2007 Reports
Simply click on the race that you wish to read about - or scroll through the whole lot!
Cowes to YarmouthYarmouth to CowesAlderneyRound the Island RaceFecampSt MaloWeymouthBeneteau CupSt Peter PortCowes to PoolePoole to CowesCherbourg (October)Pre-Season TrainingSolent / Christchurch BayCowes to CherbourgCherbourg to CowesNab TowerSt VaastCowes to Yarmouth
A fairly low tide reaching it’s nadir at the moment we planned to leave Gosport on Saturday morning meant that we had to stay out of the pub on Friday night to move Whistler to a deeper berth; well to be honest we went to the pub, then went to move the boat and then went back to the pub again!
Once again the starter menu at the Great Wall’s “all you can eat" buffet took a hammering but the only strange sight of the evening was Slippery, sent outside for a smoke, trying to commune with the youth of Gosport before demonstrating her pole dancing skills on the war memorial fountain…
The next morning wasn’t too painful and we enjoyed a healthy breakfast as we motored out of Portsmouth, past an unfortunate who had misjudged the depth of water in the Swashway and was stranded at an alarming angle with the boom out and jib set.
With a building wind we opted for the No:3 pre-start with the thought that we’d go up to the No:2 when the wind eased…!!!
Not a great start a little late and on the windward side of the tail; it was looking as though we would struggle to get down to Snowden without a gybe onto port across the fleet which wasn’t going to happen! The wind out of the Medina went forward and with a bit of a wiggle we managed to get across a few transoms and into a better position to head for Mother Bank.
Whistler was bounding along, with good boat speed when the shackle holding the spinnaker sheet to the clew popped open requiring a drop and re-hoist… and then did it again!!! It’s never happened before and there was no obvious failure of the shackle, so we were slightly bemused as to the problem. As the wind was on the beam we went for the No:3 for the final few yards to the mark, rounded and set off back up the Solent, in close company with Aviva and Alchemist, and just behind Electra and Electron.
At Hill Head both we and Electra tacked off, whilst the others stood on, a move which paid for them as they seemed to get into the smoother waters off Calshot before us. Electron were sailing fast and well out in front but the rest of us exchanged tacks down and round Lepe before banging out towards the island shore. Electra went across first, then Alchemist and then us, with Aviva and Electron staying on the mainland side.
Despite the building wind we stuck with the full main and bladed it out (although the Skipper didn’t look too happy as it flogged!) Despite crossing to cross the Solent at different times we remained in close company with the same boats and as we neared the finish careful timing as we crossed tacks gave us confidence that we had both Electra and Aviva on corrected time…
…it was not to be. We noticed that the 6” of the jib had pulled out of the Tuff Luff and were planning what to do when, with a bang the whole lot came out and slewed us sideways; the halyard was pulled so tight that the clutch wouldn’t release and we were stopped dead in the water. We sorted the chaos out and hoisted the No:4 (it was only when talking about it over a glass of beer later that we realised that we should have simply re-hoisted the No:3… OK, being honest, it was the Skipper that had this astounding revelation – the rest of the crew had known it from the start!)
A frustrating end to a good race, but there was always tomorrow (oh, and tonight!)
7th out of 16 in Class 5 and 4th 31.7 - and very cross!
Yarmouth to Cowes
Whilst sitting breakfasting in warm sunshine, with the papers spread before one is a lovely way to start the day, it highlighted that once again the wind gods were guilty of uneven product delivery!
On top of that The Stig wasn’t having a good day – a poor start, disagreeing with the Skipper and sporting a hair-do that looked like an escapee from the cast of a 30’s horror film - and we hadn’t even reached the first mark!
We picked a few boats off before rounding it – although it was difficult to concentrate due to the live action commentary being relayed from another boat who seemed to have the PTT button on their VHF jammed open! We eventually spotted the culprit by matching the words to what we could see… I’m sure you know who you are!
The Stig redeemed himself with the call to go towards the mainland side where we made good progress until the wind died and we kedged for a while (or rather used the kedge to reduce our speed backwards) before retiring to allow the London based crew a decent chance of a few hours at home before the start of the working week.
Oh well, there’s always next weekend!
Retired
Alderney
Following the gloom at missing Deauville (short lived when we saw the results and read the reports of the return trip), we were eagerly looking forward to getting back on the race track with the race to Alderney - well most of us were - another outbreak of diary incontinence had left us short handed but with the return of Tim and a bit of international recruitment (very successful – she bought a very nice chocolate cake), we managed to have a workable crew of five.
We motored up to Cowes in time to take on board some pie and chips to supplement our usual rations of Pot Noodles and Mars bars, and had time before the gun for a quick look at the line and the usual exchange of pleasantries with Electron.
