DianaPretty Plain Sailing (LINK)
March 10th 2008 03:39
The APC Logistics 2008 Marlay Point Overnight Race
Organised by Lake Wellington Yacht Club Inc, Finish hosted by Gippsland Lakes Yacht club, Victoria, Australia
It is probably always good to get out of one’s comfort zone at least once a year: going on the Marlay Point Overnight Yacht Race seems to be my way of doing it. No sleep for a night. Good chance of being continually wet. Cold. Damp. Challenging..
This race is an epic adventure, no doubt about it.
Held under very mild conditions, 2008 was what we call a ‘drifter’. Not uncommon for this time of the year, though past races have experienced the full gamut of weather conditions: violent storms, sudden cool changes, windless.
We had a 5-10 knot easterly with the start staggered due to the increased entries in Division A (160 Hartleys, Botterills, Ultimates and the like). We were in Division C with the other Castle 650’s, Magnums, RL’s, Seaways, Spiders, Noelex’s, Farr 7500’s and Clubmans.
There seemed to be a greater number of Castles and Noelex’s this year.
Now, have you ever been in at the start of one of these mega-size yacht races?
Hundreds of boats milling around, helmed by testosterone- driven twitchy captains jostling for the best position and anxious not to crash into their fellow racegoers. Aggression and bad language is the norm.
I usually cower in the cabin managing the stop watch while my two fellow- crew manfully cope with the sea of surging boats and their owners.
My brother, our erstwhile captain, likens it to ‘driving around a huge underground car- park on ice’.
We tried to keep out of the way of the little boats and still be in a good position but we managed to have a disastrous start, ending up at the back of the fleet.
My brother, bemoaning this, became once again his competitive self as we sailed away from the brilliant sunset romancing the water.
The sail across muddy shallow Lake Wellington was initially slow with little wind but then the wind swung around to the north-east and we got a good run to Plover Point.
The ‘bogans’ (as they are ‘fondly’ known) were out in full force this night and the number of huge cabin cruisers was staggering. Insults, beer bottles and drunken bodies were hurled indiscriminately at our passing fleet.
One yacht, a tall crew-member standing deliberately tall on the cabin roof, went right in close to the disorderly crowd and forced them to draw back in alarm as though he was going to crash into them. I heard children’s voices in the babble of insults and thought what a bad example was being set for them by their parents.
Then the torturous, tedious drift down the Strait. As the entire fleet funnelled into this river-like stretch of water no more than 50 metres wide the wind died completely and we drifted on the current with little steerage. Annoying and draining. There is only so much small-talk you can exchange with fellow yachts-people, or put up with the sound of their dirty jokes, peeing over the side or taste in music.
Concentration had to remain high due to the extreme risk of collision or running aground but as the hours slipped by our patience was sorely tried.
Tacking was not the issue as we all had our spinnakers up to make the most of the lightest of tail winds but still.
By 3 am by brother announced he was over it. We were still in the same cluster of yachts we had beeYour text goes here Your text goes here n with for hours and all small talk was long extinguished. Earlier gung-ho chat from surrounding vessels had dissolved into alcohol and sleepless- fuelled tetchiness and sharp words were exchanged between crews of closely-drifting boats.
Fog came up and visibility was poor. We could have been off the set of the more eerie scenes of one of the ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ movies, boats gliding dimly lit and soundless.
Near Holland’s Landing we ran aground a couple of times, a fact not immediately obvious to us until I mentioned dopily that we were going backwards! The beeping of depth sounders filled the air. Ours beeped handily after we ran aground each time!
Gradually, as we neared the Ninety Mile Beach, a breeze wafted over and dawn revealed a grey, foggy morning and us with the same clutch of yachts now spread out and sailing briskly along but well over to the southern side of upper Lake Victoria. A 6 knot northerly sent us on a beam reach all the way into Paynesville while we ate our muesli.
