The part of the reservoir that we sail in on Wednesday nights is at the center of a big Y shape. To the SE is the main area of the reservoir near the dam where we sail on Sundays. To the NW is the bay where our clubhouse is. And to the N is a long bay where one of the streams that feeds the reservoir enters.
Sometimes we get good steady winds for racing on a Wednesday evening. Sometimes we don't. This week we didn't.
I launched and sailed out to our race area just after 5pm. The wind immediately died. It filled in for a few minutes from the S. Then from the W. Then from the NE. Then it died again. Nick, who was race officer came out in the 14 foot skiff we use as a RC boat on Wednesdays. "What's the wind doing?" he asked. I told him.
My friend Ray and I lounged in our boats and watched to see if the wind would settle down from any particular direction. Nick started driving round, testing the wind direction and hopefully dropping buoys. Every time he set a windward mark the wind either died or changed direction. Ray decided it was hopeless and went home.
Just before 6pm the rest of the fleet started sailing out to the race area. At 6pm, when racing should start, there was no wind in the normal area but I could see some ripples on the water in the cove up to the N and so more or less decided to forget about racing and just go and sail up there in the cove for fun.
After a while it looked like Nick was about to start running a race having set a course in what he thought was a westerly. So I started heading back towards him. I arrived at the start area just in time to get a perfect start at the wrong end of the line. First lesson for racing in light airs - never stray far from the line. It was one of those races where the wind very cleverly shifted so that, although we sailed a triangular course, not a single leg was a beat. The last leg was one of those excruciating sails in hardly a breath of air where you just sit still and hope that the remnants of the wind will somehow nudge you across the finish line. Sometimes on Wednesday evenings you have to take what you can get.
By the time of the second race the wind had shifted 180 degrees from the original direction so we raced the same course the opposite way round. Made a great start. Again every leg was a reach. Finished third just ahead of Who is that guy?
By now the wind seemed to have strengthened to 5 or 6 knots and settled in to come out of the NW. Nick quickly reacted and motored off to set a new windward mark up towards the clubhouse. In order to keep things moving he called for a windward leeward race twice around. The wind went right making the first leg a close reach again and I nailed the start, winning the committee boat end of the line. Rest of the race was a disaster - couldn't point - was slow on the runs - got caught on the outside of a pinwheel at a leeward mark - fouled somebody - but hey I'm just doing this to practice starts.
The sun was almost setting behind the hill when Nick started the final race - another windward leeward race to the NW. I couldn't believe it - the wind finally stayed in same direction for 5 minutes and we had the first beat of the night. Got another great start and then was progressively passed by most of the fleet.
It was getting dark by the time we got back to the launch area. Nick received heartfelt congratulations from one and all for making the best of a bad job. Then off to the Sunset for beer and pizza. Which is what some of us really come for anyway.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Friday, May 20, 2005
Choices, choices, choices
I went to the supermarket and remembered while I was there I needed to pick up a new stick of deodorant. I found the shelves and tried to make a choice between the various options.
Not gel. OK. Stick is good. Clear or Invisible Solid? Invisible sounds good.
But then I am faced with a bewildering choice of fragrances. Hell - I'm a guy. Am I supposed to care what I smell like? And the names aren't any help at all. They all seem to describe the smell of fresh air whatever that is. Or be aimed at sailors or mountaineers - which is fine for me but what is the other 99% of the male population supposed to do?
They have names like Cool Wave, Pacific Light, Wild Rain and Arctic Peak. I suppose they are all chosen by MBAs in the marketing department drawing 6 figure salaries - and then validated by focus groups. "What's your immediate reaction - Arctic Peak or Broccoli Armpits?".
Surf, Breeze, Frost. What do they tell me about how they will make me smell?
Or perhaps I am supposed to choose one that supports my own image of my masculinity? Just in case someone sees my deodorant in my bathroom do I want them to see me more as an Arctic Peak kind of guy - adventurous? outgoing? - or a Frost kind of guy - cool? terse? poetic?
After much consideration, and to bolster my new found confidence in heavy air sailing I choose Storm Force.
Ahhh. That feels better. I'm a new man. Definitely adds half a knot to my boat speed in 30 knots of breeze.
Not gel. OK. Stick is good. Clear or Invisible Solid? Invisible sounds good.
But then I am faced with a bewildering choice of fragrances. Hell - I'm a guy. Am I supposed to care what I smell like? And the names aren't any help at all. They all seem to describe the smell of fresh air whatever that is. Or be aimed at sailors or mountaineers - which is fine for me but what is the other 99% of the male population supposed to do?
