So here we are again, winter has crawled by and seems reluctant to relinquish its grip as the first race night of the season approached. Surprisingly there seemed a lot of masochists keen to put their bodies on the line, as 16 participants gathered on the shore to survey the possibilities. Gone are the days when yours truly sort of muttered a course under his breath and then quickly headed for the start line fully aware that nobody else knew where they were going!
It’s all done by the book now. SKIPPERS MEETING? What the hell is that? Like a well behaved flock of sheep we all gathered in the Marquee for instructions
YOU VILL DO THIS!
THIS!
AND THIS
AND YOU VILL GO!
HERE!
HERE!
AND HERE!
“Yes mine Fuhrer”
You vill then see this flag and zen you vill go on this flag
The next group vill go next, followed by the final group that vill go last
Now totally confused the little flock of sheep left for the start line in a state of total bewilderment.
The wind for a Thursday night wasn’t bad, but not quite slalom weather. So race boards were the order of the day. But due to the vast numbers participating, four would be racers were doomed to board the white Whales for the duration of the contest. This was where our race officer (Hoff the cough) came into his own, as he held the bowl of names aloft and waited for the wind to blow the names out, a novel way to say the least. The doomed sailors were Andre, Chris the Foreman, Pop Rivett and yours truly.
Being the first race of the season it was deemed to be a fun race!
FUN RACE? You have to be joking, this is war make no mistake about that!
We all gathered on the start line waiting for a series of whistles as we were all in different handicap groups. The Hoff was now enjoying himself and decided to throw in another element of chaos, by changing the course at the last moment.
The whistle went for the first start. Wiktor (totally new to this racing game) got a flier, pity really that he hadn’t heard about the course change as he headed for the wrong buoy. Three minutes later start two burst into action, followed by a further three minutes the elite brigade.
Now to report on a race when we all start together is difficult enough, but to do any justification to a race where all the participants are so far apart is virtually impossible, but I will do my best
At the end of lap one the first group still had command of the proceedings, with Jo and Alex locked in mortal combat for top position. Pop Rivett’s concentration went out the door as he watched these two Amazons fight it out (I wonder if they would consider wrestling in mud as an encore).
Dave Skye was close behind and Eeyore one (me) was closing fast from group 2, as for what was going on behind me, it was difficult to tell. Geoff The flour maker was having early season problems and Annette was not her usual dynamic self. Pop Rivett had little or no idea how to steer a Whale and anyhow was still suffering from sexual hallucinations.
As the laps passed by the elite group leader Helium Mike was closing the gap, he came past me planing down a broad reach. Now planing on White Whales with men of substance aboard is physically impossible.
As the last lap approached Alex finally relinquished the lead to Helium, Jo had got a trifle over excited and had dropped her sail on the penultimate downward leg, enabling both me and Sig (that had been snapping at the back of my Whale for most of the race) to close the gap. In a moment of over excitement Eeyore rammed Jo amid ship while Sig took the opportunity to nip through.
Annette realising that a win was out of the question, decided upon sacrifice was the order of the day and in a last ditch attempt at sabotage rammed Helium ( this is of course one explanation, the other being that the husband was away and perhaps this collision was not all it seemed at first)
You will forgive me if I didn’t report all that happened, but I wasn’t in a position to do so. I know that once again Helium overcame the handicap and took first place; Alex did amazingly well in 2nd. Sig the Willey took 3rd when yours truly had a moment of remorse for ramming Jo and did a 360 degree penalty up the last leg but did manage to hang on to fourth. Jo came next with Mr Boulter working his way up the fleet in 6th. 7th saw Andre finally get to grips with the race ( the first two laps being a bit rusty performance wise) 8th place went to Dave Skye who had driven four hours up from Poole for the privilege; then came Keith with Chris the Foreman in 10th. John Andel had had better races and came 11th while Pop Rivett finally made it home in 12th. Annette limped home in 13th having been rebuffed by Helium and what Mr miller was doing back in 14th place I have no idea. Wiktor on his first outing on the race scene managed to stave off last place which went to Mike Sapsard whom never got to grips with either his board or his sail till the last lap.
Race one completed, did we all enjoy it?
As bodies limped ashore, one has to say there were moments when the attraction of a warm fire and glass of wine would have won the day!
Tony