Having initially tacked off with most of the fleet we then opted to follow our own counsel and tacked down the deep water, working our way to the front of the pack and leading Class 5 out past the Needles. We spotted Act of Defiance had tacked onto a more southerly course and after a quick bit of mental “nav” followed suit. Anticipating a long race in failing winds (oh, how prescient!) we settled into a watch system of two people on and two off, with one “floater”, which seemed to work OK.
Through the night the wind failed but as dawn broke we could see that we were in close company with Act of Defiance and Electron. After slatting around for quite some time it gradually built enough to get all three of us moving; AOD once again tacked off and Electron (showing their usual good pace in the very light stuff) crept up on us, accompanied by non-stop cackles and laughter – whatever they were on, we’d like some!
The wind built and we were able to get back past Electron and then the fog rolled in and swallowed them, although they could be tracked until out of earshot. We were then alone until the finish except the ghostly moans of foghorns as we approached the shipping lanes. We were able to cross the northern lane with decent breeze but once again it failed us – the one saving grace being that we were actually in the separation zone between the lanes. We were trapped there for the best part of 2 hours... and now know there are two almost identical pink buoys (there was mass despair when we first spotted the second after drifting for an hour!) The wind filled in fitfully and as soon as we had spotted a gap on the AIS, we entered the southern lane. Of course the moment that we went for it another bunch of targets appeared filling the gaps! We managed to pick our way through with the need to talk to only one vessel, which was following an erratic course (seemingly tracking our every move) as they sought to avoid a fishing vessel.
Nav and tactics were something of a challenge with the wind absolutely nothing like the forecast, no visual reference except the plot on the PC and no idea where anyone else was apart from Old Mother Gun, who we roughly plotted following their radio exchanges in the shipping lanes, so we made the best of what we had and pressed on…
As we tracked down to the finish the wind built and, with the skipper combining the roles of emergency bowman and conning Whistler from the nav station, skirted the off-lying rocks before gybing down to the finish. In the harbour tiredness, dusk and the fog combined to produce a surreal, monochrome, dislocated vista, especially as the tall ship loomed out of the gloom - but we were there!
With every restaurant fully booked we necked a few pints whilst critiquing the band at The Moorings, before setting off into the thankfully fog-free channel once more – at least we still had some Pot Noodles!
3rd out of 8 in Class 5 and 2nd 31.7
Round the Island Race
Often a difficult race to write much of a report about as it’s a long and full-on day – often leaving one so drained that you wonder why you do it!
We managed to get Whistler up to Cowes in time to raft on the mid-river pontoons before heading off to the ISC for the weather briefing (and a few jars for the delivery crew). The rest of the team were shepherded together as they arrived in Cowes and, under the watchful eye of the Skipper, kept from temptation by returning to the boat for a fish and chip supper (washed down with a couple of bottles of red).
After all-to-few hours of sleep (not a particularly late night – but not helped by the idiots next to us who had no idea of rafting etiquette and trampled across our cockpit like a herd of elephants returning from a drunken weight-watchers meeting) we were up to let the inside boats escape and motor out to watch the "big boys toys" at the start, whilst partaking of a healthy breakfast of yoghurt and croissants.
We had a decent start about a third of the way in from the pin and calmly watched a great deal of shouting and fury on one of the boats alongside (how unlike Whistler!) With a westerly breeze we tacked down the Solent in company with Electra and Kurketrekker (and about 200 other boats in our start), but with the fleet reasonably well spread out it wasn’t too nerve wracking… through Hurst and the potential for a lot of close tacking (and a lot higher blood pressure) was avoided as we were able to get over to the Shingles and fetch down to the Needles. Electra made a big gain by taking the passage inside the Varvassi but despite being confident of knowing the position we opted to keep wide and go for cleaner air. Kurketrekker made good ground on us whilst we had something of a “faff” whilst hoisting the kite (the official investigation is still in progress so we can’t say more!)
Initially we opted for the rhumb line route as the tidal difference didn’t seem (on paper) to justify the extra distance to be sailed by hugging the shore - but half way to St Cath’s we could see that we needed to be in there, so we gybed in and started to pick up a benefit in a muddy eddy that was cheating the tide. Electra seemed to be standing out and probably sailing angles while Kurketrekker and Tai Pan opted for a middle route. Into Sandown Bay the wind went a little lighter so we tried to sail higher and faster, gybing down the line but it didn’t seem to be doing much. As the Bembridge Ledge cardinal grew larger, the separation between boats narrowed and we rounded just ahead of Electra; we sailed slightly higher than them on the leg to Ryde but whilst we struggled to get through two larger boats they passed us. We clipped the edge of the sands (in a couple of places even closer than on the return from Cherbourg at Easter!) before settling into a close quarters beat up to Cowes… the Skipper tried one vain attempt to suggest that by standing out we would benefit from clearer air but was over-ruled by the Stig, who with a callous disregard for both his health and wealth, stuck him right in the thick of it!
Up toward Norris we’d crept alongside of Electra but in the final few tacks to the finish, rounded up on a gust; they were through and away before we could get back up to speed. We dodged most of the finish line chaos (well we avoided hitting either the committee vessel or anyone else) – but as ever it was fun as people made their way to different lines from different directions at the end of a long day!
