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Today was the first day of racing in 15 to 18 knots with two races scheduled to start from 1pm. It was actually kind of pleasant waving the boys off the beach and then setting myself up in the sailors lounge with a cappuccino. The racing was slow to start and due to technical issues and shifty conditions only one race ended up being sailed.
The boys did really well at the start and for a while even featured in the leaderboard of ten boats that were displayed on the huge TV screen. Holding on to 13 around the first couple of marks they had achieved everything that they set out to for the regatta so were not too upset (or surprised) when the spinnaker sheet got caught under the front of the boat on a drop and Paul had to go swimming to sort things out. They ended up about 30th overall having been beaten in the end by the camera boat (see the online results). Apparently if the camera boat keeps on using its motor Paul and Earle intend to protest it once the worlds themselves begin.
Apart from drinking way too much coffee I have now broken my swimming record by going in swimming more than once in a decade.
In the end the day proved to be rather eventful as after my lovely swim with friend Rosie I noticed a Swedish 505 having difficulty tacking back to shore. It eventually bottled about 100m off the beach and the crew did not seem to be able to right it. Few people noticed the little drama unfold except for one other brave soul who set off swimming to the rescue with me (somewhat out of peak condition as far as swimming is concerned) following in arrears after squeezing my big feet into Rosie’s somewhat too small bright pink flippers.
Rescuer No.1 got to the boat first and righted it as the skipper clamoured in over the side to safety. The crew however was unable to get himself aboard and tried instead to hold onto the stern and get dragged ashore. The sea anchor effect proved way too much though and he was soon adrift being slowly but surely blown offshore. Well, I made it out to him and thought that I would just keep him happy by chatting cheerfully as we both dog paddled back. This was however not to be, and instead, the lifesaving tows that I can vaguely remember learning at school, and last used in the school pool approximately 40 years ago, finally came in handy. Dragging a fully clothed waterlogged 100kg Swedish 505 crew through the water is hard work after only one training swim in a decade and I pretty quickly decided that we needed to head for a mooring before we both went down (without the ship of course as that had by now safely made it back to the beach).
Once secured on the mooring Plan B was put into action and I suggested that Ronald (we were by now on first name terms) take off his wet suit booties and put on the pretty pink flippers so that he would be more able to swim back. Apart from the fact that it actually took a considerable amount of yanking by both of us to remove his boots he eventually squeezed his feet into the flippers and sped off towards shore leaving me to swim in like I was in the novelty race with one of his booties in each hand.
Once his feet hit terra firma Ronald was very quick to get the pink flippers off lest anyone he knew notice his fashion faux pas. He turned once I too had got to the point that I could do the tippy toe standing up and gave me a sincere and grateful hug before disappearing off to join in the Swedish huddle that had by now started to form on the beach.
Tomorrow, Races 2 and 3 of the pre worlds (and who knows what other adventures).
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