Etchells Australian Nationals 2026 at Royal Freshwater Bay Yacht Club - Day 1

by Tom Hodge 23 Feb 16:40 PST 23-25 February 2026

The Swan River jellyfish are sluggish creatures of two main varieties; brown spotted, and white moon. Typically the fastest either might ever travel is through the air, slung by misbehaving Opti sailors with a score to settle, not that any were out on the water this school Monday. Despite these placid creatures' lack of intent or power to generate pace at any meaningful speed, still they managed to outpace some of Australia's finest Etchells sailors on the first day of the National Championships.

The morning saw a very eager, disciplined, skillful fleet of Etchells sailors set out of Royal Freshwater Bay Yacht Club under a crisp sun and gentle easterly. Early on things were looking good, light air filtered through the bay and spirits were high. They moment the fleet rounded the corner of Point Resolution, though, the sailors were confronted with one of Australia's largest panes of blue glass. On what was a lovely morning for the beach, sailors found a variety of manners to entertain themselves on the driftwood journey to a start line prepared in Eastern Melville Waters.

Humour drifted across still air, heads swivelled as sail-less keelboats motored downstream, and one particular high profile skipper enjoyed a below deck snooze before testing a media boat run ferry service into Jojo's restaurant - his boat had only moved a hundred meters by the time he returned. Promises of a Sou'ester building early off Garden Island and clear blue skies were sufficient for sailors to push forth with faith in PRO Rob Hubbard, whom exercised judicious patience in the face of weather that didn't quite match the more agreeable forecast.

A flush of cool air from the North East at 1030 was particularly vexing, as was the stubborn easterly holding off Rottnest Island. It seemed the river was caught at the centre of battle between three breezes, and the sailors were in no man's land. The only option left for the brains trust aboard the Tam Thompson and Aubrey Sherwood was patience, and a good few fine biscuits.

At 11:20, a moderate westerly emerged through the mouth of Points Walter & Resolution and swiftly overtook the river: cracking the sky blue mirror with the darker strokes and smudges of a newly born oscillating breeze. A course was swiftly laid, while rigs were fine-tuned. The time of the jellyfish was over. Etchells supremacy was here at last.

Race 1

Strings of sunlit bubbles shone down the back of short wave crests, and darkly woven ripples deepened. Polished prows proudly prodded the starting line under Hubbard's watchful eye - aided by the fresh deployment of a new tracking system, the high tech exception to an elegant analogue fleet. The river's silence was broken by a clamour of voices, thrumming dacron, ratchets running sheets, and punctuated by the starting horn. Within 30 seconds, the excitement once again settled down to silence, save for the poly-rhythmic punch of hull and spray.

The dominant decision was long starboard tack towards a mid-river pressure line. Only four boats took a short tack in towards the shore of Nedlands Yacht Club: 3 by need to bailout from 2nd row starts, and 1 later in the piece, the highly competitive Ratpack (Kitto, Prieto-Low, Brenz Verca). The left paid big time, top competitors took their shift right into the Seawall at Flying Squadron, Ratpack tacked millimetres off the wall in an attempt to regain lost ground, to no avail when copping a quadruple lee bow from the left group's return. From the left group came the leaders: The Don, The Croc, Forte, and Highlander. Where the rest of the top half had straight set a wall of blue kites heading towards the middle of the river, where the upwind shift had been and local wisdom would say extra breeze might be found, The Croc gybe set. An extra push of pressure down the shore-side returned a major lead for white kite and its mid-fleet followers. The group of four boats into port mark arrived well before the starboard rounding mid-river group. The red kite of Barracuda in particular benefited, they had been deep in the fleet around the top, and went hardest into the shore.

On the second beat, The Croc protected right, where The Don went further. Inside lift off the shore was a boon to the right group, and those that came back from the left early did well. At the front, a tacking duel ensued, as The Don, sailing slightly faster with more heel and a deeper foot leveraged the breeze off the shore to take meters from The Croc's lead. Eventually, in the presence of a school of dolphins beside the PFSYC wall, The Croc managed to establish itself into a loose cover to the right, and protected its way into the top mark. Also working up the right, Chilly Bin rounded the mark third, and Barracuda, fourth.

The downwind held few surprises for the top four, as the whole fleet gybe set onto the a long port run. The Croc 1, The Don 2, Chilly Bin 3, Barracuda 4. Competition in the back half was fierce. Three blue spinnakers, Azure, Ratpack, and Forte, half a boat length abreast from each other fought their way into a photo finish - a dead heat on the scorecard.

As though Hubbard turned a dial immediately after the race, the short strings of bubbles became a shimmering confetti of light atop dark 1 foot waves. 1 foot waves on the Swan River at 1:15 with three races to go means one thing: your body will be hurting well before you reach shore.

