Event Reports

Below are the somewhat self-indulgent but none-the-less mildly entertaining accounts of the Sailing Events we have recently attended. For your pleasure and delectation... read on.

2007-2008

Leeds Halloween Howler
Liverpool Lash
Durham Dambuster

2006-2007

Citigroup SUSA Team Racing Championships
ANUSC Team Racing Championships - Sheffield

2007-2008

 

18th-20th Janurary 2008 - Durham Dambuster

Before we even considered the sailing aspect of the Durham event it was agreed that we had to impress. Durham is very similar to York, they both have cobbled streets, they both have a river, they both have history therefore we had to make it incredibly clear that despite these similarities York is a cut above the rest and sits complacently in a league of its own. And so, to Durham we sent an army.

Our York Army comprised of the usual front liners, a sturdy second platoon and returning veterans. Stage one of mission to impress was complete we had successfully secured an intimidating line up.

What I have now learnt after my first season of team racing events is that another way and perhaps one of the best ways to impress and indeed intimidate the opposition (before launching a single boat) is by astonishing them with your endless capacity to consume beverages. The level of consumption was laid down by front liner Lindsay Doig. After a visit to Klutes (which is apparently the worst club in Europe however I quite liked it) cries of ‘I’m Bevvied’ laced the cobblestone streets of Durham. Drink was consumed (not by me despite consistent attempts of old boys to convert me to alcohol) and dancing happened even if it was slightly restricted by the ridiculously small dance floor. After drunken hunger was suppressed, in the form of a dirty kebab, we began the search for a floor somewhere in Durham University Halls that we could sleep on.

It seemed like fate when a mattress was discovered in the corridor of the Halls we were supposed to be staying in. Fate was tricking us. Once pointed in the correct direction of our rooms and the ironing out of a few small misunderstandings that may or may not have resulted in previously ‘bevvied’ team mates jumping into bed with our female hostess were complete, we slept in preparation for the instigation of the next stage of our mission to impress: sailing fast!

On arrival at Derwent Water the conditions were pretty much all we could have asked for, the sun was out and there was sufficient wind. All we needed was for the races to start. This didn’t happen for about two hours. So we used our time wisely and perfected the art of talking utter rubbish, a skill that would prove useful as the weekend unfolded. When the sailing eventually got underway we were on the whole we were pretty good, obviously Team Rachel were better than the rest but that was to be expected after adopting a strict no hats in the boat policy in order to create a false image of aggression.

The only race of the weekend that really mattered was York 2’s vs. York Old Boys. Before the race the Old Boys talked of how they planned to ruin us and get an easy 1, 2, 3. They had organised who would pick on who, talked of sailing each one of our boats as far away from the course as possible and in completely different directions. However, all of this was pointless as none of these plans materialised. What in fact did happen was far from expected. Yes the Old Boys won the race but they did not win it easily. The 2nds sailed hard. We tailed them on the start line, had tacking battles up the first beat and scared one old boy so much with pre start evil eyes that he fell out of the boat due to pure shock and disbelief. Despite the final result of the race favouring the returning old hands they complimented us and exclaimed that we sailed well. Result!

The 2nd night in Durham meant a trip around the college bars. Many of the bouncers were a bit reluctant to let us in however and with a bit of sweet talking and the pointing out that we are from York they caved in, most likely because they realised we are superior to them in everyway and so having us in their bars will do nothing but improve the atmosphere and banter within them. After we ran out of banter we moved on, in the direction of the Union!

The Union was fun. Lots of dancing, lots of drinking (again, not for me), and good night had by all, even the old boys managed to make it till the end of the night. We left the union and eventually made it home. Several people’s inability to walk in a straight line made the journey slightly longer than necessary but we made it in the end.

The 2nd day of sailing was again, delayed but not because there was damage on the boats to fix. The severe lack of wind stopped us from going anywhere quickly and so, we thought it necessary to practise once more, our ability to talk nonsense. After all, practise makes perfect! Eventually the sailing began albeit slow sailing, it was sailing nonetheless. The 1sts won races, the 2nds won races and the old boys won races. We had a team in each fleet and had aspirations of bronze silver and gold victories, unfortunately our dreams of supremacy were not fulfilled but fun was had and we all went home very happy.

The journey home proved handy for certain team members to showcase their now perfect talents of meaningless chitchat. A lot of achievements were made at Durham and various things have been learnt.

