Connecting the Lulls

I watched my team have some very frustrating races in a fleet racing regatta on Saturday.  The wind built through the day from about 5 knots to 14 knots, but conditions remained shifty and puffy all day.  Everyone had some trouble with the shifts, finding themselves on the wrong side of them way too often, but the best teams seemed to do a good job of finding the puffs.  Sailing in the puffs was routinely 10% faster and occasionally 50% faster than sailing in the lulls.  Although it was difficult to stay in a puff for very long, even downwind, those who connected the puffs the best were consistently ahead of those who didn’t.

As I watched our best skipper and crew have two uncharacteristically bad races, I wondered how they could be in the wrong place at the wrong time so often.  We’ve all had races like that, but twice in a row? – particularly after 4 solid races at the top of the fleet.  Like most bad races, they began with a poor start.  With as little as two feet to as much as a whole boat length off the line at the gun, there was a guarantee of sailing in dirty air for the first minute or two.  With few opportunities to find clear air, our sailors were stuck in disturbed air until those ahead eked out bigger leads or got a puff and took off. 

I always try to be optimistic about eventually getting clear air, but the truth is there is always a lot of work to do after giving the others a head start.  Fortunately, in lake sailing, the shifts and puffs provide opportunities to gain back the distance lost with a poor start.  Unfortunately, those ahead have the best chance to get those shifts and puffs first.  I’m not sure what our sailors were thinking, but they seemed to forget the concept of “connecting the puffs.”  Even the mid-fleet boats were getting some of the puffs while our team seemed to remain in the lighter spots.  At one point, a mid-fleet boat capsized in a big puff, righted the boat, and remained ahead of our team.

I do not always keep my cool in these instances, and in our post-race debriefing, I told the kids they “did a remarkable job of connecting the lulls.”  I added, “With all the puffs out there, it’s hard to believe you avoided so many of them.”  They thought I was mean.  I thought I failed to give the needed encouragement in a difficult situation.  I could have at least offered the cliché, “Keep your head out of the boat,” but all concerned were just too disappointed to think clearly.

How did it all go wrong?  With a little time to reflect, I think connecting the lulls was caused by a combination of impatience and confusing lulls with headers.  When other boats were sailing higher and faster in the puffs, it was hard to accept that their puffs might soon subside or their wind might shift and remember that the best we could do was sail to the next puff within our own reach.  The lull started to feel like a header (a boat going slowly can’t point as high as a boat going faster), so there was an irresistible temptation to tack.  That subsequent tack in the lull was very laborious and after completing it, the sailors found themselves still going low and slow.  Having completely lost sight of finding a puff, they thought, “It must be another header!” and they desperately tacked again.  Instead of sailing through the lull toward more wind, they ended up spending needless time in the lull.  With a little patience and clarity, they might have spotted the next puff and sailed toward it.  Instead, by doing a couple of lengthy tacks in the lull, they insured that the only puff they would get would be one that found them.  The puffs did not find them.

yarg

Sailing as a Spectator Sport

Like many avid sailors, I would love to see sailing become a more popular (probably too strong a word) spectator sport.

As a high school coach, I get to watch a lot of races from the water, but that is an opportunity limited to a few, and very limited by your position near or on the course and freedom to move around. I was on a spectator boat at the America’s Cup (back in the 80’s when it was in Newport, RI) and saw very little of the race. I was on a mark boat at the Laser Olympic trials and saw lots of windward mark roundings and nothing else. In coaching team racing, I am usually on the start boat or the finish boat, and from either perspective, I miss some of the action. It seems that short of having access to a helicopter, competitive sailing is usually just too hard to see to get a real sense of the overall sport.

Non-sailors compare watching sailing to watching paint dry…

(This is actually gel coat, which might be more interesting than standard paint. Is it going to cover? Will the sprayer spit all over the work or coat it evenly? Did I put in enough catalyst to make it dry or will it stay sticky forever? Fascinating, once you get into it! Sort of like sailing?)
 
The Extreme 40 racing series is trying to change all that. They have come to Boston this the Fourth of July weekend for Act IV of their series, and in my view, they are making it work. How?

• Fast boats – 40 foot catamarans that can really fly – at least one pontoon at a time.
• Large boats – visible from a considerable distance away.
• Differentiation between boats – unique and colorful graphics on the sails.
• Possibility of crashes – who doesn’t like a good NASCAR wreck?
• Expert sailors – much scrambling around and perfect spinnaker sets every time.
• Short races and many of them – about 20 minutes apiece – 43 races in five days at their last stop.
• Knowledgable and entertaining play by play commentary over a loudspeaker – identifying the players, explaining the courses and sailing tactics, and generating crowd enthusiasm.
• And the really critical factor, stadium viewing – the race is as close to shore as possible and bleacher seating is available. You can finally see the whole race, not just a couple of boats for a small part of the course!

Yesterday at Fan Pier, the wind was up and down and very shifty. (Being close to shore probably ensures this some degree even if the wind isn’t shifty in general.) For catamarans that can go from zero to full speed in about five boat lengths but can find themselves practically in irons during an almost perfect tack, being in the wind is everything. Consequently, the racing is very exciting with surprising and dramatic changes in position. Even with world class sailors in shifty conditions, it is nearly impossible to be consistently in the front. In consecutive races, there was a lot of movement from first to nearly last and vice versa.

I’ve seen a couple other instances and venues where it all works as a spectator sport. The world team race championship held on the shores of Newport a few years ago was similarly great viewing and exciting racing. Events held at MIT are close to shore on the Charles River and the roof deck of the boat house provides just enough height to see the entire race. Although I’ve never been there, the Hinman team race event in England reportedly provides stadium sailing better than anywhere else and draws crowds that pack the grandstands year in and year out.

Newport Team Racing Championship

Charles River Regatta

For me, all of these examples make sailing more viewer friendly than the highly touted America’s Cup which is progressively becoming more about politics, technical feats, and money than sailing. Maybe the new graphics with NFL style yellow lines on the field will help next time around. Like most other sailors, I will be watching the televised drama, but in comparison to attending the Extreme 40 racing, the viewing portion of the spectacle will be like watching gel coat dry.

yarg

The Path to FAIRNESS

The recent talk on Tillerman’s blog and discussion on the Laser Forum mark another milestone down a new road for laser sailing and perhaps a new understanding of the term “one design.” The old laser map to FAIRNESS directed us down one of two over priced toll roads (New Jersey Turnpike and Garden State Parkway), but the sailors’ free market, global positioning systems have recalculated and shown us another road. The new road is getting a lot of traffic, perhaps most of it, but there seems to be a question about whether both the old and the new are headed to the same FAIRNESS. One FAIRNESS is in the state of supplier to customer relationships, and the other is in the state of competitor to competitor relationships. I believe that they are sister cities, Minneapolis and St. Paul, Boston and Cambridge.
I contend that both roads will lead you to fairness among competitors. Despite the highway confusion, I think laser sailing is as fair and equal as any sailing, except for the influence of those damn #@*&^% mommy boats. I also think that the free market is more effective than the class rules in keeping it that way.

