THE EVENTA relatively quick, ‘round the cans’ race on east Hong Kong (HK) harbour, near the old Kai Tak airport runway. Line of site the race would be about 10km long and take up to 2 ½ hours to complete – but no more otherwise the HKYC shortens the races to get the sailors back the bar to maximise over the counter beverage sales – and is a regular weekly event during the autumn, winter, and part of spring in HK. Comprising several yacht ‘classes’ of different sizes and ratings, including Flying 15s, Etchells, Pandoras, Ruffians, Sonatas, and Impalas. This report is from the Impala ‘Shikari’, a 27 foot, single masted, fibreglass yacht that, despite its age, is still a light, fast, furious, and fun class of yacht to sail on
THE PROTAGONISTS
The Shikari Crew
A small cabal of regulars including ‘The Helm’, mainsail man ‘Nige’, mid-shipman 'Jonesey’, bowman ‘Mike’, and general sewer rat The Nav, with new crew wading in on occasions to make the fibreglass flyer fang around the designated water course at snail-neck speedThe Opposition
Although all craft on the water remain the opposition, variously and aggressively luffing, covering, rounding, and running, the main enemy army on this day are the other Impalas’ in
the fleet. Boats named Also Can, Boss Hogg, Impala One, Ling Yuan, Moll, Pied Piper, Rainbow, and Taxi. An assorted montage of the kaleidoscope of HK society, with bankers on the weather rail with painters, lawyers on winches with journos, and company managers working the sheets and halyards with technicians; all being constantly tested, taunted, and terrified by possibly the most frightening creature in the world – The Yacht Helm
THE FORECAST
Today’s air temperature 23.5 o C up to maximum 25 o C. UV Index 3 up to moderate. Low tide 1.41pm 0.8metres. Incoming tide during the race
Although all craft on the water remain the opposition, variously and aggressively luffing, covering, rounding, and running, the main enemy army on this day are the other Impalas’ in
the fleet. Boats named Also Can, Boss Hogg, Impala One, Ling Yuan, Moll, Pied Piper, Rainbow, and Taxi. An assorted montage of the kaleidoscope of HK society, with bankers on the weather rail with painters, lawyers on winches with journos, and company managers working the sheets and halyards with technicians; all being constantly tested, taunted, and terrified by possibly the most frightening creature in the world – The Yacht HelmTHE FORECAST
Today’s air temperature 23.5 o C up to maximum 25 o C. UV Index 3 up to moderate. Low tide 1.41pm 0.8metres. Incoming tide during the race
A humid easterly airstream is affecting the south China coastal areas. Locally, there were a few showers this morning and a few millimetres of rainfall were recorded over the territory of Hong Kong. Weather forecast for today misty with one or two light rain patches at first. Sunny intervals in the afternoon. Moderate easterly winds.
(The Helm’s Ed Note : Moderate winds are Beaufort Force 3 – 4 which equates to a wind speed of 13 – 30 kmph)
PRE-RACE PREPARATION
And so the day dawned. One of those early summer days in HK, the heat growing, odours of the ocean, a hint of rain, the air so bad you can't see China even if you had the Hubbel
Through the hallowed gates of the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club (RHKYC) Kellet Island GHQ. Ground zero for the more well healed and well to do nautileers in this small archipelago of islands. Many owners but mostly crew, several of these elite of HKs salt flavoured H20 never having seen the bottom of a bilge, nor received a battering on a bow while working the foredeck. More fond of champagne sailing in their 'Roman' slave galleys than actually sweating, swearing, and slipping on their blood on the deck
To the right of the club house, back behind the children’s playground, a small quiet plot of terra firma, shaded by a big banyan tree. In its soil assorted Christian crosses, Stars of David, and small statues of a smiling Buddha, where those hard-working, hard-drinking, hard-living crew hacks have been laid to rest. "RIP Bob - victim of a bearing away boom. RIP Simon - of the sinking spinnaker. RIP Johnny - of the screaming clattering cleats. And RIP Harold - innocent victim of his gun-toting Helm"
To the Main Bar. Men and assorted 'Sailing Sallies' rejoindured around this inner sanctum, many having camped in over-night, red eyes and brewers cough prevalent, the smells of Lang Kwai Fong and Wanchai an overbearing odour
