2003/04 National titles at Royal Queensland Yacht Club, Queensland

“Jess and the Bean Bag”
A story of the 2008-09 State NS14 titles regatta

Once upon a time (actually a little more often than that) Queensland NS14 sailors were delusional enough to invite all comers to compete for the Queensland State NS14 title. Challengers from far, far away rejoiced in the northern folly and embarked on epic journeys north across the border to the wondrous land where legends exist of lifestyles of unforetold … well obviously that’s a secret, it being unforetold and all.

The battle would be held at Southport Yacht Club which was not at the Southport Yacht Club but somewhere else, which added to the mystery and a not a small bit of confusion. By either deciphering the secret map by the great prophet ‘Refidex’ or solving the riddles of the witch ‘in-car-sat-nav’, we all made it. What lay before us was “the Broadwater”. Mighty winds were buffeting this fair sea and there were more than a few white caps. Undeterred (and still delusional) our heroes eagerly anticipated the quest to tame the elements and commenced rigging.

I believe Jack and Jill crewing arrangements are the most ideal for small boat sailing and provide greater benefits than related crews. It enables female crews to negotiate the rules of participation with their male skippers by telling them how it’s going to be and them accepting their predicament. Jess explained reality to Neil, Shannon explained reality to Rob, I explained reality to Steve and we all felt sorry for Brittaney…

Having not been well in the previous 2 weeks my rule for the event was we only capsize once. If we capsize we come in; I wasn’t up for repeated swims and recovery efforts.

The morning session was 2 back to back races; long course first (indicated by the signal flag for numeral 2) and then the short course (numeral flag 1). Sometime on Sunday we figured out what the numeral flags looked like.

We were barely under control throughout the first race with 20kn+ winds and 1⁄2m chop on the changing tide. Although concerned, I did recognise that our situation gave Steve and others an appreciation of how I feel every time I’m at the tiller of a boat. What had me worried the most was the fact the entire main was flogging up wind. As Rob and Steve crossed paths Rob offered to buy my heron; sadly I’ve already sold it.

The advantage of being at the back of the fleet is you get to see what other people are doing. In front of us more adept crews were grannying to gybe on the reaches and the down wind legs. We didn’t need to be told twice and went the long way round on most of our gybes.

We made it to the second triangle lap (lap 3 of 5) but had already been lapped by Hugh and he was gaining on us again. We had to do something special to avoid being lapped twice and we did. Approaching the wing mark we chanced a gybe ….then swam.

Having rehearsed capsize and righting of the boat 2 weeks ago in the river Steve had it back up and I was back aboard quickly. After I disentangled the running rig (from my neck) I enforced my one and only rule. I was looking forward to being warm, dry, fed and a couple of hours reprieve.

After a warm shower and some lunch the day started to look better. Steve asked if I wanted to go back out that afternoon; “Yes, but only if the wind eases.” Those who stayed out for the 2nd race had an hour on shore before having to go out again. I tried to feel sorry for them. By the time we needed to head out again it did indeed look like the wind had eased and there was definitely less white caps. So in a demonstration of the definition of stupidity we went out again. Surprisingly something different did happen. Although once out on course it was apparent the wind hadn’t eased much the water was significantly smoother. We had a much better race and completed the course.

We dragged ourselves back to land ignoring most beacons to cross a very shallow sand bar and contemplated the drive home. Most Brisbanites went home in defiance of high petrol prices. I managed to complete all necessary household chores before sitting down. Jess wasn’t so lucky. Having endured phase one of the sailing challenge she was tricked by the Bean Bag beast. Bean bags at the best of times are treacherous, cunning savages that swallow you up, but after a day of sailing they are merciless. Soon after arriving home she accepted its offer of relaxation and comfort and became trapped. Hopes of rescue were pinned on the return, hours later, of her parents. Thankfully that rescue came in time and she was able to join us again on Sunday.

Conditions on Day 2 were much more appealing; the wind was strong but not ridiculous and the sea was flatter. On the rigging lawn we considered our mast rake. A quick look around showed me that other boats had some. I don’t remember much from Grade 3 geometry but our problem had something to do with acute angles. I didn’t think our mast should be leaning forward. Neil offered a shackle; he had 4 spare. I suggested we’d need all of them and Steve should ask around for more.
On course we were having a better day. It was hard work but we were in the mix and the boat was moving OK. At times we were keeping up with the Murrays. There weren’t many calls of ‘starboard’ but they were memorable. Nev was coming in at us on port and due to fatigue setting in and our dubious grip on control of the boat my call didn’t have its usually surety of tone, instead it betrayed a fair bit of desperate pleading, hoping like hell he saw us, was in control, could get behind us and we’d all survive. He did and we did. The other occasion was coming into the windward mark on port with a line of everyone else laying it on Starboard. It was a matter of pick the slot you’ll go through and tack onto Starboard immediately. No-one died.

On shore Jess had explained that on her boat there was a conceptual swear jar. I’m sorry, but the only way I can explain it is, on their boat its $20 for a F…; $10 for a S…; and $2 for blasphemy. We probably need something similar on our boat but I’m not paid enough. There were a couple of occasions when Steve felt the need to apologise. I’m not easily offended and said “Ye gods, don’t f’n worry about that sh..”.

We ran aground, hit buoys, got centreboards tangled in buoy anchor ropes, and swung wildly into the wind while rounding the wing mark leading me to the ask the obvious question (which was also going through the heads of those around us) “what the F are you doing??!!” ($20). But if was all fun.
At days end boats were packed away and the greasiest food available consumed. Brittaney then made Nev’s day. Every parent harbours aspirations for their children; a hope that they will pursue interests in common with their own. Something they can share and experience together and providing keystone memories. It is understandable fathers may feel a little disappointed if they only have daughters as common interests might be hard to find. However on Sunday arvo I can only imagine how proud Nev was feeling, holding back tears of joy, as he passed Brittaney an ice pack to help alleviate her first case of gunwale bum; A moment that strengthened the father/daughter sailing experience. Oh so proud.

As the NRL Grand final started on the TV in the club house, Neil, as the President of the NS14 Association in Queensland, presented the trophies to winners. And we were all winners. Steve will know the results. Hugh Tait retained the title with his dad Mike as crew. It was the first Regatta he’d sailed with his Dad which was a wonderful thing but I don’t believe it required an ice pack. NSW sailors dominated in results across the line but Queenslanders continued to show their usually handicap prowess.

Taking advantage of the Grand Final coverage and hopefully the lack of traffic most of us headed home, tired but looking forward to more interaction across the border in future regattas.

A big thankyou to Southport Yacht Club and their dingy division for conducting a great regatta and to FastWay Couriers for their sponsorship of the event and supply of very nice trophies.

It was great to catch up with familiar faces and I look forward to seeing you all next time.

Anita (crew “Restless Spirit”; Steve Fletcher)