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Highlights:
Discovering that to gybe the bitch you actually have to ignore everything, do nothing, and let the crew deal with her. Only then put the helm over.
Downers:
No Organised Kaos. No Blue Chip. No Mike to banter with at the Bar. No Mike to tell me where on the course I had stuffed up. No Yella Belly (it's only a little rip in the deck). Heat. Yes, it was bloody hot (45 degrees C).
Result:
2nd on PYR and 2nd on Personal.
Lessons Learnt:
See highlinghts.
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Spring Series Race 6. Friday 17th June
Wind 5-10 knots, North Westerly.
Good. About time too: A long race, inshore this time with a good reaching course so lobg as the wind stays to the west. Our 9:30 briefing sees us on a staggered start - 10:00 for Division 2 and half an hour later for us. There's a good fresh breeze too, so things are looking up, even though we're told we havn't a hope for the series results! But we can practice, do our best, cross the line first if we're lucky...
We're late for the start, arriving with just a few minutes to spare thanks to a main that didn't want to go up the track, but we're out on the Port end, see that that's favoured and head for the line. Realising we need to scrub off some speed we do a quick gybe around, come back onto the wind and start at good speed, pretty much on the nail. Other boats, a fraction earlier than us are well down the line, having had to sail down the PumpHouse / West Pole transit to avoid being early, and therefore giving away ground.
We beat up to East Bouy and reach it, unlike the others, without having to tack off the reef. Around this we reach out west to clear the reef marker and launch the 'bitch' for a run to Earth Station.
The full team is aboard, together with our ship's mascot, Christina. And they're all in quite reasonable form - following orders, not picking on me, chattering only occasionally.But I'm in for a shock....
We plan to gybe around Earth Station mark to continue our downwind run to South Pole. That's the plan, but just when I'm getting ready to do so, Andy starts cranking on the sheets; Hamish is on the bow to help feed the 'bitch' to the other side; Jim helps with the sheets and all of a sudden we've already gybed the spinnaker. Without any action on my part.... I push the helm over and the main settles lankly to starboard.
And nothing's wrong. No snarl ups; no ripped 'bitch'; no shouting or cursing or hourglasses. Nothing. Just a controlled, smooth gybe. Obviously these things are far better done without any role for the helm. Bloody typical. Now they'll never shut up.
I congratulate everyone, suggest that that's how it should be done and ask them why they couldn't have managed it like that before. (It distresses me that I am unable to pen the answers without lowering the tone of this report). Suffice it to say that we sail on while I try to distract attention to other matters like "where's South Pole, can someone give me a bearing?" only to be told that it's visible and dead ahead, before chatter reverts to 'the gybe'.
DEspite all this girly chatter at my expense, we're slipping along nicely and rounding the mark for a beat to Pumphouse Port, we decide on short tacks up the middle of the course. Flush with the high ground of their little victory, Andy and Jim tack the boat like storm-troopers, and we hardly slow at all on the turns. By now we are gaining on the Division 2 boats and overhaul them finally getting to TNT just before Pumphouse. Around this and we set the spinnaker (yes, everyone insists that I do nothing again while they perform the manoever) for a run to South Pole, finding that our downwind angle is still good, even though the wind has died a little. We round again, heading back to West Pole on a beat before running back down to Earth Station (gybing a few times, not because of wind angles but just so they can rub it in some more), and managing a flying reach to South Pole under spinnaker. The wind has come around to the North, but we just manage by hiking out, and our boat speed is good!
(This new approach to gybing really seems to work, but for goodness sake don't tell them that or I'll never hear the end of it).
The rest of the fleet are miles away now. Around South Pole and we're onto our final leg to the finish transit at West Pole, arriving at 15:0015 to take line honours (well we still enjoy it, even though everyone else says it's a dead cert. And I still think there should be a prize for it) by over 80 minutes on the water. I don't think it's enought though as we've been sailing for four and a half hours. So we retire to the Bar after tidying up the boat, drink 57 gallons of non-alcoholic beverage each (it's been bloody hot today) and wait for the rest of the fleet.
Two and a half hours later, Jim's moved on to Vodka. I'm nursing a half pint. Andy and Hamish have left and we finally are summoned to Ken's debrief to find that we've come 2nd on PYR and on Personal handicap. Not bad... but given our earlier performance in this series I reckon we'll be the bridesmaid again....
...Until two days later, when we get the spreadsheets from Ken and are advised that we've come third for the Spring Series. And there was I, sure I had seen them in tight-formation, with little pink curly tails wiggling behind them, whenever I thought of placing for the series...
Must have quite good crew really.
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