They have names like Cool Wave, Pacific Light, Wild Rain and Arctic Peak. I suppose they are all chosen by MBAs in the marketing department drawing 6 figure salaries - and then validated by focus groups. "What's your immediate reaction - Arctic Peak or Broccoli Armpits?".
Surf, Breeze, Frost. What do they tell me about how they will make me smell?
Or perhaps I am supposed to choose one that supports my own image of my masculinity? Just in case someone sees my deodorant in my bathroom do I want them to see me more as an Arctic Peak kind of guy - adventurous? outgoing? - or a Frost kind of guy - cool? terse? poetic?
After much consideration, and to bolster my new found confidence in heavy air sailing I choose Storm Force.
Ahhh. That feels better. I'm a new man. Definitely adds half a knot to my boat speed in 30 knots of breeze.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Snakes Alive!
When I started this blog I was hoping to communicate to others my passion for the sport of racing small sailboats - and to do it in a way that exposes the comic side of the activity too. It's not easy to explain a passion for a sport to outsiders. It's even harder to inject humor into ones writing. And I am well aware that my writing skills aren't nearly adequate for the challenge. I admire writers who can capture the essence of a sport in an entertaining and amusing way. Now, when I read a book or an article about sport or outdoor activities I am asking myself, "What makes this writing so gripping...or humorous..or informative?" I don't want to copy any other writer's style but I do want to learn from the experts.
The other day I picked up a copy of Sports Illustrated: Fifty Years of Great Writing at our local library. I've just been dipping in it, sampling writing about every sport you can imagine from baseball to boxing, hunting to horse racing. This morning I came across an hilarious article written by Jeff MacGregor about the annual Rattlesnake Derby in Mangum, Oklahoma. Now there's a real challenge - to write about why catching deadly snakes, is for some folk, the most fascinating thing on earth.
MacGregor has a mastery of descriptive writing that makes you feel you are actually there; and a sharp, sarcastic style that pokes fun at his subject. For example, as a writer about sailing I struggle to find original ways to describe wind. Here's MacGregor on Oklahoma wind, "a white-noise constant that blows grit up your skirt at 10 or 20 or 30 mph all day, every day." And here's his description of the taste of snake meat - "every rubbery, molar-binding, cheekload of barbed rib bones and fast-twitch-muscle meat resists, bites back. This is one oily, ornery little tenderloin. It's an angry flavor, metallic and full of resentment - like having a tiny jailhouse machine shop in your mouth." Great stuff - how does he think of a metaphor like "tiny jailhouse machine shop"?
MacGregor set himself two objectives for his journalistic assignment at the Rattlesnake Derby. 1. Find out how. 2. Find out why.
The "how" part of his job was easy. He concludes the answer is "A) Find a snake; B) Pick it up fast with a stick."
The "why" part is harder to understand. A poll of the crowd reveals little: "hale fellowship, good exercise, communion with the out-of-doors, thrill of the pursuit, fresh air, etc." As he points out this is just as true of quail hunting or lawn bowling "but with a greatly reduced chance of being bitten comatose by a pit-viper." I could add that you could apply the same list, more or less, to sailing. But it only starts to explain the real fascination.
So MacGregor continues his pursuit of truth. He goes snake hunting with the first ladies of Oklahoma and Arkansas. He visits one of the participants in the Derby who is in hospital after being bitten by a rattlesnake. He watches the Derby Princess being photographed with the Longest Snake of the Tournament around her neck. He even eats Southern fried rattlesnake "so you won't have to." The "why" these people hunt snakes is still a mystery.
Then he interviews a nine-and-a-half-year-old veteran snake hunter and asks him why he enjoys snake hunting...
"I don't know," he says......"Because it's fun?"
The other day I picked up a copy of Sports Illustrated: Fifty Years of Great Writing at our local library. I've just been dipping in it, sampling writing about every sport you can imagine from baseball to boxing, hunting to horse racing. This morning I came across an hilarious article written by Jeff MacGregor about the annual Rattlesnake Derby in Mangum, Oklahoma. Now there's a real challenge - to write about why catching deadly snakes, is for some folk, the most fascinating thing on earth.
