It's Blog Action Day, a day for bloggers around the web to unite in writing about a single important issue - the environment.
The last time I tried to stir up some interest among my readers about climate change it generated a healthy debate in the comments. So this time I'll try not to piss of too many readers.
All of us who live near the coast and especially those of us who set sail on the high seas surely have an interest in storms, and especially in hurricanes. The question as to how global warming will affect hurricanes is still a topic of active debate in the scientific community.
On one side of the argument, climate scientists using sophisticated computer models are finding evidence that warmer seas will fuel more intense (but perhaps not more frequent) hurricanes. On the other side, some weather forecasters who specialize in hurricanes say those climate models are inherently unreliable, and that the data to demonstrate such a connection just doesn't exist.
I've just finished reading Storm World: Hurricanes, Politics, and the Battle Over Global Warming by Chris Mooney, an excellent overview of this whole issue. If you care about the topic and want to become better informed you should read this book.
Oops. Did I do the right thing for the environment? How many extra trees are going to be felled when all my readers rush out and buy the book?
Tell you what. Do what I did. Borrow it from the local library.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Strine
I'm not very good at foreign languages so can someone please answer the following question for me...
If a British sailor on starboard tack on a beat is on a potential collision course with a port-tacker he will hail, "Starboard!" when a few boat-lengths away to let the port-tacker know he is there.
I discovered at the Laser Masters Worlds that, in similar circumstances, an Australian sailor will shout something that sounds like,
What the hell is he saying?
If a British sailor on starboard tack on a beat is on a potential collision course with a port-tacker he will hail, "Starboard!" when a few boat-lengths away to let the port-tacker know he is there.
I discovered at the Laser Masters Worlds that, in similar circumstances, an Australian sailor will shout something that sounds like,
"Aaaaaeeeuurrrggaaaarrrrghhhh!!!!"
What the hell is he saying?
Sunday, October 14, 2007
It's Not All About Winning
One of the cool things about this sailing blogging nonsense is the interesting stuff that comes back in the comments to some of my posts. The feedback can give me a whole new perspective on some aspect of the game, especially how to approach it mentally.
So thanks to the folk who left comments on my post on Friday about how to assess my performance at a major regatta and whether or not a score relative to the rest of the fleet was a good indicator of progress or not.
I liked the analogy by the ubiquitous anonymous commenter to the measurement of business performance. To paraphrase what he or she said (and maybe to twist it a bit)... what's the point of worrying about something you can't measure such as your actual absolute level of racing skills? At the end of the day we judge racing skills by how we do in races relative to other sailors. So "pick a metric and stick to it". Sounds good to me. I went up the Worlds fleet so that's all that matters.
From a totally different perspective, Tim asks, "Did you enjoy it?" Well, yes I did, Tim. A hell of a lot. Thanks for asking.
But would I have enjoyed it as much if I had been last in every race? Probably not. So doing well relative to the other sailors is one factor in whether a regatta is enjoyable, but not the only one. So many other things contribute to having fun at an event like that.
The two perspectives for assessing performance, "stick to the metric" and "did you enjoy it?" remind me of conversations I had with a fellow sailor from another fleet at the Masters Worlds...
Before the races started he asked me, "So, are you going to win?"
My reply was, "Oh no. I'm just here to have fun."
He answered something to the effect of, "Yes. But winning is fun."
I'm sure it is. And to be fair he had a much more realistic chance of winning his fleet than I had.
After the regatta was over I bumped into him again. I knew that he had had single digit finishes all week, and had a great chance of placing in the top three in his fleet if he could keep it up on the final day.
"So how did things go today?" I asked him.
Looking a bit despondent he moaned, "Ugh. A learning experience." He didn't look like he was having fun.
So everything's relative. If we do well compared to our expectations we feel good about it.
As I write this, the two contenders for the US Laser Olympic spot for 2008, Brad Funk and Andrew Campbell, are tied on points after the 16 race selection trials. The regatta is over and they are in the protest room with protests against each other. It will all be decided in the room. One goes to China. One goes home after several years of hard work. It's a tough sport at times.
Update: It's over. Campbell won the Trials.
So thanks to the folk who left comments on my post on Friday about how to assess my performance at a major regatta and whether or not a score relative to the rest of the fleet was a good indicator of progress or not.