Race 2

Intrigue at the start of race 2! Yelling and tight sailing to the pin leyline saw Ratpack punch ahead, and The Croc gybing around behind to re-start! Now it's Ratpack's turn to gas the fleet, win the left, and tack on the shift. A third of the way up the first beat, Ratpack was a dozen boat lengths ahead, on the lifted tack, leading to the next shift. The right group weren't looking great but persisted on the long port tack into the shore, returning firmly behind the the left group of Ratpack, Highlander, Forte, Azure, and The Don. The left shift was so strong that, in taking a lane only five boat lengths to windward, Forte rapidly ate down Ratpack's lead, forcing a covering tack and a dead-even cross, for Ratpack to re-establish a controlling left cover. Kitto couldn't access Highlander though, who sat another lane above, and as the breeze clocked left it was Robson-David's turn to enjoy the lead into the top mark. Another surprise for this leg: Azure, whom had been pressed under Ratpack and Forte during the beat's final quarter, had made a clearing tack back to the left, and darted in on the port leyline to cross Ratpack's starboard entry with barely half a boat-length to spare.

Kite troubles in Forte's high hoist, and a good low set from Brenz-Verca & Prieto Low on Ratpack, setup a cat and mouse wrestle for control of the inside lane on a long starboard gybe that ensued the full way down the run. Highlander, driving the lowest lane, found itself in trouble as the whole fleet followed, smothering it. Put into a corner and watching two blue kites sail over him, with the mark in grasping distance, Pratt chose aggression. Under the watchful eyes of umpire Richard Goldsmith, Pratt set a gentle, legal, luff on his windward competitors. He was too late to act - he couldn't create the space he needed before they entered the zone, and the three leaders sailed almost by the lee in a very vocal procession to the starboard gate mark. Azure first, Ratpack second, Highlander third. Quietly, on the left, Forte rounded to port and tacked back early. When Kitto sought to return towards the rumb on a left flick, he found himself caught under Forte. Both returned to the left, where white caps had began to emerge.

Leading the left group back along the port lays, Azure confidently thrust into first, Forte second, Ratpack third. A wineglass in Pratt's kite was a moment of stress as he sliced between the port tackers, though the McAullay father-son duo up front sorted him out quickly, and they maintained a comfortable lead. 2-5, on the other hand, were all within 6 boat lengths, with everything to play for. While white kites Highland and The Croc danced tightly, Kitto fought his way round the outside of Forte to place second, Azure third, Highlander fourth.

On the Saturday preceding this event, Perth's iconic Rottnest Swim was cancelled for only the second time in the event's history, due to heavy weather. This Monday was mellower, though shades remained. At 2pm, fat breaking spray crackled over 2ft waves. Fluttering flags knocked hollow atop the Tam Thompson poles. The Doctor was here, and it wasn't going away. It was time, Hubbard decided, to pull his marks, and relay the course. Headsails were changed, dacron grumbled, the jellyfish bobbed under a water's surface serrated with stripes of aqua reflection and green quartz depths. On the sun pounded, windswept sailor's reddened faces hardened.

Race 3

Tonnes of fiberglass converged funneled into a narrow corridor off the pin lay. Kitto couldn't reprise his prior race's success, it was his turn out the back, while The Croc, Azure, Highlander fought each other to hold narrow lanes. The play was left, left, left. Brave souls attempted to play the middle right, and though they looked glamour for moments, the persistent left shift rewarded the patient.

The Croc's ability to punch out and lead to the shift proved decisive by the top mark. In this breeze, the goal was maintain clear air with fewer tacks, maximize the left shift, and sail fast. The boats that managed to get to the port lays cleanly, without being bounced through the mid-right or stuck in gas, generally came out well.

Around the top mark, spinnaker troubles entertained most boats, and boats spewed plumes of silver in surfable waves. Still, it was difficult to find passing lanes, and most teams found themselves jockeying to setup their best possible upwind, following a similar left-heavy strategy each beat.

Those following the leaders up the port leyline may have been forgiven for thinking they were at the Winter Olympics in the Italian snow. The sun, lower in the sky, frosted every peak, face, and distortion of every wave, such that the salt stained eye could only make out shadow, ice, and sky blue.

These third and fourth races passed with intense energy, focus, and adrenaline, as the Doctor grew in fury. Faces wore the wear of a hard day's racing, and the variability of results between the top eight shows just how tight this fleet is. A dead heat between Azure and Highlander for 2nd place on the final race punctuated a day that saw competitors experience from 0 to 21 knots.

Across the series, pointscores are tight, setting up two more spectacular days of racing.

The boys on The Croc (led by Michael Manford), were satisfied with their day's work, leading the fleet on a net score of 9. It was crew member Dean McCaullay's first regatta back after a long period off sailing from an ankle injury sustained at the Flying Fifteen worlds - no surprises than he was the competitor with the biggest smile across the day's photo series.

In second, Azure, helmed by Chris Pratt (not the one from Hollywood), sits on 13.5 points. Young ILCA sailing hopeful, Lawson McCaullay, on the bow of third placed Highlander (Helm: Peter Robson), wouldn't be too happy with following his father Michael and older brother Ethan around the course, but their boat sits in a good position to mount an attack tomorrow, on 17 points.

Places fourth to eighth are separated by 5.5 points, with Ratpack (4th), The Don (5th), and Forte (6th) level on 23 points. Winner of the warmup regatta, Peter Ahern, on 'Yo!', will have a bit to do over the coming two days to bring himself up from 8, but is by no means down and out.

All in all, a fantastic first day of racing for the Australian Etchells fleet, with all to play for over the coming two days. Plenty of twists and turns left in this tight regatta, follow here for all the action.

Results can be found here.