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Spanish Lessons
Report on the 2007 Laser Master
World Championships
Sept. 30-Oct. 6, Roses, Spain
For me, every race is a learning experience. The bigger
the regatta, the bigger the lessons, and a world championship is the
biggest regatta of all. So, following our recent trip to Roses, Spain,
for the 2007 Laser Masters World Championships, I decided to sit down
and record some of the lessons learned (or re-learned, since all of this
stuff I should already know!).
Pre-Regatta
We arrive in Roses, a two-hour drive northeast of Barcelona, under gray
skies, showers, and a building northeasterly (offshore) breeze. By
morning, the skies have cleared and the Tramantana, as they call this
wind, has built up to 30 knots with gusts in the 40s. The Med is a sea
of white froth under a deep blue sky. I decide to skip my practice sail
and instead Laura and I drive out to explore the white-washed coastal
village of Cadeques, picture-perfect home to Dali and some of his pals.
Lesson 1: Practice is good, but discretion is the better part of
valor.
The Tramantana continues to blow for the next couple of days, shutting
down all sailing activities and turning the 400+ Lasers on the beach
into sand hills. Fortunately, there are more quaint towns to be explored
and more Dali detritus to blow our minds. The training program is
starting to suffer though; my new diet consists of lots of fried squid
and vino tinto. Lesson 2: There’s more to a regatta than sailboat
racing.
On Friday evening, Laura (Madame Secretary of the NA Laser Class
Association) throws a big party by the hotel pool for all the North
American sailors, 29 from the US and 11 from Canada, plus assorted
wives, partners, and offspring. What a great group of people this is;
what a thrill to be a part of it!
Day 1
Racing gets under way Sunday afternoon in a fresh southeasterly and
lumpy seas–full hiking conditions. The starting line is about 300 meters
long (you can barely see one end from the other) but the 75-boat Grand
Master fleet is very aggressive and front row seats at the favored pin
end are hard to come by. I am too tentative, cannot find a lane, and
wind up deep in the herd struggling for air while the leaders sail away.
I round the top mark mid-fleet, but find another gear downwind (all
those hours in the Gorge!) and, by the final run, I am counting less
than 10 boats ahead. But in my zeal to squeeze out that last ounce of
speed, I forget to stay right side up. After a particularly ugly death
roll (literally: my falling mast missed fellow American John Bentley’s
head by inches), I finish 13th.
Race 2 follows pretty much the same script: dismal start followed by
respectable recovery effort (no capsizes this time), resulting in a
12th. Lesson 3: Victory does not go to the timid. Nor does it go
to the frantic.
Day 2
Pretty much like Day 1: breeze on, big waves, hungry fleet, looooong
starting line (but how cool is it to have an ancient hillside castle for
a line sight?!). Hopefully got some of the bad stuff out of my system
yesterday. In fact, my first start is stellar and I am launched, but it
turns out to be a general recall. Back to my old strategy: spot the
fleet a nice head start and spend the rest of the race trying to catch
up. This actually works out not that bad (my downwind mojo is still
working), and I’m happy to end the day with a 7th and an 8th.
Lesson 4: Never, never, never, give up (or, as Yogi Berra says, it ain’t
over ’til it’s over).
I’m now sitting in 10th place, and the pecking order is starting to take
shape. In front with three bullets in four races is 4-time Laser Masters
world champion and 2-time Olympian Mark Bethwaite from Australia. A
major player in Laser Masters since the early nineties, Mark is a great
sailor, especially in a breeze, and a heavy favorite to take home
another title. Hot on his heels, though, are 2003 Laser Master world
champion Anders Sörensson from Sweden and fellow Australian ace Jack
Schlachter. Rounding out the top 10 are an ex-Finn world champion from
Sweden and some impossibly young and fit-looking Germans, Brits and
Aussies. I think we need to start checking IDs.
Day 3
The sea breeze is starting to fizzle. Race 5 gets under way in sloppy
seas and 8-10 knots. Conventional wisdom thus far has been to go left
(towards shore) and turn right on the layline. But today the recipe is
not so simple. Boats are arriving at the top mark from all directions,
and there are a lot of new faces in the lead group. I find some fresh
air on the right and, though my offwind edge is a bit duller in this
stuff (we don’t get many light air days in the Gorge), I’m able to hold
on for 10th. I get a few more breaks in race 6 and–finally!–break into
the top 5. Several of the leading sailors wind up with throwouts today,
and I go into the mid-week break standing in 7th place. Lesson 5:
The pack is usually going the right way–but not always. Keep your head
out of the boat, your eyes open, and pay attention to what’s happening.
Lay Day
Good thing this is our day off; the sea is like glass. Laura and I meet
up with Christy Usher and Rob and Marilyn Hodson for a day trip across
the border to the fabled French town of Collioure. Rick Steves calls
this place “paradise reclaimed” and Collioure lives up to the billing; a
pristine little harbor surrounded by stone towers and castle walls,
steep cobblestone streets lined with pastel shops and cafés, like
something out of a painting by Matisse (which, in fact, it is). We
settle into a beachside bistro to enjoy a leisurely lunch of croque
monsieurs with a bottle of local white wine, and the American girls make
our French waiter Fredo’s day by posing with him for a photo (it’s in
the mail, Fredo).
