Your First Race — Forget Winning and Try These Five Things Instead

Your first racing objective shouldn't be to beat somebody. It should be to finish wanting another race.

For many people learning to sail, the word racing sounds rather more serious than it really needs to be.

You may imagine experienced sailors fighting for centimetres on the starting line, shouting rules at one another, executing perfect tacks and discussing tactics that seem to require a degree in applied mathematics.

Meanwhile, you are still thinking:

Which mark do I go around next?

That is perfectly all right.

In fact, one of the biggest mistakes we can make when introducing people to sailing is to present racing as something you do only after you have become a "good sailor".

I increasingly think the opposite is true.

Club racing can be one of the ways in which you become a better sailor.

You don't have to be particularly competitive. You certainly don't need to expect to win. Your first few races can simply give your sailing a purpose.

Instead of sailing around practising random tacks and gybes, suddenly there is a reason for everything:

• you have somewhere to start;

• somewhere to sail;

• marks to round;

• other boats to avoid;

• decisions to make;

• and a finish line to reach.

So if you are contemplating your first race, forget about winning.

Give yourself five much better objectives.

1. Start Cleanly

Notice that I haven't said:

Win the start.

For your first race, that really doesn't matter.

Your objective is simply to cross the starting line after the starting signal, sailing in approximately the right direction and without becoming involved in unnecessary trouble.

That is already an achievement.

A racing start can initially feel chaotic because several boats are trying to arrive at an imaginary line at almost exactly the same moment.

Experienced racers may be thinking about line bias, acceleration, positioning, clear air and which end of the line gives them the tactical advantage.

You don't need to think about all of that yet.

Instead, concentrate on three questions:

Where is the starting line?

Which side of it should I be before the start?

Which direction am I sailing afterwards?

If you cross the line five or ten seconds after some of the experienced boats, nothing terrible has happened.

You are racing.

Indeed, being slightly late but under control may be far better than arriving at exactly the right moment surrounded by boats and discovering that you don't know what to do next.

Give yourself some space

In your early races, space is enormously valuable.

Space gives you time to think.

It gives you room to tack.

It gives you room to accelerate.

And it reduces the likelihood of finding yourself in a situation where several racing rules suddenly become important at once.

There will be plenty of time later to learn the finer points of starting.

For race number one, a calm, controlled start is a very good start.

2. Keep Clear

This sounds almost ridiculously simple, but it may be the most important skill of your first few races.

Look around.

Know where the other boats are.

Try to anticipate where they are going.

And avoid putting yourself unnecessarily close to them.

Racing inevitably introduces situations where boats converge. As your experience develops, understanding right-of-way rules becomes an important part of racing.

But initially, you can make life considerably easier by developing good awareness.

Suppose you are sailing towards another boat and you are not entirely sure what is going to happen.

Don't wait until the boats are a metre apart before deciding.

Look early.

Think early.

Act early.

That is good seamanship as well as good racing.

Racing teaches you to look beyond your own boat

This is one of the reasons I think racing is so valuable for developing sailors.

When simply sailing backwards and forwards, it is very easy to become completely absorbed in your own boat.

Where is my tiller?

Where is my mainsheet?

Are my sails set correctly?

Am I pointing in the right direction?

Put ten boats on the same stretch of water and suddenly you have to broaden your attention.

You start looking at the whole sailing area.

Where are the other boats?

Where is the mark?

Where is the wind?

What is happening ahead?

That awareness is a major step in becoming a more capable sailor.

3. Sail the Correct Course

This may sound obvious.

It isn't always.

The first time somebody shows you a race course, it can look like a collection of letters, numbers, buoys and arrows apparently designed to test your memory rather than your sailing.

So simplify it.

Before the race, find out:

Where do I start?

What is my first mark?

Which way do I round it?

What comes next?

How many laps am I sailing?

Where is the finish?

If possible, look at the actual marks on the water rather than relying entirely on a diagram.

There is a considerable difference between understanding that you need to sail to "Mark 4" and actually knowing which physical object on the river is Mark 4.

Follow the course, not necessarily the boat ahead

Following another boat can be useful.

It can also be dangerous.

The boat ahead may be in a different class.

It may be sailing a different course.

It may be going to the bank for tactical reasons.

Or its helm may simply have made a mistake.

Use the other boats as useful information, but try to understand the course yourself.

Completing the correct course is a much more useful first-race achievement than worrying about your position.

4. Avoid Unnecessary Manoeuvres

When people begin racing, there can be a temptation to do too much.

Another boat tacks.

You tack.

Someone heads towards the opposite bank.

You follow them.

A boat changes direction.

You change direction.

Before long you have completed six tacks and travelled considerably farther than necessary.

Every manoeuvre has a cost.

During a tack, the boat turns through the wind and normally loses some speed. A poorly executed tack may lose considerably more.

A gybe can create similar disruption.

So ask yourself:

Do I actually need to manoeuvre?

If the answer is no, continuing to sail the boat well may be the better option.

Make the boat easy to sail

This is particularly important for beginners.

A first race is not the time to demonstrate every sailing technique you have ever learnt.

Concentrate on:

• keeping the boat moving;

• maintaining good balance;

• trimming the sails reasonably well;

• steering smoothly;

• looking ahead.

One good tack is better than three unnecessary ones.

And there is an interesting lesson hidden here.

As sailors become more experienced, they often discover that good racing is not necessarily about doing more.

It is frequently about making fewer unnecessary mistakes.

5. Finish

This is the big one.

Finish the race.

It doesn't matter if everybody else finished before you.

It doesn't matter if somebody sailed past you on every leg.

It doesn't matter if your start was late, one tack was dreadful and you went halfway towards the wrong mark before realising your mistake.

Cross the finishing line.

Because when you do, you have completed your first race.