MacGregor has a mastery of descriptive writing that makes you feel you are actually there; and a sharp, sarcastic style that pokes fun at his subject. For example, as a writer about sailing I struggle to find original ways to describe wind. Here's MacGregor on Oklahoma wind, "a white-noise constant that blows grit up your skirt at 10 or 20 or 30 mph all day, every day." And here's his description of the taste of snake meat - "every rubbery, molar-binding, cheekload of barbed rib bones and fast-twitch-muscle meat resists, bites back. This is one oily, ornery little tenderloin. It's an angry flavor, metallic and full of resentment - like having a tiny jailhouse machine shop in your mouth." Great stuff - how does he think of a metaphor like "tiny jailhouse machine shop"?
MacGregor set himself two objectives for his journalistic assignment at the Rattlesnake Derby. 1. Find out how. 2. Find out why.
The "how" part of his job was easy. He concludes the answer is "A) Find a snake; B) Pick it up fast with a stick."
The "why" part is harder to understand. A poll of the crowd reveals little: "hale fellowship, good exercise, communion with the out-of-doors, thrill of the pursuit, fresh air, etc." As he points out this is just as true of quail hunting or lawn bowling "but with a greatly reduced chance of being bitten comatose by a pit-viper." I could add that you could apply the same list, more or less, to sailing. But it only starts to explain the real fascination.
So MacGregor continues his pursuit of truth. He goes snake hunting with the first ladies of Oklahoma and Arkansas. He visits one of the participants in the Derby who is in hospital after being bitten by a rattlesnake. He watches the Derby Princess being photographed with the Longest Snake of the Tournament around her neck. He even eats Southern fried rattlesnake "so you won't have to." The "why" these people hunt snakes is still a mystery.
Then he interviews a nine-and-a-half-year-old veteran snake hunter and asks him why he enjoys snake hunting...
"I don't know," he says......"Because it's fun?"
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Different Strokes For Different Folks
EVK4 asks...
In the keelboat world, you have racers and cruisers. Do Laser and other dinghy people ever go out for an afternoon sail? or is it just racing racing racing?I have always assumed dinghy racing people translated their superior boathandling and trim skills to larger boats when not racing, but you haven't once written about that. Do you enjoy the sailing or the racing more?
Good question. Yes - a lot of people who own Lasers and other dinghies enjoy going out for an afternoon sail. In fact, if you look at the number of Lasers or Sunfish sold, and compare that with the number of active racers, you would have to conclude that the vast majority of such boats are used for recreational sailing. Or hardly used at all. Which is perhaps a more likely explanation. In the town where I live it seems to be a status symbol to have a Sunfish on some trestles by the side of the house. Some of them never leave the back yard all summer.
Do I go out and sail recreationally on the Laser sometimes? Yes - sometimes. And I enjoy it to an extent. But, for me, it does not compare with the challenges of competition. Maybe I'm just a type A personality.
As for big boats....Yes, I know some Laser racers that also enjoy cruising, or recreational sailing, or racing in bigger boats. I've tried them all. But, again speaking personally, I just don't get the same kick out of it. Perhaps part of the reason is also to do with my warped personality. Frankly I've never been much good at team sports - and being part of a crew on a big boat is all about teamwork. Every activity I get pleasure from are basically individual activities - Laser sailing, running, playing guitar (solo), writing. I don't recall exactly but I suspect my school report card should have had a comment "Does not play well with others."
But thanks for the question. Maybe I will try and write about some of my recreational sailing in the Laser. Or tell some of the stories about what went wrong on the few occasions when I tried big boat sailing.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Race Committee
The race committee work on the last two Sundays at our club was.....well let's just say "less than perfect". At the time it made me angry when mistakes were made and racers got confused. Especially because, both weeks, new members of our budding Laser fleet were sailing at the club for the first time. After having spent time encouraging these people to join our fleet it's personally embarrassing when our race committees make us look like a bunch of bumbling idiots.
But I have to assume that the volunteers on race committee are trying their best. And that the solution is to provide everyone in the club with better training on how to be a successful race committee. A great resource to use in such education is this publication from US Sailing - Join the Race Committee Team.
But I have to assume that the volunteers on race committee are trying their best. And that the solution is to provide everyone in the club with better training on how to be a successful race committee. A great resource to use in such education is this publication from US Sailing - Join the Race Committee Team.
I like the way it emphasizes the need for teamwork; that it explains how everybody in the team should have a clearly defined role that plays to their skills and strengths; and I especially like that there are several scenarios in the book that describe almost second by second what each person in the team should be doing and saying during a typical (successful) starting sequence.
Should be compulsory reading for anyone serving on a race committee.