I liked the analogy by the ubiquitous anonymous commenter to the measurement of business performance. To paraphrase what he or she said (and maybe to twist it a bit)... what's the point of worrying about something you can't measure such as your actual absolute level of racing skills? At the end of the day we judge racing skills by how we do in races relative to other sailors. So "pick a metric and stick to it". Sounds good to me. I went up the Worlds fleet so that's all that matters.
From a totally different perspective, Tim asks, "Did you enjoy it?" Well, yes I did, Tim. A hell of a lot. Thanks for asking.
But would I have enjoyed it as much if I had been last in every race? Probably not. So doing well relative to the other sailors is one factor in whether a regatta is enjoyable, but not the only one. So many other things contribute to having fun at an event like that.
The two perspectives for assessing performance, "stick to the metric" and "did you enjoy it?" remind me of conversations I had with a fellow sailor from another fleet at the Masters Worlds...
Before the races started he asked me, "So, are you going to win?"
My reply was, "Oh no. I'm just here to have fun."
He answered something to the effect of, "Yes. But winning is fun."
I'm sure it is. And to be fair he had a much more realistic chance of winning his fleet than I had.
After the regatta was over I bumped into him again. I knew that he had had single digit finishes all week, and had a great chance of placing in the top three in his fleet if he could keep it up on the final day.
"So how did things go today?" I asked him.
Looking a bit despondent he moaned, "Ugh. A learning experience." He didn't look like he was having fun.
So everything's relative. If we do well compared to our expectations we feel good about it.
As I write this, the two contenders for the US Laser Olympic spot for 2008, Brad Funk and Andrew Campbell, are tied on points after the 16 race selection trials. The regatta is over and they are in the protest room with protests against each other. It will all be decided in the room. One goes to China. One goes home after several years of hard work. It's a tough sport at times.
Update: It's over. Campbell won the Trials.
Mommy Boats Redux
Back in June I wrote a post on Mommy Boats, heaping scorn on the increasingly common practice of sailors' at major Laser regattas having assistance from personal coaches on support boats. (Before, between and after the races of course. Outside assistance during races would be against the rules.)
There were even some sailors with Mommy Boats at the Masters Worlds in Spain. I wonder if that's the right name though? If older sailors have Mommy Boats shouldn't they be called Grandma Boats?
Anyway, the debate on this topic rages on in two threads on the Laser Forum and Sailing Anarchy. Both threads are mildly amusing if only for the insight they give into the mysterious ways in which some people's minds work and how they attempt to debate an issue like this. Where do people learn the rules of rational argument these days? Have they all been watching too much cable TV?
Can you spot which participants in these threads...
There were even some sailors with Mommy Boats at the Masters Worlds in Spain. I wonder if that's the right name though? If older sailors have Mommy Boats shouldn't they be called Grandma Boats?
Anyway, the debate on this topic rages on in two threads on the Laser Forum and Sailing Anarchy. Both threads are mildly amusing if only for the insight they give into the mysterious ways in which some people's minds work and how they attempt to debate an issue like this. Where do people learn the rules of rational argument these days? Have they all been watching too much cable TV?
Can you spot which participants in these threads...
- really want to improve the sport
- are wannabe lawyers
- are still in third grade (or at least their debating and grammar skills haven't progressed since they were in third grade)
- are just trolls trying to be provocative
- are off their medications?
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Where is Tillerman?
Conversation between two Laser sailors on the water between races at Roses...
American Sailor: Have you noticed that the guy who writes that Tillerman blog seems to do exactly the same regattas as you?
Me: Yes. Isn't that strange? Wonder if he's here?
American Sailor: Have you noticed that the guy who writes that Tillerman blog seems to do exactly the same regattas as you?
Me: Yes. Isn't that strange? Wonder if he's here?
Friday, October 12, 2007
Faster?
How do we know whether our sailboat racing skills are improving or not?
Sailing is not like a sport such as running, say. If I run a marathon one year in 5 hours and then the following year, in similar conditions, I run it in 4 hours and 20 minutes, I can legitimately say that I am running faster.
But in sailing, we can only assess our racing performance by looking at how we compare to our competition. Are we moving up the fleet or down? The problem is that often we are not racing against exactly the same people at every regatta. And their skills may be changing too. So how do we know how we are doing?
For example, I moved up from about 75% of the way down the Grand Master fleet at the Laser Worlds in 2003 to the top half of the fleet in 2007. Why? What could be the possible explanations? I can think of three...
