The Yachting Year 2018

108 | THE YACHTING YEAR 2018

T

he ight to Palma should have been a

warning. e little Airbus bounced stiy

through turbulence, occasionally dropping

through the sky like a stone through a

vacuum. e tail end of a big mistral was

still blowing itself out, bending trees and

bedevilling recreational hat-wearers on the ground, teasing

the nervous and the God-fearing on ight EZY8627 as we ew

south to Spain’s Balearic isles.

e day before, winds over 30 knots had cancelled

race-training on Svea (‘Swede’). Now, as we waited

dockside, the big, mast-mounted anemometer read-out

ickered around 15. e friendly English captain Paul

introduced himself, and I didn’t need him to point out that

it was going to be pushier outside the marina – even in the

protected bay of Palma.

It’s customary at this point to express awe at the size and

grace of a J, but the truth is that it’s too big for that: you

can’t take it all in. You must induce a fair bit of curvature

in your lower back, then crane your neck all the way back,

to see the tip of the black, carbon, quadruple-spreader

mast, which at 173 (52.8m) high, would rise above the

Coliseum, Arc de Triomphe or the upper walkway of

Tower Bridge.

e 29 race crew in their smart grey gear, some wearing

headsets, huddle in groups to discuss the day’s aims. Most

of them are from pretty serious backgrounds, like the

Olympics and America’s Cup.

Perhaps it’s a product of our unwillingness to take the

present entirely seriously, or maybe it’s just that the scale

and elegance of these vessels remains unchallenged in

yacht racing, but sailors still judge the J-Class yachts of the

1930s as the pinnacle of sailing glory. Svea, of all the Js

designed from 1930 to 1937, is not only the longest,

newest and, theoretically, perhaps the fastest – but she’s got

one of the most mysterious pasts, coming to fruition only

through a chance encounter.

A mothballed dream

John Lammerts Van Bueren, Dutch timber supplier, was

on the hunt for original Tore Holm drawings to inform the

restoration of his Holm 8-M yacht Cagg. He found the

near-complete archive of one of the greatest yacht

designers of the last century, in a series of ageing leather

briefcases in the basement of a house near Stockholm.

at house belongs to Birgitta Holm, daughter of Tore

Holm who, with compatriot boatbuilder Gustav Plym,

drew Svea (then unnamed) to tackle American supremacy

and claim sailing’s greatest title for Sweden.

Neither of them would have known that the America’s

Cup would not be raced again for 21 years, and never

again in cra as grand as the Js. Still less might they have

imagined that in a new millennium, the Js would explode

in popularity again and that a lone Dutch seeker would

come knocking at Tore’s daughter’s front door, asking to

see those old plans under the stairs, six decades aer they

drew them. ey held no special resonance for Birgitta, for

whom sailing was a cold, wet necessity, as she helped her

father deliver yachts to clients in all conditions, and John

helped to secure this treasure trove for the Swedish

Maritime Museum, where they were gently steamed open

and scanned. And so it was that John, returning to the

museum to see the treasure in all its glory, found Svea. His

“heartbeat stalled” as he pulled out the drawings marked

“KSSS [Royal Swedish YC) J-Båt”. ere were the lines, sail

plan, midship section and construction plan – a complete

preliminary study. Aer a couple of false starts and

dissolved syndicates, a complete aluminium hull had been

built by Dutch yard Bloemsma and nally, an owner for

Svea came on board and took the project to completion at

Vitters Boatyard. She was launched in January this year,

eight decades aer her design. To this day, no other record

of Svea has been found, neither at KSSS or the New York

Yacht Club. Like fellow modernday J build To p a z, she is

neither a restoration nor a replica, but a dream that spent

80 years mothballed and is today sailing for the rst time.

High and rising

Out at sea, I was asked to stay on the a deck, the usual

observation post for guests and journalists on a J, and

surprisingly comfortable, even in 20-25 knots of wind.

What happened next was a quiet, ecient blur of action,

punctuated in the memory as a series of impressions: diesel o,

black mainsail rising up the mast, speed building, then the

No3 (100 per cent) genoa climbing up the mast. e

weather side went up as smoothly as a high rise li,

heeling at up to 37°, as we sailed hard into the wind.

Somewhere out there in the hard blue glitterscape of a

spring day in the Med, our chase RIB stood o.

e presence of the chase RIB is standard in the J Class

and means that Js are raced without lifejackets or

guardrails, quite correct for this aesthetically-driven class

that is nothing if it is not a spectacle. It also colours every

moment with an exhilarating sense of vulnerability. Even

in the enclosed bay with its limited fetch, a couple of days

of mistral had raised a bit of a sea – perhaps 5-6 (1.5-

2m), but we cruised through them like a ying carpet,

high and dry on the weather side, above the spray ying

back down the lee deck, which is partially underwater. It

would be a long way to fall into the water from here, but

my perch is secure. Looking down and along that deck is a

rare sight – 143 of swept teak, barely interrupted as it

tapers gently to a needle point.

Even more noticeable is the sound, as the rig judders

and creaks from the insane loads. e load generated by

the 5,000sq  (4,500m^2 ) mainsail is 14 tonnes: the

mainsheet has enough pull on it to hoist a London bus

into the air, and it jerks and creeks as the hydraulic

primary winches pull it in. e mast compression load is a

horrifying 180 tonnes, more than the boat weighs. Even

the vang load exceeds 4 tonnes, and snaps to show its

disapproval as the load reaches 4.2 tonnes. ere is little

reaction from the incredibly calm crew. I imagine

someone jots ‘get stronger vang’ on a tablet somewhere

later, when we are back ashore. ere is another noise, too,

the backstay perhaps, playing its own moaning glissando

that sounds eerily alive.

is feeling of tension and excitement are the things you

might expect. en there are the things you don’t expect,

like the simplicity of the rig. e reality of J sailing is

anything but straightforward, but ostensibly at least, you

can kid yourself that you understand a boat like this. e

bermudan sloop rig has (for racing) an unreefable main, a

choice of three genoas (100, 120 or 140 per cent) and a

spinnaker. For cruising, a staysail can be hoisted on its own

lu to divide the sail area before the mast. e racing main

PREVIOUS SPREAD

AND HERE: photos

of Svea taken in a

calmer Bay of Palma,

before we arrived for

a sail

TYY4 Svea RP.indd 108 04/12/2017 17:13