Now we're back into daylight saving and the evenings are drawing out, the Wednesday evening Hotdog series has started again at South Cerney Sailing Club. Over the winter, I've been racing the Albacore with Amanda; we're going to carry on doing that for the Sunday races across the summer, but we're going to individually race our Lasers on Wednesday evenings.
The forecast was for 15 knots gusting 24 from the north east. I prevaricated all afternoon as to which sail to use. In anything over 20 knots I'm hopelessly overpowered with the Laser's Standard rig, but anything less than 15 and the smaller Radial rig is too dull.
So I took both sails to the club with me and resolved to decide once I was stood on the shore. Forecasts so often over promise the wind you're actually going to get.
And so I found myself stood on the gravel beach, not looking out over the water to judge the gusts, but watching the other Lasers beginning to rig. Ben's rigging his Radial, Suzi has her Radial, there's another Radial and another; ah, there's Kean and Sam, both rigging their Standard sails. That's it then, I can't rig a Radial if they're sailing Sandards. All the Radial sailors are youngsters or women, or both. I'm obviously neither.
I understand the wisdom of reefing early. But wisdom and understanding are two different things. I realised my mistake almost as soon as I put out from shore and the first gust hit. But it's too late to change your mind once you're on the water.
There were 23 boats on the starting line. The first start was pandemonium, a big gust bringing a significant lift and hitting in the finally seconds, driving half the fleet over the line too early. A general recall was triggered from the committee boat, and we all came back to try again.
The restart was a much more ordered affair, and I managed to pick and hold my spot on the starboard end of the line next to the committee boat, guarding just enough space to leeward to give me room to accelerate.
Aside from a slight collision with an Aero barging in and tacking in my water at the windward mark (women drivers!) the first lap went well. It was a good, long beat up to 6 which separated the fleet out nicely, followed by a bit of a tight fetch up to 5, an easy gybe in the shelter of the windward shore and a run up to 4. The broad reach which then followed down the length of the lake to 2 was exhilarating, as was the high speed gybe that followed, then another, slightly closer reach back across to 3, to finally harden back up onto the beat for the second lap.
Which is when my decision to not rig my Radial first bit me. Approaching the mark, just on the tail of the two leading boats (one being the Aero that had earlier hit me), I pulled on the controls ready for the mark rounding and then hiked out as I hardened up sharply around the buoy. Or that's what I thought I was doing.
And a gust flattened me. The boat was heeled too far before I had time to spill the wind, the boom trapped against the water and over she went. I rolled the other way, flipping back over the windward gunwale to land, fortuitously if not too gracefully, on the dagger-board. As I began to right the boat, Sam rounded the mark and sailed on past, calling out a cheerful "Unlucky!" as he went, which I'm sure was earnestly intended.
It was a quick recovery but still allowed the bulk of the middle of the fleet to follow Sam past, leaving me with the rest of the lap to claw my way back through them. Onto the beat for the third lap, I was hiked out hard for a gust, sail spilling the excess wind, boat staying lovely and flat and moving fast, when the gust blew through and the wind simply stopped.
Before I could move my weight back in, the boat was falling back on top of me. I tried to pump the sail as I let the water take my weight through my buoyancy aid, but I'd flattened the sail so much to cope with the heavy weather that there was no power in it.
I can at least say the water is now warming up. Pushing myself out from under the sail and untangling my feet from the mainsheet, I swam around the boat to grab the dagger-board in time to stop her from inverting and set about the recovery as everybody else sailed on past. Again.
The lull that had dropped me in the water was only fleeting, and rather than conditions easing as dusk approached, the gusts became more brutal and sustained. On the last lap, one of them picked me up just as we rounded 4 for the long reach across to 2, the boat singing like a TIE fighter as we screamed across the water in a ball of spray and adrenaline. I could see Sam was now the next boat ahead, by half the length of the leg.
He gybed around 2, still in the grip of the gust, and got flattened. I briefly entertained the thought of going wide to avoid him, but decided there was room between his capsized Laser and the mark, so went for it myself, my boat moving fast as we turned and I flicked the sail.
It was a good gybe. We stayed flat, didn't oversteer, and hiked out hard as the sailed powered up on the opposite side. As we shot past Sam, busy working to right his own capsized dinghy, I called out a cheerful "Unlucky!", earnestly intended.
I finished 10th after handicap, which isn't the best start to the series, but better than I deserved. I should've rigged the Radial, but signed on with the Standard handicap, which I now know was an option, but hadn't realised at the time. But I had some stupid fun moments, especially on the reaches, where we topped out at 11.5 knots, which is entertaining when you're sailing along with your backside mere inches from the surface of the water.
The Safety Boat was kept very busy, with a second boat and crew conscripted to assist as there were so many people in the water rather than on it. Of the 23 boats that started, 4 didn't finish. Of the Laser fleet, I finished 3rd, soundly beaten by half a minute on adjusted time a youngster in a 4.7 (the smallest of the Laser's three optional rigs) and young Ben with his Radial by close to a minute and a half.
I have some catching up to do. Which is fine, it's a long, long series ahead of us.
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