And something rather important has happened.

The mysterious activity called "racing" is no longer mysterious.

You now know what it feels like.

You have experienced a start.

You have sailed a course.

You have rounded marks.

You have shared the water with other racing boats.

You have made decisions.

And you have finished.

Next time, you can improve one thing.

Your Second Race Can Have One Extra Objective

This is how I would encourage a new sailor to progress.

Don't try to fix everything simultaneously.

After your first race, think about one thing you could improve.

Perhaps:

"Next time I'll try to be a little closer to the line at the start."

Then perhaps:

"Next time I'll try to make my tacks smoother."

Later:

"I'll watch where the strongest wind is."

Then:

"I'll start thinking about which tack is actually taking me towards the mark."

And eventually you may find yourself thinking about shifts, headers, lifts, clear air, mark-rounding tactics and all the other subjects in this improving-your-sailing series.

But those things can come later.

What If You Finish Last?

Someone has to.

In every race.

And if this is your first race while somebody else has been racing for twenty years, comparing finishing positions doesn't tell you very much about how well you sailed.

Use a different measure.

Did you start more confidently?

Did you keep the boat moving?

Were your tacks better?

Did you recognise a wind shift?

Did you round the marks more cleanly?

Did you make fewer unnecessary manoeuvres?

Those are meaningful improvements.

The finishing order will look after itself later.

Racing Is Really a Collection of Sailing Lessons

This is perhaps the greatest reason for trying racing even if you don't consider yourself competitive.

A normal afternoon's sailing might give you a handful of manoeuvres.

A race gives you repeated practice.

You start.

You sail upwind.

You tack.

You judge other boats.

You round a mark.

You change sail trim.

You reach.

You gybe.

You round another mark.

You sail upwind again.

And throughout all of this, the other boats provide an immediate comparison.

If another boat suddenly sails away from you, you can start asking why.

Was it flatter?

Were its sails set differently?

Did it tack at a better moment?

Did it find stronger wind?

Was it simply being sailed better?

That makes racing an extraordinarily effective learning environment.

Five Objectives for Your First Race

So forget the results sheet for the moment.

Give yourself this much simpler scorecard:

1. Start cleanly.

Cross the line under control and without getting yourself into unnecessary difficulty.

2. Keep clear.

Look around, anticipate other boats and give yourself room.

3. Sail the correct course.

Know where you are going and which marks you need to round.

4. Avoid unnecessary manoeuvres.

Keep the boat moving and don't tack merely because somebody else has.

5. Finish.

Whatever happens along the way, complete the race.

Achieve those five things and I would call your first race a success.

Not because of where you finished.

Because you have established the foundations upon which everything else can be built.

The Most Important Question Comes Afterwards

When you cross the finishing line, don't immediately ask:

"Where did I come?"

Ask:

"Did I enjoy that?"

And perhaps:

"What could I do slightly better next time?"

If you are already looking across the water, watching the race officer preparing for another start and thinking:

"I'd quite like another go at that…"

then your first race has achieved exactly what it needed to achieve.

Because your first racing objective shouldn't be to beat somebody.

It should be to finish wanting another race.

---

A final thought from the river

On a narrow river, racing can initially seem particularly daunting. There may be trees affecting the wind, bends in the river, other boats nearby and rather less open water in which to sort everything out.

But those same challenges make river racing an excellent teacher.

You learn to look ahead.

You learn to anticipate.

You learn that every tack has a cost.

You learn to notice small changes in the wind.

And, perhaps most importantly, you learn that the sailors around you are not simply opponents. At a good sailing club, they are very often the people who will help you rig the boat, explain the course, answer a question about the rules and encourage you to come back for the next race.

So don't wait until you think you are "good enough" to race.

Enter a race to help yourself become good enough.

Start. Keep clear. Follow the course. Keep the boat moving. Finish.

Then come back and do it again.

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Do You Really Need to Race to Become a Better Sailor?

You don't have to care about winning for racing to make you a better sailor.

Mention yacht or dinghy racing to somebody who has recently learned to sail and you can sometimes see an immediate change in expression.

"I'm not interested in racing."

"I'm not competitive."

"I'm not good enough yet."

"I just want to enjoy sailing."

All of those are perfectly reasonable responses. Sailing does not have to involve racing. There is enormous pleasure in simply taking a boat out, exploring the river, enjoying the wind and water, and gradually becoming more confident.

But there is another way of looking at racing.

Instead of seeing a race as a competition that you have to win, think of it as a structured sailing exercise lasting perhaps an hour or two.

Suddenly racing becomes something rather different.

You get a start, several beats to windward, repeated tacks, reaches, runs, gybes, mark roundings, encounters with other boats, changing wind conditions and dozens of small decisions.

Then, at the end, you have something extremely useful:

comparison.

You can see what worked.

And, perhaps more importantly, what didn't.

Learning to Sail and Learning to Sail Well Are Different Things

When we first learn to sail, the objectives are understandably quite simple.

Can we rig the boat?

Can we leave the shore safely?

Can we sail towards a destination?

Can we tack?

Can we gybe?

Can we return safely?

Once those basic skills have been acquired, however, another stage begins.

The question changes from:

"Can I make the boat do this?"

to:

"Can I make the boat do this efficiently, consistently and almost automatically?"

That requires practice.

And racing provides an extraordinary amount of concentrated practice.

Consider Something as Simple as Tacking

Imagine going out for a pleasant afternoon sail.

You might tack perhaps ten times.

There is no particular urgency. If the tack is slightly untidy, it probably doesn't matter. The boat slows down, you sort everything out, and continue sailing.

Now imagine sailing a race on a narrow river.

You may tack repeatedly.

Each tack suddenly has consequences.

Did you lose too much speed?

Did you turn too far?

Did the sails come across smoothly?