I don’t mean to promote a free market like some damn #@*&^% Republican politician with tunnel vision. Instead, I mean to encourage equity in the context of a little guy vs. big guy, David vs. Goliath story.

When it comes to sails, Big Laser has used its monopolistic position to exploit its customers for a long time now. They sell a lousy product (mediocre, at best) for a ridiculously high price, a combination of planned obsolescence and authoritarian pricing that would make any damn #@*&^% super-capitalist proud. To the customers, it seems like extortion. To Big Laser, it may just be making a living and keeping the wheels of business turning. After all, they are sailors and boat builders, not damn #@*&^% Wall Street bankers. I like to think that they did not anticipate that the requirement to use overly-expensive sails would come to undermine the universally acclaimed goal of fairness. BUT IT HAS. Many sailors can not or will not spend what it takes to keep up with those who have unlimited budgets. Do the class rules help even the playing field? Not so far.

Thankfully, the free market has allowed a young upstart like Jim Meyers at Intensity sails to jump in, make a living for himself, and fulfill a need in the marketplace. (Cue America the Beautiful in a medley with the Chinese national anthem – that’s where the sails are actually made.) From my talks with Jim, I understand his business to be mostly a response to overpriced products he finds in the market, most notably the class legal Laser sail. By giving us more bang for our buck, he is leading us to FAIRNESS in the state of supplier to customer relationships. He is giving us the same product for one third the price, complete with prompt and friendly service.

But is it really the same product? It sure seems to be. Jim says it is as close to the North sail as possible. (The North cloth is proprietary, so he uses the closest product he can find, which seems to be slightly more durable.) Sailors don’t seem to be finding any competitive differences. Although Intensity makes no claims about this, it seems to me that with its sails, we maintain FAIRNESS in the state of competitor to competitor relationships.

For several years now, more and more Intensity sails have been used for local club racing - to the chagrin of Big Laser (as I discussed last year). Tillerman reports that Cedar Point has altered their sailing instructions to include them. I did the same for our local regatta three years ago. In the two places I sail most frequently, there are far more Intensity sails on the water than North sails. I suspect that in the fleet as a whole in our local club there are at least five Intensity sails for each North sail. I wonder what percentage of North sail owners also have an Intensity sail or two.

The market is shouting its approval of equal or better products at lower prices. And the shout is increasing in intensity. (Pun intended.) Intensity sails will be seen more and more at bigger regattas. Is anyone going to complain that those of us in the middle (I wish) to the back of the pack are using them? Will we be asked to leave? (So far, I have been non-confrontational and have used my North sail at Regattas, even though I might do better with a newer Intensity.) Does anyone really think that the $180 sail has an advantage over the $563 sail? I think the only advantage is a new sail versus an old sail. If we could buy sails for $180, everyone would be more likely to have a new sail, and therefore a more level playing field. The rules say buying a $180 sail instead of a $563 sail is cheating, but common sense and the marketplace know that FAIRNESS is not the operative concept here.

The consternation over all this will continue to go on for a number of years, but the market forces will eventually win out in some way. The Intensity Laser class will thrive at the local and regional level, and we’ll all have fun and FAIR sailing. Big Laser will have to decide if it wants a separate class for world class and Olympic sailors or whether it should make some compromises to keep it all together. Assuming that those who make the rules and set the prices want to keep it all together, why are taking so long to do something about it?

Communication with the Race Committee

Last weekend I was at a regatta, and before the first race, I asked the Race Committee to confirm my understanding of the course. Their response was to point to a placard and say “course 6.” Well, that was helpful. If I had known what course 6 was, I wouldn’t have been asking the question. I realize I was a dolt for not having committed the 7 different courses in the sailing instructions to memory. I was even more foolish for deciding that there‘s no good way to carry reading material on a laser. And I was an irresponsible competitor to have tried to depend on the kindness of strangers to explain what had already been explained clearly enough in those sailing instructions next to the regatta tee shirt in my car. Clearly I deserved to be punished.

Needless to say, I was. The convergence of my reckless negligence with the unlikely good fortune to be leading the first race led to the inevitable tragedy of my snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. To finish the course, I managed to sail upwind back to the start line, while the competitors way behind me sailed to the real finish line which it turns out was not nearly so far upwind. While sailing to the “correct” side of the course, I succeeded in sailing around the real finish by so far that I didn’t even see it. Subsequently returning to the real finish, I recorded a 5 and was grateful for the small laser turnout for the regatta.

I get it - understanding all the sailing instructions is part of racing. But really! Is it too much to ask the race committee to explain their unique course designations to a visitor?

This all leads to the general question of how much the Race Committee should communicate with the sailors. At pre-race skippers’ meetings, it has been standard practice for years for the PRO to answer questions with the magic, unhelpful phrase “refer to the sailing instructions.” This has always impressed me as being unfriendly, if not arrogant. It suggests a tone of seriousness or gravity that is contrary to the expectations of most of the sailors I know. For most of us, this is supposed to be fun.
“Refer to the sailing instructions” sounds like homework, when we are looking for recess.

I realize that the thinking is that the PRO or Race Committee should be careful not say anything to contradict the carefully written sailing instructions. While there is some merit to this reasoning, it seems to me that it goes way overboard for any but the most serious high stakes regattas. The risk of offering explanations and clarifications to the instructions is that one could actually increase confusion or introduce contradictions that then could result in some disastrous consequence that in turn could cause a protest or even skew the results of the event. Does that seem likely? Are the explanations really likely to be so bad that they would do more harm than good? In a time when there is a need to attract more people to sailing, what is more important – covering for the remote possibility of an imperfect explanation by the Race Committee or establishing a friendly atmosphere where everyone enjoys the sailing experience?

One of the high school coaches I work with always tells the sailors “if you have any questions, ask; if you are confused about the course, ask the race committee – it’s not supposed to be a mystery.” I know that I would be happier if events were run with this philosophy. I admit that I was the stupid one last weekend, but who wants to win or lose because one of the sailors misunderstood the course?

Multi-Class Regatta with No Waiting Time

I have been to many multi-class regattas where three or more classes share the same starting line and the same course. The one common characteristic for almost all of them is that they have lots of waiting time - long, wasteful, and seemingly unnecessary waiting time. Last weekend I finally went to one that broke the mold. With four classes on the same course, the races for each class were started as promptly as if there was no one else on the course. Major kudos to Duxbury Yacht Club.

I have to admit that in the last few years I have become very impatient on this subject. Aside from personal psychological deficiencies, the blame goes to coaching high school sailing and laser sailing, especially frostbiting. High school sailing is always short course racing, and a good sailing day is filled with many races. (College sailing is similar in this respect.) The fleet race regatta we host typically has 12 races with sailors returning to shore to swap boats every two races. If the course to shore distance were less, we would do 16 races. I run an intramural regatta twice a year where there are 7 – 9 races in a two hour time frame. Laser frostbiting works the same way. Our high school head to head team race events have five races in the same two hour window.

