Double Digit Wind Speeds

First Autumn Race

Then off we went for the first race of the day, already congratulating ourselves on surviving the launch with dry feet and upright dignity. 

The Start Line: Windy. Very Windy. The horn sounded. We crossed the line like pros.
For the first 20 seconds, it was glorious — we even overtook someone. But as with all good things, it didn’t last. We soon discovered what it means to sail a river course in strong wind, next to a tree line, up a hill, around a bend, and possibly through some kind of invisible wind vortex that delights in humiliating beginners.  

Tree Line Trickery Every time we moved from one tree gap to the next, the wind either:
a) dropped dead
b) slapped us sideways
c) changed direction by 45 degrees, just for fun At one point, we were on a beam reach. Then, with no warning, we were close hauled. And then a gust hit us on the stern and tried to gybe the boat for us. We declined. 

Wind Roulette: Hill + River Bend Halfway up the course, the river curved left, the bank rose right, and the wind… spiralled.
We adjusted sails constantly. Sheeted in. Let out. Sat on the gunwale. Sat in. Told each other it was fine. It wasn't. The faster boats, unencumbered by our nervous reefing and occasional over-trimming, lapped us. Politely, of course. A wave, a grin, a flash of spinnaker, and they were gone. 

The Victory? We Didn't Capsize Despite the chaos, the shifting gusts, and the changing directions, we did one thing right: we stayed upright. We may not have been fast.
We may not have been elegant.
We were most definitely last. But we finished. And in double-digit wind speeds, that counts for something. Final Thought Sometimes the goal isn't to win — it's to finish without swimming.
To reef before you need to.
To read the river as much as the wind.
And to sail away from the club with just enough energy left to untangle the jib sheets.