THERE are certain phrases that somehow catch a writer’s ear and make him wish – well, make this one wish, anyway – that he’d written them himself. In the introduction to comedienne-turned-psychologist Pamela Stephenson’s biography of her husband, stand-up comic Billy Connolly, she writes how the character we know as ‘Billy Connolly’ "is a fictional one, a Bill-o-the-wisp that dances from tabloid to tome with relentless inaccuracy."
That’s the phrase: ‘relentless inaccuracy’. There could be no better description of Fairplay Cup reports from the past eight years than that. Relying, as they inevitably do, on anecdote and recollection from people who set out to win, but mostly lost, who intended to bring their boat back undamaged, but sometimes failed, by those who meant to keep the beer for their post-race celebrations, but opened it anyway, the details those reports contain can be little short of relentless inaccuracy.
Inaccuracies might be blamed on the need for teams to convince their accounts managers that their company’s money has been well spent, so as to ensure a return trip next year. Castrol, for example, returned this year after a year’s absence, because their new boss felt that it wouldn’t hurt to cut down on corporate entertaining. "We made sure that it did," said a crewmember, whose presence bore testimony to the effectiveness of his campaign.
Another victim of the bean counters was Nathan Wheeler, whose own company Infospectrum had entered a team two years ago. Last year, however, he had to hitch a lift with Marriott & Co and this year accompanied his fellow members of the Plymouth Nautical Degree Association (PYNDA) as they made their first attempt on the cup.
So this account is based on subjective reporting, lies, innuendo and omissions. Good journalism, in other words.
Talking of omissions, Alan Armstrong is looking for his crew at the eve-of-race reception and admits that he does not know all his crew. Now, Alan has an impressive track record at the Fairplay Cup, having taken his previous employer, the Denholm Group, to victory in the past and winning the cup last year with his present bosses, V.Ships, at the company’s first attempt. So is it a good sign for his rivals that he has an unfamiliar crew, not to mention that his home waters are now the tideless Mediterranean? "It could be," he concedes as he scans the crowd.
He has come from Monaco to defend the trophy, but he is far from being the most travelled person here. Michael van Hall and his wife Suzanne have come across from the US to join their multi-national Van Hall Health team for their first assault on the cup.
Also appearing for the first time is Stratos Global, which has set an immediate record by being the first company in the history of the event to enter three boats. Kerry Pettitt, the Stratos manager responsible, has a simple yet unarguable justification for this tactic: "by taking three boats we can’t come last three times."
They might take some advice from last year’s newcomer, Cathelco. While the rest of the crews were meeting and greeting over the free beer, Cathelco had already tucked half a day’s practice under their belts. "The main lesson we learned from last year was that taking a yacht of novices onto water for a race with no preparations does not set you any chance of achieving success," they noted in their log of the day. And since its team this year included "three sailing virgins", they faced similar problems this time, so they spent four hours with their appointed Sunsail skipper and perfected their tacking, gybing and spinnaker hoisting. The result, said their skipper, was a good crew. But will they be good enough?
Another newcomer this year is ILS, represented by Intralink Service (Europe) MD James Phillips. He and his wife Fliss are no strangers to the Cup, having been in the winning Fairplay team two years ago, and he set out to establish another record – the first all-female crew. Unfortunately, one had to be substituted after she broke her leg skiing, but even with a male skipper from Sunsail, James managed a 50/50 female/male complement, the highest on any boat in this year’s event.
London Offshore Consultants is also here for the first time, fielding a relatively experienced crew. But would experience count? The Solent is notorious for its complex tidal patterns and a little local knowledge can be more valuable than years of sailing practice. And the weather forecasts in the days leading up to the event had been of little help: at the start of the week, the forecast for race day had included thunderstorms. By the evening before the race, these had been quietly dropped from the meteorologists’ predictions, with light winds seeming more likely. But we have seen light winds at the cup before, and a drifting match would be little more than a lottery.
Sweepstake
But perhaps that’s not a bad idea. In a couple of conversations over the canapés,
the idea of a pre-race sweepstake was mooted. But that poses a dilemma, pointed
out one skipper. Suppose you plan to race to win, but you have drawn the hot
favourite in the sweepstake: how big would the sweepstake prize have to be
to persuade you to give up a winning race position so as to win the sweepstake
instead? Fairplay’s editor put the point to a few guests but, by the time
he had explained this complex philosophical puzzle, most had lost the will
to live and wandered off for another beer.
