Fastnet 1979 ombord på Condor
Här är en sjysst berättelse från Chris Windley som seglade ombord på Condor med Peter Blake under Fastnet 1979. Peter Blake är ju en av de verkligt stora! För er som inte redan gjort det, spana in The Peter Blake Trust.
The “Storm” Fastnet Race, 1979: Racing with Sir Peter Blake on Condor of Bermuda.
by Chris Windley.
As the smoke rose from the cannon, four of us strained at the linked coffee grinders that drove the drum holding the genoa sheet. It was as though we were winding the boat up to be released across the starting line.
Owing to Peter’s expert manoeuvering, the seventy eight feet of varnished African mahogany that was the hull of Condor of Bermuda crossed the line at the windward end, ahead and above of our rival Kialoa, one of the fastest maxi-raters in the world. In this position we were in control and she would have to fight hard to get through us.
We headed towards the spectator lined shore of Cowes and Kialoa began to employ subterfuge, using thier cunning and knowledge of the rules and tactics to trick us into a mistake.
This continued as we beat our way towards the Needles with long sweeping tacks. We began to sail through the smaller yachts who were short tacking along the island shore in the main stream of the tide. It was better for us to take longer tacks, reducing the number of times that we should have to go about. Every second not sailing forward was time lost and handling thousands of square feet of sail from one side of the boat to the other took time.
Peter had the helm over and slowly Condor turned. Auntie began to slip the genoa sheet; we stood poised, our hands gripping the handles of the coffee grinders, thumbs held tight into the forefinger; they never went the other side of the handle in case something went wrong and the drum began to drive the handles in the opposite direction taking our thumbs with them.
Auntie removed a turn and slipped the sheet, then another as the sail backed and finally threw all the turns of wire off. Those of the crew tending the centre coffee grinders and the bank of winches around the mast dived to the deck and into the wells to escape the snaking whip that was the wire genoa sheet.
On the after coffee grinders we ground so fast that our chests began to burst and we strove to keep up with the handles that seemed to be going faster than the fastest you could drive them. The weight of the huge sail was felt and we changed gear then fought to get the sail in as though our lives depended on it.
We almost made it but had to change to third gear for the last, muscle straining inches. “Good Tack” encouraged the tailor. Four fresh grinders arrived to take our places and we went forward to sit on the weather deck; even in our exhaustion usefully employed as ballast.