Did the crew move at the right moment?

Did you emerge from the tack pointing in the right direction?

Did another boat gain two lengths while you were doing it?

Nothing terrible happens if the answer is yes.

But you have received immediate feedback.

That is why racing can accelerate learning.

Racing Makes You Repeat the Important Things

Many sports improve through repetition.

A tennis player serves repeatedly.

A golfer practises putting.

A musician plays scales.

Sailing is slightly different because simply "going sailing" does not necessarily guarantee that you repeatedly practise the skills you most need.

A race does.

During one relatively short race you may practise:

• starting;

• acceleration;

• close-hauled sailing;

• sail trim;

• boat balance;

• tacking;

• wind awareness;

• mark rounding;

• reaching;

• running;

• gybing;

• communication;

• positioning;

• rules and awareness of other boats;

• judging distance;

• tactical decision-making.

And then you do it all again on the next lap.

That is a remarkable amount of practice packed into one afternoon.

The Start Is an Extraordinary Sailing Lesson

Even if you completely ignore the competitive element, a race start is a fascinating sailing exercise.

You are trying to position the boat in a particular place at a particular time while maintaining control.

That requires several skills simultaneously.

You need to judge distance.

You need to judge speed.

You need to understand how quickly your boat accelerates.

You need to know how slowly it can sail while remaining manoeuvrable.

You need to understand the wind.

And you need to remain aware of the boats around you.

For a beginner, the first few starts can seem chaotic.

But gradually something interesting happens.

You begin to understand your boat much better.

You discover that slowing a sailing boat deliberately is a skill.

So is accelerating it.

So is holding position.

So is arriving somewhere at exactly the right moment.

Those skills remain useful even when there isn't a starting line anywhere in sight.

Racing Teaches You to Look Outside the Boat

One of the most important changes in a developing sailor is where they look.

Initially, almost everything happens inside the boat.

Where is the mainsheet?

Where do I put my feet?

What is the tiller doing?

Is the sail flapping?

Where is the centreboard control?

As those actions become more automatic, your attention begins to move outside the boat.

You start looking at the water.

You notice gusts approaching.

You notice quieter patches.

You see another boat suddenly heel.

You notice that boats on one side of the river appear to be moving faster.

You begin to recognise headers and lifts.

You start asking:

Why is that boat going faster than us?

That question is one of the great advantages of racing.

Other Boats Become Your Instruments

Without other boats nearby, judging your own performance can be surprisingly difficult.

You may feel fast.

You may be sailing beautifully.

The boat may feel balanced and comfortable.

But what does "fast" actually mean?

Put another similar boat beside you and suddenly you have a measuring instrument.

If the other boat is gradually moving ahead, something is different.

Perhaps they have better sail trim.

Perhaps they are sailing slightly freer.

Perhaps their boat is flatter.

Perhaps they found stronger wind.

Perhaps they sailed fewer metres.

Perhaps they simply made fewer mistakes.

The important thing is not necessarily beating them.

The important thing is asking:

"What are they doing differently?"

The Boat Ahead Can Become Your Teacher

This is particularly useful when sailing against experienced sailors.

Rather than becoming frustrated when somebody sails away from you, watch them.

Where are they sailing?

When do they tack?

How flat is their boat?

How are their sails trimmed?

Do they sail higher than you?

Or are they actually sailing slightly lower but much faster?

Where do they position themselves before a mark?

What happens when a gust arrives?

On a river such as the Thames, this becomes especially interesting because the fastest route may not always be obvious.

Trees, buildings, bends, current and disturbed airflow can make one part of the river very different from another.

The boat ahead may be telling you something about the wind.

Racing Forces Decisions

When simply cruising around, it is easy to postpone decisions.

"Perhaps we'll tack in a moment."

During a race, circumstances continually ask questions.

Do we tack now?

Do we continue towards the bank?

Is that dark patch of water a gust worth sailing towards?

Has the wind headed us?

Can we cross that boat?

Should we approach the mark from here?

Do we need to defend our position?

Not every decision will be correct.

That is exactly the point.

You make a decision.

Something happens.

You learn from the result.

Over time, those decisions become quicker and better.

Mark Roundings Are Brilliant Practice

Consider a simple windward mark.

You could approach it casually, tack several boat lengths away, sail around it and continue.

Nothing wrong with that.

But racing encourages precision.

How close can you approach safely?

When should you make your final tack?

Can you maintain speed?

Can the crew prepare the sheets before the turn?

Can you round the mark without swinging several metres wider than necessary?

Can you accelerate immediately afterwards?

A good mark rounding is really a sequence of small sailing skills performed smoothly.

The same is true of a gybe mark or leeward mark.

And because races contain several marks, you get repeated opportunities to improve.

Racing Exposes Small Mistakes

This can occasionally be uncomfortable, but it is extremely valuable.

When sailing alone, you can make a poor tack and hardly notice.

During a race, you may immediately see another boat gain.

That doesn't mean racing is cruel.

It means racing provides unusually clear feedback.

A slightly oversheeted sail.

Too much rudder movement.

A boat allowed to heel excessively.

A slow tack.

A badly timed gybe.

A wide mark rounding.

Individually, these may cost very little.

But over an entire race they accumulate.

That teaches one of the most important lessons in performance sailing:

Good sailing is often not about doing one spectacular thing. It is about avoiding dozens of small losses.

This Is Particularly Noticeable in a Fast Boat

Sailing an A-Rater such as Champagne makes this especially obvious.

A fast, responsive boat rewards good coordination, but it also makes mistakes very visible.

An unnecessary rudder movement creates drag.

A poorly timed manoeuvre costs momentum.

Incorrect crew positioning affects balance.

A delayed sail adjustment can leave power unused.

And because three people are working together, communication becomes part of boat speed.