But that raises questions of tactics and strategy and, for many crews, that planning starts at this pre-race briefing. Ships’ papers are handed out containing a wealth of useful information, including a chart showing the various racing buoys that might be used in the next day’s events. It was to become a central feature of some VHF traffic on the morrow.
Portsmouth’s restaurateurs must look forward to the Fairplay Cup. Team tactics are best discussed over a relaxing meal and, with around 150 hungry mouths to feed, the best eateries are booked up well in advance. Fairplay’s team managers opt for a popular fish establishment – popular with other Fairplay Cup teams, anyway, dashing all hope of confidential chats over the crab.
Others are more fortunate. Cathelco consolidates its afternoon practice over curry and beers, talking through all the various manoeuvres and techniques. Clifford Chance’s ‘Always Appealing’ team chose "the most immense mixed grill ever seen this side of Texas" but guest Lyn ‘mixed grill’ Palmer "took to the challenge like a Trojan warrior," its log of the day records. The effect must have been startling: the next day an unnamed rival team was "impressed by the finery of ballast produced by the ‘Always Appealing’ crew. A hard stare from Mixed Grill Palmer soon put paid to any more comments like that."
Team PYNDA had other plans. Having, as its members do, a common bond as graduates of Plymouth’s Institute of Marine Studies, it set out to recreate a typical night out in Plymouth, "with great attention to detail, such as the traditional losing of half the group between pub stops and the ever-popular lift home in a shopping trolley."
So it comes as no surprise that as crews assembled for breakfast the next morning, "for some reason the excellent bacon sandwiches had lost their appeal as the PYNDA team tucked into cold water and aspirin." And if bacon sandwiches sounds a rather sparse breakfast, that is because it was: the rest of the meal was inexplicably left in the yacht club’s kitchens. A possible explanation for the staff’s apparent preoccupation can be found in Harwich Haven Authority’s remarkably detailed account of its day: "0800 – Regatta breakfast. Having been booked into the club, we were able to enjoy our breakfast, seated in regal splendour."
Priorities
There are some people who think that the main priority when sailing a boat
is the state of the boat, the set of the sails or the skill of the crew. Fairplay
Cup entrants, however, know that food and drink are far more important.
Some of the Castrol team, for example, eschewed the opportunity to talk tactics over breakfast, preferring instead to relax with the morning’s paper. "Our strategy", one of them confided, "is to get out the beer and sandwiches."
Sure, there is a skippers’ briefing to attend after breakfast, where we are reminded once again that sailing is not a contact sport, but the real planning revolves around securing the food and drink supplies. Marriott, for example, displayed its teamwork early on, stealing an extra tray of lunchtime sandwiches from an unsuspecting nearby crew "with a passing movement reminiscent of the British Lions at their best," its log boasts.
Their victim was the PYNDA team which, having gone without breakfast, suffered under the blazing sun for the rest of the day until tea, cake and the missing breakfast Danish pastries were served back at the clubhouse after the day’s racing. It will come as no consolation to PYNDA to learn that "in the finest tradition of long sea voyages and school trips" Marriott finished all the provisions by 1030, "the crew’s long training session paying off brilliantly as the beer and wine were swiftly converted and jettisoned, thereby lightening the boat considerably."
For the Denholm Group, top priority was making a decent cup of coffee, and for that they needed milk, none of which was on board. For reasons that never became clear, a Fairplay director offered to secure some of the precious fluid, by which time the Denholm boat had set off. Undeterred, and despite it being contained in a shallow open box, he conveyed it at high speed courtesy of the 225-hp inflatable hired for the benefit of Fairplay’s snap-happy photographers.
At least they appeared grateful. Less enthusiastic was some of the feedback – if that’s the word – on the food selection: Here’s Van Hall Health, on the roast chicken flavour crisps: "Before tasting – Great; what will they think of next. After tasting – Hopefully nothing like that." Aboard the Marriott boat, "a lengthy game of ‘identify the sandwich’ ensued", after which "a faction of the crew attempted to storm the bridge and take us to Ryde for extra pies." When Clifford Chance broke out the groceries they wondered if a seagull had been at the rations. "Careful consideration was given to swimming ashore to find the nearest chip shop." OK guys; we get the message.
But a few teams had strategy on their minds. On Fairplay’s Press Gang boat, for example, skipper Richard Silk recalled that "decisions were taken over who was to do what and that there would only be one boss on the boat." He does not mention who that boss was.
The Dorchester Maritime team also had a plan: to improve on last year, when it won the first race but could not repeat the feat in the second, and went home empty-handed. This year, "I’d put money on us" said one of its crew, exuding confidence that they had learned from last year. Their master plan, their log reveals, was to win both races this year. That sounds easy enough.