14th out of 48 in IRC Class 3A; 114th out of 208 in Group; 199th out of 642 Overall
3rd out of 12 31.7s
Fecamp
“Don’t worry - this’ll be the toughest part of the race!” joked the Skipper as Whistler motor-sailed up the Solent towards Cowes under the number four and reefed main… as ever he had placed far to much faith in the outpouring of the various forecasts available on the interweb and ignored the dire prognostications of Tony Velcro (who was staying firmly at home!)
He was undeterred to hear one boat scratch just before the warning signal – or by the breeze which resolutely held up. After crossing the largely deserted start line in the stiff breeze we opted to stay under whites whilst clearing Snowden and getting out for a better angle for the run down the Solent…
“Don’t worry - it’ll ease soon” the Skipper encouraged the crew as the heavy kite was popped and Whistler led the (small fleet) down to the forts. We seemed to be able to hang on to the kite without too much trouble, due either to the Skipper’s expert trimming/the Stig’s driving (delete as appropriate). Through the forts we came up a little and pressed on to the far side of the deeper water, where after a rather untidy drop we reached on under the main and number two in anticipation of the wind moderating. Annokia sailed on lower than us under their asymmetric, with Xara and Act of Defiance a little higher
“Won’t be long before it drops off…” As the wind increased and the sea built, the Skipper’s continuing faith in his selected forecasts resembled the misplaced beliefs of the Flat Earth Society. The Stig was more pragmatic – “it’ll take four hours to get home, and only eight to get to the finish, so in reality we’ve only got to put up with four extra hours of unpleasantness by pressing on…” With logic like that there was nothing for it but to go back to the number four and hang on in there!
With Slippery running the foredeck like the old pro that we all know she is, the sail change was effected with the slickness that Emirates Team New Zealand would kill for after their cock-ups at the weekend! Whistler was much more comfortable under reduced sail - although the persistent bouncing around and douches from random lumps of water were debilitating to say the least…
The wind eventually moderated and we dropped out the reef and returned to the number two (a move cunningly timed by the Skipper to take place when he was on watch, and therefore not disturbing his rest!)
As the night wore on we crept up close to another competitor who we could not identify - before pulling away in the hour before dawn (we now know it was Xara). As the light grew (a slightly optimistic description of the drab greyness) we could see that we were chasing Annokia (who had sneaked round us during the night) to the finish - but as the GPS counted down the time and distance, we knew it was too much to ask and we crossed the line just over a minute behind them.
A tough outing for a little bouncy boat but the crew stuck at it and earned their delicious, tapas-style picnic on arrival (OK, a bottle of red and dodgy Spanish sausage!)
With predictions of strong/gale force winds being delivered by text, we opted for an early departure and set off mid-afternoon for yet more wind, rain, lumpy seas and wholesale fly slaughter by Slippery and Sal… but that’s another story…
2nd out of 6 in Class 5
St Malo
There was a palpable lack of enthusiasm amongst the team before the race, with a fine lunch in the Yarmouth, or even a lie-in in Cowes being put forward as preferable alternatives to hauling down the Solent and round the Channel Islands with the wind on the nose most of the way! In addition the Skipper, a rock-like beacon of strength and inspiration for the crew, was under the weather having suffered a severe mauling at the hands of a pestilential, voracious, blood-sucking insect (no, not Gordon Brown), leaving his throat swollen like an advanced case of Hashimoto’s disease (go on, look it up like we did!)
After a few pints and fine supper at the Island Sailing Club, the crew had a relatively early night - except Slippery who, on condition that she turned up the next day with a supply of bacon butties, was allowed to sleep off the boat so she could continue her search for a (soul) mate…
The Stig orchestrated a good start and we opted for the shorter distance to Hurst and tried to find the best (i.e. least worst) tide on the Island side. A fairly uneventful leg, although on reflection the mainland side seemed to be working well for those who took it. Through Hurst the building tide and wind hotted things up somewhat, as did some French idiots - who decided that as they were bigger than us they would have priority even though they were on port tack. In a game of chicken we both tacked away at the last moment, and with a surprising fury, we deployed the red flag - "PROTEST!”
We now had a somewhat scenic trip along the southern English coast as the breeze encouraged us to continue on port tack out to the longitude of Portland. It was fairly uneventful but difficult to keep on the numbers as the wind was light and the swell lumpy…
The wind veered a little and we tacked onto starboard to cross the Casquets TSS and made our way towards Alderney. The wind and sea built, and once again the crew were depleted by 33% due to sickness – in reality the conditions weren’t that bad but combined with fatigue and a general malaise it was becoming hard work…
We had an interesting “experience” with a larger competitor somewhere north of the Casquets light who dropped down toward us, increasingly erratically and finally nipped right across our bow and off toward Cherbourg; no idea who but poor boat control at best - and downright dangerous and irresponsible at worst…
We pressed on towards the Hanois light. As conditions (on and off the boat) deteriorated – and with the foresight of a calculated finish time some 12 hours in the future – the Skipper took a pragmatic decision and decided to head for St Peter Port, shelter, sleep and a nice meal… oh, and the obligatory bottle of red for breakfast!
On reflection, a race that feels “at the limit” for smaller boats like us – at least in terms of trying to compete and return within a reasonable time over a weekend… and everyone is entitled to one "off" weekend!
Retired
Weymouth
Lloydy’s Lessons From The Weekend, No:1 – while sailing shorts and Dubarry boots are OK when posing at the post-race drinks, the addition of a pair of oilskin trousers is recommended when beating into wind-over-tide all the way to Weymouth… this generally avoids sitting in soggy undies for the best part of 8 hours and the attendant risks of “trench bum” and “nadger rot”…
Anyway, back to the start, where the Skipper and Stig’s well thought through first leg strategy was dropped immediately the gun went in favour of short tacking past Egypt point and inside Gurnard Ledge, in company with Tai Pan and Alchemist. Those who know the Skipper’s aversion to the green bits of the chart (and the costs associated with hitting them) would not be surprised that he relinquished the steering stick and opted to shout directions from the navigatorium…
We settled down, keeping Tai Pan a few yards (no new-fangled metric nonsense here) ahead of us and Alchemist behind all the way down the Island shore, cheating the last of the flood tide and seeking the right moment to get into the building ebb. Farthing were a smidge further back following the same track until they struck out for deeper water before Yarmouth.
Through Hurst the building tide and wind strength were making life a handful so, having passed Tai Pan as they made a bare-headed change of jib, we opted to do a tack change down to our No:3 – which promptly did its Yarmouth trick and popped out of the Tuff Luff, necessitating going down to the No:4 (and a trip to the sail loft). This let both Tai Pan and Alchemist through us.
We headed West before much of our competition, which seemed to make sense. However, it was apparent that either our rig set-up or trim were not quite right, as no matter what we tried we couldn’t get into the groove in the lumpiness. The crew stuck manfully to the task of sitting on the rail, keeping the Skipper dry – although Slippery and Sal’s morale-boosting sing-song almost resulted in a bit of impromptu MoB practice!
Despite being soaked to the skin and unable to light a cigarette, one event had put a much needed smile on Slippery’s face (Lloydy’s Lessons From The Weekend, No:2 – when “The Grey Panther” goes the same colour as his namesake, try to avoid sitting downwind of him… this generally avoids being covered in a sticky concoction of half digested Mars bar, porridge and coffee… miraculously, despite the liberal application along the rail-team and afterguard, no one else succumbed!)
We had some light-hearted banter with one Class 4 boat who thought that the rhumb line between St Alban’s and the finish was due south but, having wiggled away from them, pressed on into Weymouth Bay. We were slightly closing on Tai Pan and Alchemist but Farthing was looming ominously behind. We made a significant mistake when the leaders tacked out into the Bay by not following them, opting instead to (mis)place our faith in the Skipper’s tactical reading of the tide atlas and keeping nearer to the shore…
As the sea flattened and the wind eased in the last hour, we went back up through the sail inventory (good exercise to keep the crew warm). Tai Pan and Alchemist were out of reach but we were holding off Farthing - and were pleased to cross the line before heading into port for the obligatory glass or two of red, a shower and some dry clothes… which immediately became as wet as the rest when we walked to the sailing club in a deluge!
3rd out of 11 in Class 5 and 2nd 31.7
Beneteau Cup
A good turnout for this one – 8 31.7s, so we were given our own start!
Race 1 – we went for a port end flyer but were late so had to avoid a load of starboard tackers. Somehow though we hit good speed and pressure and were in the groove, leading from the first mark to finish!
Race 2 – a poor start (almost a day late!) and then sat in light wind at the back of the fleet. Managed to haul ourselves back to 5th, which left us 3rd overall on the day
Race 3 – OK-ish but a slack final rounding allowed Eauvation to sneak inside us for the final beat and for some unfathomable reason they stood on far to far pushing us well beyond the layline for the finish (Lord knows why we would have had them on TCF…) This allowed Touraine to sneak through and take us both leaving us 4th (cue much ranting by the Skipper!!!!)
Race 4 – squall and 30+knot gusts saw us opt for the No:4 and a reef – guess what it went light and we struggled before changing up to the No:3 and shaking out the reef. The leaders were gone but we had a good battle with Touraine, before pipping them at the final mark, to finish 4th for the race and overall on the day – and for the IRC races.