The fascinating thing is that this doesn't necessarily make a performance boat a bad teacher.

Quite the opposite.

A responsive boat gives extremely clear feedback.

Do something well and you can often feel the boat accelerate.

Do something badly and the boat tells you immediately.

But What If You Aren't Competitive?

This is perhaps the most important point.

You don't have to be.

Your objective doesn't have to be:

"I must beat everyone."

It could simply be:

"Today I want to improve my starts."

Or:

"I want to make every tack smoother."

Or:

"I want to keep the boat flatter."

Or:

"I want to look at the water more."

Or:

"I want to understand why another boat is faster."

Your result on the sheet might say eighth.

But if your tacks were noticeably better than last week, you achieved something important.

You can race against your previous performance rather than against everybody else.

You Don't Even Have to Finish Every Race

For somebody new to racing, simply joining in can be enough.

Start at the back.

Give yourself space.

Sail the course.

Watch what everybody else does.

If necessary, retire and come back another day.

The objective of your first race does not have to be winning.

It might simply be:

Start, sail the correct course and finish.

That is already an achievement.

Next time, perhaps try to stay closer to another boat.

Then try to make better tacks.

Then concentrate on mark roundings.

Improvement can be gradual.

And No — Racing Is Not Compulsory

There are excellent sailors who rarely or never race.

Cruising develops different abilities.

Navigation.

Weather awareness.

Passage planning.

Anchoring.

Seamanship.

Boat maintenance.

Decision-making over longer periods.

Handling unfamiliar situations.

Sailing for pleasure without any competitive objective is completely valid.

Racing is simply another tool.

But it is a remarkably effective one.

Try Treating One Race as a Training Session

If you normally avoid racing because you don't consider yourself competitive, try an experiment.

Enter one club race.

Forget about the final position.

Choose one skill.

Perhaps:

"Today I am concentrating on smooth tacks."

Afterwards, ask yourself three questions:

What went well?

What repeatedly went wrong?

What will I try differently next time?

That turns racing into deliberate practice.

And suddenly the finishing position becomes only one small part of the afternoon.

The Real Race May Be Against Yourself

One of the pleasures of sailing is that improvement never really ends.

You can learn the basic controls relatively quickly.

But learning to read wind, balance a boat, anticipate gusts, trim sails accurately, manoeuvre efficiently and make good decisions can occupy a lifetime.

Racing compresses many of those learning opportunities into a short period.

It creates repetition.

It creates decisions.

It creates comparison.

And it creates immediate feedback.

So, do you really need to race to become a better sailor?

No.

But racing may be one of the fastest ways of discovering what you need to improve.

And perhaps that is the best reason to try it.

You don't have to care about winning for racing to make you a better sailor.

Sometimes the most useful boat to beat is simply the sailor you were last week.

 

Why Fast Boats Punish Small Mistakes

The faster the boat, the less time it gives you to pretend you haven't made a mistake.

There is something wonderfully reassuring about a forgiving sailing boat.

Get the sail trim slightly wrong and it carries on. Make a rather untidy tack and it slows down, but soon gathers speed again. Steer a few degrees too much, sit in slightly the wrong place or react rather late to a gust, and the boat generally gives you enough time to sort things out.

Then you step into something faster.

Suddenly the rules seem to have changed.

A badly timed tack costs several boat lengths. A little too much rudder feels as though somebody has put the brakes on. A moment's hesitation in a gust can turn a beautifully balanced boat into something demanding immediate attention.

The rules haven't really changed.

The consequences have.

That is one reason I find faster boats so fascinating. They can be less forgiving, certainly, but that also makes them extraordinarily good teachers.

And sailing an A-Rater such as Champagne makes this particularly obvious.

Speed Changes the Timescale

Imagine two boats approaching a situation where the helm has three seconds to recognise what is happening and respond.

One is travelling at 3 knots.

The other is travelling at 9 knots.

During those three seconds, the faster boat travels three times as far.

That means the sailor has covered much more water before doing anything about the problem.

The relationship is wonderfully simple:

Distance = speed x time

The faster the boat travels, the more distance is consumed by hesitation.

That applies to almost everything:

• spotting a gust;

• deciding to tack;

• adjusting the sheets;

• changing crew position;

• approaching another boat;

• preparing for a mark rounding;

• reacting to a header;

• correcting an oversteer.

At low speed you often have time to think:

"Something isn't quite right here."

On a performance boat the conversation can become:

"Something isn't quite—oh."

Small Steering Errors Become Expensive

One of the easiest mistakes to make in any boat is excessive steering.

The rudder is wonderfully convenient. Move the tiller and the boat turns.

Unfortunately, the rudder isn't a free steering device.

Deflect it significantly and it creates drag.

A beginner will often steer almost continuously:

left...

right...

left again...

another correction...

The boat travels in a slightly wobbly line while the rudder repeatedly moves through relatively large angles.

On a slow training boat this may not feel particularly dramatic.

On a fast boat you can often feel the boat decelerate.

Good helming increasingly becomes about using tiny movements and, wherever possible, allowing the boat to steer itself through good balance, sail trim and crew position.

The aim isn't:

Steer the boat constantly.

It is:

Set the boat up so that very little steering is required.

That is a profound change in thinking.

The Rudder Is Often Correcting Another Mistake

This is where performance sailing becomes particularly interesting.

Suppose I find myself pulling hard on the tiller.

The immediate temptation is to think:

"I need more rudder."

But perhaps the real question should be:

"Why does the boat need so much rudder?"

Perhaps the boat is heeling excessively.

Perhaps the sails are oversheeted.

Perhaps the crew weight is badly positioned.

Perhaps the sail balance is wrong.

Perhaps we have reacted too slowly to a gust.

The rudder may simply be correcting something that went wrong several seconds earlier.