The reasons for these efficiencies are fairly obvious. Frostbiters get far colder when waiting than racing, so nearly constant racing is the prescription for greater comfort. (I acknowledge that for most of the world frostbiting and comfort are antithetical.) Many places follow more or less the same format in summer racing because it is simply more fun to race than to wait – especially in a laser. In high school racing, the minimization of down time is related to the short, little attention spans of students culturally trained to have ADHD. If they aren’t focused on the coach-guided activity, they drift into never-never land, and they are hard to recapture.

Having experienced a piece of the sailing world with faster paced racing, I have very little interest in going back to the slower pace of larger boats. The fun of racing just seems to overshadow the relaxation (boredom) of milling around and waiting. It is even more interesting and challenging to be the race committee in these situations.

Despite my impatience, I can recognize that my enlightened opinion might not be the enlightened opinion of others. The majority of the sailing world seems to have little interest in the seeming hyperactivity of nearly hypothermic sailors and inattentive high school students. Last summer I wrote about A Three Race Regatta?! where the Flying Scot racers were satisfied while I was mystified – 3 races in 2 days? At the far end of that spectrum is the America’s Cup where one race a day after hours, maybe days of anticipation, is all the excitement anyone can handle

It’s certainly a good thing that sailing contains a multitude of options allowing people to enjoy the sport in very different ways. But occasionally there is a clash of the different worlds within the sport. In those instances, it is surprising how little we seem to understand each other. Last spring our team sailed in a regional regatta where teams qualified for nationals. It was hosted by a major yacht club that was unreasonably generous at making their very upscale facility available to questionably responsible high schoolers. However, when it came to the racing, their course was a mile from the club, sailors in the second fleet were stationed on a large float to wait in the wind and the rain, and the first attempt at a course set-up had a one-mile long windward leg that looked like it would yield 45 minute races. Can’t do many of them in one day! How could they fail to understand the courses used in high school sailing when they were the perfect host in every other way? How could the high school organizers fail to make their expectations clear? Different worlds.

Multi-class regattas where lasers are invited present a similar opportunity for a clash of different sailing worlds. Usually the world I live in is the loser in such a clash. But Duxbury was different. The differences in the class of boats were striking – quick little Lasers, comfortable but lumbering Flying Scots, Marshall 15 cat boats that are fiberglass re-makes of New England boats of the 19th century, and Pintail 25s that look a bit like a plasticized Herreshoff design. Yet with right length courses and the proper spacing between fleets, there was virtually non-stop racing and no interference between boats of different fleets. For the lasers, a few more races than five might have been desirable, but overall it was a great day of racing. Sailors from the other classes seemed to be similarly satisfied. If there were compromises, they were the right ones as the race committee expertly bridged the gaps among very different classes. Kudos again to Duxbury Yacht Club.

It Goes Without Saying

After an exhausting six hour delay, I watched yesterday’s America’s Cup race on ESPN’s webcast. Gary Jobson and Randy Smyth did a terrific job of talking sailors through the race. Randy Smyth, former Olympic silver medal winner (twice) in Tornadoes, (catamarans) added an area of expertise that Jobson lacked and was tremendously informative on the techniques and art of multi-hull sailing. I thought he brought out the best in Jobson and that they made a great team.

Now that I have said nice things about them, it’s time to slam them. It’s really just picking a bone, but we’ll call it slamming for the indignant blogger’s effect. Is it really necessary to skew criticism and praise so that the loser gets all of the former and the winner all of the latter? It’s not fair, and it’s not deserved. It seems to me that Jobson and Smyth could never get over the facts that Alinghi had not used those high tech curved daggerboards and that they had a windward rudder that frequently dragged in the water. They brought it up repeatedly at five minute intervals. They were rightfully hard on Alinghi for the pre-start fouls which on both days were inexcusable for racing at this level. (Why wasn’t Ed Baird driving? Really, come on!)

But on the other side, I thought they let BMW off the hook for not following the Sailing 101 textbook. Right there in the chapter about one on one sailing (which applies to match racing, team racing , and fleet racing) it says that the boat ahead should cover the boat behind. This must be even more true when the boat ahead is faster. The only way for the faster boat ahead to loose the lead is to allow the opponent to sail in different wind where they might get a favorable shift and/or more wind.

The situation happened just after the start. BMW Oracle got into a controlling pre-start position and then watched Alinghi do an agonizingly, horrendously slow escape tack. The result that was the BMW Oracle had a substantial lead at the start. Alinghi had already committed a foul, so she was, in fact, behind by a penalty turn plus the gap at the starting line. Because Alinghi tacked, they were on port and headed right. BMW Oracle was still on starboard. The standard move is for BMW Oracle to tack and cover. The view from the boat must be different. BWM Oracle must have seen something they liked on the left, but the faster boat sailing in the same wind, BMW Oracle could have pretty much put the fork into Alinghi early on.

Shortly after the start of the second race, Alinghi on port and BMW Oracle leading on starboard tack.

I don’t know what happens, but it seems every time I’m absolutely sure the opponent is going the wrong way, and I don’t cover, the other boat gets the shift and takes the lead. It’s embarrassing how many times this happens. You think I would learn. It must be Murphy’s law of sailing. (Remember when Dennis Conner made the same mistake to lose the cup in 1983?)

Sure enough, Alinghi got a 20 degree shift and eventually took a substantial lead.

Jobson and Smyth had called for the early tack even before Alinghi got to the starting line, but BMW Oracle sailed on, splitting tacks, and giving Alinghi the leverage they needed to have a chance. Both commentators made the suggestion to tack about a minute and a half later, but it took about three full minutes before the tack actually occurred. By that time, the boats were about a mile apart. Why weren’t Jobson and Smyth shouting about this apparent blunder? They know better. BMW Oracle handed Alinghi their only real chance. Once the incident was in the past, the announcers dropped the subject. For a while, not surprisingly, the faster BMW Oracle boat continued to gain, getting as much as a 500 meter lead. But then Murphy’s law (and the better wind closer to shore) began to take effect, gradually eating up the lead and then advancing Alinghi to as much as 590 meters ahead. As BMW Oracle lost the lead and then got significantly behind, Jobson and Smyth said nothing about their failure to cover. As a coach, albeit one at a very basic level of sailing, I’m jumping up and down in these situations ranting about obvious mistakes.

How could Jobson and Smyth just let this go so quietly? I understand all is forgiven after BMW regains the lead, but if you are talking about match race tactics, this is quite an omission.

All in all, we knew this was an engineering contest to build the fastest wind powered rocket ship, but shouldn’t world class sailors get the basic match racing stuff right? It’s not as if there were many opportunities for mistakes and somebody made one. There were only a handful of times the racing was tactical, and mistakes were made about half the time. And shouldn’t big time sailing commentators use this opportunity to hammer home to interested viewers the tactics of match racing? If one team makes a mistake, say so! It shouldn’t be hushed up just because it’s our team.

