Round the Island Race
“We’ll drop it when we want to come
up,” he explains. “The thing about the first
part of the race is, even if you get to the
front of the fleet it doesn’t count for much
because you go round the corner and it’s
almost like a restart.”
Where’s the wind?
Without warning, the wind drops
completely and for a while there are boats
floating helplessly. Some turn around
completely, drifting sideways or
backwards. No-one wants to put their
engine on, so everyone does what they
can to avoid collisions.
It’s only 1030am, but the hottest day of
the year so far, and already I feel like I’m
melting. Even the flies seem sluggish in
the heat, landing on hands and legs until
flicked away.
One of the bigger yachts retires, which
seems pessimistic, given that the wind is
due to stay steady until 3pm. Surely this is
just a brief lull?
I recall yesterday’s weather briefing in
the Race Village. Meteorologist, Simon
Rowell, said he was confident about the
forecast, apart from one thing: the timing
of the wind change to the south.
“Managing that change is crucial,” he’d
said. “Especially with a patchy breeze.
You’ve got 1,300 weather stations [the
other boats in the race] you can look at to
try to tell you where the breeze is and
where it isn’t.”
To our relief, slowly, the ‘weather
stations’ begin to nudge forwards, and we
pick up speed. By the time we reach the
Needles, the spinnaker is safely stowed
and we’re reaching nicely.
Crazy bystanders
“Look up there!” shouts Caitlin, pointing at
the bystanders on the cliffs, who seem
perilously close to the edge. I daren’t look.
Dennis and I are on the port side, and
Caitlin and Annabel on starboard.
Meanwhile, Chrissy leaps about
everywhere, releasing clutches, tweaking
halyards, helming, and somehow finding
time to make tea.
Each tack is more polished than the last.
A joyful “Lee-ho!” followed by frantic
flapping, grinding, sheeting, creaking,cheering... though I can’t make head nor
tail of the winch handle. No matter what I
do, I just can’t get it out of the winch.
“It’s like breaking a combination bike
lock,” Mike explains cheerfully, which
doesn’t help at all.
“If it’s any consolation I haven’t figured it
out yet, either,” says Dennis, who’s been
sailing with Mike for 15 years.
Grateful for some breeze at last, I don
my new oilskins and take the helm. It feels
great to be heeling once more, the
occasional cloud of salt-spray in my face,
and the speed clocking 7.5 knots.End of the wind
As we near Bembridge Ledge the wind
dies, as predicted, around 3pm. The
mainsail snatches noisily and the wheel
creaks as the boom lunges back and forth
in the swells.
We strip off our layers and plaster on the
suncream. I try to help Chrissy with lunch
but five minutes later am back on deck
feeling sick, having turned the colour of
avocado. How she manages to whip up a
banquet of cheeses, dips, chopped
peppers and filled rolls, I’ve no idea.
The girls – who are great swimmers- suggest diving in and pushing the boat,
an idea which Chrissy promptly rejects.
As a compromise, Caitlin sits on the
ABOVE Joie de
Vivre competing in
the 2019 Round
the island Race
LEFT Little wind?
A good time for
the crew to take
lunch in the
cockpitTOP Chrissy makes a delicious lunch
ABOVE Mike Townshend at the wheel ➜DavidHarding