Copyright © London Corinthian Sailing Club, 10 July 2004| Fixtures | Results |
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A popular handicap race for a lovely unusual beer drinking vessel.
So where did this race get its eerie name?
It was all very mysterious. Dark Wind? Where did that pop up from? Was the month of February significant? Club members who (unlike Jack Nicholson's assumption about Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men) felt they could handle the truth were keen to find out prior to the 2008 event. A debate on the mailing list finally revealed the truth...
Theory #1 – The Welsh version
Gareth Gwynne Llewellyn proposed that Dark Wind was clearly the name of a yacht that sank somewhere or other, many years ago, in the first week of February. Gareth postulated that the skipper and crew must have survived, and had (obviously) chosen to give thanks for their deliverance, and show gratitude to Neptune, Poseidon, Glaucus, Saekonungar or whoever their saviour was, by dedicating the name Dark Wind to a trophy. Despite his enthusiasm, however, Gareth was nowhere to be seen at race time. We forgive him, as a Welsh defeat of the English at Twickenham is indeed a rare event…*
Theory #2 – The English version
Contributions from Martin Dixon, Bill White, Tony Robinson, and John Herbert revealed that Dark Wind was an International 14, No 445 to be precise. It was purchased by John Herbert and Sir Anthony Lousada for £300 in 1948. The debate raised some nostalgia for the International 14s, now gone from the club. Martin (who sailed the boat as a bespectacled teenager) thinks the original craft went west with a mysterious chap who bought all the old International 14s wholesale. The trophy was presented by Sir Anthony, who sailed who sailed Dark Wind at the club from the 60s to the 80s.**
How it looked from the race box on the day…
After a delay of half an hour (possibly caused by the racers deciding whether or not they even wanted to sail) the Dark Wind Trophy was off to a start. Rumour has it the wind was blowing a force 5, gusting 8 - the rattling on the race hut windows certainly made it seem sturdy.
As if the wind wasn't enough, there also seemed to be a bit of an arctic chill in the air. Entered were four lasers (helmed by Simon Hills, Hugh Kemlo, Rhys Triffitt, and Malcolm Dancy) and one Merlin (helmed by Clive Kitson and crewed by Deborah Ley).
Right off the start the lasers zoomed off. Unfortunately, the Merlin got into a bit of trouble and ended up taking a close look at the side of the river near the Chiswick eyot. Perhaps Clive and Deborah had seen somebody ashore they knew? After spending some time around the far buoys the fleet made their way back toward the clubhouse. The Merlin appeared to be in the lead - but as it turned out it was heading back because it was taking on water. Racing when you're having to bail is never easy.
The lasers spent the rest of the race trying to deal with the shifting winds. Unfortunately, the gusts did seem to be the cause of a couple of capsizes (we won't name names…) but unsurprisingly everybody scrambled back into their boats rapidly.
Fortunately, the race officer took pity on the poor fleet (which was now down to only three lasers after another nameless individual retired in a bid to get a warm cup of tea faster) and shortened the race. The participants were no doubts glad to be out of the water before they turned an even deeper shade of blue. Simon held on to the end and was proclaimed the proud winner of the 2008 Dark Wind Trophy.
Finally, a sailor’s perspective…
For the competitors who turned up at 8.30am for a 9.30am start, survival was of rather more interest than the trophy’s history. Dark Wind pretty much summed up the conditions. The Met Office had forecast a southerly of 18 knots with 28-knot gusts, and that was pretty much what was on offer. Launching from our pontoon in a southerly is a challenge worthy of Shackleton, and so with help from members who’d opted, probably wisely, not to sail, so it was that four lasers and a Merlin launched to take part in a race that would take them round the corner to the clear air upriver at Mortlake.
Problem one: getting there.
A southerly in Hammersmith Reach is an on-off affair – in this case ranging from two knots to a 20-knot strike from a different direction – making the initial stages of the race especially challenging for the Merlin. It’s difficult enough coping with these conditions in a single-hander – for helm and crew having to hike out hard one moment and dive for the centre of the boat to prevent a capsize to windward the next is about as pleasurable as repeatedly falling into a cold bath and cracking yourself in the ribs every 20 seconds.