A fast boat exposes that chain of events remarkably clearly.

Poor Sail Trim Becomes Much More Obvious

A few centimetres of sheet movement can make surprisingly large differences.

On a slower boat, imperfect trim may produce a fairly modest reduction in speed.

On a performance boat, the boat may immediately tell you something is wrong.

Oversheet and it can feel strangled.

Ease too far and power disappears.

Allow too much heel and the rudder loads up.

Fail to adjust as the apparent wind changes and the sails that were correctly set moments ago may no longer be right.

This is particularly interesting because the faster the boat travels, the more important apparent wind becomes.

The sails respond not simply to the wind we feel standing on the bank, but to the combination of true wind and the wind created by the boat's own movement.

As the boat accelerates, that apparent wind changes.

So something rather wonderful happens.

Speed itself changes the wind experienced by the sails.

The boat accelerates.

The apparent wind changes.

The sails may need adjusting.

That adjustment can produce more speed.

Which changes the apparent wind again.

Fast sailing therefore becomes a continuous process rather than a sequence of fixed settings.

A Gust Is No Longer Something You Deal With Afterwards

On a gentle training sail, a gust arrives.

The boat heels.

The sailor notices.

Then something is done about it.

Perhaps the mainsheet is eased.

Perhaps the helm bears away slightly.

Perhaps somebody moves their weight.

That sequence might be adequate.

But performance sailing gradually teaches you something better:

Don't react to the gust when it hits you. React because you know it is coming.

Look upwind.

Watch the water.

Watch the boats ahead.

Look for darker patches.

Notice changes in the trees.

Watch other boats suddenly heel or accelerate.

Now the crew can prepare before the gust reaches the boat.

Weight moves.

Sheets are ready.

The helm anticipates the change.

Instead of:

gust → problem → reaction

you begin developing:

observation → preparation → gust → acceleration

That is a completely different way of sailing.

And it is much faster.

Fast Boats Punish Late Tacks

A tack is one of the clearest examples.

At beginner level, success means:

We changed from one tack to the other without capsizing.

Quite rightly.

Later, the standard changes.

Now we might ask:

How much speed did we lose?

How far did the boat turn?

Was the turn smooth?

Were the sails released at the right moment?

When was the jib brought across?

Did the crew movement help the turn?

Did the helm use too much rudder?

How quickly did the boat accelerate afterwards?

A poor tack can turn a fast boat temporarily into a slow boat.

And acceleration matters.

Suppose two identical boats are travelling at the same speed.

One performs a clean tack and quickly returns to full speed.

The other loses considerably more speed and takes several seconds longer to accelerate.

That difference doesn't disappear when both boats eventually reach the same speed again.

The first boat has already travelled farther.

The distance has gone.

That is why apparently small differences in manoeuvres can accumulate into enormous differences over a race.

One Bad Tack Doesn't Stay One Bad Tack

This becomes especially important on river sailing.

On open water there may be long periods between manoeuvres.

On a relatively narrow river such as the Thames, we can tack repeatedly.

Imagine one boat loses only one extra boat length on each tack compared with another.

That doesn't sound disastrous.

But make ten tacks and the accumulated loss is approximately ten boat lengths.

Twenty tacks?

Now the apparently insignificant error has become a substantial disadvantage.

This is one of the great lessons of racing:

You don't necessarily need one enormous mistake to lose a lot of distance. Lots of tiny mistakes will do it perfectly well.

Mark Roundings Magnify Everything

Marks provide another excellent demonstration.

Approaching a mark too quickly without preparation creates a cascade of problems.

The crew isn't ready.

The sheets aren't prepared.

The helm turns too late.

Too much rudder is used.

The sails are adjusted late.

Weight is in the wrong place.

The boat exits the mark slowly.

The mistake may have started ten or fifteen seconds before the actual rounding.

That is another characteristic of better sailing.

We stop asking:

"What went wrong at the mark?"

and start asking:

"When did the sequence that caused the bad rounding actually begin?"

Often the answer is surprisingly early.

Fast Boats Reward Planning

This is perhaps one of the biggest differences I have noticed.

In slower sailing, you can sometimes operate predominantly in the present.

In faster sailing, you increasingly have to operate in the future.

Where will we be in ten seconds?

What will the wind be doing there?

Which boat will we meet?

When do we need to tack?

Where does the crew need to be?

Which control needs adjusting?

What happens immediately after the mark?

Good crews therefore begin manoeuvres before they appear necessary.

That doesn't mean physically turning early.

It means preparing early.

The actual manoeuvre then looks remarkably simple.

Communication Becomes Part of Boat Speed

This becomes even more important in a multi-person boat.

On Champagne, three people aren't simply passengers sharing different jobs.

The crew needs to function as a system.

The forward crew may see something the helm hasn't seen.

The midhand may recognise a gust.

The helm may be concentrating on another boat.

Someone may need to change a control.

Someone may need to move.

Someone may need to prepare for the next manoeuvre.

Poor communication introduces delay.

And, as we established earlier:

Distance = speed x time

Every unnecessary second matters more when the boat is travelling quickly.

Good communication therefore doesn't have to mean constant conversation.

Often the opposite is true.

The best communication is short and unambiguous:

"Gust in five."

"Ready to tack."

"Boat to leeward."

"Ease."

"Ready."

Everybody understands what happens next.

Heel Is Another Form of Information

Fast boats are also remarkably good at telling you when their balance is wrong.

Excessive heel can change the underwater shape presented to the water and increase the amount of helm required.

Now the rudder angle increases.

Drag increases.

Speed falls.

Again, what initially appears to be a steering problem may actually be a balance problem.

Move the crew.

Flatten the boat.

Reduce the rudder load.

Suddenly everything becomes easier.

That is one reason instructors constantly talk about the Five Essentials.

