HKYC Harbour Pursuit Race – The Race

Outboard started, ropes released, we motored away from the dock, weaving and winding our way through yacht club traffic at 'rush hour'. Out through the granite shelter walls, onto the wide, wind-swept creek that is now HK harbour. Mainsail raised and set, then the genny, tacking and gybing through the fleet as the 'Men of Shikari' sought to charge at the line for a flying start at the sound of the gun. Horn blares with sixty second warning, watch hands being monitored, ticking down, the last gybe, sheets tightened, up to maximum velocity, the run at the line, and then the loud “Kaboom!” of the terrier-sized starter’s cannon, and the class was away. Screaming down the harbour like a pack of ravenous piranha, smaller Flying 15s, Pandoras, and Ruffians nervously looking to their '6' as the Impalas - the hot-rodding hoons of Hong Kong harbour - charged down toward the Hung Hom mark in line abreast like the great battle fleets of old

Around the mark and sailing at speed up to the outer harbour the fleet sailed, tacking and ducking, sheeting in and easing, screaming "STAAARBOARD!" and "HOLD YOUR COURSE!" in seeking to outpace or sink off-side opposition. Rounding the top mark, spinnakers rapidly raised, 'Shikari' in the leading pack. Down to the bottom mark, in 2nd now, knuckles whitening with intensity as we rounded that buoy, spinnaker stowed, The Helm yelling expletives, the deckies defying physics to maintain our momentum. Then it happened

The Class Captain, that doyen of HK harbour sailing - cunning as a coyote, a fine connoisseur of dark rum in barrels, schooled down the ages in the intricacies of avoiding South China shoals - inexplicably turned to port - to the left for those non-nautical landlubbers amongst our readers - seeking to avoid the worst of the incoming tide. This left the course open. 'Shikari' and her crew, stunned into action, about to roar up the outer harbour again, advised by our British Supremo Scientist type 'Nige' that the other boats going left probably hadn't factored in the presently limited current effect of the 'Diurnal Tide Curve' in their tactical course calculations

(The Helm's Ed Note : 'The Diurnal Tide Curve' is similar to a mathematical bell curve, where the intensity and speed of the tide reaches either its zenith or its nadir at the specific highest or lowest tide time)

The Nav tried desparately to absorb all this sea-going science, but failed badly as sadly his attention was at that time taken by The Helm constantly yelling "Get it in the f****ng bag!!!", as the spinnaker was dropped over The Nav down to his knees. So the race continued, tacking and covering, gybing and passing, until rounding the last mark in the lead - the 'Shikari' crew desparate for gun and glory - The Helm made the decision to wander aimlessly around the course, allowing others to close in this a 'pursuit' race

(The Helm's Ed Note : A pursuit race is where blocks of yachts are pitted against each other in the form of a fleet match race, with points scored for individual yachts beating their one opposition, and points multiplied for a team all winning against their individual oppositions. In the overall scheme of things, in this race type, the yacht that crosses the line first and gets the gun counts for little)

The crew cursing, desparate not to lose this opportunity for triumph, no matter that all of our fellow team fellows were in a sailing sump, The Nav derisively declared with venom to The Helm "Stop acting like a bl**dy Kiwi and put your ruthless Aussie baggy cap back on!!!" So we sailed on, The Helm helping our team 'pack' but taunting our crew. There the opposition, Impala Ling Yuan 1 Km to port beating up fast. Taxi at our 4 - a faster beat to the line. Moll way to off to starboard, avoiding the tide and scooting in like a seasoned surfer. Could 'Shikari' do it ? Would they do it ? What would our drinks tab be back at the club house main bar be if we failed ? Then quite probably the subject of all sailors hated scenarios, the dreaded "Losers lament back on land"

Up to the finish, that dreaded 'Diurnal Tide Curve' now at its zenith, a Pandora tacking desparately around the finish buoy trying to reach the line, the waters of the South China Sea savagely banishing her backwards. And on 'Shikari', white knuckles again, a quiet moment, the sound of the sloshing sea, the hum of humanity from the far shore, and then - "Kaboom!!!" What joy, what ecstacy, what relief. Two in two. Our team 'pack' had lost miserably in the pursuit race, but that did not matter this day as the 'Shikari' sailors broke every rule in the yachting pursuit race tactics book to get that gun - and dam the torpedoes being flung at us by our fellow fellows. The hull turned to starboard, sails reset, a quiet reflection on our victory today, then the one moment we had actually truely only been waiting for all afternoon, our mainsail man 'Nige' singing out with gusto - "RIGHT, who wants a BEEEER!?"