Didn’t bother with the “Pursuit Race” – hangovers, rain, apathy…
St Peter Port
Despite the fact that St Malo was supposed to be our “off “ weekend, the Skipper didn’t appear to confident about this one – but perhaps his unaccustomed gloom was due to the fact that he had to return to working life on the Tuesday following the race; this combined with a light forecast to make him think that an a weekend in the garden with pub, restaurants and food near at hand was infinitely preferable to bobbing around the Channel in 30 foot of sweaty plastic with 5 other sweaty people… Ever the professional he put all this to one side and it wasn’t until the yellow boat was past Gurnard that he started extolling the virtues of stopping in Yarmouth and exchanging Pot Noodles and builders tea for a nice fish supper and a bottle of perfectly chilled white!!!
Down the Solent we enjoyed a nice battle with Electron and Baby Blue until we were unable to identify anyone (or even Mr Harding’s laughter) in the gloom as we passed down towards the Needles. It was a slow and frustrating night and, when dawn broke we could identify both Electron and Imperator nearby. We spent a long day keeping the boat moving and discussing our idealised menu’s (we find that virtual food takes up a lot less space than the real thing…)
The gentle zephyr held and Imperator showed an excellent ability to make the most of it pulling away from us as we eked out a lead over Electron. Throughout the day we watched sails come down and boats turn toward either France or the UK, until it was us and the shipping lanes.
With the need to get back to the UK by Sunday night, we had agreed a cut off of being able to leave St Peter Port by 0300 on Sunday to take full advantage of the Alderney Race on the return leg, and the calculations were repeatedly updated as the wind came and went… sometimes it looked very achievable and sometimes the magic navi-guessing box was telling us that we were due to finish at the same time as we are due to start the Poole races!!!
Around 2130 it looked all up and when our Secretary checked in The Skipper advised that we were almost certain to retire in the next half hour… and then a several things happened at once – we were visited by a dozen or so porpoises (or dolphins) who frolicked around the boat for 15 minutes (I’m sure they would have ridden the bow-wave if we had had one), lifting our spirits and just after that the wind came back…
Retirement and Blighty were wiped form our minds and, after a watch change, we tacked down to the Casquets and bore off round them – WE COULD DO IT! Ever an inspirational rock the Skipper forewent his bunk and stayed on deck to help (as he saw it) with the charge to Guernsey.
Now, regular readers will know of the fickle and downright malicious wind gods that torment Whistler and on Saturday/Sunday they had the A-team on! The wind died, backed and disappeared… smiles were wiped from our faces and shoulder dropped… then it was back again – HURRAH!!! We tried the kite, went back to whites… kept nudging along with the Skipper working out how far he could put the deadline back. Another watch change and more wind we were off!!! It started to veer so we went back to the kite… THIS WAS IT!!!
“Aim at the moon” was the instruction as it was hanging directly over the entrance to the Russell… pressure was building… if it held we could beat the tide… it would be a long slog home but…
And then the most vindictive, spiteful and downright nasty wind god ever played his hand… the wind died away and we stood still before the tide started to work against us. The weather info held no hope of a quick enough change, so only 5 miles from the line, the adventure was over…
… until we picked up a plastic sheet which wrapped itself round the prop whilst on the way home, requiring the Skipper to get out his Buster Crabb (note the lack of an “e” so it’s not the Tarzan actor) outfit and do his impersonation of the infamous “Gosport seal” in the middle of the Channel!!
Retired
Cowes to Poole
It’s amazing just how quickly the year flies by – one moment you are blowing the cobwebs away in the Solent Race and the next thing it’s the end of the inshore season and the bright lights of Poole beckon!
Team Whistler was depleted by the loss of the Stig (allegedly due to back problems bought on by overdoing it in the gym but we know better…) which took us down to five trusty bodies; sadly (after the events of Friday night), two were South Africans!
The start was relatively unadventurous and we tacked out into clear air and stronger tide as soon as possible, making our way down the Solent in company with the other 31.7s as well as Alchemist and Xarifa. We followed Electra through the Forts and, remembering the lessons of earlier races avoided the eddy behind No Man’s Land Fort. We picked up some good speed and led the pack to Bembridge Ledge, eagerly watching Xarifa and Alchemist who seemed to lose out by going up the Island shore.
As ever, the wind went extremely wonky and we spent about six hoursranting at the wind gods (and whoever had had the bright idea of sending round the back of the Wight), changing between whites and kites and keeping spirits up with a selection of well chosen melodies delivered by the Skipper and Slippery – apologies to those nearby for the foul content from the Skipper and the quality of her singing from Slippery!
As the few zephyrs grew Tai Pan, Xarifa, and then Alchemist mastered them much better than we could, pulling away and leaving us dueling with Electra between the Needles and Poole – nerve wracking but we hung in there!
5th out of 17; 2nd 31.7
Poole to Cowes
After the usual rummage through the streets of Poole in search of a restaurant with a table, and a few glasses or rum with Tai Pan, Sal’s initiative in tracking down a mountain of bacon sarnies was much appreciated!
