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Speaking
strictly for ourselves, we've not done a Fastnet, probably never will,
and don't know too many who have. The SA reader who uses the handle Fugu,
did indeed compete in the just finished 2003 edition and sent us this
report. Enjoy.
As
a sailor I don't even qualify as a weekend warrior, being more of a weekend
wannabe, so it was more than I deserved to do my first Fastnet on a quality
boat with a quality crew.
Tom
Gill's Anthem is a 54-foot Tripp one-off, quite light and narrow, with
a full interior, stumpy prodder and non-overlapping headsails. What you
might call a full-on no-compromise cruiser-racer. Tom initially brought
her over from Maine for the 2001 Jubilee Cup and Fastnet, but the Fastnet
part of that was an industrial-strength failure, lasting all of fifteen
minutes before both main and # 4 blew up: "For you Tommy, the race
is over". But he's a stubborn guy and was back this year, with some
shiny 3DLs and a very good crew made up of a gang of Solent regulars put
together by tactician Jeff Daikin with a handful of regular Anthem hands.
In
the qualifying Cowes to St. Malo race she got fifth overall from
200 odd starters, and with several dozen Fastnets between the crew the
proposition definitely looked to have potential. The race is however highly
tactical, and many heroes have gone to zero overnight. The course is goes
down the English Channel from the Solent, turns right at Lands End to
a photogenic piece of rock off the bottom left corner of Ireland and then
back up the Channel, leaving the Scilly Islands (a bit of Cornwall stranded
some twenty miles offshore) to port and finishing in Plymouth. It's a
bit over 600 miles, but the long coastal stretches with the tidal gates
and local thermal winds make it behave more like a series of coastal races
than an ocean race.
The
UK's been in its hottest summer ever, and there had been a high parked
over us for a fortnight before, so no one was expecting a quick or simple
race. The mid morning offwind start was an occasion of great beauty for
those with the leisure to look, with the sunshine, 12-knots of wind if
you knew where to look, helicopters, posses of RIBs and some of the sexiest
yachts in the world. "I felt like a perve at a pageant as I ogled
Ellen McArthur's Kingfisher (now the elegant "Skandia for Life"),
Mike Golding's Ecover, and the stern Max Z86 Zephyrus V, ("phwooaah,
look at the pole on that"). The gorgeous Alfa Romeo Shockwave was
there, and the super-sled formerly known as Enigma and Chance, bought
out of bankruptcy by Charles Dunstone, the British mobile phone impresario,
and now sailing as Nokia. Anoraks of late twentieth century yachting history
were catered for by Maxis including the current Nicorette, (ex-Merit Cup),
the accident prone yellow Creightons Naturally, and the Maiden that Tracy
Edwards took round a Whitbread. There were several bastard Volvo 60s that
would need a genealogist to work out the histories of, now sailing under
unfamiliar corporate names like Hellomoto or Venom.
Class
Zero was second or third off and Jeff picked the mainland end of the start
with a characteristically good call, leaving the body of the fleet at
the island end for more tide, shredding the breeze for each other and
getting nowhere in a hurry. We picked our way through the holes and angles
and came out of the Solent in great shape as one of a group of four or
five including the two J/145s Roxy and Jazz, and the 2001 winner Tonnerre.
If
my aunt had had balls she'd have been my uncle, and who knows how we might
have done if we hadn't failed to lay the first mark. It could have been
worse, as we just managed to creep back up against the tide, losing only
twenty minutes or so, but it was enough to get us out of phase with that
small group who all managed to sneak through the next big parking lot
that kept us kedged for three hours in 100 foot of water and no wind at
all. When the breeze did pay us a call again it was offshore and we stayed
well out for the whole of the journey down to Lands End, and effectively
had one long fetch to the Rock. The wind steadily built, peaking in the
low 20s off Land's End, and the new Farr 65 Hugo Boss used its waterline
length to rush by. The leg across the Celtic Sea was about as good as
it gets from the aesthetic standpoint - blue water, sunshine and large
schools of dolphins doing that jumping and chattering stuff that they
do so well.
As
the breeze flicked this way and that and built and dropped away we did
seemingly endless headsail changes, with outside peels, inside peels and
god knows what, with your puny correspondent feeling as useful as a fart
at a garden party, and in even deeper awe at the fitness of the real sailors
aboard. We parked up big time some twenty miles off the coast of Ireland,
and our modest punt of having stayed a bit right of the rhumb line expecting
the wind to go right failed when the new wind came in from the left, letting
through four boats including the Commodore's Convoy of Chris Little's
IC45 Bounder of the RORC and Larry Huntington's Nelson Marek 50 Snow Lion
of Tom's own NYYC.
We
had a textbook rounding of the rock in sunshine, the crew lined up on
the rail for photos from the committee boat stationed there, the owner
looking suitably gnarled and heroic posing with the lighthouse over his
shoulder. We were something like eighth in class round the rock which
was no better than OK, and we set off in ideal Anthem conditions to the
Bishop Rock light, passing the Swan 45 Fever and Bounder, and closing
in on Roxy who held their kite for a long time and were pushed a long
way right as a result.
There
was a big hole at the end of the leg which closed us up nicely on those
ahead, and we pulled a cool move by getting in very close to the south-eastern
edge of the Scillies and picking up a bit of leebow effect from the tide
swirling back in after going round the islands. Roxy, Boss and Snow Lion
all held out to the right more, and Snow Lion (who owed us a couple of
hours on time) paid the compliment of tacking in from a mile out and sitting
on our air: our clearing tack to north on starboard was the last corner
of our race. The wind very slowly went back left and Anthem began singing
her special nine and half knot hum for hour after hour as we went past
Snow Lion and made up our time on Boss. Jazz, with the famous Mike Broughton
acting as map reader was first in, winning the class and getting fifth
overall. Us, we got fourth in class and ninth overall as I write: a good
result, and a great race for a Fastnet virgin. Easy, but not dull.
We
got one final detail for our memory banks as we were tying up alongside
an unbranded French Volvo 60 sort of boat. The guy on deck was having
a leisurely shit in a bucket on deck, and gracefully stood up and wiped
his arse in our general direction. Welcome back to politics . . .
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