Paranoia
I've been checking out what is bringing people to read this blog.
There are the expected visitors who find me via the links from two of my favorites sailing blogs, Zephyr and EVK4 bloglet.
Then there was a flurry of hits last Friday from a variety of domains. I assume that Proper Course must have been listed for a while on Next Blog or Recently Updated.
But most interesting to me is when a Google search finds one of my postings. Most of these searchers must be disappointed as they are clearly not looking for a relaxing read about some old geezer sailing his Laser. Usually they are a search for one of the more bizarre phrases in my blog. Such as "Where do flies go in the winter?" Or "female goosebumps". Boy, that guy must have been disappointed. A surprising number of the searches found a hit against one of the sundry items in my post about Bumper Stickers.
But the one that got me really worried was the one from the usdoj.gov domain that was searching for the phrase "So Many Christians So Few Lions". Now why is someone in the US Department of Justice looking for websites that have a slogan like that? Has the religious right infiltrated the Bush administration to an extent beyond our (and perhaps their) wildest dreams? Is there a secret team working in the basement of the D of J trying to hunt out people who dare make fun of religion? Did John Ashcroft really retire - or is he spearheading an undercover task force aimed at restoring Amerika to its true faith?
Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get me.
There are the expected visitors who find me via the links from two of my favorites sailing blogs, Zephyr and EVK4 bloglet.
Then there was a flurry of hits last Friday from a variety of domains. I assume that Proper Course must have been listed for a while on Next Blog or Recently Updated.
But most interesting to me is when a Google search finds one of my postings. Most of these searchers must be disappointed as they are clearly not looking for a relaxing read about some old geezer sailing his Laser. Usually they are a search for one of the more bizarre phrases in my blog. Such as "Where do flies go in the winter?" Or "female goosebumps". Boy, that guy must have been disappointed. A surprising number of the searches found a hit against one of the sundry items in my post about Bumper Stickers.
But the one that got me really worried was the one from the usdoj.gov domain that was searching for the phrase "So Many Christians So Few Lions". Now why is someone in the US Department of Justice looking for websites that have a slogan like that? Has the religious right infiltrated the Bush administration to an extent beyond our (and perhaps their) wildest dreams? Is there a secret team working in the basement of the D of J trying to hunt out people who dare make fun of religion? Did John Ashcroft really retire - or is he spearheading an undercover task force aimed at restoring Amerika to its true faith?
Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get me.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Fixing a Hole
I was driving to the lake to go sailing on Sunday morning. One of my sons had brought his new girlfriend to spend a couple of days with us and we had all got on fine. I was looking forward to sailing and the sun was shining. Life was good.
I was playing the Beatles' Sergeant Pepper album on the CD player in the car. "Fixing a Hole" was blasting out at full volume.
"And it really doesn't matter if
I'm wrong I'm right
Where I belong I'm right
Where I belong"
The lyric took me back to the year Sergeant Pepper came out. My friends and I were at college and were playing the record in a break between studying for final exams. The idea of "it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong I'm right" seemed especially perverse in the context of the high pressure exams facing us and always caused hysterical laughter.
Then I realized it fitted perfectly with my approach to practicing racing starts that I'd been writing about in last week's postings. It really doesn't matter which side of the start line I'm on as long as I'm close to it. If I'm wrong I'm right. OCS is OK.
Uh oh. Just blew straight past my exit off the Interstate. Have to head a further 4 or 5 miles to the next exit and make a U turn. Definitely a senior moment. Silly old geezer.
"I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
And stops my mind from wandering
Where it will go
I'm filling the cracks that ran through the door
And kept my mind from wandering
Where it will go"
Indeed. The old mind is wandering a lot these days.
I was playing the Beatles' Sergeant Pepper album on the CD player in the car. "Fixing a Hole" was blasting out at full volume.
"And it really doesn't matter if
I'm wrong I'm right
Where I belong I'm right
Where I belong"
The lyric took me back to the year Sergeant Pepper came out. My friends and I were at college and were playing the record in a break between studying for final exams. The idea of "it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong I'm right" seemed especially perverse in the context of the high pressure exams facing us and always caused hysterical laughter.
Then I realized it fitted perfectly with my approach to practicing racing starts that I'd been writing about in last week's postings. It really doesn't matter which side of the start line I'm on as long as I'm close to it. If I'm wrong I'm right. OCS is OK.
Uh oh. Just blew straight past my exit off the Interstate. Have to head a further 4 or 5 miles to the next exit and make a U turn. Definitely a senior moment. Silly old geezer.