Day 4
After sitting through nearly four hours of postponements and recalls, we
finally get a race off in light air and lumpy seas. These are not my
favorite conditions, but either everybody else is getting tired or the
planets are lining up my way, as I am able to power over a flock of
boats on the final reach to finish 4th (best yet!). Lesson 6 (with
apologies to Donald Rumsfeld): You sail in the wind you have, not the
wind you might wish to have.
Later that evening, we put on clean shorts and walk across town to the
official regatta party, a splendid affair in the ruins of a Roman
fortress. They met us at the entrance with a glass of Cava (the
champagne of Catalonia) and we proceed to eat, drink, dance, and laugh
the night away with 400 other Laser sailors from around the world. The
agonies and ecstasies of the race course fade away, and we are again
reminded why we keep coming to the Laser Master Worlds. Lesson 7:
See Lesson 2.
Day 5
The breeze is getting really squirrelly now. More postponements, more
recalls, more waiting around for the race committee to tweak the line or
the course. Finally we get going on what turns out to be a real roller
coaster of a race. First I’m up (decent start, clear lane, hanging with
the lead group), then down (miss a shift at the top of the beat, sucked
back into the peloton), then up (after a spectacular reach and run,
rounding the leeward gate with the lead group), then down (running out
of gas on the right side of the second beat), then upside down (sitting
becalmed and watching a parade of white sails cross over on the left
side), then, miraculously, back up–or at least back even–as an RC
inflatable races down the course tooting its horn and flying the
abandonment flag. Lesson 8: Practice often, hike hard, and sail
smart, but don’t forget to say your Hail Marys.
Day 6
Anxiety is running high on the beach today. It’s the final day of the
regatta, with many top-10 slots still in play. I stand in 6th, with a
slight chance of moving up (as high as 3rd) and a slightly better chance
of moving down (as low as 8th). Adding to the tension is the forecasted
return of the dreaded Tremantana, although as we leave the beach and
sail out to the course, a light sea breeze is blowing. The RC holds us
in postponement waiting for the wind to shift, and sure enough, after a
couple of hours we get the first offshore puffs. As the new breeze fills
in, the RC sets a course, tucking the windward mark up under that
hillside castle that used to be our line sight. This is a whole new
ballgame–flat water, puffs in the high teens, lulls under 10, very
shifty.
I elect to start at the leeward end and, overcoming my starting line
insecurities at last, win the pin. I’m bow out, hiking hard, leading the
charge to the left side–no one is going to roll me this time! Two-thirds
of the way out to the layline, I tack to port and appear to be crossing
the entire fleet. But before I can get across, a huge right-hand shift
comes in and now it looks like 20+ starboard tackers are crossing me. I
play the last quarter of the beat tacking on the headers, leading the
fleet back into the middle (this is sailboat racing!) and arrive, out of
breath, second at the weather mark. I take off toward the reach mark,
but the lead boat, Nick Livingstone of the UK, turns downwind and I have
to make a split second decision: which one of us is sailing the right
course? I decide I am, try to hail Nick, and keep going (he eventually
re-joins the parade in 4th). I lead to the leeward mark, but just
barely; it’s very hard to make any gains downwind without waves to ride.
As we turn back up the second beat, I start to stumble. Bethwaite
crosses on the first shift, then Michael Nissen of Germany, then Doug
Peckover and Ted Moore of the US (damn, these people are fast up here!).
But I decided way back at the start this was going to be my race, and,
sure enough, after rounding the bottom mark in 4th, I split with the
leaders, find a little booster shot on the left, and nip Bethwaite at
the finish line for the bullet. Life is good (I just hope I wasn’t OCS).
The thrill of victory is short-lived. Lining up for the 10th and final
race, I promptly forget everything I learned in the previous race and
revert back to form: fourth row start at the committee boat and a long,
hard slog back to 9th place. But I sail back to the beach a happy man;
any day you can win a race at the worlds is a good day. Lesson 9:
Every dog has his day, but it can be a very short day. Enjoy it while it
lasts.
Afterthoughts
My finishes on the final day hoisted me into 5th place (no OCS!),
which means I get to take home one of the coveted Laser championship
“cubes” and will get my name enshrined in the record book. So I’m happy,
and will try not to dwell on what might have been had I not faded in the
last race. That’s sailboat racing.
Mark Bethwaite won a much-deserved 5th Laser Masters world championship.
He is an awesome sailor. Michael Nissen, Anders Sörensson, and Jack
Schlachter, all first year Grand Masters, wound up 2nd, 3rd, and 4th.
Every year, the fleet gets younger and faster.
 I
guess I can take heart in the fact that in just five more years I’ll
graduate into the Great Grand Master category, and then I’ll be the
youngest guy in the fleet again. Who says growing old doesn’t have its
rewards? Lesson 10: The older you are, the faster you were!
Bill Symes
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