By 7am we were passing the GLYC for the first time and our spirits raised as our yacht heeled in a nice nor-north-westerly . Our mobiles started ringing and in a fit of high spirits we told our ‘ground crew’ we would be back for breakfast at the waterfront coffee shop by around 10am!
We shouldn’t have told them that of course.
By the time we had logged Point King the wind had dropped and we wasted no time in hoisting the kite once more. ‘Shy’ and flaccid it flopped around more than filled and the wind withered away once again to nothing.
Our little bonded group of yachts ( a Sonata, couple of Magnums, some other Castles and an RL) sat becalmed in the hot lake. I stripped off 2 heavy-duty wind-proof coats, 2 flannel shirts and a jumper. The boys did similiarly.
On we persevered with our spinnaker as the wind became a south-easterly and I thought what a lovely sight it was on this now-beautiful sunny Sunday morning with all the gorgeous multi-colour sails making their way down the south-eastern side of Raymond Island.
Many speed boats and cruisers were out spectating and escorting the fleet as they made their painfully slow way to Harrington Point.
I had been sent up to the foredeck to weigh the front down and lolled around enjoying the alternate sun and shade as we tacked our way forward into the northerly which had now sprung up.
Class A boats could be seen still trundling down Lake Victoria as we drifted round Montague Point and swung into a southerly in Paynesville bay.
A busy scene met our eyes as the holiday weekend boat and yacht race traffic vied for mooring spots alongside the waterfront cafes.
We crossed the finishing line at 11am.
Ensconced in the ever-popular but poor-service café we found we had made creditable progress under frustrating conditions. With such fickle and changeable winds we had not really enjoyed any ‘real’ sailing but it had been a challenge in many other ways and we felt proud and bonded for finishing.
Line honours went predictably to the sponsors magnificent and enormous catamaran APC Logistics ‘Max’, who had logged off at 5am but the bulk of the fleet started finishing from around 9am onwards.
Some division C boats were still passing through Paynesville for the first time at 11, but with the prevailing southerly they would probably not have such a slow trip round the island.
For detailed results check the web sight for LWYC:
Really Long Link
Organised by Lake Wellington Yacht Club Inc, Finish hosted by Gippsland Lakes Yacht club, Victoria, Australia
It is probably always good to get out of one’s comfort zone at least once a year: going on the Marlay Point Overnight Yacht Race seems to be my way of doing it. No sleep for a night. Good chance of being continually wet. Cold. Damp. Challenging..
This race is an epic adventure, no doubt about it.
Held under very mild conditions, 2008 was what we call a ‘drifter’. Not uncommon for this time of the year, though past races have experienced the full gamut of weather conditions: violent storms, sudden cool changes, windless.
We had a 5-10 knot easterly with the start staggered due to the increased entries in Division A (160 Hartleys, Botterills, Ultimates and the like). We were in Division C with the other Castle 650’s, Magnums, RL’s, Seaways, Spiders, Noelex’s, Farr 7500’s and Clubmans.
There seemed to be a greater number of Castles and Noelex’s this year.
Now, have you ever been in at the start of one of these mega-size yacht races?
Hundreds of boats milling around, helmed by testosterone- driven twitchy captains jostling for the best position and anxious not to crash into their fellow racegoers. Aggression and bad language is the norm.
I usually cower in the cabin managing the stop watch while my two fellow- crew manfully cope with the sea of surging boats and their owners.
My brother, our erstwhile captain, likens it to ‘driving around a huge underground car- park on ice’.
We tried to keep out of the way of the little boats and still be in a good position but we managed to have a disastrous start, ending up at the back of the fleet.
My brother, bemoaning this, became once again his competitive self as we sailed away from the brilliant sunset romancing the water.
The sail across muddy shallow Lake Wellington was initially slow with little wind but then the wind swung around to the north-east and we got a good run to Plover Point.
The ‘bogans’ (as they are ‘fondly’ known) were out in full force this night and the number of huge cabin cruisers was staggering. Insults, beer bottles and drunken bodies were hurled indiscriminately at our passing fleet.