1. Luck. There sure is a large element of luck in sailboat racing. But in a long regatta (nine races over six days in a variety of wind conditions in this case) does luck even out? Are the final rankings determined by luck or are they a good indicator of the sailors' true abilities?
There was an interesting article in the Boston Globe this weekend by Bill James, the famous baseball statistician. He discussed the relative importance of predetermination and randomness (roughly the same as ability and luck) in deciding which team will win in various professional sports. His argument was that no league will thrive if either factor is too dominant. If the same team always wins the league then the players' motivation and team spirit are weakened. On the other hand if the outcome of the competition is a total crapshoot then why should the players try hard at all?
Where does sailing fall on this continuum? It's certainly true that the outcome of any given race can be pretty random. But over a season or a long regatta the same sailors always seem to rise to the top of the scoreboard.
So maybe I got lucky. But I like to think not. In any case, a world champion sailor once told me, "Good sailors make their own luck."
2. The fleet was weaker in 2007 than 2003. If true, that would certainly explain my better result in 2007. But it is pretty insulting to my fellow competitors in 2007 to assume this explanation. I've looked through the names in the two fleets in both years and although some of the leaders are the same it's a very different cast of characters further down the fleet. (Of course in a fleet that is for sailors of ages 55 to 64, there's bound to be a lot of turnover in four years anyway.)
I can see that one sailor right next to me this year was way ahead of me in 2003. But what does that prove? He might be much slower than he used to be.
So it's tough to know whether there is any truth in the "whole fleet is slower" hypothesis or not. However, both regattas were in Spain at almost exactly the same time of the year, so you would expect them to attract a similar crowd of sailors.
3. I'm sailing better in 2007 than 2003. I'd like to believe this. But what was different? Why should I be any better? Sounds like the subject of another post to me.
So what do you think? How should we assess individual progress in this crazy sport? How do you know if you are sailing faster and smarter or slower and dumber.
Sailing is not like a sport such as running, say. If I run a marathon one year in 5 hours and then the following year, in similar conditions, I run it in 4 hours and 20 minutes, I can legitimately say that I am running faster.
But in sailing, we can only assess our racing performance by looking at how we compare to our competition. Are we moving up the fleet or down? The problem is that often we are not racing against exactly the same people at every regatta. And their skills may be changing too. So how do we know how we are doing?
For example, I moved up from about 75% of the way down the Grand Master fleet at the Laser Worlds in 2003 to the top half of the fleet in 2007. Why? What could be the possible explanations? I can think of three...
1. Luck. There sure is a large element of luck in sailboat racing. But in a long regatta (nine races over six days in a variety of wind conditions in this case) does luck even out? Are the final rankings determined by luck or are they a good indicator of the sailors' true abilities?
There was an interesting article in the Boston Globe this weekend by Bill James, the famous baseball statistician. He discussed the relative importance of predetermination and randomness (roughly the same as ability and luck) in deciding which team will win in various professional sports. His argument was that no league will thrive if either factor is too dominant. If the same team always wins the league then the players' motivation and team spirit are weakened. On the other hand if the outcome of the competition is a total crapshoot then why should the players try hard at all?
Where does sailing fall on this continuum? It's certainly true that the outcome of any given race can be pretty random. But over a season or a long regatta the same sailors always seem to rise to the top of the scoreboard.
So maybe I got lucky. But I like to think not. In any case, a world champion sailor once told me, "Good sailors make their own luck."
2. The fleet was weaker in 2007 than 2003. If true, that would certainly explain my better result in 2007. But it is pretty insulting to my fellow competitors in 2007 to assume this explanation. I've looked through the names in the two fleets in both years and although some of the leaders are the same it's a very different cast of characters further down the fleet. (Of course in a fleet that is for sailors of ages 55 to 64, there's bound to be a lot of turnover in four years anyway.)
I can see that one sailor right next to me this year was way ahead of me in 2003. But what does that prove? He might be much slower than he used to be.
So it's tough to know whether there is any truth in the "whole fleet is slower" hypothesis or not. However, both regattas were in Spain at almost exactly the same time of the year, so you would expect them to attract a similar crowd of sailors.
3. I'm sailing better in 2007 than 2003. I'd like to believe this. But what was different? Why should I be any better? Sounds like the subject of another post to me.
So what do you think? How should we assess individual progress in this crazy sport? How do you know if you are sailing faster and smarter or slower and dumber.