"I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
And stops my mind from wandering
Where it will go
I'm filling the cracks that ran through the door
And kept my mind from wandering
Where it will go"
Indeed. The old mind is wandering a lot these days.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Nipple Rings
Whoa. What's that title got to do with sailing?
Let me explain. In the summer I teach a sailing program to kids. And to work on this program I have to be a qualified US Sailing instructor. And to keep my instructor qualification current I have to renew my American Red Cross CPR certification each year.
So on Tuesday evening I showed up for my annual CPR refresher course and exam. The instructor was a really sweet man. A bit gushy - he introduced himself to me twice. He was about my age and was wearing cargo pants with a definite permanent wedgie.
The course was going fine but we began to have doubts when he advised us to keep a teddy bear in the car so we could practice CPR any time we wanted. Hmmm. Then he told us a story about how his "room mate" had saved the life of someone bitten by a black mamba snake. Very useful I am sure but we don't get many black mambas on our lake in New Jersey.
Part of the course was revising how to use an AED - an automated external defibrillator. This involves attaching two pads to the patient's bare chest in order to apply an electric shock. This process really got our man into some interesting areas. He reminded us that, of course, on a woman patient one would need to remove her bra. Fair enough. Then he showed us a glimpse of his hairy chest and pointed out that chest hair would need to be removed, with a dry razor if necessary. "Otherwise the smell can be really bad." Our imagination filled in the rest. Then he really freaked out the class when he reminded us that, if the patient had nipple rings, they would have to be cut off, "Or you might get sparks..." Stunned silence. We thought about that for a minute and then one of the female students asked with a visible shudder, "Cut them off....ummm...how exactly?" This really got our friend going - he discussed different gauges of nipple rings....gold vs stainless steel.....techniques for chopping off the same.... Fascinating stuff.
I just pray that if I ever need to use the AED on one of my teenage female students I won't have to use all my new found knowledge on removal of said rings.
Let me explain. In the summer I teach a sailing program to kids. And to work on this program I have to be a qualified US Sailing instructor. And to keep my instructor qualification current I have to renew my American Red Cross CPR certification each year.
So on Tuesday evening I showed up for my annual CPR refresher course and exam. The instructor was a really sweet man. A bit gushy - he introduced himself to me twice. He was about my age and was wearing cargo pants with a definite permanent wedgie.
The course was going fine but we began to have doubts when he advised us to keep a teddy bear in the car so we could practice CPR any time we wanted. Hmmm. Then he told us a story about how his "room mate" had saved the life of someone bitten by a black mamba snake. Very useful I am sure but we don't get many black mambas on our lake in New Jersey.
Part of the course was revising how to use an AED - an automated external defibrillator. This involves attaching two pads to the patient's bare chest in order to apply an electric shock. This process really got our man into some interesting areas. He reminded us that, of course, on a woman patient one would need to remove her bra. Fair enough. Then he showed us a glimpse of his hairy chest and pointed out that chest hair would need to be removed, with a dry razor if necessary. "Otherwise the smell can be really bad." Our imagination filled in the rest. Then he really freaked out the class when he reminded us that, if the patient had nipple rings, they would have to be cut off, "Or you might get sparks..." Stunned silence. We thought about that for a minute and then one of the female students asked with a visible shudder, "Cut them off....ummm...how exactly?" This really got our friend going - he discussed different gauges of nipple rings....gold vs stainless steel.....techniques for chopping off the same.... Fascinating stuff.
I just pray that if I ever need to use the AED on one of my teenage female students I won't have to use all my new found knowledge on removal of said rings.
Crossing the Line
Sometimes you don't know where a line is unless you cross it occasionally.
For example, If you are working hard and getting straight A's at school, you won't know how little work you can get away with until you slack off and get some B's.
Or, if you always arrive for work early you won't know how late you could come and still not get noticed by your boss until you push the limits and incur her displeasure occasionally.
That's basically my problem with starting sailboat races. I'm so concerned not to be over the start line that I hardly ever get close enough to it to get a good feel of where it really is. (For non-sailors mystified by this problem, just remember that the start line of a sailing race is an imaginary line on the water between two moored objects which most of the time you can't see when you really need to because of all the other idiots milling around in boats that are in your way. And if you don't start on the line then you will almost certainly have a terrible race).
So my solution is to push the limits in our Wednesday night series. I will be on the line - and even over it a few times - until I get a better feel for how to be just on it.
