Learning Experiences - Humiliation by ISO

Tillerman, at Proper Course, decided it would be a good idea to have another "group writing project" on the subject of Learning Experiences. So since I started sailing last year I thought recently that blogging about my experiences as a forty something newcomer to this often demanding pastime might be worthy of a read....and I'd get a bit of a kick out of writing it as well. So here goes....

My local sailing club decided to run an ISO sailing course, for "experienced sailors". I must have qualified as such, even given I have only been sailing for just over a year, and almost entirely on the Laser 1, as last weekend had me learning how to rig and sail this challenging boat.

For those of you not familiar with this class, it has about three times as many ropes and lines than a Laser, as well as two extra sails, a Jib and a spinnaker, and a semi-rigid main sail that has several tensioned battens up it's entire length, giving it an aircraft wing like aerofoil when rigged. I was soon to find out that this is a potential problem in lighter winds when tacking or gybing as the sail will cross the boat with the battens reversed while you sit there wondering why the rest of the fleet is sailing off into the distance. I also learnt that if you give the mainsheet a sharp tug as the sail goes across, it will reverse the battens nicely.

It's also a two man boat, with the crew requiring a degree of athleticism as he/she is responsible for keeping the boat level, so electing to Helm, for me, was a good idea. The second issue is that you have talk to the crew, something I'm not normally used to doing in a Laser, except when yelling "starboard" or "water" to the guy who beat me last weekend. So a crash tack doesn't usually go down too well with them, especially if they are out on the wire, with the end result likely to be wet. So maneuvering has to be coordinated, which means anticipation and a good dose of situational awareness.

So, I volunteer to helm for the first part of the afternoon. We manage to get off the beach without too much trouble, but then I make my first mistake. I forget to push the rudder down and we suddenly find ourselves drifting toward the club jetty, not helped by the fact that my hapless crew, has also forgotten to lower the centreboard. Chaos ensues for what seems to be forever as I stand up and try to deal with the rudder, and the centreboard finally goes down and we narrowly miss broadsiding the the jetty. This is not a good start, as my French speaking crews English is only slightly better than my schoolboy French.

Somehow we manage to sail clear of our self induced obstacles out into the bay on a nice port tack. We then have a conversation to clarify some of the terminology and elect to speak English now that we have decided on a few key phrases. We try a couple of tacks, and it is then that I discover that the tiller extension is too long. Or more accurately, I'm not using it correctly, as I try to take it across the other side of the boat as we go through the tack and discover to my horror I can't get it past the mainsheet block. I now find myself having completed the tack, the boat is starting to heel, and my poor crew is desperately climbing out on the wire in order to prevent us from capsizing, and I have dive back down into the centre of the boat to push the tiller away in order to pinch up to help my crew level the boat. It takes two or three more of these episodes to figure out that flicking the tiller towards the back of the boat as I cross actually prevents this problem and I am able to maintain some semblance of control.

Oh, did I mention the mainsheet? I have this little technique in the Laser that helps me bring in the mainsheet quickly, especially after a gybe onto a beat. Use both your spare hand and the tiller hand in sequence, raising your tillerhand vertically as you grab the mainsheet, so that the rudder does not move too much, followed by the spare hand and I'm soon hiked out hard. On the ISO, no chance, well not yet at least, as it requires all my ability (or should it be agility) to get across the boat, sort out the damn tiller extension, get my bum up on the other side, pinch up, (if the tiller is where it should be) all as the seabreeze is getting stronger, and I'm supposed to be pulling in the mainsheet in as well. I simply don't seem to have enough hands, and in fact we end up depowering a few times due to my inability to even keep it cleated for a second or two while I scramble into a position to pull it in.

So after a hour or more of this flailing around under the pretense of sailing, we decide to swap roles and I put on the harness. Or at least I try to. This is not an easy exercise with the boat pitching and rolling in the late afternoon breeze and I very nearly end up in the water, especially when it comes to getting the second leg in position. Have you try balancing in a small dingy on one leg without holding onto anything? And my crew, now the Helm, is trying very hard not to laugh. Eventually, after a period of undignified shuffling about in the bottom of the boat, I'm ready to go.

Again we sail off on a nice beat and we try a few tacks. This when I discover that the area of the ISO I'm now condemned to sail in for the rest of the day has some nasty obstructions in the form of numerous cleats with sharp edges and far too many ropes and lines. My knees and shins get beaten and cut. I look forward to each and every tack with diminishing enthusiasm as I try to get across the boat without serious injury to body and pride, while desperately trying to unhook from the wire, uncleat the jib and then relocate it, and pull it in as I try to get out on the wire on the other side.

Eventually things settle down and a friendly race is organized between the six boats participating in the course, over a sausage shaped course. We have a good start and are leading as we go around the top mark, but a sloppy turn onto the run allows a couple of boats to catch us, and we end up desperately defending our lead as we approach the bottom mark. As a result we are under pressure as we round, and go too wide, only to have the Helm's spouse, who is also learning to sail the ISO, pass us and relegate us to second place at the finish. My Helm is devastated, and is swearing in French, while telling me in English how upset she is at not beating her husband.

The next day we went sailing with the spinnaker, don't even ask how that went....