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.

Return to pmrsailing.uk https://pmrsailing.uk/sailing-lessons/How-to-sail-better.html

 

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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.

---

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

Return to pmrsailing.uk https://pmrsailing.uk/sailing-lessons/How-to-sail-better.html

 

Which Side of the River Has More Wind?

Sometimes crossing the river loses more distance than sailing in the “wrong” direction.

One of the first things we learn when sailing upwind is that the shortest route towards the windward mark is not necessarily a straight one. We tack backwards and forwards, trying to make the best progress towards our destination.

But river sailing adds another complication.

The wind is rarely the same across the whole width of the river.

One bank may have a useful breeze while the other appears almost completely becalmed. Fifty metres farther upstream the situation may reverse. A bend changes the angle of the banks. A line of tall trees suddenly shelters one side. A gap between buildings produces a surprisingly strong puff. A gust arriving from above may touch down in the middle of the river before spreading towards either bank.

This creates one of the most interesting tactical questions in river sailing:

Which side of the river should I sail on?

The frustrating answer is:

It depends — and the answer may change before you get there.

That is precisely what makes river sailing so fascinating.

---

A River Is Not a Wind Tunnel

When we talk about a forecast wind of, say, 10 knots from the west, it is tempting to imagine 10 knots of wind travelling uniformly across the landscape.

That isn't what happens.

The wind reaching our sails has already interacted with:

• trees;

• hedges;

• buildings;

• hills;

• riverbanks;

• gaps in vegetation;

• other boats;

• and the surface of the water itself.

On an open stretch of sea, the airflow may have travelled several miles across relatively unobstructed water.

On an inland river, it may have passed through or over a row of mature trees only seconds before reaching your boat.

The result can be a remarkably complicated patchwork of moving air.

One side of the river can therefore have considerably more useful wind than the other.

---

The Wind Shadow

Trees are particularly important.

Imagine the wind blowing across a line of tall trees before reaching the river.

The trees don't simply stop the wind and create perfectly still air behind them. Instead they disturb the airflow.

Immediately behind the trees there can be an area of reduced wind — a wind shadow.

But the effect extends much farther downwind than the height of the trees themselves.

The airflow can become turbulent, producing alternating patches of stronger and weaker wind.

This is why sailing close to a tree-lined bank can sometimes feel rather strange.

The boat accelerates.

Then stops.

Then heels suddenly.

Then stops again.

The wind direction may change at the same time.

What looks from a distance like a perfectly sensible route along the bank may actually be a succession of holes and turbulent gusts.

---

The Upwind Bank and the Downwind Bank

Suppose the wind is blowing approximately across the river.

One bank is therefore the windward bank and the other is the leeward bank.

At first sight it might seem obvious that the windward side should have more wind because it receives the breeze first.

Often it does.

But river sailing rarely rewards absolute rules.

If the windward bank has tall trees immediately beside the water, those trees may disturb the airflow before it reaches you.

Meanwhile, wind passing over buildings farther back from the opposite bank might descend towards the water and produce stronger patches elsewhere.

So instead of thinking:

“The windward bank is always better.”

Think:

“What has the wind travelled over before it reaches that part of the river?”

That is a much more useful question.

---

Look Upwind — But Look Beyond the River

This is one of the habits I increasingly find valuable when sailing on a river.

Don't just look at the water immediately ahead.

Look farther upwind.

Ask yourself:

Where has this air come from?

Perhaps there is:

• a field;

• a gap between trees;

• a road;

• a large building;

• a valley;

• a wooded bank;

• or an opening between houses.

A large open field may allow relatively clean airflow towards the river.

A dense wood may produce considerable turbulence.

A gap between trees can occasionally act almost like a gateway through which stronger wind reaches the water.

Learning the geography around the river therefore becomes part of learning to sail it.

Experienced river sailors aren't merely sailing the boat.

They are gradually building a mental map of the wind.

---

Bends Change Everything

Now add a bend in the river.

Suddenly the relationship between the wind and the banks changes.

A bank that was providing relatively clean airflow may become sheltered.