For every hare there has to be a tortoise, and a crewmember on Stratos Global’s St John’s boat claimed that role for the team. But in the fable, of course, the hare is complacent and lets the slow but persistent tortoise go past him to win. Could Stratos pull off the same feat?
With all boats away from the pontoon, Fairplay’s photographers set off in their overpowered rigid inflatable boat, or RIB. And then the Mayday alarm sounds on the DSC receiver. This could be serious; "we may have to go and help," says our RIB driver, Richard Ward. OK, so we’ve got a powerful boat that could probably reach the casualty faster than anything else in the vicinity, but we’ve also got pictures to take. Let ‘em sink, says the editor’s lone voice. Fortunately, a lifeboat and helicopter are scrambled to attend, otherwise this supplement would contain fewer pictures and even more invention.
Apparent wind
Sailors are familiar with the concept of apparent wind but today it soon became
apparent that there was no wind. On the RIB, we could not understand the fuss;
we had plenty of wind, especially when the log displayed 40 kt. We did not
share Trinity House’s scruples, whose ‘Buoys R Us’ crew recalled later that
"the crew feels embarrassed at creating ripples across an otherwise oily smooth
Solent."
For the first time in a Fairplay Cup, boats dropped anchor while the first race was postponed. "This is a disaster", noted Trinity House. "For months, the performance of the Buoys R Us crew has been carefully planned to peak at 1200, mid race." Other boats drift with the tide and two are seen motoring back into Portsmouth Harbour. For supplies? One crew goes swimming, while on another boat, "cabin fever set in" and "some of the team looked like turning ugly (the rest were ugly already)."
So we take an early lunch and wait for the wind. And wait. It must have been especially confusing for visitors to Fairplay’s website. One of the magazine’s two boats in the race had been fitted with a tracking system provided by Transas, so that its (hopefully) winning progress could be followed across the world. Sitting at anchor, the system didn’t have much to track.
Then the radio crackles into life as the sharp-eyed crew from London Offshore Consultants reckon they have spotted some wind. So has the committee boat (or ‘comedy boat’ as Marriott’s reporter terms it) and calls the first race for 1300; it will be tight to fit in our scheduled two races.
So at last the first race starts. There is a prize for the first boat legally across the start line, and this year it went to London Offshore Consultants as Locus, in boat No 55; as the picture on p3 shows, it was the obvious choice, although two other boats were recalled as being over the line at the start.
One of those was Team PYNDA, clearly accelerated by the lack of provisions on board. "A highly suspect call from the race officials resulted in a penalty and we immediately found ourselves at the back of the pack." With time constraints, the race was a short one and "the unquestioned brilliance of the PYNDA crew was not given sufficient time to claw back a position worth speaking about."
LOC accepted their good fortune in the bar later. "We had a guy on the bow and he said we weren’t over," said one of its crew. "There was no recall and you have to play to the rules."
Windward spinnaker
It was a strange first leg. According to Fairplay’s editor’s notes, two boats
started on port tack, the rest on starboard in the light south east wind,
but others soon joined them, including Fairplay’s Press Gang. "However, after
a short distance the wind began to fail and the decision was taken to go back
onto starboard. This was to prove a fatal mistake," its log reads. Dorchester
also saw the wind die as it tacked, so "we sat and watched the top half of
the fleet sail away in a completely new breeze while we waited patiently in
the dying airs of the old breeze."
The Baltic Exchange also found itself "on the port side of the fleet when the wind dropped and then filled in from the starboard side. Put it down to bad luck." It was those who had persevered with starboard tack from the outset that had the good luck as the wind veered a good 90 degrees. Among them was the Cathelco team, which found it could lay the windward mark in just one tack. Most remarkable, however, was Van Hall Health’s reaction to the wind shift: they hoisted their spinnaker, and this is still the windward leg.
It was a shrewd move, lifting them from second place to first at the windward mark, passing V.Ships in the process. Alan Armstrong acknowledges that it was the windshift that had put his boat into the lead, only to lose it, but a poor gybe by Van Hall lost its momentum and allowed V.Ships to reassert itself at the front. By this time Locus had lost its initial lead, rounding the mark third, with Marriott in fourth place.
Further down the fleet, some individual races were developing. Trinity House was pleased to leave arch rivals Harwich Haven astern – "and that’s all that matters" – while nipping inside three boats at the mark and clawing up the field. Harwich Haven, oddly, did not mention that detail, noting instead how it had been delayed by the failing wind, after which the team were "steadily overhauling the Trinity House boat."
