If you missed the first two parts of this review of the Cong Galway Race 2021, you can find them here and here.
After an all-too-short lunch, we all launched again ready for the second leg. As I headed back to the boat I noticed the Irish Language news crew were on the pier, and they covered the race on their news bulletin that day.
I was making headline news as usual.
The start for the second and final leg was a reaching start straight toward a narrow-ish gate. between a big rock/island and the shore, It was a bit of a judgement call as to where to start – the windward end was obviously appealing, but I felt it could easily turn into a bit of a battle, and only the winner would leave with clear air. Also, the angle of the line meant that the reach from the top end of the line to the gate would be quite broad, and a start from lower down the line would provide a quicker sailing angle for my Laser.
Having decided all this, I got my transits and aimed to start as high up the line as I could without being in the shadow of the boats duking it out to win the end. And, as much by good luck as good management, I timed it well and, as we raced down towards the first gate, I realised I was leading the monohulls – even ahead of those speedy Fireballs.
A picture of me actually ahead of the Fireballs (for a while, anyway)
Just as I was starting to imagine myself explaining my starting tactics to the sailing press, and how word would spread to the SailGP teams that I was a master tactician, and how the America’s Cup teams would then be vying for my signature, I noticed my hand was feeling a bit funny. I thought there was some problem with my glove, until I realised that my left hand was cramping up from all the sheeting. Not good news two minutes in to a 2-hour+ leg.
A bit of stretching on the deck helped ease it, and I would continue to have to do it for the remainder of the leg, but I am a brave little soldier so I carried on.
I kept the Fireballs behind me for a bit, but they eventually got past, and from then on my aim was to keep as many monohulls behind me as possible. As we wound our way down the narrow channel to the Lower Lake this was reasonably straightforward, but once the water opened out it became a little harder. The classic problem of the breeze coming down the racecourse when on a run was bound to happen, and this (coupled with the fact that the guys behind me were better sailors than me…) meant that a handful of boats closed the gap.
Rob and Rían caught me in their 420 and decided to try and roll me. But, as they had a spinnaker, I decided that a severe luff would probably be enough to put them off. Luffing matches aren’t much use to anyone in a PY race, so eventually we agreed that they’d go low and I wouldn’t go down enough to steal their wind should they get past me. It meant at least we could both keep sailing fast in clear air, and it wouldn’t damage our overall times too much.
By this stage I was now cramping in both legs as well as in my left hand – a sign that Lasers are essentially torture machines, that my fitness needs a bit of work, and that I probably hadn’t drunk enough water.
Thankfully we were heading into the last part of the race, down the River Corrib and into the heart of Galway City. This was a real test of temperament, as the tree-lined shore cut out most of the falling wind, and zephyrs of breeze could see boats steaming ahead, only to stop dead and have other boats catch them straight back up again.
My gravel pit sailing experience, coupled with my time sailing on the Norfolk Broads should have given me a bit of help here but, truth be told, I probably lost more time than I gained on the guys around me. By this stage though, I wasn’t too worried, as I was just pleased to be finishing in what I felt would be a respectable enough position. I was sure I would be in the top half of the fleet, and might even scrape in to the top 10, but it was just impossible to judge over such a long race.
After the finish, which had a small crowd of Galwegians cheering us in, and at which I beat the other Laser by exactly 3 seconds after a two-and-a-quarter hour leg, we had to capsize to get under the main road bridge over the Corrib.
As I was drifting under the bridge I saw my family on the bank of the river – still talking to each other, which was good to see. They met me at the slipway with my trolley, and the first thing they said, to greet me after my 30 nautical mile journey was:
“What the hell is going on with your face?”
With the rush to get launched, I had hurriedly put some sun cream on before leaving. I then forgot all about it – never topping it up at any point. My face was bright red, and would take days to recover.
There was a gathering for food an drink whilst the results were calculated, and the first pint of beer was unbelievably delicious – it hardly touched the sides going down. After chatting with a few sailors – all of whom asked why my face was glowing – I noticed the kids were getting a bit restless. It had been a long day for them too, so we decided to hit the road for home.
On the drive, my phone started pinging with messages from sailors from my club. Rob and Rian had only gone and won the whole event – a massive achievement. And I had snuck in to third place! Much, much better than I had hoped for.
I was sorry I hadn’t waited for the prize giving.
The prize for first place was a trophy and a night in Ashford Castle – a five-star hotel.
The prize for third place? A mug for my tea. I can tell you that, whilst I was a basking in the glory of my third place, my wife was pretty grumpy that I hadn’t sailed a little bit faster and won a night of luxury mixing it with the rich and famous.
Maybe next time.
Someone else did a write-up of the event (which is a lot better than mine…) here. And it includes this YouTube collection of pictures from the day: