Blind man's bluff at the pointy end- Young'N'Old's Heaven Can Wait

by Glen Picasso on 30 Aug 2010 Our Young 88 Young 'N' Old broke her eight-month sailing drought by entering the Heaven Can Wait 24 hour yacht race on her home waters of Lake Macquarie.

The day started with a Crew muster in the Skippers lounge room at 10am to don wet weather gear, then a short row to the mooring to prepare the boat to race.

On board, skipper Glen 'Cyril' Picasso busied himself packing the fridge while regular crew Michael MacDonald and John Lattimore ran the sheets.

Rod Lewis, who is just learning to sail, was listening intently to descriptions of sheets, braces, toppers and other mystical ropes and their operations he would be required to handle proficiently by the first spinnaker hoist.

Tony 'Biggles' Purkiss was making his usual bi-annual appearance on Young 'N' Old and was intently supervising storage of his special liquid refreshment in the coldest part of the fridge, reminding the skipper that the fridge should have been on 12 hours previous so the temperature was at the correct level.

The tinny had sprung a leak so we decided it wise to return it to the shore save pulling it from the depths on our return.

There also seemed to be a problem with the usually large volume fridge, and the amount of liquid that Cyril was attempting to place into it.

At this stage the phone rang; Cyril's partner, the all-seeing Jane, was informing us that it was 20 to 11 and the race started at 11.

Knowing that it was a 15-minute motor to the start line, a vote was taken and some of the space for the liquid was sacrificed for the food we had brought along.

It was agreed that if you took a bottle from the fridge, you would replace it with one from surplus stock. These matters settled, we slipped the mooring and headed to the start.

'Better get the main hoisted we have to report to the committee vessel, we may be a little tight on time!'

The five-minute signal sounded and we were not too far from the CV, just enough time to sweep past and report in, cross the line, go back round the CV while we hoisted the jib, slip behind a few boats into a hole that appeared and start about five or 10 seconds late.

Not the end we would have preferred, but at least we weren't chasing the whole fleet.

The first leg was close-hauled to Coal Point and the skipper was silently deciding who should sail in what positions -- and more to the point, who was going to do the bow?

Jon and Mick were cockpit men and Rod had very little experience with spinnakers. Biggles is blind and he weighs about 100 kg or so -- probably not really the ideal physique for the job.

And Cyril? Cyril owns the boat so there's no bloody way he's going up there!

The first spinnaker set approached and Cyril casually suggested someone go forward and clip up the kite…

No positive reaction from the crew… Perhaps someone can go downstairs and pass up the kite? Mick disappeared below and asked which one.

Cyril: 'The little one -- and you will have to use the small halyard'

That takes care of the bowman for the first set! But he probably won't fall for it a second time.

After the drop, Biggles went forward to do the tidy up. Considering his hundred kilos or so, the boat balance wasn't too bad. Probably because everyone else likes to sit in the cockpit!

Approaching the next set, Biggles asked for the kite to be passed up. He then proceeded to go forward and clip the thing up. Nothing was said, but, considering his lack of vision, there were a few reservations about how it would look once hoisted.

The thing went up and set perfectly! Biggles had just scored himself a job for the race!

A short time into our second lap the oven was lit in preparation for dinner. Michael's daughter Jess had prepared a beautiful steak and spicy sausage stew which would take about 30 minutes to heat.

This would be timed perfectly to be ready when we were close hauled, in peak wind and driving rain!

Nevertheless, we managed to devour the meal and wash it down with a couple of stubbies of cordial.

With the washing up done and the rain stopped, the skipper emerged back on deck.

Approaching Pelican Rock for the first time, in darkness and light rain, the rock proved to be a little more difficult to identify than last year, when 'Inner Circle' had managed to have the entire area lit with flashing lights.

During the night the skipper went below for an hour's sleep and we sailed into a mystery hole that everyone else seemed to avoid.

Boats ahead disappeared into the night and the boats well behind sailed up to us. Cyril emerged on deck to see two lights close astern. Thinking the boys had sailed brilliantly while he was asleep he asked: 'Who's that?'

'You don't want to know,' came the reply

'Who is it?'

'It's the Trad 30.'

'How the #### did that happen?'

'Well we ... blah... blah... blah...'

'Yeah righto.'

After that, we settled back into a beautiful night's sail and as the sun rose John went below to light the stove and cook us bacon and egg rolls for breakfast.

These were consumed awkwardly during the next spinnaker drop and mark rounding and were washed down with more stubbies of cordial.

We were about two miles into our fifth lap when the 24 hours expired and we quickly dropped sails and returned to the waiting hospitality of the club.

With constant navigation required identifying cardinal marks, finding rounding marks in the dark and continually turning corners, there was little time for rest.

Needless to say we all had a fantastic time and the comment was made that it was probably harder than many ocean races, but we'll be back!