Ours, however, was the only boat in the top three every day, and the top one on two of the four days. (Enough numbers!) Through the first three days, I remember frustratingly light air, some truly awful starts, and some great recovery sailing. Once, on a four-leg race when for much of the race the wind was no more than two knots, we were near the back of the fleet and literally 80 boat lengths behind the leaders, but still managed to come in second (and seriously challenge for first).
We started the last day ahead by nine points (numbers again?!), so we had no real worries, but wanted to finish first in a race or two (after having finished no higher than second the previous two days). We were looking at another deadly still day — the flags were limp when we arrived at the club. But the wind picked up to about fifteen knots — right where we big boys like it (you may have heard rumors about how much weight we lost for the NOODs, and they're true, but I at least gained my weight back as fast as I could). I remember a particularly fun port-tack start ("Starboard!" yelled other skippers; "Hit me if you can," thought I) and a couple of firsts, including a last race that involved a particularly clean start and a wire-to-wire, horizon-job lead.
All of which led to this:
You'll be glad to know I was wearing my Maris Stella shirt as I accepted the trophy...
2 comments:
hey, be careful, the top of that mainsail looks pretty darn sharp.
way to represent!
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