One yacht, a tall crew-member standing deliberately tall on the cabin roof, went right in close to the disorderly crowd and forced them to draw back in alarm as though he was going to crash into them. I heard children’s voices in the babble of insults and thought what a bad example was being set for them by their parents.
Then the torturous, tedious drift down the Strait. As the entire fleet funnelled into this river-like stretch of water no more than 50 metres wide the wind died completely and we drifted on the current with little steerage. Annoying and draining. There is only so much small-talk you can exchange with fellow yachts-people, or put up with the sound of their dirty jokes, peeing over the side or taste in music.
Concentration had to remain high due to the extreme risk of collision or running aground but as the hours slipped by our patience was sorely tried.
Tacking was not the issue as we all had our spinnakers up to make the most of the lightest of tail winds but still.
By 3 am by brother announced he was over it. We were still in the same cluster of yachts we had beeYour text goes here Your text goes here n with for hours and all small talk was long extinguished. Earlier gung-ho chat from surrounding vessels had dissolved into alcohol and sleepless- fuelled tetchiness and sharp words were exchanged between crews of closely-drifting boats.
Fog came up and visibility was poor. We could have been off the set of the more eerie scenes of one of the ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ movies, boats gliding dimly lit and soundless.
Near Holland’s Landing we ran aground a couple of times, a fact not immediately obvious to us until I mentioned dopily that we were going backwards! The beeping of depth sounders filled the air. Ours beeped handily after we ran aground each time!
Gradually, as we neared the Ninety Mile Beach, a breeze wafted over and dawn revealed a grey, foggy morning and us with the same clutch of yachts now spread out and sailing briskly along but well over to the southern side of upper Lake Victoria. A 6 knot northerly sent us on a beam reach all the way into Paynesville while we ate our muesli.
By 7am we were passing the GLYC for the first time and our spirits raised as our yacht heeled in a nice nor-north-westerly . Our mobiles started ringing and in a fit of high spirits we told our ‘ground crew’ we would be back for breakfast at the waterfront coffee shop by around 10am!
We shouldn’t have told them that of course.
By the time we had logged Point King the wind had dropped and we wasted no time in hoisting the kite once more. ‘Shy’ and flaccid it flopped around more than filled and the wind withered away once again to nothing.
Our little bonded group of yachts ( a Sonata, couple of Magnums, some other Castles and an RL) sat becalmed in the hot lake. I stripped off 2 heavy-duty wind-proof coats, 2 flannel shirts and a jumper. The boys did similiarly.
On we persevered with our spinnaker as the wind became a south-easterly and I thought what a lovely sight it was on this now-beautiful sunny Sunday morning with all the gorgeous multi-colour sails making their way down the south-eastern side of Raymond Island.
Many speed boats and cruisers were out spectating and escorting the fleet as they made their painfully slow way to Harrington Point.
I had been sent up to the foredeck to weigh the front down and lolled around enjoying the alternate sun and shade as we tacked our way forward into the northerly which had now sprung up.
Class A boats could be seen still trundling down Lake Victoria as we drifted round Montague Point and swung into a southerly in Paynesville bay.
A busy scene met our eyes as the holiday weekend boat and yacht race traffic vied for mooring spots alongside the waterfront cafes.
We crossed the finishing line at 11am.
Ensconced in the ever-popular but poor-service café we found we had made creditable progress under frustrating conditions. With such fickle and changeable winds we had not really enjoyed any ‘real’ sailing but it had been a challenge in many other ways and we felt proud and bonded for finishing.
Line honours went predictably to the sponsors magnificent and enormous catamaran APC Logistics ‘Max’, who had logged off at 5am but the bulk of the fleet started finishing from around 9am onwards.
Some division C boats were still passing through Paynesville for the first time at 11, but with the prevailing southerly they would probably not have such a slow trip round the island.
For detailed results check the web sight for LWYC:
Really Long Link
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Comment by Tethys
But sailing is a legacy from all the earlier ages of humankind: a connection with the world of spirits, of nature, of depending on the world as we really do.