Not surprisingly, it was the lasers who got to the bend in the river first, led by Hugh, an arch campaigner whose name has been inscribed on the trophy several times, followed by Simon, Rhys and new member Malcolm, who courageously decided to make his debut at the club in the most problematic conditions. The sailors were looking forward to leaving these whopping gusts, but around the corner new challenges were waiting.
The course gave a good beat from now on, but the wind was fair whistling down from Mortlake. The laser sailors – the Merlin, probably wisely, had decided to bow out and remain intact – with cunninghams on full, were hiking hard, spray in their faces and spilling wind on some mighty gusts.
First round the mark was Hugh, followed by Simon, followed by Rhys, followed by Malcolm, who was facing a wet inauguration on Hammersmith Reach. Hugh was looking good for his lead, as ever making few mistakes. Simon, in a stormy pursuit on the run back downriver blew it with a death roll that sent him and boat flying off a wave and into the water to windward, allowing Hugh room to breathe and Rhys the chance to catch up.
Rhys, ever gracious, performed his own not unspectacular roll inside the trots at Chiswick, and so original positions were resumed. But Hugh wasn’t to be let off by the conditions, stalling himself, then capsizing, allowing Simon the lead. That is how the positions stayed, as the little fleet tore back downriver. It was hard to tell whether it was tougher in the sinew-straining full blast further up river, or the slap-round-the-face gusts on the stretch by Linden House.
Credit, too should go to Malcolm, who never gave up and completed a course that would have been beyond many sailors new to the river. Also thanks to Robin Johnson, for sending us round to where the wind was, and setting an ideal course for this rough old morning. Thanks to Woody and Ed Hipkin for manning the safety boat. Anne MacDougall and Chris Crosland collaborated with Robin Johnson to act as the race officer team.
By Simon Hills, Anne MacDougall and Catherine O’Sullivan
* Gareth’s contribution leads on to another fascinating topic – how to pronounce Llewellyn and Saokonugar…
** For further details on the Dark Wind Trophy read the club history (authored by John Herbert in 1994)
Arriving at the line early on a running start is an unnerving moment in a north easterly as I head up to wind to face the entire fleet bearing down on me. We are competing for the Dark Wind Trophy always sailed in February - 'the darkest month'.
Following the start, I tack immediately for the run to Barnes. As we round No. 8 buoy to begin the beat, perish the thought, the next hundred or so tacks will decide the race. This Saturday, the Lasers welcomed a potential new member, Stuart Lang, and I remember telling him that we actually like sailing on the tidal Thames - sad isn't it?
The fleet is spreading out a little - Val is tacking nicely into the lead, followed by Hugh and then the Dixons in the first Enterprise. A favourable tacking duel with Hugh sees me into second place as the fleet claws its way back on the long beat to Hammersmith.
'Norfolk tacks' are the order of the day - those painstaking manoeuvres, as close to the bank as possible, making the most of the boat's momentum to overcome the oncoming tide. My Bulgarian colleague no doubt does not appreciate the niceties of their heritage as his mast collides with an overhanging bough and his boat is wedged between two trees. It took me some time to reach Val but as I passed I captured an incongruous image of him ascending the terra firma on the Middlesex bank.
The corner of my transom connects with a houseboat at Chiswick Pier as I tack too closely past and makes such a resounding bong I wonder if I've woken any of the inhabitants. However, now with clear air and open water, I think that all I need to do is stay upright. Short-lived as I suffer a dunking off the Surrey bank and although I have sufficient ground to maintain the lead, I again raise my competitor's hopes as I sail into a hole crossing the river to No. 1. Forward progress and my pulse stop.
It seems an eternity to round No.1 but once clear I finish, on handicap, just twenty seconds ahead of Martin and Vian Dixon in the Enterprise and all of us under threat from Hugh as the second laser. I pull the boat on to the pontoon, the sail battle scarred with green and black streaks from brushes with trees. I commiserate with Stuart whose sailing experience has been gained in Sydney Harbour. His sole unequivocal comment on the day - "challenging"! I glance at him later in the bar signing-up to join the fraternity as I have the privilege of joining the legacy of the beautiful Georgian Silver Vase.
Copyright © London Corinthian Sailing Club, 10 July 2004