They aren't five unrelated rules.

They interact.

Sail setting affects heel.

Heel affects helm.

Helm affects drag.

Course affects sail setting.

Boat balance affects almost everything.

A performance boat makes those relationships wonderfully visible.

The Boat Becomes a Measuring Instrument

This is one of my favourite things about sailing faster boats.

You begin to use the boat almost like a laboratory instrument.

Make a small change.

What happened?

Ease the sheet slightly.

Did the boat accelerate?

Move weight forward.

What changed?

Flatten the boat.

Did the helm become lighter?

Use less rudder through the tack.

Did we exit faster?

Change the jib trim.

What happened to pointing?

The boat provides immediate feedback.

Not always perfectly—wind and water are constantly changing—but sufficiently clearly that patterns emerge.

Performance sailing becomes an experiment repeated hundreds of times.

Change one thing. Observe the result. Learn. Repeat.

Champagne Is Particularly Interesting

Sailing Champagne, our A-Rater, makes all of this particularly noticeable.

An A-Rater is not a small modern skiff. It is a very different sort of performance boat: long, powerful, highly specialised and designed around the particular world of Thames sailing.

That makes the experience fascinating.

There is considerable sail area.

There are three people aboard.

There are multiple controls.

The river can be narrow.

The wind is frequently disturbed by trees, buildings, bends and the banks.

The next manoeuvre is often not very far away.

Everything is happening together.

And because the boat can move quickly, getting something wrong tends to become obvious remarkably rapidly.

That is challenging.

It is also enormously educational.

Why Beginners Shouldn't Be Frightened of Faster Boats

None of this means that beginners should immediately be put into the most demanding boat available.

A forgiving training boat exists for very good reasons.

It gives people time to understand:

• steering;

• points of sail;

• tacking;

• gybing;

• balance;

• sail setting;

• centreboard use;

• basic safety.

But once those foundations exist, sailing something more responsive can accelerate learning enormously.

A performance boat doesn't merely tell you that something is wrong.

It makes the consequence obvious.

That feedback is extremely valuable.

Slow Boats Can Hide Bad Habits

This may sound slightly unfair to slower boats, because they are superb teaching platforms.

But their forgiving nature can sometimes allow habits to survive.

Large rudder movements.

Late sail adjustments.

Poor anticipation.

Inconsistent balance.

Slow manoeuvre preparation.

The boat carries on.

A more responsive boat says:

"No. Try that again."

And it says it immediately.

That is why sailors sometimes improve dramatically after moving into faster equipment.

The boat has become their instructor.

The Goal Isn't Perfection

There is also an important psychological lesson here.

Nobody sails perfectly.

Certainly not me.

The objective isn't to eliminate every mistake.

It is to make mistakes:

smaller, earlier and easier to correct.

A good sailor may notice the boat beginning to heel and make a tiny adjustment.

A less experienced sailor notices once the boat is already heavily heeled and makes a large adjustment.

Both have corrected the same developing problem.

But one corrected it while it was still small.

That is one of the biggest differences experience brings.

Expert sailing often looks remarkably calm because the corrections are happening before the problems become obvious.

Fast Sailing Is Really About Anticipation

At first, sailing seems primarily physical.

Pull this rope.

Move the tiller.

Change sides.

Duck under the boom.

Later, it becomes increasingly observational.

Watch the water.

Feel the helm.

Listen to the sails.

Notice the heel.

Watch the boats ahead.

Feel acceleration.

Then it becomes anticipatory.

You aren't simply responding to what the boat is doing.

You are predicting what it will need next.

That is when sailing becomes extraordinarily satisfying.

The Faster Boat Is an Unforgiving—but Excellent—Teacher

Fast boats punish mistakes because speed compresses time.

Poor trim costs more.

Excessive steering creates obvious drag.

Late reactions consume more distance.

Bad manoeuvres throw away valuable momentum.

Poor communication introduces delays.

But there is another side to this.

Fast boats also reward good sailing immediately.

Get the balance right and the helm suddenly becomes lighter.

Trim correctly and the boat accelerates.

Execute a smooth tack and you feel the speed return.

See the gust early, prepare properly and instead of fighting the boat you accelerate with it.

That feedback can become addictive.

You begin chasing not simply speed, but that wonderful feeling when the boat, sails, crew, wind and water all seem to be working together.

And perhaps that is the real reason performance boats make such good teachers.

They don't allow us to hide our mistakes.

But they don't hide our improvements either.

The faster the boat, the less time it gives you to pretend you haven't made a mistake.

Fortunately, it also gives you a very good reason to learn not to make the same one twice.

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Three People, One Boat — How an A-Rater Crew Works Together

A 26-foot racing dinghy doesn't work because three people do three separate jobs — it works because they behave like one crew.

When people first see an A-Rater sailing, one of the most striking things is its size.

At around 26 feet long, with an enormous sail plan, a long narrow hull and three people aboard, it looks rather different from the conventional two-person racing dinghy.

Watch an experienced A-Rater crew, however, and something else becomes apparent.

There may be three people in the boat, but there shouldn't really be three independent sailors.

There should be one crew.

The helm, midhand and forward crew may have different immediate responsibilities, but virtually everything one person does affects the other two. A change in course alters sail trim. A gust changes the required balance. A tack demands movement, steering and sail handling almost simultaneously.

That is something I have been discovering while sailing Champagne, my own A-Rater on the Upper Thames.

Learning to make the boat go quickly is not simply a matter of learning what each rope does. It is learning how three people can anticipate what is about to happen and make the boat respond almost as though one person were controlling everything.

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Three Positions — But Not Three Separate Jobs

It is tempting to describe an A-Rater crew very simply:

Helm: steers the boat.

Midhand: manages sails and controls.

