Why go yacht racing, people often ask. The drawbacks are obvious: it's frighteningly expensive, and often cold, wet and seriously uncomfortable. But there are benefits, too.
There's the satisfaction of learning to sail the boat really well, getting to grips with the finer points of sail trim, tactics, tidal effect, and all the rest. There's the satisfaction of gradually moving up through the fleet as you master those skills. There's the satisfaction, if you are really lucky (because it takes a committed crew and the best equipment as well as skill) of winning the odd prize.
Then there's the social side. Many of the people we have raced against have become lifelong friends. And one of the most enjoyable parts of racing is the post match analysis in the yacht club bar. But perhaps the most unexpected - and least discussed - benefit is the philosophical attitude that racing imposes.
“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away” is surely the one Biblical quotation that even the most heathen of race crews will be familiar with. It certainly applied in Friday's Mercator Trophy passage race from Harwich to Ostend.
This annual event attracts a wide range of boats from a selection of East Coast clubs. We have lost count of the number of times we have done it, but it is certainly more than 20, so we know the course almost by heart. We are familiar too with all the other factors likely to influence the result: crossing the shipping lanes, making sure to be on the right side of the ferocious tide off the Belgian coast, remembering that the wind usually falls away in the evening, and so on.
In our first boat, we were near the back of the fleet, and able to watch what was happening to the bigger, faster boats ahead, and react accordingly. In our second boat, we were right in the middle of the fleet, where there was really close boat for boat racing, which kept you concentrating all the way across. Now with our present boat, we are right at the front of the fleet, which means getting the navigation and tactics right.
There were three of us at the head of the handicap list, and we managed to get away from the following pack, saving our time on the rest of the fleet - or so we thought. There was a decent breeze, and we were making excellent progress, close fetching under plain sail from Longsand Head to the Binnenstroombank buoy.
After the Hinder bank, the wind freed a little and asymmetric spinnakers came out. We were charging along, with the distinctive landmark of Ostend's Europa building beckoning from ten miles out, already thinking of that first beer in the Royal North Sea Yacht Club. Then the wind began to get lighter, as it so often does. We changed up to big spinnakers, still easily laying the course, and making a bit to windward, to make sure we were on the right side of the tide at the finish.
Two miles from the line, we seemed to be a reasonably safe bet for second on the water and second on handicap (always with the caveat that we did not know what was happening at the back of the fleet, where after 12 hours at sea they could be an hour behind us on the water, but still beat us on handicap.)
And then the wind headed and almost vanished completely. We thought we'd made enough allowance for the tide, but suddenly we were in danger of being swept past the buoy. We started talking of getting out the anchor. Kevin, who was ahead of us and to leeward, tacked. He seemed to be going back where he'd come from. Meanwhile, Mike, behind us, was lifting steadily towards the safe side of the finishing buoy. But what little wind there was wouldn't let us do that.
We only missed the mark by a cable or so, but when we eventually dared to tack it seemed to take forever to get back to it. We must have lost more than 20 minutes. We had to watch helplessly as Mike swept through to take line honours, followed at some distance by Kevin, who had led all day. By the time we managed to cross the line, third, the chasing pack were almost upon us. So much for saving our time.
To add insult to injury, they did not share our problem: they did not lose the wind, and it did not head them either. The nearest couple of boats were under plain sail, but the next few were flying spinnakers at the finish. There was much teasing, as we all moored, about the fact that the following group had beaten us after all, but their triumph was short lived.
For just as they had caught us because the wind had freed and filled for them as they approached the finish, the boats at the back of the fleet had picked up the new wind much earlier on the course. The “slowest” had carried their kites all the way from Longsand Head: not so slow at all!
In fact when the results were announced they were pretty much in reverse handicap order, so we were pretty much near the bottom! But yacht racing forces you to be philosophical about such things. We'd had a great day on the water. We'd been absolutely delighted with the way the boat had gone, and we'd thoroughly enjoyed our battle with Kevin and Mike and their teams throughout the day. We weren't going to let the result spoil that!
You can't change the weather, and you have to learn to enjoy it when the shift goes your way, and just shrug your shoulders when it doesn't. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, indeed. But if God wasn't on our side on Friday that changed on Sunday when there was an ideal passage-making breeze to get home again.
So that's two races so far this year, both of which we've thoroughly enjoyed, despite disappointing results. We're far from downhearted. I think that must be what they mean when they talk about yacht racing being character building!
