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Highlights:
Heat and sweat. We love it lots, especially on downwind legs when the air is still.
Downers:
Heat and sweat when the Rapper sails past us on a beat.
Result:
2nd on CN and 2nd on IRC.
Lessons Learnt:
Pull out all stops to cross first. Stand tall at the bar, no matter what they say about your performance.
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Spring Series Race 3. Friday 02 June
Wind 3-0 knots, North Westerly
Two weeks ago we tried to race this race, but, as it was gusting over 30 knots in the marina, I chickened out. OK, half the crew were in Dubai on a bit of a 'bender' and I had my brother in law Rory, and his wife, Sondra as crew who weren't used to Jackal, and I did feel that the conditions were a bit much - kind of life-threatening. But three other boats put to sea, after I retired, and, as I found out later, had to cancel due to winds of 32 knots at the start. Vindicated I was. Ha.
So the race was postponed.
So here we are today, two weeks later, and bloody typical, now we have about three knots. And a strong tide running down the course. But we set off valiantly, hot, sweating. Summer has arrived and we've another three races to the end of the series...
We set off on a beat from West Pole, heading up to East Bouy. A timed run to the mark sees us in a reasonable position and we round first to a broad reach to Pumphouse. This time, I prime the crew and feeling confident we actually launch the bitch while the jib is still unfurled. (This has been a subject of mirth around the bar in the past, and I have been told that we are listed as 'duffers' on some amateur website for furling before launching). To our amazement it works and the spinnaker sets only a few yards around the mark, as we head off on our reach. But we can't keep the angle. Jackal heels too much (in only about three knots would you believe) threatening to dip the bitch into the water, thus instantly turning us into a shrimp trawler. The crew havem't had nearly enough heavy, greasy BYC breakfast so we're forced to drop halfway and head up under jib to round the mark before spinnaker setting again for a downwind run to Earth Station mark.
That Rapscallion (curses) is still only seconds behind and the usual scenario of us sailing angles all over the Arabian Gulf, gybing again and meeting Rapscallion at the bottom mark still only seconds away, is frustrating to say the least. Particularly as the swine cuts inside us, while we are doing a particularly sylish 'Mexican drop' and heads upwind in front of us! Double drat!
But we're not beat yet. So we say. We tack our way up the middle of the course, feeling that Jackal really isn't moving as well as she should. Perhaps a fishtrap has caught our keel?
The race continues apace - well, a-pace for the Rapper, but not for us. I'm starting to panic and get all nervous about the horror of NOT finishing first on the water, especially as the slower boats are really not that far behind at all. This isn't looking good. Around the top mark again we launch the spinnaker (yes, again before we furl the jib) and glide off into our second run to Earth Station. This time it's better as the wind angle is favourable. But it's only blowing about 5 knots, which isn't much use to us. We shadow the Rapper down the course, trailing with bottom lips hanging out.
It's only on the final beat that we seem to move. This after stopping to shake off those nasty fishpots clinging to our keel. We then shake off the rest of the fleet, overhaul Rapscallion and (only just) manage to retain our dignity with line honours. I don't know how they managed it, but they sailed like greased lightning today. Horrible. Very off-putting. Not very sporting of them at all.
It's turning into a two-boat-drag-race out here.
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