Forward crew: handles the jib and works at the front of the boat.

That isn't completely wrong.

But it misses the important part.

Each person is constantly providing information and making adjustments that affect everyone else.

Imagine sailing close-hauled and a stronger patch of wind appears 30 metres ahead.

The forward crew may see it first.

The midhand may prepare for the extra power.

The helm may alter the course very slightly.

All three may change their body position.

The sheets may need adjusting.

And all this may happen within a few seconds.

Nobody has stopped to hold a committee meeting.

That is when three people begin to become one crew.

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The Helm — Much More Than Steering

The most obvious job of the helm is controlling the rudder.

But steering an A-Rater effectively is not about continually moving the tiller.

In fact, excessive rudder movement creates drag.

The helm should ideally be making relatively small corrections while feeling what the boat is doing.

Is the boat trying to head into the wind?

Is the helm suddenly becoming heavy?

Has the boat started heeling?

Has the pressure disappeared?

Are the sails properly balanced?

The tiller becomes a source of information.

A well-balanced boat should not need to be wrestled around the river.

The helm also has the bigger picture

The helm is usually thinking further ahead:

Where is the next mark?

Which side of the river looks stronger?

Is another boat approaching?

Are we being headed?

Do we need to tack?

How close are we to the bank?

What is the current doing?

On a river such as the Thames, this becomes particularly interesting because the wind can change enormously over a surprisingly short distance.

Trees, buildings, bends and the banks themselves disturb the airflow.

The helm therefore isn't simply steering towards a mark.

The helm is constantly deciding where the boat should go next.

But that decision is only useful if the rest of the crew knows what is coming.

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The Midhand — The Connection Between Power and Control

The middle position can be one of the most interesting places in the boat because it sits physically and operationally between the helm and forward crew.

Depending on the particular boat and how its controls are arranged, the midhand may be involved with mainsail controls, sail shape, balance and helping coordinate manoeuvres.

But perhaps the most important skill is awareness.

The midhand needs to know what the helm intends to do while simultaneously understanding what the sails and boat are doing.

Suppose the boat is becoming overpowered.

Simply pulling everything harder is rarely the answer.

The midhand may need to help adjust the sail plan so that the boat remains fast but manageable.

Equally, when the wind drops, the objective changes.

Now the challenge is extracting power from every available breath of wind without strangling the sails.

This is where small adjustments become important.

A few centimetres of sheet movement can sometimes make more difference than a dramatic adjustment.

The midhand is therefore not simply operating controls.

They are helping manage the power plant of the boat.

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The Forward Crew — Eyes, Jib and Early Warning System

It would be very easy to think of the forward crew as simply "the person who does the jib".

That seriously underestimates the job.

The jib is extremely important, particularly when sailing upwind, but the forward crew is also in an excellent position to observe what is happening ahead.

They can see:

• gusts approaching across the water;

• quieter patches of water;

• other boats;

• marks;

• obstructions;

• approaching river traffic;

• changes in wind direction;

• what rival boats are experiencing.

That information can be enormously valuable.

Imagine the helm is concentrating on keeping Champagne moving quickly to windward.

Twenty metres ahead, the forward crew sees a dark patch spreading across the water.

A simple call:

"Gust in five."

Suddenly everybody can prepare.

The helm knows additional pressure is coming.

The midhand can prepare to control the extra power.

The forward crew can anticipate the required jib trim.

Everybody can move appropriately.

The gust arrives.

Instead of the boat suddenly heeling, the rudder loading up and everybody reacting afterwards, the crew is already prepared.

That is the difference between reacting and anticipating.

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Balance — Three Bodies Are Part of the Boat

One of the most important things beginners discover about dinghy sailing is that crew weight isn't merely cargo.

It is a control.

On an A-Rater, three people provide a considerable amount of movable weight.

Where those people sit matters.

Move weight to windward and you create righting moment.

Move weight forwards or aft and you alter the boat's fore-and-aft trim.

If one crew member moves unexpectedly, the others may immediately feel the effect.

That means balance isn't just:

"Everybody sit on the windward side."

It is dynamic.

In a gust, the crew may move out.

As the gust passes, they move back.

During a tack, all three people have to cross the boat.

In light airs, apparently small changes in position can disturb a boat that you are trying to keep moving smoothly.

The aim isn't frantic movement.

Quite the opposite.

The best movement tends to be early, smooth and coordinated.

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The Tack — Where Teamwork Becomes Obvious

A tack is perhaps the clearest demonstration of three people working as one.

From outside the boat it can look simple.

The bow passes through the wind and the sails change sides.

Inside the boat, quite a lot is happening.

The helm initiates the turn.

The jib begins to unload.

The forward crew releases one sheet and prepares the other.

The crew move across the boat.

The mainsail changes side.

The helm controls the rate of turn.

The jib fills on the new tack.

Everybody settles into their new position.

The boat accelerates again.

A poor tack can stop the boat almost completely.

A good tack maintains momentum.

Communication before the tack

A simple routine helps enormously.

"Ready about?"

The crew confirm.

"Ready."

Only then:

"Lee-oh."

The exact words are less important than everybody understanding them.

The objective is that nobody should be surprised when the boat turns.

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Why Timing Matters

Imagine the helm starts turning before the forward crew is ready.

The jib may remain backed for too long.

Or imagine the jib is released far too early.

Now the bow may struggle to pass through the wind.

If everybody crosses too aggressively, the boat may roll unnecessarily.

If everybody moves too late, it may heel heavily on the new tack.

None of these mistakes belongs exclusively to one crew member.

That is an important lesson.

The tack belongs to all three people.

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Gybing Requires the Same Cooperation

The gybe presents a different challenge because the boom is crossing the boat while the stern passes through the wind.

Again, anticipation matters.

The helm controls the turn.