Totem Plus enjoyed some close quarters sailing with the Denholm Group and ILS, whose log notes that the two boats nearly collided a few times. But Bluewater were Totem’s closest competitors, keeping well up the fleet in that first leg, despite being one of the boats that tacked from starboard to port early on. Not so lucky was another port tacker, Castrol, which did not recover from the wind shift, only beating restarter PYNDA round the mark.
Fellow oil company Shell had a similar frustration. Its log writer believes that it was in the lead early on in the race, "only to be robbed as our wind disappeared and the other boats were unfairly rewarded with a breeze that came in from the west, which only reached us 15 minutes later." Given that disappointment, it is hard to disagree with their own assessment that "it was our professional boat handling that enabled a top-16 finish."
Despite the light airs, not every boat hoisted its spinnaker on the run, and Trinity House explained why in its account of the day. Although boats around them were hoisting spinnakers and gaining a little speed, they seemed to be having control difficulties. Eventually, as the breeze started to fill, they decided to follow suit. "Rapidly realise that we are hoisting the bag as well as the sail. Bag successfully recaptured, but managed to put a twist in the spinnaker. Haul it down in disgust and decide to leave it on deck."
They were lucky that the committee boat was by now flying the ‘shortened course’ flag, as "Harwich Haven are reeling us in." They crossed the line ahead, but only by a matter of a couple of seconds and a few metres. "Another 60 seconds and they would have had us," notes Trinity House. "We have to beat TH in the next race," vows Harwich Haven, as they share 11th and 12th places.
Up at the front of the fleet, Van Hall Health could not recover from their slip at the mark and came in second behind V.Ships, with Marriott in third and LOC in fourth, despite their impressive start. In fifth place was Cathelco, clearly benefiting from their training session. In fact, thanks to the wind shift, they needed all their spinnaker lessons: they had set it ready to hoist it with the pole to starboard, but it was clear at the end of the windward leg they would have to hoist it and gybe at the same time. "A difficult manoeuvre if you know what you are doing," said the team that, 24 hours earlier, had hardly handled a spinnaker.
Time and tide
With a short first race out of the way, it becomes certain that we will complete
the two-race series if the second can get underway smartly. A new start line
is set, the ten-minute hooter sounded and a new course announced. It defined
a windward leg that would also be uptide, calling for some tactical decisions
to be made on each boat. And the second mark would be a buoy known as the
‘SW Mining Grounds’. It was a name we would all become familiar with, even
though – or, rather, because – it was not marked on the race chart. As he
announced the course, Sunsail race officer Tim Rogers said he would clarify
the buoy’s position, but then clearly thought better of it.
As the start time neared, Fairplay’s photographers positioned themselves at the outer end of the line and peered through their viewfinders to catch the moment the starting hooter sounded. The seconds ticked down and the hooter sounded, yet not a single boat was in view of the lens. After what seemed an age, though it must have been just a few seconds, Bluewater Marine came Out of The Blue and crossed the line first; unfortunately for them, the prize for this achievement is based on the first race, but at least there could be no dispute about the legality of their start.
As before, the fleet split into two factions, with the majority taking starboard tack, which took them out into the deeper water of the Solent and over towards the Isle of Wight. A few – perhaps no more than six – chose port tack, taking them through the shallower waters inshore.
Among the starboard tackers was first-race-winner V.Ships, who felt they were in good company, since some of those with local knowledge had done the same thing. The problem seemed to be that the tide was flooding earlier than many expected. As Fairplay’s Press Gang noted, "the tidal atlas seemed to indicate that slack water should minimise the effect of the tide for most of the leg." The wind was clearly fresher towards the island "but the tide was already flooding, removing any advantage of the stronger wind." Rival Fairplay Solutions boat Prime Mover had taken the inshore option; which would come out ahead at the end?
Meanwhile, inshore, Cathelco is one of the boats that elected to take the shallow water route. And it was shallow: "On one occasion we had 0.2 m below the keel." Another was Dorchester Maritime, whose report sets out a crucial decision facing them and their fellow port-tackers: when to tack out into the Solent to reach the first mark, which was nearer the Isle of Wight shore. "After much cunning analysis of what the tide might do, we decided to go for it." But they went too soon; "clearly we need to apply less science and more sailing next time." But that was with hindsight. At the time, with the fleet split so widely, it was impossible to tell which strategy was the better choice.
