Fourth W2N Newsletter
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Welcome
to the fourth 2nd July
2008 – Round the
Team W2N Canasta – Round the As I reflect on what was, for me, an extraordinary experience
in so many conflicting ways, I can't help wondering if the memories of 28th
June 2008 will emerge one day as psychological scarring or as a sepia-tinted
'Beken of Cowes' style image of effortless grace, dignity and world-class
teamwork! Here’s my perspective on the day; Friday 27th
Pre-race preparations... I'd love to tell you that, like all successful campaigns,
our meticulous pre-race preparations were key to a glorious victory. I can't lie...
so I'll have to admit that of the eight crew making up the formidable Team W2N Canasta, I had only met four
– ever. In fact, Hugo, a friend of mine from Torquay and his girlfriend
Kate, woke up on race day just as we entered the preparatory holding area east
of the race start possibly making them, ironically, the most experienced
sailors, yet arguably, the least prepared crew in the history of the race!
Donna and Alastair (AJ) signed up for the W2N newsletter having been told about
the project by AJ's mum and my good friend Sheila. To say that their combined
sailing experience was 'limited' would be a laughable understatement but what
they lacked in knowledge (and volume), they made up for with enthusiasm of such
an infectious quality that to have them on board and to have made the
experience possible for them was an absolute pleasure. You'd think that Chris,
another subscriber to the w2n newsletter and the proud owner of a virtually
identical Grand Soleil 42, would have been the most likely crew-member to
assert his knowledge of the boat and assume a commanding role in the tactical
elements of the race. Not so – with Kate on board, any aspirations of
that nature were sadly futile! Chris though had sailed Canasta twice before but in his
characteristically laid-back and unflappable nature, he seemed content to winch
when told to winch and tail when told to tail. Then there was my friend Tim who
has entered the RTI race twice before on my old boat Bright Flyer in desperately light winds and who, having failed
twice to complete the lap of the island, was I suspect, as determined as me to
make it 'third-time-lucky'! Only Tim and I started the race this year with any
preconceptions or expectations based loosely (and naively) on previous
experience but I can't have been alone in my surprise at the difference a bit
of wind and a slippery boat could make. Then there was my older brother Tony
who despite some dinghy sailing experience, was perfectly happy to join Donna
and AJ on the windward rail absorbing the magnificent spectacle and helpfully
shouting instructions to tack simply because they preferred the view on the
other side! So, Hugo, Kate, Chris, Tim, AJ, Donna, Tony and I piled on
board late on Friday night with a plan to set off in search of a mooring at The
Folly as the sun sets over the Saturday 28th
Race Day After a few hours sleep, we slipped the lines and motored
out into a grey and misty Approaching the needles, we had our first really close
encounter. We were on starboard tack and as such, were confidently exercising
our 'right of way' over a port-tack boat approaching on a converging course. It
looked to me like he had spotted us but as he drew closer, he didn't seem to be
making any effort to tack or to alter course below us. Instinctively, everyone
on Canasta with any knowledge of the rules duly shouted “STARBOARD”
in perfect unison. Okay, so he tacked at the very last possible moment but
having narrowly avoided a catastrophic indecent, he then turned sharply towards
us in what was either a severe 'rounding-up' or an aggressive attempt to force
us as 'windward boat' to yield. Either way, it forced me to 'crash-tack'
momentarily while he got himself back on some kind of vaguely predictable
course. He shadowed us all the way up to the Needles and was clearly hugely
over-pressed with a full suit of canvas causing him to swerve dangerously more
than a few times. What was interesting for me about that was the way Canasta
behaved. With a gross weight of 15 tons, she carries a lot of momentum and I
remember being surprised to discover that having crash-tacked, she held enough
forward speed to bring her back around without having to sheet in on the new
tack. When our friend in the Jeanneau had regained control of the helm, I
simply resumed our original course without any discernible loss of speed.