Check the chart room, see what classes are sailing today - Flying 15s, Etchells, Pandoras, Ruffians, Sonatas, and our own Impalas. The course a start at the club house line, down round the mid-harbour buoy, turn to starboard for a BIG triangle, BIG sausage, LITTLE triangle course, before the beat up to the finish - past the Committee Boat. Its boat boys brandishing their cannons, flags, and horns, serving lashings of Gordons and Skol, abiding to the letter with the age old mariners rule of one hand for the ship, one hand for myself - in this case one shot glass for the guest, one shot glass for me. Busily aiming gunpowder laden starter and finishing cannon at the fleet, unsure of which class is which, which course is correct, nor which way is North - but still admiring the multi-coloured race signal flags hanging in the early summer slop
Onto the mighty 'Shikari' - line honours in our last turn at bat - 2 hours before the gun. The Nav sorting mainsail, genoa and spinnaker. Halyards and sheets next, rescue life belt installed, winch handles and outboard set-up and sorted, the hot haze of HK bearing down badly on the back of The Nav, sweat oozing, back breaking, hands bleeding - the dock not even departed. 30 minutes to game time, mainsail man 'Nige' aboard, 25 minutes left mid-deck man 'Jonesey' aboard. No sign of our Helm. Minutes pass. Heartbeats and thum-drumming increasing in tempo. Minutes from the starting millieu, there he is. Our man of the moment. Our saviour. Our saint. Our sourcer. The Helm. Climbing aboard, non-challant as Neptune ruling the waves as far as the eye can see. Dropping bag, some ice in the esky, he turned to his critically conditioned crew and asks "Anyone need some sun cream?!"
PRE-RACE PREPARATION
And so the day dawned. One of those early summer days in HK, the heat growing, odours of the ocean, a hint of rain, the air so bad you can't see China even if you had the Hubbel
Through the hallowed gates of the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club (RHKYC) Kellet Island GHQ. Ground zero for the more well healed and well to do nautileers in this small archipelago of islands. Many owners but mostly crew, several of these elite of HKs salt flavoured H20 never having seen the bottom of a bilge, nor received a battering on a bow while working the foredeck. More fond of champagne sailing in their 'Roman' slave galleys than actually sweating, swearing, and slipping on their blood on the deckTo the right of the club house, back behind the children’s playground, a small quiet plot of terra firma, shaded by a big banyan tree. In its soil assorted Christian crosses, Stars of David, and small statues of a smiling Buddha, where those hard-working, hard-drinking, hard-living crew hacks have been laid to rest. "RIP Bob - victim of a bearing away boom. RIP Simon - of the sinking spinnaker. RIP Johnny - of the screaming clattering cleats. And RIP Harold - innocent victim of his gun-toting Helm"
To the Main Bar. Men and assorted 'Sailing Sallies' rejoindured around this inner sanctum, many having camped in over-night, red eyes and brewers cough prevalent, the smells of Lang Kwai Fong and Wanchai an overbearing odour
Check the chart room, see what classes are sailing today - Flying 15s, Etchells, Pandoras, Ruffians, Sonatas, and our own Impalas. The course a start at the club house line, down round the mid-harbour buoy, turn to starboard for a BIG triangle, BIG sausage, LITTLE triangle course, before the beat up to the finish - past the Committee Boat. Its boat boys brandishing their cannons, flags, and horns, serving lashings of Gordons and Skol, abiding to the letter with the age old mariners rule of one hand for the ship, one hand for myself - in this case one shot glass for the guest, one shot glass for me. Busily aiming gunpowder laden starter and finishing cannon at the fleet, unsure of which class is which, which course is correct, nor which way is North - but still admiring the multi-coloured race signal flags hanging in the early summer slop
Onto the mighty 'Shikari' - line honours in our last turn at bat - 2 hours before the gun. The Nav sorting mainsail, genoa and spinnaker. Halyards and sheets next, rescue life belt installed, winch handles and outboard set-up and sorted, the hot haze of HK bearing down badly on the back of The Nav, sweat oozing, back breaking, hands bleeding - the dock not even departed. 30 minutes to game time, mainsail man 'Nige' aboard, 25 minutes left mid-deck man 'Jonesey' aboard. No sign of our Helm. Minutes pass. Heartbeats and thum-drumming increasing in tempo. Minutes from the starting millieu, there he is. Our man of the moment. Our saviour. Our saint. Our sourcer. The Helm. Climbing aboard, non-challant as Neptune ruling the waves as far as the eye can see. Dropping bag, some ice in the esky, he turned to his critically conditioned crew and asks "Anyone need some sun cream?!"
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