Fish on Fridays
There's nothing quite like good old English fish and chips and mushy peas. But when I'm in Spain I always make sure to enjoy a plate of grilled sardines.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Semi-respectable Mediocrity
Looking back now on the 2007 Laser Masters Worlds last week in Roses, Spain the races are a blurred confusion in my mind. Some good starts and some bad. Some times I chose the right side of the course and some times I didn't. When I could find a clear lane upwind I was fast; except when I wasn't. All the mark roundings were crowded and some times I gained places with smart tactical moves and other times I didn't.
So instead of a tack by tack summary here is how it went down day by day...
Thursday. Arrive in Roses. The Tramontana is blowing from the north at over 25 mph, the bay is covered in whitecaps, and there is sand in the air everywhere. Nobody is sailing. Yikes.
Friday. Register. Collect charter boat. Complain to Laser dealer about warped trailing edges on foils. No sympathy. He won't fix them. Get measured. All good. No wind. Have lunch with Tillerwoman in restaurant at the marina. Light wind springs up. Go yotting for an hour or so. Life is good.
Saturday. Day of practice race. Going well upwind. Seem to have better boatspeed than a lot of the fleet. Course is shortened but I score a 13th in what would be a 75 boat fleet if everyone were racing. Means nothing of course, but it does wonders for my confidence.
Sunday. First real day of racing. Over 15 knots of wind from ESE with nice rollers. First race I'm in the 20's and second race in the 40's. Hmmm. Maybe there's a chance this time of achieving my long-standing goal of finishing in the top half of the fleet at a Worlds?
Monday. Weird pain in my back this morning. Similar winds to yesterday. Similar results too. First scores posted show me as 35th out of 75. Definitely in top half of fleet. While I'm standing at the notice board someone comes out of the race office and posts some revised results. Now I'm 36th. Yikes. I need to get away from here. I'm going downhill just standing around.
Tuesday. Weird pain in my back has gone away. Hiking hard in 15+ knots must be good for the back. Lighter winds today and more from the east. Again I score one race in the 40's and one in the 20's though this time my second race is the better one. But overall placing drops to 40th. Now I'm below the mid-point of the fleet. How did that happen?
Wednesday. No wind but luckily it's a lay day. Just for a change I take Tillerwoman on a boat ride to Cadaques. Salvador Dali slept here.
Thursday. Unstable light winds from the east. Long day on the water waiting for wind. Postponed starts. Fleets going before us having abandoned races. Our fleet finally get one race in late in the afternoon and I can do no better than 40th. But my overall ranking goes up to 38th. Go figure.
Friday. Another frustrating day of variable and shifty winds from the east(ish). Lot of waiting around. Finally they get a race started for our fleet and I'm doing really well. Top 15 at the first mark but on the second beat the race is abandoned as the wind gives up the ghost altogether.
Lots of time to work out how I'm going to spin a 38th placing on the blog. Top of the bottom half? Only half a point below the mid-point of the fleet? If this were being used for a gold-silver fleet split I would make the gold fleet as they always put the extra boat in gold? Hmmm. Not a good place to finish the regatta though.
Saturday. Last day of the regatta. One more chance for redemption. The wind is from the east. No, it's gone to the west. No wait, now it's coming in from the north. Eventually it settles to an off-shore northerly around 10 knots with stronger puffs. The first windward mark is close in to the shore just downwind of a mountain. Flat water with lots of shifts and puffs. Great. This is just like the inland lake sailing I know so well. I turn in a couple of finishes in the 20's, my best day of the regatta and surely enough to place me in the top half?
As the closing ceremonies and prize-giving commence on shore they still haven't posted the results of our fleet. As the speeches of thanks from the various functionaries drone on I keep pacing from the ceremony to the notice board and back. Eventually the results are posted. Yes! I did it! A place or two above the mid-point and I finally can say that I have progressed from perennial no-hoper to the giddy heights of semi-respectable mediocrity.
So instead of a tack by tack summary here is how it went down day by day...
Thursday. Arrive in Roses. The Tramontana is blowing from the north at over 25 mph, the bay is covered in whitecaps, and there is sand in the air everywhere. Nobody is sailing. Yikes.
Friday. Register. Collect charter boat. Complain to Laser dealer about warped trailing edges on foils. No sympathy. He won't fix them. Get measured. All good. No wind. Have lunch with Tillerwoman in restaurant at the marina. Light wind springs up. Go yotting for an hour or so. Life is good.