Anyway, after asking 'politely' what he thought he was doing and having
acknowledged the expansive shrug as an admission of his incompetence, we
plunged into the huge Needles swell that welcomed us to the next leg of the
race. The broad reach down to St Catherine's Point was my cue to
relinquish the helm and let someone else take over. I was exhausted, wet with
sweat beneath my oilies and still shaken from the excitement of it all. After
shaking out the reef in the mainsail, Kate volunteered without hesitation and
held us steady as we lurched and surfed down the unexpectedly large waves. With
the wind now gusting around 24 knots, this was no time to relax. Even on this
straight forward drag race along the southwest side of the island, the sheer
density of yachts struggling to hold a predictable course was a constant
threat. I was below deck and thankfully oblivious of the near-miss when, so I'm
told, a boat to windward of us, veered inexplicably and narrowly avoided making
contact. Back on deck, I took the opportunity to wander to the bow and look
back along Canasta's sweeping expanse of teak. In that moment, it struck me
that the crew I had so haphazardly assembled and who had never met, were
laughing, joking and enjoying the spirit of the race, the iconic view, the boat
and each other's company with such enthusiasm that I knew we'd have a great day
regardless of our race position. I had been worried about Donna and AJ. They
had both been so quiet since arriving the night before that I was afraid they
were either feeling unwell or were cold or bored or, despite their
inexperience, disappointed at having been designated 'rail-monkeys'. I needn't
have worried. Tony, a fellow 'rail-monkey', later told me that not long after
leaving Hugo then took the helm with the challenge, set by Kate, to
see double figures on the speed log. A gust of wind, a perfectly timed wave and
just enough warning for Hugo to straighten up the helm... then, just for a
brief moment, the log displayed 11.8 knots! It wouldn't be beaten although
there were plenty of moments when all eyes turned anxiously to the B&G
instruments. I had made the decision not to hoist the spinnaker – a
sentiment shared by virtually every other boat in our class. In a little less
wind, we could have flown the spinnaker all the way from Needles to Bembridge
Ledge but with a boat speed seldom falling below 8 knots, I'm really not sure it
would have been worth the hassle. We did watch as one small yacht just to
leeward of us launched an asymmetric spinnaker and took off like a greyhound to
the sound of whooping from the crew – Hmm, maybe next year! More of the same for the bear-away at St Catherine's Point
and up the southeast corner of the island to the first compulsory racing mark
at Bembridge Ledge. Up until that point, the fleet had spread out a little but
it didn't take much to work out that we would all be aiming for exactly the same
little bit of the English Channel! This was going to be interesting. All along
the south side of the island, we had been picking off boats carrying white
flags on their backstays (in our class). One such boat was Wild Child who seemed very well matched but
who, while Hugo was at the helm, slowly fell back into our wake. I'm really not
a big fan of downwind sailing – particularly with no spinnaker. As such,
having resumed the helm approaching Bembridge, I took the decision to sail
higher than was entirely necessary in an effort to make it a bit more
comfortable. Wild Child sailed lower. As such, as we all converged on the East
Cardinal buoy at Bembridge, our quarry was right back on our tail and was
looking pretty determined! Now, the next leg back up to No Man's Land Fort was,
in principle, fairly straight forward. Just a simple hardening up at the mark
for a close reach. The wind though had built to 28 knots and we were now
over-pressed and struggling to avoid rounding-up amongst a closely packed
fleet. Even with the kicker loosened, on each gust, Kate was dumping the
mainsail but even that was having little effect. When it became clear that the
mainsail was more frequently 'dumped' than 'powered-up', it was time to put in
a reef. I asked for two reefs but settled on just one when the wind seemed to
lighten slightly. It was while Kate and Hugo were reefing the mainsail that
Wild Child showed her upwind superiority and sailed over us – never to be
caught again! The next compulsory mark is No Man's Land Fort. Once again,
we could see from quite a distance that this was going to be perhaps the most
critical point in the race. It would mark the start of the final beat back up
to Cowes but rather then just simply hardening up at the mark to begin the next
leg on a port-tack beat, about half the boats were tacking onto starboard at
the mark and scattering the rest of the fleet still trying to weave through on
port. To be honest, I was more than just a bit anxious – I was dreading
it! We had got ourselves into a luffing match with a boat from an earlier start
who, having been overtaken by us to windward, had decided to throw his toys out
of the pram and forfeit his own race position to force us (as windward boat) to
yield. He kept luffing up forcing us to follow but with too much canvas up, he
couldn't match our speed and soon fell back allowing us to resume our approach
towards the nonsense ahead... and it didn't disappoint! For an intense ten minutes, we slotted ourselves between an
unyielding succession of starboard tack boats. We were poised like coiled
springs for a quick tack and were forced to take action when a gap we were
committed to closed up. We were now the predators and sailed towards the island
until an opportunity opened up to tack back into clear water. It did eventually
