck behind. After a broad reach down to North Head, Starspray still led ahead of Tai-Pan, with Kurketrekker opting not to risk their 0.5oz spinnaker for the marginal reach up to Hurst . Starspray and Tai-Pan both carried kites up to Hurst , the proximity between the two meaning that a single broach would have decided both race and series.

Both held on, and Starspray held a minute's lead at the leeward mark, eventually winning her third consecutive race by 47 seconds on corrected time, and the series by a point. Tai-Pan finished second in front of Kurketrekker, while Whistler battled back through the fleet to take fourth place in the race and series.

With sponsorship from Ancasta and UK Sails, prizes were plentiful. Whistler and Baby Blue received 'neither here nor there' cases of beer* for finishing mid-fleet on each of the days, while Chied won the 'Spirit of Adventure Trophy'.

It was a fix - we should have had both!!!

Final results -

Race 1 - 4^th

R ace 2 - 4^th

Race 3 - 7^th

Race 4 - 5^th

Race 5 - 6^th

Race 6- 4^th

Overall - 4^th out of 8

Round the Island Race

Once again there was a vague and undefined sense of foreboding clouding the skippers mind before the weekend; maybe something to do with the 1,600+ boats expected on the water, or perhaps the 0700 start time. or maybe something else.

The team gathered and Whistler departed for Cowes , anticipating a busy port but with the commitment of a space at Shepherds Wharf . It was busy but in a stroke of luck we identified a space alongside our chums Baby Blue, who still had a case of beer on board that by rights was ours! They warned off another boat and we were there...

...for at least 5 minutes before the Harbour Master moved us on - it's a long story! The brief sunshine that had played upon the skipper's brow was replaced by a gloomy frown...

...which lifted when we found a last minute space in East Cowes.. .

...and then reappeared after a frantic 25-point turn in a space only 40' long and the attitude of the knobheads in "Alchemist" an X362, that we had rafted alongside.

A few quiet beers and off to bed, only to be disturbed by the arrival of the crew of the boat moored inside both Whistler and Alchemist (obviously their chums), deposited off the RYS launch and sounding like the bastard off-spring of an ill-considered mating of the Chelsea Pony Club and Monty Python's "Upper Class Twit of the Year; as you can tell this didn't ruffle the skipper a bit!

Race day dawned (bloody early for those of us on the boat); we moved to allow the boats inside to leave, parked up and settled down to await the arrival of the rest of the crew and breakfast... and waited... and waited... and waited...

Eventually, after a few phone calls, we set off to carry out a mid-Medina crew and breakfast transfer and motor out to the start. The mainsail went up but the first inkling that something was not quite right was the attachment of the genoa halyard, not to the head of the sail but to the tack. Obviously a simple error, perhaps confusion caused by the plethora of sails visible, of all shapes and sizes, on the Thames barges towering above the fleet. Or were more sinister forces at work?

We started and hit the kite straight away but quite quickly decided not to try and hang on to it (having the benefit of being well down the fleet and seeing the boats ahead having trouble!). Back to the No:1 and we settled down to reach down the Solent . As we went through Hurst and could see down to the Needles, it was getting very windy and more than a handful to keep going.

At the Needles we went wide and tried to hang on out to get some room for a headsail change but ended up wellied by a combination of wind and wave, resulting in a near knock-down (missed by the skipper, which says something about his awareness!)

Round the back we changed to the No:3 and pressed on, not as close inshore as some, but as we found near St Cath's, still very much up with the likes of Tai-Pan and Ocean Cavalier, and ahead of Puckoon.

We actually had to start doing some tacking and were "rewarded" by the sight of "half-man/half-monkey/half-sloth" trying to coax or tickle the genoa back inside the lifelines with just one finger!

It was windy and lumpy out there and sitting on the rail was a real pleasure with doses of wind, water and, occasionally, belches of last night's beer coming down the line! It was taking it's toll and the final straw for one member of the crew was trying to pack the No:1 into it's bag whilst on the bow - he looked like he would have preferred to dump the sail and have himself zipped into the bag and tucked below! Whilst we avoided an epidemic of vomiting, the fishes were fed pretty well!

Luckily we also avoided a complete twat in one of the ISC classes, who didn't realize that port/starboard applied to him and didn't try to clear our way until we were initiating an emergency duck - his late move put us on a collision course but with a bit of panic we bore off further and, with the rail crew hurriedly pulling legs in, the idiot shot down our side, no more than one foot away, with the boom swinging across the cockpit. The skipper retained sufficient composure to unload a full broadside of obscene comment at the hapless wankers, before visiting the heads to check his underwear!

Somewhere around here "Orange" motored past - on lap two, the show-offs, although it was a nice photo opportunity and pretty impressive!

We started to go off the boil after St Cath's but boldly went for the kite at Bembridge; not a good move! A duff call from the skipper - wrong side - combined with some general lassitude, gusting winds and lumpy sea, resulted in a major broach and a complete lack of control! Sod that for a laugh it would be back to the genoa - shouting, flapping, pulling, pushing - throughout it all the skipper kept up a constant flow of calm, considered, helpful and motivational advice... mmm!

Without the kite we sailed a strange line to the forts and then kept on the rhumb line to the finish, which meant that we lost further ground on the inside boats. There was the consolation of our 10.5-knot speed and seeing several people aground on Ryde Sands.

We bashed up toward the finish and went for the kite off Norris only for the wind to vanish behind the hill and other boats - what next? Luckily, the finish - it was over!

A tough old day and some lessons to be learned by everyone!!!!

Final result - 37th out of 56 in IRC Class 8; 132nd out of 172 in Group; 427th out of 544 Overall

Gins Regatta

It was bloody windy so we stayed in Gosport and went to the pub!

Final result - DNC

Island Double

Following the disappointment on the weekend of the Gins Regatta, a chance conversation on the Saturday morning with "Doris Minor" lead to the germ of an idea taking root in the mind of your skipper (plenty of room for growth there, I hear you say!) " Doris " is a keen competitor in the RSYC "Double Handed" series and suggested that we should give it a go - and that the following weekend was the "Island Double".

Keen to get back to some sailing the idea had merit: -

· One day only

· Shorter than an offshore

· Less sail changes than round the cans

· Simple navigation (keep the Island on the left!)

· Certain amount of "cred" to be gained.

An email or two later and Les was on board as the crew (and only possible target for foul-mouthed abuse!) Les also had the added advantage of giving Whistler a tri-national crew with only two bodies on board - sure fire for getting the UN vote, although what that has do to with either yachting or this I have no idea.

On the Friday evening we stripped off all the offshore gear that had been put on in preparation for Alderney , got ready and set off to sail up to Cowes for a practice. In the end we only practiced putting the sails up and taking them down and seeing just how much of a zig zag (you do the zigs, I'll do the zags, etc) course the skipper would steer, as we made it in one tack! And guess who we should see as we neared Cowes - Baby Blue (who rather disappointingly seemed to have drunk the beer)! We moored at Shepherds and popped into the ISC for a moderate (remember the RTIR chaps!) beer, sampling some of Cowes fine dining and a relatively early night!

Next day dawned fine and bright, with the wind difficult to judge in the shelter of the Medina . After removing all unnecessary weight (that's enough of that) it was off to the start! We opted for the No:2 due the forecast and for slightly easier handling. The usual pre-start manoeuvring is somewhat more stressful when you don't have anywhere near as many eyes, arms, bodies to do things and we didn't judge our approach too well, crossing near the back of the pack.