First race it worked like a dream. The pin end of the line and the left side of the course were favored, and there was a crowd at the pin. I parked a couple of boat lengths to windward of the crowd, reached into the hole at 5 seconds to go and was off in clear air. One of the crowd was over early and most of the rest were gasping for air. Hit the first shift, tacked and led at the windward mark and all round the course. Wow. Is this what I have been missing all these years? Can it really be this easy? How do you spell hubris?
Tried the same approach in the second race. But the boats to leeward of me were closer. I reached over them at the start anyway and was off. Ha!!. Of course I was OCS. The race committee called me over. In returning I fouled one of the other starters. Did a 720. Restarted. The rest of the fleet was already halfway up the beat. Oh well. At least I'm in clear air. Sailed fast and just managed to catch the fleet and ended up second to last. Didn't really mind as I'm resigned to at least one OCS a week while I'm improving my starts.
Last race the wind was swinging right and the extra pressure on the left had disappeared. Got on the line early and luffed by the committee boat. Had a nice hole to accelerate into and was off in clear air. As expected the wind continued to shift right and I was first at the windward mark. This time my luck didn't last as the wind died halfway up the final beat and a couple of boats who had hit the right corner were able to reach into the finish in the light airs and pass me.
All in all a worthwhile experiment and one I shall continue all season. Two great starts and one disastrous one. If I cared about my series scores the end-result wouldn't be much better than my usual string of OK-ish to mediocre starts. (Our scoring system doesn't allow any throwout scores). But that's not the point. I am even proud of my OCS - it shows I am really pushing the line. I think this is going to work.
For example, If you are working hard and getting straight A's at school, you won't know how little work you can get away with until you slack off and get some B's.
Or, if you always arrive for work early you won't know how late you could come and still not get noticed by your boss until you push the limits and incur her displeasure occasionally.
That's basically my problem with starting sailboat races. I'm so concerned not to be over the start line that I hardly ever get close enough to it to get a good feel of where it really is. (For non-sailors mystified by this problem, just remember that the start line of a sailing race is an imaginary line on the water between two moored objects which most of the time you can't see when you really need to because of all the other idiots milling around in boats that are in your way. And if you don't start on the line then you will almost certainly have a terrible race).
So my solution is to push the limits in our Wednesday night series. I will be on the line - and even over it a few times - until I get a better feel for how to be just on it.
First race it worked like a dream. The pin end of the line and the left side of the course were favored, and there was a crowd at the pin. I parked a couple of boat lengths to windward of the crowd, reached into the hole at 5 seconds to go and was off in clear air. One of the crowd was over early and most of the rest were gasping for air. Hit the first shift, tacked and led at the windward mark and all round the course. Wow. Is this what I have been missing all these years? Can it really be this easy? How do you spell hubris?
Tried the same approach in the second race. But the boats to leeward of me were closer. I reached over them at the start anyway and was off. Ha!!. Of course I was OCS. The race committee called me over. In returning I fouled one of the other starters. Did a 720. Restarted. The rest of the fleet was already halfway up the beat. Oh well. At least I'm in clear air. Sailed fast and just managed to catch the fleet and ended up second to last. Didn't really mind as I'm resigned to at least one OCS a week while I'm improving my starts.
Last race the wind was swinging right and the extra pressure on the left had disappeared. Got on the line early and luffed by the committee boat. Had a nice hole to accelerate into and was off in clear air. As expected the wind continued to shift right and I was first at the windward mark. This time my luck didn't last as the wind died halfway up the final beat and a couple of boats who had hit the right corner were able to reach into the finish in the light airs and pass me.
All in all a worthwhile experiment and one I shall continue all season. Two great starts and one disastrous one. If I cared about my series scores the end-result wouldn't be much better than my usual string of OK-ish to mediocre starts. (Our scoring system doesn't allow any throwout scores). But that's not the point. I am even proud of my OCS - it shows I am really pushing the line. I think this is going to work.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Racing Start
The picture above clearly illustrates how important it is to get a good start in a sailing race - and how tough it can be.
How many Lasers can you in the start area in the picture? 35 maybe? And how many are on the start line in the front row? A dozen perhaps? Actually there were 56 boats in that start - some them are so buried that you can't even see them.
So out of 56 boats, over 40 are going to be starting in bad air and are never going to recover from their poor start.The photo was taken of a typical start in the Laser frostbite fleet last winter at Cedar Point Yacht Club, Westport, CT.
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