We had a few last minute kit changes - but sensibly opted for the heavier sheets and reaching kite just before the start - and powered round the Committee Vessel with un-Whistler-like promptness before settling down to drag race to North Head. Electra was out in front and pretty much the same pack as before on her heels. Tai Pan lost out in a luffing match with Electron, while we kept low and out of the way. We went back to whites at North Head before changing back to the heavy kite once through the overfalls at Hurst. From there on we were pretty much head to head with Xarifa all the way to the line - often at a distance that would have caused rebuke at a school disco!
Slightly ahead Electra and Electron gybed out from the shore and back again whilst we managed to sail deep and make some ground - but not enough to get through before the line.
A great sail back and a fitting end to the inshore season – cheers!
6th out of 13; 3rd 31.7
Cherbourg (October)
With the Skipper the only Englishman on board Whistler, it was something of a relief that our rugby team weren’t playing until Saturday afternoon. Once again numbers were sub-optimal as a result of the Stig’s continuing indisposition (surely they could have unlocked the handcuffs by now) and Tim’s participation in a Coastguard training exercise - but with the return of Vee and Sal defying medical orders, we were in business…
The start was interesting, with Xara and ourselves coming in from the pin end, aiming to block out Imperator, who seemed to be trying to duck the line from a long way above it – we strangely lost sight of them after that and it was only when we arrived in Cherbourg we learned that they had set off in the wrong direction!
We tacked off down the Solent, with Xara creeping ahead and Electron hanging on behind, in murky conditions which deteriorated as darkness fell and the wind built through Hurst. Having shaken out our reef, in our efforts to locate then round Bridge we ended up cutting it fine over the Shingles, where we were pleased to crack off and set course toward Cherbourg. It started off rather rolly, worse still when below decks where head, stomach and boat all seemed to be going up and down out of sync, but we soon settled down in nice reaching conditions, with the occasional wave perfectly timed to catch Slippery as she tried to light up!
Once again the Grey Panther demonstrated the strength of his stomach, with a display which exceeded the memorable scene outside the bar in “Team America: World Police” (for those who know what I mean). Distracted, we were late to change from the No:3 to No:2 and, after having a few problems with the hoist, were almost taken roughly from behind by Electron, who had not anticipated our rapid deceleration!
Knowing that we couldn’t let them get too far away and potentially leapfrog us in the overall points table, The Skipper concentrated on helming in the dying breeze, dropping low to pass our rivals, but with the wind continuing to drop they came back at us, and as dawn broke were upwind and closer to the finish. As we closed the line and the wind built again we clawed back some of the deficit but were unable to pass and the two of us finished well behind Xara who had obviously enjoyed the conditions!
The run ashore was not long (for some of us at least!) and it was soon time to motor home across a flat sea under a starry sky…ahhh…
The end of a memorable season – thanks as ever to the JOG team for some great racing and après-racing in 2007!
4th out of 8, 2nd 31.7
Pre-Season Training
We did a few jobs, motored out of Gosport, decided it was too cold and windy, came back home and went to the pub... oh well, I'm sure we'll remember what to do on the start line!
Solent / Christchurch BayAs the week progressed and the forecast looked more ominous, it began to look like we should have stuck at it the previous weekend and practiced!
Also ominous was the Skipper’s deteriorating physical condition; he was already nursing persistent tennis elbow on his right arm (don’t ask why!) when on Friday he leapt from deck to pontoon with all the grace of a badly packed sail bag and sprained his left ankle. After strapping the ballooning limb with a few metres of bandage a few problems were immediately apparent -
- His slow, hobbling gait would make him late to the pub, missing valuable drinking time
- In order to arrive back at the boat at a sensible time he would have to leave equally early, missing yet more pub time
- His boot might not fit over the bandages
As ever the crew were full of good ideas – the most inventive of which was strapping a chair to the transom and letting the Skipper perch there, like Peter Harrison on TeamGBR… obviously “not sailing” was NOT an option!
On Saturday morning the injury-enforced reduction in drinking time left the Skipper feeling better than some members of the crew, and judicious use of a batten prodder had eased the boot onto the foot (hopefully it will be removed before Cherbourg!) We joined the parade up and down before the start and, although not quick off the line, were reasonably placed behind Tai Pan and alongside Electron. Kites were popped after a few minutes and fun was had surfing down waves, eking out a few metres and then losing them as the three 31.7s headed the fleet down the Solent. An interesting but prolonged discussion between the Skipper and the “Swami of Sailing” about how to work the GPS allowed Electron to creep ahead - a position they held as we rounded Lymington Bank. A good rounding and quick settle into the beat put us back in second and we traded tacks up the mainland shore - and insults with the three idiots on a stinkpot that parked on our track and sat there with a combined IQ less than the number of people on board.
One advantage of the Skipper’s incapacity was a smooth slow tack, so he could ease the boat upright, hop onto his good leg across the cockpit using the mainsheet trimmer and boom for support, and then sit down before getting back on the wind!