and with a huge sigh of relief, we were, for now, in relatively unpopulated
water. The wind was still building so it was time for another reef in the
mainsail and one in the genoa. It seems counter-intuitive but looking around,
it was clear that all the boats struggling to bring up the rear of the earlier
start boats were still carrying a full press of canvas. Canasta was now out of trouble, nicely
balanced and on the last stretch of an immense race. We were enjoying
calculating our finish time having each guessed at it the evening before. It
looked certain that AJ would be closest with his guess at a 1615hrs finish. We
all thought his estimate was rather ambitious but in fact, it might even have
been a little conservative. The finish still offered one last heart-stopping moment. The
finish line was positioned well inshore just off of the headland west of
Osbourne House and being an upwind beat, prompted one last port-starboard scrum
in what had become a very confined space. We were lucky in many respects. I had
found clear water on port tack north of the main fleet as we set up to tack
back into the fray. In principle, it was simple – we would be on
starboard as we crossed in front of the line before tacking again for the short
sprint to the line. And that's exactly how it worked out except that we were
scattering port-tack boats all around us until we came upon one unfortunate
chap who, with another boat tucked right under his windward side, was unable to
tack and unable to dip underneath us. Thankfully, when I was already clenched
for the sickening sound of fibreglass splintering, the boat to windward tacked,
he tacked and we all realised we hadn't breathed out for a while! Incredibly, I
remember thinking how odd it was that his crew were all amiably grinning with
that 'Ooh, that could have been nasty' look. I would have expected more
internationally recognisable hand signals! So, one more tack – just one more tack. One more short
100m sprint to the line. And then, over the line with a united and heartfelt
cheer. To the race officials on the committee boat – just another boat.
To Team W2N Canasta – a spectacular achievement, an epic experience and
for at least one crew member, a baptism of fire! I had given everyone instructions
to make a note of our finish time, the boat in front and the boat behind for
the requisite declaration information so it took a moment to get all that
jotted down. Once done though, I glanced around the crew who, without exception
were grinning idiotically. Each one of them had come aboard with very
difference expectations, pre-conceptions, fears and hopes and yet everyone had
now ticked all the boxes. None more so than me though I suspect. I had been
looking forward to this day for a very long time but I have to admit, the
forecast had caused me some anxiety. I knew as well that with a faster boat, I
would be sailing amongst the masses and not bringing up the slower handicap
boats as in previous years. I made some huge sacrifices to buy Canasta in April and hadn't yet tested her
in such challenging conditions. I needn't have worried. Okay, so there were a
few very close calls and we did see evidence of other people's misfortune but
on the whole, Canasta was
absolutely sensational. We sailed hard – sailed to win race positions but
had not emptied the water tanks, hadn't removed any of the 150 litres of fuel,
hadn't flown the spinnaker and were carrying enough food and drink on board to
support an army (of which, most is still on board!). Even so, the published
race results would reveal that we finished in 8hrs 31mins - 11th in our class
(8 minutes behind Wild Child!) and 227th overall out of 1,750 finishers –
not too shabby at all don't you think!? The official race website (www.roundtheislandrace.org.uk)
quotes the following statistics.. Out of 18,000 people taking part in 1875 boats entered: 4 Boats
were dismasted 5 Boats
were damaged and needed a tow 1 Boat sank 1 Boat capsized 11 Man Overboards 5
Injuries including one person
lifted off by helicopter to Southampton General with a
head injury - we understand this
person is now out of danger 5 Boats
aground Canasta suffered some very
minor damage. A sail batten worked loose and came to rest sticking out in front
of the luff just above the 2nd spreaders. It hadn't broken and wasn't dangerous
but it was preventing the sail from being dropped. That of course meant that
someone would have to go up and get it! Interestingly, there were so many
volunteers that the decision came down to weight and with Donna being the
smallest and presumably (I was too polite to ask!) the lightest, she was
swiftly strapped into the bosun's chair and hoisted up to the offending batten.
It's worth just mentioning then at this stage that we were still sailing
– and before arriving on Canasta, Donna had never even sailed before. It
takes a lot of courage to climb the mast but I really pity AJ; he's going to hear
that anecdote justifiably repeated more than a few times over the course of the
next few weeks! Thank you to everyone on Team
W2N Canasta! That’s all for now. Thanks for your interest in the
w2n project and please don’t hesitate to contact me with your comments
and thoughts. Please feel free to participate in the forum on the w2n website (www.w2n.co.uk) and introduce your friends to
the project. All my very best, Rob (Bee) You are receiving this newsletter because
you have either registered an interest or because you haven’t – and
I think you should! If you are receiving it in error, please let me know by
simply replying to the email with UNSUBSCRIBE in the subject line. W2N Global Ltd. 4 Hampshire House Liphook Hampshire GU30 7SP +44 (0)1428 727795 |
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