Meanwhile, the Baltic Exchange crew were worrying about the second mark, SW Mining Grounds. It is not on the chart, they complained over the radio to the committee boat, but NW Mining Grounds is. Should that be the mark? "No," said the race officer. "But it’s not on the chart". "I know". "The directions are confusing". "The directions are fine".
When set down on paper, this summary sounds like a conversation. In reality, each exchange followed a minute or two apart, like a drawn out stand-up routine between a couple of comedians. Eventually, the race officer relented slightly, pointing out that, although the race chart was based on an old plot, boats had been issued with an appendix and an Admiralty chart, which did show the buoy. "My word, my bond," perhaps he should have added.
But the boys from the Baltic were in an understandable confusion: they were leading the starboard tackers at the time so "in a spirit of fair play and entertainment for the rest of the fleet our navigator was dispatched downstairs to call up the committee boat and ascertain where we were going." Eventually "we grasped that indeed the charts were wrong but if we had read the race instructions we would have realised this."
Fairplay’s RIB driver had more sympathy than the race officer and set off to find the elusive mark. From a distance, we could see a buoy in pretty much the right place, but it appeared to be on the beach. Through the binoculars we could see seagulls in the water near it. They were standing up.
The day of the Fairplay Cup was a couple of days before the spring tide, and the time of the race was at just about low water, so the shallows that the buoy was there to mark were not shallows, they were dry land. But the course asked boats to pass on the landward side of the mark. We took soundings and found that there was sufficient water if boats kept close to the mark. And if they got their gybes in quick, some might even avoid running onto the beach.
All this was radioed back to the committee boat for everyone to hear and, in a further gesture of goodwill, the RIB driver Richard angled the massive outboard so as to send a plume of water into the air to mark the spot. Some of those on the starboard course might have noticed this, but those on port tack were still just dots on the horizon. Which group had made the right decision would only became clear at the first mark itself.
Occasional hazards
But the wind and tide are not the only hazards facing the fleet. The Solent
is a busy stretch of water, with both Southampton, Portsmouth and the oil
refinery at Fawley all generating traffic. Throw in the regular ferries and
hovercraft connecting the Isle of Wight to the mainland and it is a wonder
that a yacht race can be fitted round the shipping.
First the tanker Pascale Knudsen, inbound for Fawley, split the fleet. Harwich Haven was one of the boats that had to take avoiding action, but held course for as long as possible, watching competitors pass in front of the ship and realising that giving way would lose at least one place. A brief course alteration was made to reassure the ship that they intended to give way (did they think they had a choice? – Ed) before heading straight for the tanker and passing within 15 m of the stern.
The tanker’s pilot watched them anxiously from the bridge wing. "We wondered what he was thinking and whether he could believe that 75 per cent of our crew were also pilots." Probably not.
Then there was the Trinity House vessel Mermaid, "running eastward with a bone in her teeth," notes the Trinity House crew admiringly. But, "with customary Trinity House efficiency, Mermaid passes two minutes too early, completely failing to cut the fleet to pieces, leaving us to endure hurtful comments from V.Ships, including suggestions of a conspiracy." But Trinity House had the last laugh; two minutes later their log records: "Crew of Buoys R Us nearly fall out of the boat laughing as Mermaid’s wash slaps V.Ships with a direct broadside, breaking over their boat and drenching everyone on board whilst miraculously missing us completely."
A car carrier causes more consternation later in the race. On board Dorchester Maritime’s boat, "four master mariners conferred and concluded that beyond any doubt there existed risk of collision. Even better, it was determined that we had to do something." At the time, they were sailing alongside the Baltic Exchange crew, so "in a spirit of friendly competition we asked what their plans were, just in case there was some way we could get an advantage. They said they would try to hit it." So Dorchester "formed a cunning plan to let them hit it while we sailed off into the sunset."
In the event, "they got really close while the four captains in Dorchester’s crew engaged in some, probably very accurate, speculation as to what was being said on the ship’s bridge." But the danger was not over, as Dorchester were caught in some eddies off the ship’s stern, losing them three places. V.Ships, on the other hand, gained three places thanks to the confusion; "there is no truth in the rumour that the ship was managed by V.Ships," Alan Armstrong assures us.
It was clearly a violent eddy. The Michael Else crew reports being caught in an ensuing wind shear "that very nearly capsized us. A few of us were in danger of being catapulted over the side, such was the force and speed of what appeared to be like a handbrake turn. Other boats were seen rapidly moving away from us in case they got caught in the same thing." Others were not so lucky, with Lloyd’s Register reporting a serious broach, watched from a few boats back by the Shell team. "They must have spilled their drinks," was one Shell crewmember’s unsympathetic reaction later.