With nothing up our sleeves as we bore off slightly for West Lepe, hitting the deeper, faster flowing water, we were less than impressed with the antics of a cruising Bavaria who seemed to enjoy weaving around sitting right in our air, knocking us time and time again. We watched Tai Pan round the mark and then realised that we couldn’t make it and threw in another tack as Electron swept past rounded and set off towards the Island.
Following the example of the leading 31.7’s in the building breeze, we remained under whites, with a goose-winged jib, as we ran down to the mark and then powered up towards the Island looking for shallow water. Electron reefed earlier than us and once again we caught up with them - but our own reef (compounded by a duff call from the Skipper to do it whilst on starboard) hurt as we were slow and got caught in the tide; there was no way back. A long beat up the Island shore followed and we weren’t unhappy to cross the line!
3rd out of 13 in Class 5 and 3rd 31.7
Cowes to Cherbourg
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 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!
9th out of 14 in Class 5 and 2nd 31.7
Cherbourg to Cowes
It may have been noticeable that our report from the Cowes to Cherbourg race lacked not only its usual fund of anecdotes but also most of the detail; this had little to do with the electrical problems on board but was due to that fact that the Skipper and the Swami had decided not to have a kip after the race but simply shower, pop into town and have breakfast. Why the problem you ask? Because they also decided to share a carafe of vin rouge with breakfast, before returning to the Cherbourg Yacht club for the JOG drinks party… and the rest of the day and evening… reports from the aft cabin suggested an infestation of cane toads!!
Maybe it was this, or the ice under foot, that accounted for the Skipper’s uncertain footsteps along the pontoon the next morning – but he is nothing but resilient! Following a nice bowl of hot oats, he managed to put most of the string in most of the right places and get Whistler to the start. It seemed almost pointless putting the sails up but somehow at the gun there was there merest sniff of breeze… we crept over the line, toward the outer harbour where it kicked in and we were off. Electron had had a flyer and was virtually out of sight as we tacked to clear the outer wall and settled down. Now, what the previous day’s intake had done to the crew is a matter of conjecture but something had clicked – slightly cracked off, Whistler settled into the groove, slowly pulling away from Annokia and Xara and reeling in Electron. After some 3-4 hours of great sailing we were through to the front of the fleet… and then the wind died…
Cue more bobbing around as the Swami kept us moving on zephyrs and willpower alone. When the wind eventually built sufficiently to make a definitive course Electron and Alchemist closed us down. AAAH! Being on our worst point of sailing (nearly too broad for the genoa and not quite deep enough for the kite) it looked bad, until the Skipper had a good idea (quite sad to see it come and go so early in the season!) After making some incomprehensible calculations (even to himself) and scrawling vague hieroglyphics on the tide atlas, he decided to bear off sufficiently to close reach under the kite. This time we had read the tides much better and the plan worked, building a lead on the water against our nearest competitors.
Worn out, the Skipper had a kip, and returned as Whistler passed through the Forts and tacked inshore; bleary eyed and confused, he fired up the nav computer, in time to spot that we were in the trap off Ryde, and a mere 3 boat lengths off the green bits – which prompted a fairly quick reappearance on deck and course change!
We stuck in the shallow stuff all the way up the Solent, listening in to finishers ahead… the wind continued to tease but freed enough to make it past Osborne bay with tacking amongst the anchored cruisers. We heard Act of Defiance finish ahead of us, depriving us of being first boat home in Class 5 – but that’s life, we could have been parked on Ryde Sands!
All in all, a great weekend, with a bit everything thrown in – cheers!
4th out of 12 in Class 5 and 1st 31.7
Nab Tower
Team Whistler were eagerly anticipating the Nab Tower Race and, with 6 31.7’s entered, the opportunity to renew rivalries on the water. They were anticipating it so eagerly that Whistler was bedded down in her usual pre-race berth in Cowes in time to walk all the way to the Island Sailing Club for a gentle beer - where we had a very nice chat with the crew of Alchemist - then when everyone had arrived, sampled the new food offering at the Pier View (which we can report was tasty and very good value). Now the Island SC is a great venue but with one drawback – it’s the opposite end of Cowes from the boat and there are plenty of watering holes in between – just ask “The Stig” and Paul “the man with no nickname – yet”!!
The next morning saw those who can exercise discretion up bright and bouncy, and those who can’t looking like a badger's arse… however after a light and healthy breakfast we were round to the start, where after a cheery exchange of waves with the start team, we even had time to think about the start and look at trim – obviously last night’s discussion on PMT (or was it PMA?) had paid off. We opted for the same start tactics as everyone else – sail away from the line and then when we thought it was safe spin round and go for it… timing was a little out and we were down the pack as we crossed.
