Practical Boat Owner – September 2019

Round the Island Race

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wonder a bit in heavy weather.
We get a lucky break with a berth in East
Cowes marina and the rest of the crew
plan to join us at six tomorrow, so the
senior crew members spend the evening
sticking on race numbers and marking up
the dodger before splicing the main brace
and turning in early.

Race day
Sam, Oscar and sixth crew member,
George Spensley-Corfield, another of
Oscar’s mates, turn up at the Lifeboat pub
in East Cowes for a briefing and bacon
roll. Meteorologist Simon Rowell’s report
the previous evening was long on
synoptic charts, competing cyclones and
‘head-out-of-boat weather’, but the main
forecast is of highly changeable
conditions and light winds, starting out of
the east then veering unpredictably to
south-westerly in the afternoon.
“The ones who do well are going to be
the ones who work hard during that
changeable period,” said Rowell
ominously.
Nik has decided to helm and goes into a
confab with Sam, our newly adopted
tactician. They opt for a north-end start,
under main only and keeping to same
side of the course to Hurst Castle where, it
is hoped, a better breeze will combine
with the stronger tide flows.
Nik reckons an average speed over
ground of 5 knots gives us a race time of
about 12 hours round the 60-mile course

Follow those

boats! Tantris

at the start of

the race

• it’s going to be a long day.
  For the first timer, little can prepare you
  for the start line as 1,300 yachts race, luff,
  stooge around and try to avoid crashing
  into each other. Winds might be light, but
  the tide is strong and the radio is
  constantly warning about the danger of
  overshooting the line.
  “This is complete chaos,” says Nik, as
  we spot a zillion boats all vying for a
  decent start and crowding into the
  promenade outside the Royal Yacht
  Squadron. Hearty types are bellowing at
  crews, the radio belts out race instructions

and group starts which, along with the

flapping sails and chugging Yanmar,

makes it hard to think.

Originally suggested in 1930 by Major

Cyril Windeler as a handicap race to allow

smaller boats to get on terms with the

30-ton monsters of the Royal Yacht

Squadron, there’s every type of vessel

here, most of them sailed reasonably

competently, though there are a few

exceptions and Stentorian cries of

“Starboard” ring out across the water.

Nik and Sam played an absolute blinder.

We crossed the line under main only, but

G

eo

rg

e^

M

ill

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