And congratulations to BMW Oracle, the better sailors and by far the better rocket ship.

A Sense of Proportion

It is reported that Larry Ellison and the BMW Oracle campaign has spent a lot of money - $250 million by some estimates - on this year’s America’s Cup three race regatta. We are so used to hearing large numbers that we don’t really put them in terms relative to our own spending. I fully realize than an egotistical billionaire wouldn’t think of spending his sailing money in the ways we ordinary Plebian sailors do, but just imagine if he did. I know it’s a silly, kind of an apples and oranges thing, but I tried to figure out what the money spent could mean in terms of the boats and activities of some my favorite bloggers.

• 45,620 new race-rigged Lasers
• A new laser for each sailor in 537 fleets the size of the very large Newport Frostbite fleet (85)
• A new laser for each sailor in 2281 fleets the size of the one at my yacht club
• 65,274 new Sunfish
• 31,486 new 420’s or FJ’s
• 13,736 new Flying Scots (about twice the number ever built in 50 years)
• 2631 new Catalina 309’s
• $523,102 for each high school and college program in the US
• 66 new boats for each US high school and college with a sailing program
• $43,165 per year in perpetuity for each high school and college sailing program if invested in an endowment yielding 5% a year
• Or 5.4 new boats per year for each high school and college sailing program – forever

(Boat costs are taken from the manufacturers’ retail price on their website, the Catalina price from a Cruising World review, and the number of college and high school sailing teams from their respective national organization websites.)
And even for the billionaires:

• Thirteen 1980 vintage America’s Cup winning campaigns
• 2 ½ 2007 America’s Cup winning campaigns
• 24 Newport mansions like the one Larry Ellison just bought

It seems the world has lost track of where to put the decimal points. And I really don’t understand big numbers.

Cabarete Waves

Cabarete Waves

When I was first introduced to Laser sailing four years ago, Yarg, the creator of this blog, correctly told me that I would have to go through a painful initiation with a lot of capsizing before Laser sailing would become fun. I think there is a second painful learning process for us lake sailors when we try to start sailing in waves.

Last fall I took part in the New England Masters (age 35 and over) Laser Championship Regatta off Third Beach in Newport. There were light to moderate winds on Saturday, but Sunday brought 20 plus knot winds in open water with waves measured in feet, not inches like the ripples we have at our local lake. I capsized once in the first race, twice in the second (all on mistimed tacks), and three more times trying to get back to the beach (all death rolls). It was obvious that if I wanted to be able to sail and have fun at the major Laser regattas which are necessarily held on large bodies of water, I would need to get some experience sailing in waves.

Cabarete, on the north coast of the Dominican Republic, is a tourist town with a beautiful beach, dozens of beachfront restaurant/bars and resort hotels with a focus on windsurfing and kiteboarding. The main drag just behind the buildings on the beach is a loud, smoky scene with speeding cars and motorbikes. About every 30 seconds someone on a motorbike will shout to ask if you want a ride, price negotiable, no helmet.

Cabarete is also the home of the CaribWind Laser Training Center, an amazing facility, unique in the world. It seems to be focused on Laser Training for very advanced sailors including many Olympians, but it also worked out well for me despite my, shall we say, less advanced skill level. I recently attended a four day Laser clinic there, followed by a three day regatta. A typical clinic day included an hour or more of onshore class with videos and diagrams, three to four hours of sailing with a variety of drills, a quick and very welcome meal at the EZE-Bar/Restaurant on the property, and finally another hour or more of class. My hotel, the Velero Beach Resort, was excellent with all the amenities, great water views, an open air beachfront restaurant, and a very friendly and helpful staff. It was just a five minute walk down the beach to CaribWind.

About a dozen sailors from all over the world attended the clinic portion. At least seven countries were represented. There was a wide age range from the twenties to sixties with most at the higher end. It was definitely the most skilled group with which I have ever sailed. It included an Olympic sailor, and I believe a Laser Masters world champion. They were all very friendly and helpful to me despite my less experienced status.

Head coach “Rulo” couldn’t have done a better job. He has an amazing body of knowledge about the fine points of Laser sailing in every situation, but also a great teaching style and personality. He was ably assisted by Paul on a second motorboat, a young English guy with a degree in naval architecture, and a lot of sailing experience. He was very nice to hang back with me when I would capsize as the rest of the fleet sailed away.

Launching and retrieving boats at the Cabarete beach can be challenging. Despite some protection from an offshore underwater reef, there were often pretty decent sized breakers. Retrieving boats was typically done one at a time with the assistance three young guys in the water, one at the bow with the dolly, and one on each side to lift the stern over the breaking waves. The sailor had to remove the centerboard, lift the rudder, remove the main sheet, and jump out of the boat just before approaching the retrieving team. I saw one normally very robust Seitech dolly break in the process.

The emphasis of the clinic for these very good sailors was naturally on the many fine points of speed, boat-handling, tactics, etc. My emphasis, on the other hand, was trying to learn how to keep the masthead out of the water, and staying out of everyone else’s way while sailing in large waves, typically two meters or more. Still, I learned a lot. There were some very basic but critical things, like simply steering to one side or the other when surfing down a wave to avoid plowing head-on into the next wave, turning the Laser into a submarine, and filling the cockpit with seawater. By the way, by my calculations a Laser cockpit filled with saltwater weighs about 290 pounds.

Ari Barshi, CaribWind Owner, at the Regatta

One final note which folks have been asking me about - the tragic earthquake in Haiti occurred while we were in a hut on the beach at our post-sailing class. We felt it pretty good despite being 150 miles away. The ground shifted back and forth laterally for about a minute. Lamps were swinging, but there was no damage or panic. We did talk about the possibility of a tsunami, but I’m not sure where we could have gone for shelter. Fortunately, it was not an issue.

So earthquake aside, Cabarete was a great experience which I hope to repeat after somehow getting some more practice sailing in waves. It is also a great winter vacation. There are activities like day-trips of various sorts for non-sailing family members. The folks at CaribWind were apologizing for the unusually cool weather there (highs in the 70s) and quite a bit of rain, but I had been shoveling snow the night before I left, so I was fine with it. The rain, of course, didn’t stop us from sailing, and the water temperature was about 80. We had good wind and waves every day.

Hasta luego.

Eric

Windward Gates

Maybe I get bored easily. I know that high school students get bored easily. We’ve done the drills. We need to keep doing the drills and keep building the skills, but after two months, enough is enough. So after eight weeks of sailing four days a week, what can I do to make the last few days of the season interesting? The last week should be about fun.

The day planned for “Poag Ball,” a version of Ultimate Frisbee played on the water with a soccer ball, had absolutely no wind and was a complete bust. The other days had too much wind for a game where collisions were likely, but they were ideal for racing – racing that was some how different than it had been all fall.