The apparent wind angle changes relative to the river.

A line of trees that previously had little effect may suddenly lie directly upwind.

This is one reason why river sailing can demand so much concentration.

You may discover an excellent patch of wind and think:

“This is clearly the side to be on.”

Two hundred metres later that conclusion may be completely wrong.

---

Buildings Can Create Surprising Wind

Buildings add another complication.

Wind flowing around a building can accelerate around corners and through gaps.

It can also separate from the structure and create turbulent regions behind it.

That means a clubhouse, large house, industrial building or group of riverside properties can produce local wind patterns quite different from the general wind direction.

You may find a repeatable puff appearing in approximately the same place.

That isn't necessarily coincidence.

There may be a geographical reason for it.

This is where local knowledge becomes extremely valuable.

Someone who has sailed the same stretch of river for twenty years may know that:

“With a south-westerly, there's usually a useful puff just beyond those trees.”

That knowledge can be worth several boat lengths.

But even local knowledge needs to be treated cautiously.

Wind strength changes.

Wind direction changes.

Trees grow.

Buildings appear.

The atmosphere itself changes.

Yesterday's perfect route isn't automatically today's perfect route.

---

Pressure — Finding the Darker Water

Sailors often talk about pressure.

In this context we aren't normally talking about atmospheric pressure measured by a barometer.

We mean an area where there is more useful wind.

Learning to see these patches is one of the most useful skills a sailor can develop.

Look across the river.

Does one area of water look darker?

Is there more texture on its surface?

Are small ripples appearing?

Are moored boats beginning to move?

Are flags or burgees suddenly lifting?

Are the leaves on trees moving?

Most importantly:

What are the boats ahead doing?

A boat fifty metres ahead can be an excellent wind detector.

If it suddenly heels and accelerates, something has happened.

A gust may be heading towards you.

If three boats near one bank are moving while three boats on the opposite bank are almost stationary, that is useful information.

The river is showing you where the energy is.

---

Don't Just Look for More Wind — Look for Better Wind

There is an important distinction here.

The strongest wind isn't necessarily the best wind.

Imagine one side of the river has slightly stronger wind but it is extremely turbulent and frequently headed.

The opposite side has slightly less wind but it is steadier and provides a better angle towards the mark.

Which is better?

Probably the second — depending on the tactical situation.

What matters is not simply boat speed.

What matters is progress towards where you want to go.

That brings us back to velocity made good.

You can think of it simply as:

VMG = boat speed x cos(angle away from the desired direction)

You don't need to calculate it while racing.

The important principle is that speed in the wrong direction isn't necessarily useful speed.

---

But There Is Another Cost: Crossing the River

Suppose you are sailing up the right-hand side of the river.

You look across and notice slightly more wind on the left.

Should you tack and cross?

Perhaps.

But crossing has a cost.

You must tack.

You may lose speed during the manoeuvre.

You travel sideways across the river.

You may encounter other boats.

And by the time you reach the supposedly better wind, it may have disappeared.

This leads to one of the most important tactical ideas in river sailing:

A better patch of wind is only useful if the gain from reaching it is greater than the cost of getting there.

That is why the shortest-looking tactical decision isn't always the fastest one.

---

The Temptation to Chase Every Gust

This is particularly noticeable in light winds.

You see darker water twenty metres away.

You tack towards it.

The patch moves.

So you tack again.

Another gust appears somewhere else.

You change direction again.

Before long you have sailed an enormous distance while the apparently less active sailor beside you has simply continued steadily up the river.

And somehow they are ahead.

There is a lesson here.

Don't chase every gust.

Instead ask:

Is this a persistent advantage or merely a temporary patch of wind?

That distinction comes largely from experience.

---

Sometimes Sailing the “Wrong” Way Is Right

Imagine the windward mark lies slightly towards the left-hand side of the river.

The obvious strategy might be to favour the left.

But suppose the left bank is heavily sheltered by trees.

The right-hand side has clean breeze coming through an open field.

Sailing towards the right may initially appear to take you away from the mark.