Saturday. Day of practice race. Going well upwind. Seem to have better boatspeed than a lot of the fleet. Course is shortened but I score a 13th in what would be a 75 boat fleet if everyone were racing. Means nothing of course, but it does wonders for my confidence.
Sunday. First real day of racing. Over 15 knots of wind from ESE with nice rollers. First race I'm in the 20's and second race in the 40's. Hmmm. Maybe there's a chance this time of achieving my long-standing goal of finishing in the top half of the fleet at a Worlds?
Monday. Weird pain in my back this morning. Similar winds to yesterday. Similar results too. First scores posted show me as 35th out of 75. Definitely in top half of fleet. While I'm standing at the notice board someone comes out of the race office and posts some revised results. Now I'm 36th. Yikes. I need to get away from here. I'm going downhill just standing around.
Tuesday. Weird pain in my back has gone away. Hiking hard in 15+ knots must be good for the back. Lighter winds today and more from the east. Again I score one race in the 40's and one in the 20's though this time my second race is the better one. But overall placing drops to 40th. Now I'm below the mid-point of the fleet. How did that happen?
Wednesday. No wind but luckily it's a lay day. Just for a change I take Tillerwoman on a boat ride to Cadaques. Salvador Dali slept here.
Thursday. Unstable light winds from the east. Long day on the water waiting for wind. Postponed starts. Fleets going before us having abandoned races. Our fleet finally get one race in late in the afternoon and I can do no better than 40th. But my overall ranking goes up to 38th. Go figure.
Friday. Another frustrating day of variable and shifty winds from the east(ish). Lot of waiting around. Finally they get a race started for our fleet and I'm doing really well. Top 15 at the first mark but on the second beat the race is abandoned as the wind gives up the ghost altogether.
Lots of time to work out how I'm going to spin a 38th placing on the blog. Top of the bottom half? Only half a point below the mid-point of the fleet? If this were being used for a gold-silver fleet split I would make the gold fleet as they always put the extra boat in gold? Hmmm. Not a good place to finish the regatta though.
Saturday. Last day of the regatta. One more chance for redemption. The wind is from the east. No, it's gone to the west. No wait, now it's coming in from the north. Eventually it settles to an off-shore northerly around 10 knots with stronger puffs. The first windward mark is close in to the shore just downwind of a mountain. Flat water with lots of shifts and puffs. Great. This is just like the inland lake sailing I know so well. I turn in a couple of finishes in the 20's, my best day of the regatta and surely enough to place me in the top half?
As the closing ceremonies and prize-giving commence on shore they still haven't posted the results of our fleet. As the speeches of thanks from the various functionaries drone on I keep pacing from the ceremony to the notice board and back. Eventually the results are posted. Yes! I did it! A place or two above the mid-point and I finally can say that I have progressed from perennial no-hoper to the giddy heights of semi-respectable mediocrity.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Mission Accomplished
I did it!
It took me 26 years of Laser sailing, 16 years of Sunfish sailing, 7 World Championships attended (3 Sunfish and 4 Laser Masters) in 5 different countries on 3 continents, but I finally achieved my goal of finishing in the top half of the fleet at a World Championship.
Phew!
Not such a great achievement you might say. True. But not all of us are naturals at the sport we choose. And I have been banging away for years trying to raise my game to this level so I feel a moderate sense of accomplishment in having actually made it.
I first wrote about The Goal over a year ago. At that time it was anticipated that the 2007 Laser Masters Worlds would be in Portugal but in December it was announced that they would be held in Roses in Spain. No problem. Different place, same goal: finish in the top half of the fleet.
At my first world championship, the Sunfish Worlds in 1996 in the Dominican Republic I actually finished 102 out of 111 boats in one race. That's a pretty depressing sight, to see 101 boats cross the finish line in front of you. Why didn't I realize then that I had no talent for this sport and give up? I dunno.
Then at the three previous Laser Masters Worlds in which I raced (Cancun 2000, Hyannis 2002 and Cadiz 2003) I had never been able to score better than around 75% of the way down the fleet. Finished every race, beat the tailenders, but I was always one of those back-of-the-fleet guys.
To be honest I wasn't all that confident I would do any better in Roses. In spite of writing here about my Commitment to do better in the 2007 Worlds, I didn't feel that I had done as much practice as I should have or worked enough on my fitness. (Hmmm. Maybe it would be more honest to say I didn't really work on my fitness at all?)