At the end of every season, we have an intramural regatta with formal scorekeeping and a perpetual trophy for the winning pair (double handed boats). In all honesty, the competitiveness of this event is limited. There is usually a fairly clear pecking order of sailors, so the regatta is more of a jostling to swap positions with the guy just ahead of you than it is a wide open contest. Two may challenge one, but six won’t. Similarly, the new freshman will not seriously challenge seniors who are still in the middle of the pecking order. The final results for a day with many races are usually fairly predictable.

This year, my goal for the event was to make each race as competitive as possible within this framework of highly varied skill levels. My solution was to borrow an idea I have seen only once before. At last year’s 25 boat state championship regatta, Fran Charles, the sailing master at MIT, set windward leeward courses with gates at both ends, leeward and windward.

Leeward gates are becoming commonplace. I suppose they are intended to prevent massive pileups and reduce fouling and protests. They also change the dynamics of the race. A single leeward mark rounding rewards the winner of the contest for inside room by increasing his lead as the other boats round wide or fall a boat length or more behind each other to stay close to the mark. It also allows boats ahead to use boat on boat tactics going upwind to maintain the lead. But by having a gate, a boat that is essentially tied can remain that way by choosing the other mark. Perhaps even more important is that the two boats are now heading different directions, sailing in different wind. Boat to boat tactics are eliminated here. Each boat is sailing against the course more than against the other boat. Choosing the favored gate may be more important than getting inside room, if one has to choose. Gates give the boats behind far more opportunity to challenge the boats ahead.

A windward gate has the same characteristics, but occurs much earlier in the race. This keeps those behind much closer to the leaders as they go down wind. It also makes each sailor think about where she should be on the course to maximize wind shifts and puffs. Overall, the use of gates tends to make racing more about playing the wind, and less about tactics and raw boat speed.

I actually tried this out twice. The first was our intramural regatta, where there was a gate at the windward end only. I reasoned that the fleet would spread out so much by the leeward end of the course that a gate was unnecessary – wrong! The course was successful enough that we built on the idea the next day in a “mixed doubles” regatta. This teamed crews who had not sailed together (or not much) this fall, and put freshmen with seniors, sophomores with juniors, and girls with boys. This time we used a leeward gate as well and a closed start finish line in the middle. The first time we finished with the expected pecking order, but 8 of 11 boats has at least one top three finish for the day. The second time two edged out one, four advanced to three, a freshman (with one of the best crews) vaulted from eight to four, and 9 of 12 boats had a top three finish.

I really like that so many kids had that one good race. I love it when the newbies beat the cocky seniors once in a while. It builds confidence and motivation. If they can do it once, they can do it again! I like finding a way to emphasize the importance of reading the shifts and puffs, even in short course racing. I like mixing things up a little in a way that the kids had lots of fun. And I like that coaches and sailors alike found the windward gate made for competitive, interesting and entertaining racing.

It looks like I’m saying that I like windward gates!

Resume *’s

On the way to a high school regatta this weekend, my best sailor was beginning to write a resume he wanted to submit to college sailing coaches. He was reviewing his personal accomplishments and those of the team over the last couple of years. As we recalled our final standings, he kept asking the same question – “Can I explain that I would have finished ….. if it weren’t for…………?” I explained to him that there are no footnotes in resume writing – just the facts, usually simplified.

Upon reflection, I wondered what a resume would look like with a bunch of asterisks explaining the details of the basic facts. It would surely be silly. The writer would appear to be an excuse maker, amplifying his shortcomings and revealing his less than perfect accomplishments as failures.

But for a coach, the series of asterisks could serve a positive purpose. If each asterisk represented a lesson learned, the resume would become a list of really important things discovered about how to improve sailing performance. If from each of our mistakes, we found out how to avoid repeating the mistake, we would be very successful indeed. To a college coach, what is high school sailing but a place to make a few mistakes and learn as much as one can?

Here’s what the asterisk part of my sailor’s resume for last year might have looked like:

* At state championship, would have finished second in division instead of fifth if I had not protested another boat who claimed inside room at a mark and then been DSQed myself. Apparently, you have to give him room and protest, not hit him and protest. Team would have finished third instead of fifth.

* At post-season team race regatta, beat the team that won, but finished third because our team sailed the first two races before really waking up. In one of these races, all three of our boats gave away the start to a very good team, and in another, we failed to capitalize on opportunities we routinely take advantage of, and then we sailed poorly to lose boats we were trying to cover.

* At post-season team race regatta, I held onto the 1 in a 1,4,5, as conventional wisdom suggests, only to watch the other team hook a teammate on the downwind leg and take him to 6; thus we lost instead of won. Repeated this losing strategy in next race. Lost regatta by virtue of these two races.

* At fleet race regatta, my team finished first on the water, but third after protests when a teammate was DSQed for tacking too close to the one sailor we had seen protest everything possible over the course of the season. (The team that was second on the water ended up fourth after a protest with the same protest everything team.)

* At fleet race regatta, finished second, both individually and as a team, after blowing away the field because I grazed the committee boat, and the RC said nothing at the time, but protested later. RC’s don’t have to notify competitors of their intention to protest. If I had taken my penalty spin, I could have finished last in that race and still won the regatta, but in high school a DSQ is everyone plus 4.

Writing this kind of resume is a good way to reaffirm lessons learned the hard way. I hope it served that purpose for my sailor.

If I were a college coach, I would love to have a kid who could sail fast, team race well, and never make the above mistakes again!

Is Discretion Really the Better Part of Valor?

That question was certainly being asked by prospective sailors in New England last Sunday. The New England Laser Masters in Newport saw wind of 17 – 28 with rain all day, and in Jamestown, RI, where I was with a high school regatta, the wind was a steady 18 with rain, until the end, when the wind went to about 25.

In Newport, my good friend Eric stuck it out to sail in wind and waves. We don’t really get waves at home, so these were unfamiliar and extremely challenging conditions. He took his licks, had some capsizes, but finished all races to place 15th in a 49 boat regatta. Pretty damn good for a guy who has been sailing lasers for only three years! Pretty damn good for anybody against this fleet!

Over in Jamestown, I was coaching (euphemism for riding around in a support boat getting soaking wet) in a high school laser regatta. There was a fleet of full rigs and a fleet of radials. Conventional wisdom is that radials are appropriate for people that weigh 140 – 165 and full rigs for people at about 180, with a rig switching range in the middle. Obviously, the more weight, the better in big breeze. There were only a few kids 180 and over, and I would guess most were 130 -150. Almost everyone was severely overpowered.

The race organizers did what race should organizers do – make every boat a potential rescue boat and alert all coaches, race officials, and spectators to be aware of the potential hazards. From a coach’s perspective, large numbers of boats in these conditions is a familiar recipe for trouble, and we prepared for the worst while hoping for the best. From a sailor’s perspective, this is a situation of fear. Almost all sailors expressed or revealed some degree of apprehension, but nevertheless, all 43 went out to face the daunting conditions.