Dash for the line
But that was much later in the race. Meanwhile, back at the first mark, the
port-tacking fleet is clearly well ahead of the starboard fleet; so much so
that first race winner V.Ships reckons it was just 14th at the mark. Van Hall
Health was first round, followed by Marriott and Castrol and from then on
those three set the pace. As Fairplay’s Press Gang realised, "with the tide
beneath the boats, there was going to be little chance of catching the boats
ahead."
And so it proved. As a procession of spinnakers set off for the infamous SW Mining Grounds, Fairplay’s RIB was asked to leave its post by the first mark and return to the Mining Grounds to provide support to the fleet from there. It was perhaps this abrupt departure that prompted one of Lloyd’s Register’s crew later to comment on how "the photographers’ boat shied away from us with consistency."
At the SW Mining grounds, it was clear that a little open cast mining would not go amiss as Marriott and Van Hall approached. "We rounded the buoy with a textbook spinnaker gybe to ease into the lead," recalls Marriott’s log. It was a position they knew they had to hold. With V.Ships out of the reckoning, the outcome of the cup had become a battle between the first race’s second- and third-placed finishers, so if Marriott could hold the lead, its first and third places would tie it on points with Van Hall’s two seconds.
And that is how it ended but, with a win in the second race, Marriott would hoist the cup that evening. Castrol came in third, but with its disappointing 21st place in the first race, this was not enough to secure a podium place. So it was Cathelco, finishing fourth, that would take third place in the overall competition, having bagged fifth place in the first race, giving in nine points – two ahead of V.Ships, which had clawed its way back to finish tenth in the second race.
At the time, Fairplay’s photographers were unaware of those finishing places, having not spotted that, once again, the course had been shortened. Their RIB was still monitoring boats past the gybe mark while the leaders were crossing the line. But it was a good position to decide on who should win the Safe Sailing Trophy. It was clear to all the boats that there was little room to manoeuvre at the mark, but only one radioed ahead to check whether there would be room for two boats to go round at the same time. The RIB driver’s advice was that it would be marginal. That team was Cathelco and for that they won the trophy.
"Keep right on till you see the whites of the seagulls’ eyes" was how ILS approached the buoy, reckoning they had just 0.25 m under the keel as they made the turn, and Fairplay’s Press Gang felt that wheels on the keel would have simplified their manoeuvre, although "a quick gybe and some fancy footwork by the foredeck crew enabled us to take one place." But it was not enough to pass rival Fairplay boat Prime Mover, which came home just ahead in fifth place.
Making a mark
With the race over, all that remained was an uneventful sail back through
Portsmouth harbour and back to the yacht club. Uneventful, that is, except
for an excursion led by V.Ships.
Clearly, as shown by last year’s performance and by this year’s first race,
V.Ships can sail a boat better than most when it matters. When it does not
matter, however, things don’t seem quite so well ordered.
In their log, PYNDA "would like to extend a special thank you to the crew of V.Ships for so dramatically pointing out the sandbank that lay ahead of us on the way back to port." And Michael Else’s helmsman was advised by their Sunsail skipper to keep an eye on the boats ahead in case they stopped suddenly to take their sails down "They did stop suddenly; we only just steered away in time."
In their log, the Denholm group "took note of a certain vessel aground on the way in, clearly trying to make a ‘V’ in the putty." In conversation, Denholm crewmember Mike Lunch consoled Alan Armstrong: "We were having trouble scraping ourselves off the cockpit floor." Alan put up a plausible explanation, but Mike would have none of it. "The court martial will not be interested." Alan’s last word on it, however, is undeniable: "To all those who jeered at us I was able to say that if they had seen us, it must have meant they were behind us in the race." But surely those were cheers, not jeers, when Fairplay’s editor brought up the subject during his remarks before the prizegiving and dinner, held in Portsmouth Dockyard.
Had the mooted sweepstake been held, the lucky ticket holders would not have expected to collect on their investment. But, with conditions ideally suited to inexperienced sailors, allowing all the boats to fly spinnakers with confidence, the event became unpredictable. With a new name – Marriott – on the cup, a newcomer – Van Hall Health – in second place and an astonished Cathelco ("to be placed so high was a feeling beyond explanation") in third place, this year’s event must rank as one of the best Fairplay Cups so far. Or is that yet another inaccuracy?