Two days, 27 Zephyrs, and no legally recognised capsize

I BEAT GRANT BECK IN TWO RACES.

Twice. Fair and square. Two is better than one, and I feel this deserves immediate and disproportionate coverage.

I also beat my coach, Brian Peet, in a race.

I’m putting this information up front because once you discover I finished 13th overall, you might start asking unnecessary questions.

Julie (#65) and I have officially completed our first Zephyr regatta: the North Island Championship at Lake Taupo Yacht Club. Two consecutive days of racing, 27 entries, and enough emotional activity to require a small lie-down and possibly a government enquiry.

This was the biggest Zephyr fleet I’d ever lined up with, and the first time Julie and I had raced for two days in a row. Getting here has been a journey. I was excited, terrified, ridiculously happy, and occasionally wondering whether everyone else had received instructions I’d missed.

Then the wind got involved, and it became clear nobody was in charge.

Shiftier than your cat on a midnight prowl. Shiftier than your grandma making a break for it from the nursing home. Shiftier than...

OH, WE’RE GOING THAT WAY NOW....????

There was rain. There were fronts. The breeze went up, down and sideways, seemingly operating under the direction of a toddler with a ceiling-fan remote.

Every time I thought I’d worked something out, Lake Taupo delivered a fresh serving of absolutely not.

Consequently, my tacking improved considerably. I reckon I did about 94 in one race, trying to stay on top of the shifts while avoiding everyone else. By the end, I was concerned I might keep tacking on the drive home.

The start line presented its own opportunities for personal growth, most of which I declined in race three. I took one look at the assembled enthusiasm and decided I didn’t need to be quite that involved.

Everyone else then sailed away.

A small but significant problem with my approach. 23rd. Lesson received. Meanwhile, further up the course, people were making considerably better decisions.

Rod Dawson took the overall win. Professional sailor and reigning national champion. Clearly someone who had read the instructions, and has this Zephyr sailing stuff sorted out.

Mike Drummond finished 2nd and is probably the smartest guy in the fleet, which feels like an unfair advantage when the rest of us are trying to remember how to tie a bowline.

Then there was Finn Holmes in 3rd. His first ever Zephyr regatta, too. Lovely. Something in common. Except Finn is about 25 years younger than me, and 35 something years younger than everyone else and apparently arrived with no respect whatsoever for his elders. He gave us a spanking, then won the final race for good measure. Honestly. Kids these days. Would it have killed him to spend a weekend being a bit confused? Seriously though, Finn was flying around the course - watching him able to move around the boat with a dose of pain killers was inspiring to watch. It was great to see a youngster take on the Zephyr - it would be great to see more sailors born after 2010 take on the class.

I finished 7th in that final race, which meant Finn and I both had excellent ends to our first regattas. His was slightly more excellent, but this is my article.

7th. I was absolutely fizzing.

That brought Julie and me home in lucky 13th overall. There’s a Taylor Swift reference in there somewhere, but I’m going to need her to write a song specifically about beating Grant Beck, twice.

Carla Bennett claimed top female honours, flying the flag for the female contingent and my fellow Zephyrites. Carla has a real chance of being in the top 5 in the Nationals in March next year. She hates me saying that, but I reckon that if we put that out in the universe, that we will manifest it happening. Go, Carla! Brilliant to have you out there alongside me while I worked through my extensive collection of feelings.

Happily, those feelings did not result in me falling out while racing. Nor did I officially capsize.

There was a beach-arrival incident after day one. The centreboard was already out, I didn’t want Julie running aground, and I elected to leave the vessel early.

This was a deliberate act of boat preservation. Any suggestion of a capsize will be referred to my legal team, which is me, still wet, saying “doesn’t count” with increasing volume. And considering how many were on the beach watching, not one of them took a photo - so that means the incident never actually happened! No photo, no evidence. Just another reason to love the Zephyr class - none of them have their phones ready to capture an embarrassing moment!

Julie escaped without a scratch. Her public would have been devastated otherwise.

Because apparently she has a public.

People kept coming over, and I’d get ready to say hello, thinking how lovely it was that everyone wanted to meet me.

But there weren't interested in me, they wanted to meet Julie.

Of course they did. Julie is a beautiful red Zephyr, very photogenic and much less likely to corner you with a detailed account of race results involving Grant Beck.

I am her transport and damp personal assistant.

Fortunately, there was plenty of friendship left over for me. The Zephyr fleet is the reason I keep coming back: the encouragement, the laughs, and the people who make getting out there feel possible, even when you’re terrified.

Brian Peet has been an epic coach, and I’m hugely grateful for everything he’s done to help me reach this point. Beating him in a race was obviously my way of thanking him. An educational gift. You’re welcome, Brian.

Mark Cole, Julie’s owner, made this dream a reality. Thank you for trusting me with her. She returned without a scratch or splinter, despite the person sailing her having the occasional internal systems failure.

And a huge thank you to the Lake Taupo Yacht Club volunteers. It was a tough weekend, and you kept us racing through conditions that were exhausting enough to sail in, let alone organise. What a team.

Finally, thank you to sailing itself. Without it, I’d just be flapping in the wind like a torn sail.

Two days completed. Fingernails intact. Dignity retained, subject to the beach incident ruling.

Julie has her fan club. I have new friends, better tacks, and a 7th to finish my first regatta.

And Grant, if you could just confirm you’ve read the opening paragraph, that would save us both a phone call.

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Apparently, completing one two-day regatta has convinced me I should immediately do another. A 7th place and suddenly I’m making commitments like someone with functioning abdominal muscles.

Up next for Julie and her damp personal assistant is the inaugural PredictWind Matt Mitchell Memorial at Milford Cruising Club, with racing on 21–22 November, following registration and an invitation/practice race on Friday 20 November. The Sunburst fleet will also be there for their North Island Regatta, so there’ll be a whole new audience for Julie. Event details

The memorial honours Matt Mitchell, a passionate Zephyr sailor and former president of the Zephyr Owners’ Association. Matty was also my friend - and I miss him all the time. Being in the Zephyr provides that connection to honour my mate who would be snort laughing at my Zephyr antics.

There will be food trucks and a live band on Saturday evening, which suggests the organisers believe we’ll still be capable of standing after a day of racing. Ambitious, but sounds fun!

Julie’s ready. I’m still negotiating with my thighs that this is a good thing to do. But as Matty would have said...

"It's not the f&%$ing Olympics Chica, just get out there and have a good laugh."