I admired the courage of these kids for just getting off the dock in conditions where most adults would belly up to the bar to watch football for the afternoon (a thought that tempted me more than once). Throughout the day, there were a series of drop outs, but sailors continued until they reached the limit of their skill, endurance, or equipment. At the end of the fourth race, some 3 1/2 hours into the regatta, the PRO suggested that the fifth race be the last. One gung-ho coach suggested we hang out to see if conditions would permit a sixth race and if the sailors were up for it. Conditions did not subside. A sequence was started, the wind built up a little, a boat was capsizing virtually everywhere I looked, the race started, and the wind started gusting to 25. Then, thankfully, there was a unanimous acceptance of discretion, and the courageous, but exhausted sailors were sent in. As we towed in a sailor with an equipment failure, we watched at least a half dozen other capsizes, some within fifty yards of the beach.

I salute all the sailors who on Sunday did not let discretion become the better part of valor, but chose instead to display true bravery.

In spite of the eloquence of the phrase “discretion is the better part of valor,” in its original context in Shakespeare (one of the Henry IV plays), it is the suggestion of a coward. The colorful speaker, Falstaff, is ultimately a foil for the hero, Prince Hal, who ignores Falstaff’s advice, and marches into the battle that transforms him from the profligate prince into King Henry V. Courage is ultimately triumphant, as it was on Sunday.

Enough of the English class! Isn’t Falstaff the name of a beer?

A Flash of Brilliance

Last Saturday I went to the Laser New England Masters Regatta for the first time. My previous limited experience in large laser regattas has taught me to have very humble expectations. The guys that go to these things are usually long time laser sailors with lots of experience in sailing open water with waves or chop. The guys from the Newport Laser Fleet did quite well in the recent Masters Worlds, and most of them are really good laser sailors. I, on the other hand, am primarily a flatwater, lake sailor. At best, I am a big fish in a small pond. On their undulating turf, I am strictly a back of the packer, scoring my finish by counting forward from last place, and hoping to avoid the distinction of DFL.

Lucky for me, the wind on Saturday was mostly 7 – 10, so there was no wave issue. In the first two races, I was starting to look more like a middle of the pack guy, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. But then the third race became the miracle race. I got a good start, held my lane nicely, went faster than people on both sides of me, and spent a lot of time in clear air. When I tacked to go right, I crossed everyone who had not yet tacked off. I looked a little in the distance and to leeward and there was Scott Ferguson, Masters Full Rig World Champion. I looked to windward and there was Peter Seidenberg, perpetual Great Grand Masters World Champion. Wow! I’ve never been this close to these guys! And next to Peter Seidenberg is my best sailing buddy and sparing partner, Eric. Ferguson approached on starboard and forced me to tack. Wow! Even with Scott Ferguson in the middle of the first beat! What am I doing here? I don’t deserve to be on the same racecourse with these guys! I more or less followed him and/or Peter Seidenberg to the windward mark. As we approached the mark, it looked like it was going to be Seidenberg easily in first, Eric in second, an unknown boat in third and me in fourth.

Where was Ferguson? Downwind I got to the left of the third boat which put me slightly ahead of him, but another boat came from behind and got to the left and ahead of me. I was looking for an opportunity to work up to the left to blanket him, but he moved to the left to blanket Eric. It wasn’t until a few boat lengths from the leeward mark that I realized that this interloper was Scott Ferguson, poised to take his rightful place in front of back of the packers like us. Eric did a great job of holding him off and rounding in second. I remained in fourth.

Up the beat, everyone seemed to be holding their positions while working more or less the same center right part of the course. On a couple of occasions, I thought I got within 2 – 3 boat lengths of Ferguson, but then he would gain several boat lengths on me. Within fifty yards of the finish, Eric crossed 3 boat lengths ahead of Ferguson, who was heading to the right. I stayed in fourth, hoping not to do something stupid to spoil this Cinderella race. Moments earlier, I had almost capsized while doing a tack that my head and tiller arm had decided to do without informing the rest of my body. At the last minute, Ferguson got a slight shift to the right and edged out Eric to finish second. I held onto fourth.

Eric and I looked at each other wondering what had just happened. How had we been sailing with world champions? We did not belong here! We both knew that we could sail a lot of regattas, practice diligently, get good coaching, and never get to the level where we would be sailing with these guys. Even at the best we will ever become, we might never again see a 3rd and 4th finish in a 49 boat fleet of this caliber. It was a fantastic moment and even more fantastic because I shared it with the good friend with whom I sail with week in and week out, summer and winter. Wow!

The fourth race saw a reversion back to our truer selves in the back of the pack, but there is no need to discuss that. How about that third race! Did I tell you we sailed next to world champions? …….. Cue “Glory Days” by Bruce Springsteen.

A Two Race Regatta? - “It’s not about the sailing.”

My one annual foray back into Flying Scot sailing is an annual regatta in upstate New York. Last weekend I went, again, for about the 20th time, and had a good time. But a two race regatta? In winds of 0 – crazy? Predictable winds of 0 – crazy, I might add. I expected no wind, like the last time I went two years ago, and the time before that, but I went anyway.

It may be a defective memory, but I seem to remember many years when the scheduled five races actually happened. I remember at least three occasions where the wind was 15 – 20+. Has climate change forever altered this regatta? Back in the day, this was a 45 boat regatta with the reputation for being the best Flying Scot regatta in the Northeast. Last year, numbers were way down, and this year, there were 26 boats. Word has gotten out that this is a no wind regatta, and despite the absolutely great hospitality, some sailors seem to want wind and sailing at their regattas.

So why do I go? The obvious reason is that it is a social event, like a class reunion with a sailing class in which I spent twenty years. It’s nice to travel to an event where, like at Cheers, “everybody knows your name.” The real reason for me is that it’s a chance – or maybe just a hope - to sail with my son. He wants to go, so we go. And the reason he wants to go is to meet up with his long time regatta friends who live 300 miles away.

When my kids were quite young, it was standard practice to drag them to regattas where they were frequently grouped together with a common baby sitter while the parents sailed. The sure-fire activity to keep my son entertained was to play with LEGOs. It turned out that LEGOs seemed to have broad appeal, and a group of boys seemed to bond around their LEGOs. Somehow my son seemed to develop stronger friendships with this group than with any of the kids at home. His “sailing” friends became his best friends. Two of the group were local for us, living in the next town, and two lived in western New York. The local kids began to hang out regularly at our local yacht club and have now become best of friends, but all five have remained good friends as they have matured from LEGO kids into beer swilling college students and computer geeks. When they meet up these days, it is as if they can pick up the conversation from wherever it ended the previous year.

So we put up with no wind, and crazy races where we are stalled and those 10 yards away have little zephyrs and are sailing past us, or where the lead boat and last boat can switch places in 180 degree wind shifts. We optimistically hope for wind when we should know better. We spend far more time waiting to sail than sailing. And somehow, we like it.

As my son said, “It’s not about the sailing.”

A Three Race Regatta?!

This past weekend, I was the PRO for the Flying Scot Wife Husband Regatta. It’s one of three annual national Flying Scot regattas, but it’s only three races – on purpose – not due to bad weather. Really- just three races scheduled for a two day regatta.