Our initial thoughts had been to strike out toward the mainland side of Ryde Middle but having gone past Snowden we opted to hang in one the Island side – actually we were following time-honoured Whistler tactics – we’d seen Alchemist doing that and decided to follow! It paid off big time because by the time we were near North Sturbridge we were pretty much at the front of the pack. Much to the disgust of some of the crew, the Skipper decided not to play chicken with a small ship coming into the Solent and we tacked off, costing us a few places. Through the Forts we set off on the most direct line; Electra had headed in towards the Island and seemingly parked in an eddy just past the forts and Tai Pan was just behind and above us. We hung on out towards Bembridge anticipating a favourable push from the tide as we passed the ledge and then tacked in, which with hindsight was possibly a mistake as “the white boat” (which we now know is Aelana) carried on and came out in front of us. Our second mistake was not tacking away from an MTB and India Juliet who were out doing something – not sure what; it was very exciting but the resultant downwash and wake knocked us right off course, necessitating another couple of tacks to round the Nab. As we closed the tower we could see that the boats in front were all anticipating a hoist on the other side to us, so we decided to change everything at the last moment – and a bit of halyard confusion left us rounding with noises coming from the pointy end which suggested a mass-mating of particularly agitated howler monkeys!
We followed Electra and Tai Pan toward Bembridge – and then decided the Aelana, Imperator and Alchemist looked like they had a better idea and followed them (you can tell that the Skipper was having a break from the helm and doing the tac/nav!) All this left us going through the forts about 6th or 7th…
As soon as we were back into the Solent, it seemed more sensible to be heading for the finish than Portsmouth, so we gybed and with some disbelief, we watched Electra setting off as though they had decided to go shopping at Gunwharf Quays… Tai Pan initially followed them and then came back over to the middle but allowed us through because of their detour.
With the Stig back on the tac/nav, we continued hopping from tidal arrow to arrow, along the Island side of the deep water, where we picked up some nice pressure and worked our way into a three-way fight for second place on the water with Imperator and Electron.
We watched Electra, who had finished their shopping, round Gilkicker and head off to look at young girlies sunbathing in Stokes Bay...
With the crew rotating to keep people focused, and continued encouragement from the back of the boat to concentrate, it was the Skipper who got a rollicking for squawking when he saw Imperator get a wrap…
Electron were using every trick in the book – a partially hoisted genoa to increase sail area – and Jim up on the coach roof in the most astounding pair of shorts this side of… well it doesn’t bear thinking about! Whatever it was, it worked and they could sail a little deeper than us sneaking through as we gybed to take second place on the water – so well done to them – but the next sunny day could see the resurrection of the Skipper’s Speedos!!!!
A great race on the water, but as ever the handicappers had it in for us and a a small flotilla of children's bath toys beat us on TCF...
PS - When you next see Slippery, as her why the crew keep making buzzing noises whenever she is around!!!
9th out of 17 in Class 5 and 2nd 31.7
St Vaast
It was just like the old days, when Cougar were still Xploiter and Team Whistler’s pre-race routine was soaking up the sun outside The Castle in Gosport, over a leisurely lunch and a few pints, before departing for Cowes to complete the crew and enjoy a pre-start pizza supper…
It looked like a bun-fight at the pin end of the line, so we opted to start over towards the shore in clear air to leeward of the fleet, a position we stuck with down the Solent as it seemed to pay off and we ended up at the front with Aviva and Heaven’s Above V. At the Forts we delayed our hoist as Aviva seemed to be sailing quite low under theirs but, as the wind backed a little we popped ours and headed out round Bembridge Ledge.
Aviva and Tai Pan headed off below us, sailing down the rhumb line but we were tracking quite well, just ahead of Electron and Annokia, sailing on the high side of the fleet as the light went and we settled down fro the Channel. As the tide turned the rolling sea eased somewhat, but the residual swell was rocking us about, especially as the wind dropped, making it difficult to keep the kite flying and allowing Xara to creep up and past us…
As the light grew the next morning, the guessing game of trying to identify boats from their lights was resolved, with Tai Pan just below us, Electron further inshore, Aviva inshore and well ahead and Annokia coming up behind.
Once again it seemed that our passage planning was about an hour out (poor navigation, an overly optimistic Skipper – or perhaps just because the wind had eased…) and we ended up making a couple of gybes across the building tide towards the line, which we crossed with Tai pan and Annokia chasing.
Sitting at anchor we were trying to work out where we had finished, checking who was in and scanning the horizon for those still racing. With remarkable eyesight for someone of his habits the Skipper spotted a smudge appearing out of the haze “do you think that could be a boat?” he enquired. “Well, it’s not likely to be a lorry or a car out there” responded Velcro, who should save that one up for his wedding speech!
Once again, breaksfast was more liquid than solid, which accounted for one member of the team not getting beyond the post race drinks party - and another catching up on their sleep at the dinner table...
The sail home was a cracker with the wind building to 30 knots (must remember to put the reefing lines in next time!) - and the boys very sensibly leaving the girls on deck during the really wet and windy bits - 11 1/2 hours door to door, not bad!!!
7th out of 14 in Class 5 and 3rd 31.7