Day Four racing: Swan for dinner

The crew at the Tree House, Kata beach, after Race 6.
Richard, Bicky, Jing, G, TC, Cookie, Digger, Peter, Grant (obscured),
Pip, Iris, MC, Stevo.  Photo: courtesy Isabel Winter

Well, today was the day when we got to the Swans.
And when I say "we" I mean we and our arch nemesis, Baby Tonga.
So, here's how it goes...
But first a thought from Digger, the handsome long-locked German fellow you see in the photo at left.
He said that he'd got a phone call from friends asking "what's going on you guys? Why fifth instead of first?"
And Digger answered, he tells me, that he said it was like Formula One: sometimes it the Mercedes or Ferrari team; now it's Red Bull.  We're the Ferrari... (shrug).  The Ferrari will come back.
Now that's a very sweet thought, and there may well be truth in it: the cycles in life and all that.

But it did set me to thinking about what it takes to win in this kind of yacht race: racing under IRC rules in the Premier class.  First, there's the class itself, which is for non-stripped out racing boats of over 50 ft, so there's quite a bit of variety in types and sizes, from a 51' vintage X-yacht (Lawana), to the 82' Swan.  Last year we had a 150' Perini Navi boat.  So there's a wide range of handicaps and you don't alway have a measure of the likely performance of a yacht, unlike in IRC 1 racing division, say, where they are much more evenly matched. The Division may be strong, as it is this year, or less to, as it was last year.  Next year could go stronger or less, you never know. So there's the challenge of handling these unknowns.
There's the boat, the sails and all the givens. Then there's crew work and tactics.  They must be flawless and smooth (as our, for very much the most part, are). Then there's the wind, in all its shiftiness, especially in this part of the world where shifts of wind direction of twenty percent, and even more in wind speed, are common.   You have what I call the "wind whisperers", those on the crew who can read the pressures and direction of the faintest zephyrs.  we have four or five very good "wind whisperers". That's a skill I don't have: to look at the wavelets with wide-open knowing eyes.
And then it's mental too: don't get caught up thinking of any mistakes you may have made; keep positive and "never give up".  And, in the end there's not just skill, there's luck.  Luck and skill.  Though of course, as they say, skilful people alway seem to have more "luck" and I forget who it was that said "funny thing, the harder I work the more "luck" I seem to have!")  Still sometimes it really is just pure luck, good or rotten. An example of this is in the race one on day one, in which we were sitting in second place in the last mile home after 21 miles, after the "unbeatable" Swan 68, Titania... And then a wind hole stops us dead after Titania is home; a hole that the best wind whisperers can't get us past, and those behind catch up and we all drift across the finish line on the tide.
And there's the driving, of course, which is usually me, but sometimes Bicky.  And whereas Bicky can ride the winds with anticipation, I've work to do on smoothing out and anticipating better the subtle movements of the boat, especially hard on the wind in light airs (in heavier too, now that I think of it).
Back to today.
Race one is a windward-leeward (op. cit., for FBRs), in which we get a confused start, which preyed on my mind the whole way round (the mental bit).  The work to the top mark has us below Polars (FBRs: the boat speed we should be doing at given wind speeds and angles).  We all thought we were slow, but couldn't figure out why, given all sails seemed well set for the conditions.  Then tonight we met Pete Sorenson from Baby Tonga.  Pete is a multiple Australian IRC champ, so when he offers comments I listen.  Before commenting he says "we look at your boat all the time and have plenty of chance to view her from behind.  We know her well".  Have we done anything different to the boat, he asks. "No", I say, "Same boat, same crew same sails".  His view, he says, for what it's worth is that we have the Mainsail on too tight and that we should have more twist.  Now "twist" of the Main is something of a conversation piece on our boat, so I'm looking forward to passing on Pete's observations at our morning briefing tomorrow... (hah!).  It may cause a bit of a ruckus.
We had an ordinary upwind work therefore, and a similar run, then another work, before we got to the top mark and decided on a gybe-set the spinnaker to bring us to the left of the course, when all the others go right and, say our wind whisperers, into less wind. And it works a treat, as we gather them all in on the last run home, wonderful case of the "never give up" spirit and the skill of the "wind whisperers".  But comes a bit late, finishing over the line just after the Swan, but losing corrected time to some backmarkers.
Result on corrected time: fifth.  Better than we feared.
But clearly that's not Swans for dinner....
What was Swan dinner, is the next race, a windward-leeward, with a triangle thrown in.
We get a great start and sail an immaculate race, have a great time, are up with the Swans all the way round, with immaculate crew work with our spinnaker hoists, gybes, drops and roundings.  We probably zigged once when we should have zagged, though I doubt it cost us the race, which we were pipped by just under three minutes.
Highlight of the race: coming round the top mark on the tail of the Swan 76, Silandra V hoisting the kite and then trucking on over them to lead!  Sweet!
Result: Second after Baby Tonga, and both of us in front of the three Swans.  Now that's Swan for dinner!
We discover, at drinks on the beach at the Tree House, that we're now lying Third Overall in the Regatta. First is a lock, by Titania of Cowes, the Swan 68 (which, by the way, is crewed by a professional crew of 23 UK sailors) with 6 points (remember, FBRs, that it's like golf, the lower the score the better).  Second is our "favourite enemy", Pete Sorenson and his crew on Baby Tonga, and they have a lock on second, with 11 points.  Then there's our Xena on 17 points and the Chinese-crewed Swan 82, Chao Ren, (Translation: "Tide Rider") on 18 points.  So our battle on the morrow is with Chao Ren.
Jing and I have prepared and inscribed the "TongZena Cup" (sic), which was first presented to us by Pete Sorenson, on behalf of Baby Tonga in Kho Samui, when we edged them out on countback.  They've won it once (King's cup last year) we've won once (Samui this year), and now they've won it a second time here.  It will be fought over again at next year's King's Cup, as we're both coming back to have another bash at the Cups: The King's and the TongZena.
They want a formal "prizegiving" of the "TongZena Cup", which we'll do tomorrow after the King's prizegiving, at which all the prizewinners, have to bow and collect their prize, while honouring a portrait of the King, and back away without turning their backs to the portrait.
Though now I must turn away from my dear readers and bid you good evening.
Results below the fold:
PS: Product endorsement warning: on the way to the party in a Tuk Tuk, my iPhone dropped out on the road.  We yelled to the driver to stop.  He does, as I watch a truck catch the edge of the phone and skid it into the path of a scooter which runs over it, before I can get out and retrieve it. I pick it up and turn it on with trepidation. It's fine.  i'm so impressed, i'm inclined to give up capitalising what Sir Humphrey Appleby of "Yes, Minister" memorably called "the perpendicular pronoun" and just say i'm iMpressed. iPhones.  What a wonder!

Race five, day four

Race Six, Day four