I might disparage the class for being wimpy, but the other two national regattas, the North American Championships and the Midwinters, have eight and seven races respectively. Maybe Jimmy Buffet has it right with “there’s always a woman to blame,” but I didn’t hear the men complaining or asking for more races. It seemed like the folks who raced really liked the format just the way it was – three races. Except for one guy.

This regatta’s that guy complained vigorously when we called the boats in for lunch without having had a race on Saturday morning. I was concerned with the quality of the races and was waiting for the best wind of the day in which to run Saturday’s two allotted races. He got in my face and informed me that he hadn’t come all this way to sail around all morning and not race. He claimed we could have had several races already. He sounded like the local Laser sailors bitchin’ about all the waiting and the small number of races. It warmed the cockles of my heart. I told him how right he was, but it was after all, only a three race regatta.

I sent him to the regatta chair, who reminded him of how long ago it was published that this was a three race regatta. The regatta chair walked him back to me, and then gathered around some of the class brass for a discussion of the situation. It seemed that some other Flying Scot sailors had felt the same way as that guy, and so they hadn’t come. It was also clear that as many or more of the class wouldn’t come unless there were no more than three races. They did show up. Lot’s of them.

Aside: According to the regatta chair, that guy was not a member of the Flying Scot Sailing Association and didn’t even own a Flying Scot.

The concession to that guy was to have an extra race (that would not count) at the end of the day for all those who wanted more racing. I announced our intention to hold this extra race to each of the 34 participating boats as they crossed the finish line in the second race. After all three fleets had finished, we quickly set up a new course (as the wind had shifted). Boats had scattered so it took a couple of minutes for the boats to reassemble – both of them. That guy was joined by some other guy who was sailing single handed after dropping off his wife at the dock. I delegated taking the finishes to one of the other power boats, but it looked for sure that that guy was finally going score a victory after having come in second to last in the previous race.

So….The idea of a three race regatta was overwhelmingly popular with 98% of the participants. Go figure. I don’t see it, but, hey, each to his own. If the group agrees on a way to have fun, then that’s the way it should be done. Even though a three race, two day regatta seems completely daffy to me, our participants were a terrific group of friendly, patient, and appreciative sailors. I had a good time working for them and would do it again any time.

As for that guy, I hope he finds sailing happiness. Maybe when I see him again, he will be sailing a Laser with a big smile on his face.

Fishy Strategy 2 - The Desperation Strategy

Saturday I had a race much like the one I wrote about in Fishy Strategies last week, except that this time roles were reversed. Instead of leading, I was in third. Instead of losing unexpectedly, I won unexpectedly. Instead of being disappointed and confused when perfectly logical strategies failed, I was delighted that my desperation strategy prevailed.

Upon rounding the leeward mark (to starboard) it was clear to all that there was a big left hand shift. The lead boat went about seven boat lengths on starboard before tacking to port on what appeared to be a layline. The second boat and I tacked almost simultaneously, also trying to get onto the lifted tack. As I distractedly fiddled with some tangled line, I managed to steer up into the other boat’s wind shadow. I had no options now except to employ a desperation strategy, tack onto the header, and get clear of the opponents. Sailing the header, I noticed a new wind line approaching. I figured that I should wait until I could get into that wind line, then at least I could sail fast, and hope that I could catch somebody.

As luck would have it, the opponents gradually got lulled and headed, leaving them far short of the port tack layline. On the other hand, I had more wind and held my layline. I crossed both boats easily and marveled at the power of luck and the changeability of lake sailing.

(Desperation strategy sidebar: A common scenario on our lake is that the second boat picks which way he wants to go, the boat ahead goes with him to cover, and the third boat splits tacks in desperation, hoping for better puffs and more favorable shifts. The third boat wins a lot of races.)

But upon further reflection, this seems to be the same situation as in the previous post, with the same result. The lead boats did exactly the right thing by sailing the longest tack first, until things changed. As soon as I was in a better wind line, the situation was different, and they should have tacked to cover. It is so hard to do that when you are lifted 35 degrees, almost laying the finish, and would consolidate a loss of several boat lengths. It is especially difficult when you know the boat behind is employing the desperation strategy more than any other.

The common theme between these two posts seems to be that being in the new puff is the wining strategy. This harkens back to the problem of oscillating shift vs. persistent shift. I think the key here is time. When sailing on a windward leg for a relatively short amount of time, any shift has the potential to be the last shift, and therefore it is a persistent shift in the context of that leg of the course. The correct strategy for a persistent shift is to sail the header first and to remain further toward the shift than your competitors.

Well, I have it all figured out now…..at least until the wind shifts.

Fishy Strategies

It’s the last race of a light wind Thursday night, where courses are short (10-12 minute races), no one keeps score, and the racing is casual. It’s the leeward mark rounding and I am 2 -3 boat lengths ahead of the only possible competitor. The wind on the lake has been more right than left all night, but it has become typically less shifty as it lulls toward sunset. I have been protecting the right most of the night even though it hasn’t produced a noticeable boat speed advantage. As I harden up around the mark, it appears that wind has gone far enough to the right that I am on the starboard tack lay line for the finish. What should I do? What strategy do I use for this last 3 minutes of the race?

The wisdom of Dave Dellanbaugh and Stuart Walker offer several maxims of good advice.

1.“Sail the longest tack first.”
2.“Sail toward the favorite side.”
3.“Avoid lay lines so you don’t over stand.”
4.“Cover.”

My thinking is “sail the longest tack first,” and I’m sure it’s a lay line I don’t want to over stand, so I tack and head straight for the finish line. My competitor splits tacks in desperation, and as I watch him sail away without getting any closer to the finish, I think I’ve made him go the wrong way, and I’m adding several more boat lengths to my lead. Six boat lengths ahead, on the lay line, with a 3 minute finishing leg – what could go wrong?

A five degree header and the wind getting a bit lighter – still no problem, right? That fateful gurgling noise as the boat behind gets a little puff and picks up speed – is it time to tack? I ‘m going slow, he’s going fast, I would be on port, if I can’t cross, he will be in control– I decide to stay put and wait for his little puff to fade out. Naturally, it doesn’t fade enough, he lays the finish, I tack weakly near the finish and can’t cross, he wins.

What have we learned here? Strategies 2 and 4 are better than 1 and 3? Although it worked out that way, it could just as easily gone the other way. If I had continued into the header, let him round and tack before I tacked, we would be about bow even with him on the lay line and me over standing. The drag race to the finish would likely be determined by how quickly I responded to his tack. If he got his bow out, which is likely when he tacks first, he would have the edge.

I think the lesson is that even the best strategies, like fish, frequently have an extremely short shelf life, especially on a lake, and in light wind. I think I made the right move by tacking at the mark where I made some gain. But the wisdom of strategies 1 and 3 expired and started to smell as soon as the boats were in different wind – about 1 minute later. At that moment, sailing toward the favorite side and covering became imperative. One set of strategies worked for 1 minute and the other set for 2 minutes. Shouldn’t these things come with a warning label – not guaranteed to work for more than 1 minute?