Yet if you maintain 4 knots while boats on the left struggle at 2 knots, the apparent detour may produce a substantial advantage.

This is one of those situations where sailing teaches an important tactical principle:

Distance isn't the only thing that matters.

Speed matters.

Wind angle matters.

Current matters.

And what happens next matters.

---

Current Makes the Decision Even More Interesting

On a river we also have to consider the movement of the water.

Suppose the stronger wind is on one side but the favourable current is on the other.

Now the tactical problem becomes:

Wind versus current.

In light winds, current can dominate.

In stronger winds, the additional boat speed available from better pressure may be more important.

Again, there isn't a universal answer.

That is why good river sailing involves constant observation rather than memorising rules.

---

Watch the Fleet

One of the simplest experiments you can try during a race or training session requires no equipment whatsoever.

Instead of concentrating only on your own boat, deliberately spend a few seconds looking across the entire river.

Ask:

Who is moving fastest?

Then ask:

Why?

Perhaps they have:

• more wind;

• a better angle;

• favourable current;

• cleaner air;

• fewer obstructions;

• or simply better sail trim.

Over time you begin to recognise patterns.

This is particularly useful when boats ahead split onto different sides of the river.

They have accidentally created an experiment for you.

Watch what happens.

One group may reveal which side currently has the advantage.

---

Use Champagne as a Wind Detector

Sailing Champagne, our A-Rater, makes this particularly interesting.

A long, powerful boat with a large sail area reacts very visibly to changes in pressure.

A patch of extra wind can produce a noticeable increase in heel and speed.

That means photographs or video taken from another boat can become surprisingly useful afterwards.

Look at the water around Champagne.

Look at the heel angle.

Look at the sail shape.

Look at nearby boats.

Then compare those observations with what happened next.

Video can turn an instinctive sailing experience into something that can actually be studied.

It is one reason I increasingly think that filming sailing isn't simply about producing attractive pictures.

It can become a coaching tool.

---

A Simple Training Exercise

Next time you are sailing on a river, try this.

Choose a reasonably open section and, before making a tactical decision, identify three zones:

Left — Middle — Right

For each zone ask:

• How much wind can I see?

• What direction does it appear to be coming from?

• What lies upwind of it?

• What are other boats doing there?

• What is the current doing?

• How much would it cost me to reach it?

Then make your decision.

A minute later, look again.

Was your prediction correct?

If not, don't regard that as failure.

Ask why it was wrong.

That is how tactical judgement develops.

---

The Most Important Lesson: Keep Looking

Perhaps the biggest mistake is finding the good side of the river and assuming it will remain the good side.

It won't necessarily.

The wind shifts.

Gusts move.

Clouds alter heating.

Bends change the geography.

Trees shelter different areas.

Buildings redirect airflow.

Other boats interfere with your wind.

The river itself changes direction beneath you.

So the question isn't really:

“Which side of the river has more wind?”

It is:

“Which side of the river has the best wind for what I need to do next?”

And then, perhaps thirty seconds later:

“Is that still true?”

That is a very different way of thinking.

---

River Sailing Is a Moving Puzzle

This is one reason I find river sailing so interesting.

On large open water, tactics can involve major wind shifts and large-scale weather patterns.

On a narrow, tree-lined river, the puzzle can happen within tens of metres.

A tree.

A building.

A bend.

A patch of darker water.

A boat ahead suddenly heeling.

Each provides another piece of information.

The sailor who learns to notice these clues starts seeing the river differently.

You stop thinking of the wind as something that simply blows across the whole racecourse.

Instead, you begin to see paths of usable energy moving across the water.

And occasionally that leads to a wonderfully counter-intuitive decision.

The mark may be on the left.

The shortest route may be on the left.

Everyone else may be heading left.

But the breeze is on the right.

Sometimes sailing farther is the fastest way to get there.

And sometimes crossing the river in search of something slightly better simply costs more than staying where you are.

The skill isn't knowing which side of the river has more wind.

The skill is learning to recognise when it is worth going there.

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