The crew prepare the sails.

Everybody knows when the boom is likely to cross.

Weight moves appropriately.

The boat exits the gybe balanced and travelling towards its new destination.

A successful manoeuvre should feel controlled rather than dramatic.

And that is an important theme throughout sailing.

When everything aboard looks spectacularly busy, something may already have gone wrong.

Very good sailing can look remarkably uneventful.

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Communication Should Be Short

Three people talking continuously doesn't necessarily make a good crew.

The useful communication aboard a racing boat is usually brief and relevant.

For example:

"Gust coming."

"Header."

"Boat to windward."

"Two lengths to the bank."

"Ready to tack?"

"Ease."

"Hold."

"Pressure gone."

The message needs to convey useful information quickly.

There is an interesting progression as a crew develops.

Initially, people may need to explain everything.

Later, they need fewer words.

Eventually, some actions require almost no conversation at all.

Someone shifts position.

Another crew member automatically compensates.

The helm changes course slightly.

The jib is adjusted.

A gust appears.

Everyone moves.

That isn't telepathy.

It is familiarity.

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Don't Just Say What You Can See — Say What It Means

There is another stage beyond simply reporting information.

Compare:

"There's some dark water over there."

with:

"More pressure coming from windward in about ten seconds."

The second call tells the crew something useful.

Likewise:

"There's another boat."

is less useful than:

"Boat approaching on starboard."

Good communication filters observations into information that somebody can act upon.

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Sailing Upwind — A Continuous Three-Way Conversation

Upwind sailing is particularly demanding because boat speed depends on several variables simultaneously.

The helm is steering the correct angle to the apparent wind.

The sails need to be trimmed appropriately.

The crew need to keep the boat balanced.

The boat needs to maintain speed.

And everybody needs to watch what is happening around them.

If the helm pinches too close to the wind, boat speed falls.

If the sails are oversheeted, the boat may feel powerful but slow.

If the boat heels excessively, the rudder may need greater correction, creating additional drag.

If the jib is incorrectly trimmed, the airflow around both sails can suffer.

These are not separate problems.

They interact.

That is why improving an A-Rater crew is not simply about making each individual sailor better at their particular job.

It is about making the whole system work better.

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Downwind — The Jobs Change Again

Turn downwind and the priorities change.

Now the crew may be searching for pressure rather than simply trying to point towards the destination.

The forward crew may become particularly valuable as a wind spotter.

The midhand may be constantly adjusting sail controls.

The helm may deliberately alter course to remain in stronger wind.

On a river this can produce an interesting tactical decision.

The shortest route is not necessarily the fastest route.

If one side of the river has significantly more pressure, sailing extra distance to reach it may produce a net gain.

Again, the decision works best when everybody understands the objective.

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What Happens When Something Goes Wrong?

This is perhaps where teamwork matters most.

A sheet catches.

A tack goes badly.

The boat suddenly heels.

Another boat appears somewhere unexpected.

The wind disappears halfway through a manoeuvre.

The instinctive reaction can be for everyone to start doing something.

That can make matters worse.

Good crews develop another skill:

They know who needs to solve the problem.

If the forward crew has a sheet problem, the helm's immediate job may simply be to keep the boat stable.

The midhand may temporarily alter the mainsail.

The forward crew clears the problem.

Then normal sailing resumes.

Three people attempting to fix the same problem simultaneously can create three new problems.

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Learning to Sail Champagne

One of the pleasures of owning an older racing boat such as Champagne is that there is always something else to learn.

The boat has history.

It has character.

And, like many boats of its generation, it doesn't necessarily behave exactly like a modern dinghy.

That makes sailing it fascinating.

Each outing teaches us something else.

Perhaps a control needs changing.

Perhaps our timing through a tack can improve.

Perhaps we discover that a particular crew position works better.

Perhaps we realise we should have spotted a gust earlier.

Those discoveries are part of the enjoyment.

There is always a temptation with sailing to imagine that expertise means reaching a point where you finally know how to do everything.

I increasingly think the opposite is true.

The more you sail, the more subtle things you begin to notice.

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Try This With Your Own Crew

Next time you sail with two or three people aboard, try a simple experiment.

For ten minutes, concentrate specifically on communication.

Before every manoeuvre, make sure everyone knows what is about to happen.

Call significant gusts.

Call major wind shifts.

Mention nearby boats.

Then try another ten minutes with one additional objective:

anticipate rather than react.

If a gust is coming, move before the boat heels.

If a tack is approaching, prepare before the helm turns.

If the wind is disappearing, adjust before the boat stops.

It is surprising how much calmer the boat becomes.

And calmer often means faster.

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The Really Good Crew Almost Disappears

Perhaps the best compliment you can give a sailing crew is that nobody appears to be doing very much.

There is no frantic pulling of ropes.

Nobody is shouting.

Nobody suddenly leaps across the boat.

The helm makes tiny adjustments.

Sheets move a few centimetres.

Crew weight shifts almost imperceptibly.

Information passes between three people in a handful of words.

Yet the boat remains balanced and continues accelerating.

That apparent simplicity is the result of a great deal of cooperation.

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Three People, One Boat

An A-Rater needs three sailors because there is a lot happening aboard a large and powerful racing dinghy.

But simply putting three competent sailors in the same boat doesn't automatically create a good crew.

The real transformation happens when each person begins thinking about what the other two will need next.

The forward crew spots the gust before it arrives.

The midhand prepares the sail plan.

The helm anticipates how the boat will respond.

Everybody moves together.

And for a few wonderful moments, the distinction between helm, midhand and forward crew almost disappears.

There aren't three people trying to sail the same boat.

There is simply Champagne, accelerating up the Thames.

And one crew sailing her.

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PMR Sailing — learning, experimenting and getting better every time we go afloat.

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