Any loser in this situation would be disappointed that his perfectly good strategy had a shorter shelf life than sushi in the hot sun on a 90 degree day……. and on that Thursday, I was that loser.

Five Ways to Improve your Regatta Score Without Really Sailing Any Better

This little reflection is prompted by Tillerman’s list project and by having watched my sailing team lose a fleet race regatta for the second time this year as a result of a protest. In years gone by, I have watched us lose to other teams with sailors who consistently start better and sail faster. It’s almost impossible to beat those guys (a problem I share with Tillerman in good, maybe even mediocre, laser fleets). Now, our team sails just as fast as the other sailors, but snatch defeat from the jaws of victory with moves that undermine the 98% of the day spent sailing well.

1. Start where they ain’t. Out of the crowd at the favored end emerges one big winner and lots of big losers. The guy who starts in the clear spot probably will not be first, but he will be among the top few. If he jumps on the first shift he might just be first, but even finishing in the top few all day usually wins a regatta. Even we mediocrities are likely to stay near the front of the fleet as the big losers fight for open lanes and freedom to tack on the shifts for the entire first leg of the race.
2. Avoid close encounters of any kind. Being near other boats introduces the possibilities of fouls, protests, both warranted and unwarranted, and bad air. At least 90% of fleet racing is about racing the course. The other boats are moving obstacles that make it a little more challenging to get around that course. Unlike team racing, in most situations, other sailors are not adversaries who you should challenge to a duel (until the last part of the race or regatta). In fleet racing, duels frequently have two losers.
3. Admit guilt. If you foul, do your penalty. Protests are unpleasant and time consuming; disqualifications are far worse. Debate the rules over a beer (or a coke if under 21) after the race.
4. Avoid that guy. Every once in a while, there is a guy who is a screamer and a self-proclaimed rules expert who protests anyone within two boat lengths of him. If you cross him on port he will say he had to avoid. If you lee bow him you tacked too close. Sailing anywhere near him results in an argument or a protest. He is a distraction at best and a protest at worst.
5. Avoid that poor guy. Sometimes you find yourself in the back of the pack with a sailor or two who has yet to master some of the boat handling fundamentals. (I am painfully remembering a frostbite incident when I was that poor guy.) Rounding a mark outside him can cost you several places as you are trapped outside while he is losing control of his boat, not turning up to windward, and letting all the boats behind get inside and to windward. When you are leeward of him, his inability to point causes him to sail down and pin you out. He also refuses to tack on headers, taking you the wrong way with him.

None of these things requires you to sail any better, but heeding them will make you look better on the results page.

Laser Masters February Events in Florida

As a relative newcomer to Laser sailing I didn't know what to expect when I arrived for the Florida Masters events a couple weeks ago. The first of three events was at Palm Beach. The host club is on the protected intracoastal waterway, but the regatta is on the Atlantic with on-shore prevailing easterlies and 3,000 miles of fetch. It required a 45 minute sail to get to the stating line. As a small lake sailor, it was a rude awakening to see a line of rolling breakers that needed to be crossed just to get out there.

Sailing a Laser in the Atlantic with 15-20 kt on-shore winds and higher gusts was certainly a challenge for a small lake sailor. I can't say I enjoyed it. I gave up that first day after completing 2 of 3 races, a good decision, as was the choice to use a radial. I capsized twice, once while on a run, barely in contol, when I reached down just for a second to try to unstop the autobailer. It was so unnerving when the boat would surge forward surfing on a hugh wave resulting in a sudden loss of pressure on the sail due to the change of the 'apparent wind.' I thought it was like riding a bucking broncho without being able to hold on, not that I've ever been on a bucking horse. I wondered if it was a mistake to try to do these regattas. I felt a little better that evening when the main conversation among the racers was about sore muscles and Advil. It definitely wasn't enjoyable sailing, but I hope my Laser survival sailing reflexes have been improved. Maybe someday I'll have the skill to actually enjoy sailing in large waves.

The second of the three events was at Jensen Beach within the protected intracoastal waterway about an hour north of Palm Beach. The wind was strong, but with just small waves, much more doable for someone at my level. It was tough going with a lot of hiking, but it was starting to get fun.

The final event at Sarosota on the west coast of Florida was sailed in light winds on Sarosota Bay. With much less of a physical challenge, I could concentrate on trying to do better starts which has been one of my weakest points. I can never seem to get into or stay in the first row in a large fleet. There were 83 boats competing on the line. Folks were very aggressive. The were many general recalls. All the successful starts were done under the black flag.

One morning I had breakfast with an expert Laser sailor from the Dominican Republic. I told him how timid I was lining up for starts, especially when there is a black flag. He advised me to remember that if I stay even with the boats on each side, the RC boats at each end of the line can't see my sail numbers. They will only disqualify the boats they can see. With that in mind, I finally got some first row starts on the final day.

Looking back on the experience, I'm definitely glad to have done it. It is a pretty good deal to get seven days of very competitive sailing in nine days with a nice break from the New England winter. I think I learned a lot from the sailing, and from the many on-shore conversations with other sailors. I'm thinking, maybe I'll do it again next year. We'll see.

o&c

There’s No Place Like Home – CPYC frostbiting

As some of my sailing friends enjoy their exotic winter sailing trips to the Dominican Republic or Florida, I console myself with Dorothy’s simple, homespun wisdom, “There’s no place like home.” It’s easier to do that after a great day of frostbite sailing in perfect conditions at my winter sailing home, Cottage Park Yacht Club in Winthrop.

By many standards we have a humble, little laser fleet of about 16 -18 boats, with about 10 racing on any given day. We are a tag along fleet to the larger fleet of Interclubs, those little tubs that no one sails in the summer, but which have a die-hard following of excellent sailors in the winter. Despite our humble stature in the Laser world, and even in the local club world, we enjoy our sailing here as much as anywhere.

In a two hour time window, we typically race 5 – 7 short windward – leeward races, with start – finish in the middle. Races are run by Hatch Brown, retired MIT sailing master, who knows how to keep lines and courses square and how to keep things moving. Even with two fleets, he keeps both fleets racing ninety percent of the time, with no waiting around, and minimal fleet interference.

What I like the most about racing here is what I would like in racing anywhere – that it is always competitive. The short courses certainly contribute to that; seldom can anyone get a great enough start or hit a big enough shift to get way ahead. In twelve to fifteen minute races, the fleet never spreads out far enough that there isn’t tight racing. Starts, tactics, and boat handling are all really important in races where time doesn’t allow boat speed to make up for other mistakes.

The other important factor is that the sailors seem reasonably close in skill. None of us are rock stars and everyone is good enough to take care of themselves in winter conditions. We usually have three to four different races winners on a given day, and two thirds of the fleet has a least one top three race.

For all the advantages offered by exotic venues, warm weather, large fleets, and proximity to the very best sailors, most of what I love about sailing is here in my own backyard, even in the winter.

Yarg