But in the end it all came together OK. I made the top half of the fleet. Not by much to be sure but I definitely moved off that 75-percentile plateau and can start to think about clawing my way even further up the fleet in future years.
Thanks to those readers who left comments on various posts encouraging me in this quest and persuading me that my modest goal was still a worthy one.
Tomorrow (if I can find the energy) an excruciatingly boring day-by-day race-by-race account of how Tillerman clung on by his fingertips to the midway mark of the fleet through a six day regatta, slipping back some days, making gains on others.
A post which only his mother would find of interest.
Pity she doesn't ever use the Internet or even know what a blog is.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Most Multitudinous
Just arrived back from Spain after sailing in what was apparently the largest Laser regatta ever in the history of the planet. 419 sailors from 33 countries in 6 continents raced in the 2007 Laser Masters Worlds in Roses, Spain... and it was claimed that never before had so many Lasers ever competed in a single regatta.
Of course we didn't all start on one line together. There were two separate race areas for the Radial and Standard Rig competitors. And on each course, the different age group fleets had separate starts. I sailed in the oldest Standard Rig fleet for the crazy geriatrics over 55. There were 75 competitors in that fleet including, according to one competitor's tally, 7 former World Masters Champions.
Roses is in the Spanish region of Catalonia, on the Mediterranean, and quite close to the French border. It's a charming historic fishing port and relaxed resort town without the brashness of some Spanish holiday destinations on the Costa Brava. My wife was able to enjoy exploring the town and surrounding countryside while I was out on the water beating myself up trying not to be too far back in that 75-boat fleet. Then every evening we would head off to some different restaurant on the sea-front or winding back streets and alleys of Roses. (Hmmm, I forgot to take any photos of our meals for my Fish on Fridays feature.)
Winds were varied and generally cooperative. We started off with a couple of days of 12-20 knot breezes from the south-east with 4 foot waves, and then had around 8-10 knots on the third day. The fourth and fifth days were much lighter and frustrating but we finished the regatta with a bang on Saturday with an off-shore northerly breeze of 10-15 knots on flatter water with plenty of shifts and puffs. With a couple of practice days and a lay day that added up to eight days of Laser sailing in nine days. Magic!
All in all, taking into account the location, the variety of winds, the organization, the size and strength of the fleets, I'd say it was the best of the four Laser Masters Worlds that I have attended. As the quirky English translation of a regatta press release had it, this was the "most multitudinous Laser regatta ever." I was glad to be there and to be part of Lasering history.
Upcoming posts (if I can find the energy) on how I did in the regatta, all the mistakes I made, what (if anything) helped in my preparation, and what next.
Of course we didn't all start on one line together. There were two separate race areas for the Radial and Standard Rig competitors. And on each course, the different age group fleets had separate starts. I sailed in the oldest Standard Rig fleet for the crazy geriatrics over 55. There were 75 competitors in that fleet including, according to one competitor's tally, 7 former World Masters Champions.
Roses is in the Spanish region of Catalonia, on the Mediterranean, and quite close to the French border. It's a charming historic fishing port and relaxed resort town without the brashness of some Spanish holiday destinations on the Costa Brava. My wife was able to enjoy exploring the town and surrounding countryside while I was out on the water beating myself up trying not to be too far back in that 75-boat fleet. Then every evening we would head off to some different restaurant on the sea-front or winding back streets and alleys of Roses. (Hmmm, I forgot to take any photos of our meals for my Fish on Fridays feature.)
Winds were varied and generally cooperative. We started off with a couple of days of 12-20 knot breezes from the south-east with 4 foot waves, and then had around 8-10 knots on the third day. The fourth and fifth days were much lighter and frustrating but we finished the regatta with a bang on Saturday with an off-shore northerly breeze of 10-15 knots on flatter water with plenty of shifts and puffs. With a couple of practice days and a lay day that added up to eight days of Laser sailing in nine days. Magic!
All in all, taking into account the location, the variety of winds, the organization, the size and strength of the fleets, I'd say it was the best of the four Laser Masters Worlds that I have attended. As the quirky English translation of a regatta press release had it, this was the "most multitudinous Laser regatta ever." I was glad to be there and to be part of Lasering history.
Upcoming posts (if I can find the energy) on how I did in the regatta, all the mistakes I made, what (if anything) helped in my preparation, and what next.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)