  1. Ed is the king of insignificant banter
  2. Team Rachel are awesome
  3. The 2nds can win races
  4. Team Rachel are awesome

And finally…

  1. York is better than Durham. Fact.

Rachel Harden
First Year Representative

 

16th-18th November 2007 - Liverpool Lash

I’m going to be honest. I was pretty intimidated. Windsurfing events I can handle. I know what to expect. Sailing events on the other hand, are a whole new ball game. Especially for someone who’s sailing ability can be described as sketchy at best. And the knowledge that I was to be crewing for the Commodore (he’s known as ‘Crew’ for a reason) wasn’t particularly inspiring.

But the lures of the Fun Bus were too great for that to stop anyone. Minus Team Fast and still one crew down we jumped in (I guess the Commorore’s car deserves a mention here too, although it doesn’t have quite the same ring) and drove to the European City of Culture 2008 for some serious drinking and sailing. They don’t call this event Liverpool Lash for fun. This was serious stuff.

Interesting choice of a club for a Friday night. As far as I’m aware the large majority of sailors are not Goths, but the take-away inside the club was much appreciated, and it didn’t take long for the sailing clubs to congregate on the top floor where the word of the night was definitely ‘cheese’. It was almost like Ziggys. We felt at home. The freshers were impressive with their shapes on the dancefloor. Not wanting to mention any names, but Martin, you were amazing. Even more so when we managed to convince you that we were still in York, and the house we were staying in was actually Ed’s. Less amazing when we were all trying to sleep…

We all woke up nice and early on Saturday morning to the tuneful sound of about five different alarms going off at once. For future reference, two would probably be enough. We were all ready and raring to go. Especially the Commodore who couldn’t wait to start driving to West Kirby, and proved that speed at getting up is definitely one of the reasons why we made him our Commodore.

Oh West Kirby. You are amazing. I love how I can stand between your marine lake and the ocean and gaze out towards Wales (where, apparently, the sun always shines). I love how the wind blows upon your shores. I love how you provide me with sausage sandwiches and coffee. Sorry I’m getting all poetic here. Seriously though, it was beautiful. (Although does sausage actually beat bacon in the mornings? I’m not convinced.) Anyway it was a pretty steady force 4. We were quietly confident. (Well, I wasn’t. But I’d like to think everyone else was).

After the Commodore confirmed to me just what the boom was (and yes, it is the same on a windsurfer, but I thought it best to check), we were off. The Firsts missed Team Fast. A lot. But had some admirable victories, most notably over old rivals Lancaster. Seconds took a while to get started but showed some promise towards the end of the day when it had been established which marks we should sail around. In general a good day, we could have done more winning, but it was fun nonetheless. We were ready to move onto something far more important. Drinking.

After abandoning the idea of a second cave rave (some things are just too good to be repeated), we hit the town again. Certain team members caved in to the tiredness early and went home, but luckily the Commodore stepped up to the mark and drank enough for all of them. He was also lucky enough to find himself not one, not two, but THREE nice men at the taxi rank, who took a bit of a fancy to him. Posh accents are the way to attract gay men in Liverpool apparently, especially if you’re as camp as our Commodore. “If you’re not queer, then I’m going home right now,” one of his admirers declared. Needless to say, they went home.

Sunday saw the much anticipated firsts Vs seconds race. The firsts won. Well done race captain! But the seconds got a not entirely unrespectable 3 4 5, so all was not lost. The firsts won some more races, beating Bath, and an interesting victory over Durham (a remarkable feat considering there were no York sailors in boats when the race took place). Firsts finished 13th out of 16. Seconds capsized more than most teams, and finished 16th .

We stayed for the prizegiving (it’s becoming a bit of a habit apparently). We all enjoyed watching the West Kirby children get their prize. Bottles of vodka. Oh how they deserved them. Maybe next event they should try drinking them the night before sailing, and then see how they do. Of course, they’d have to drink them in their own homes. Otherwise it would be illegal.

Was I converted? I don’t know. I think ‘converted’ is a pretty strong word. Windsurfing will always be my first love. But I had a lot of fun. And sailing was much faster and tougher than I had imagined. And yes I want to do it again. Despite the fact that most of the time I was wet, uncomfortable, and absolutely freezing. I can now understand the slightly glazed eyed look my boyfriend gets when telling me how great team racing is. Yep, I think I’m hooked.

Rachel Newstead
Windsurfing Captain

 

 

 

27th-29th October 2007 - Leeds Halloween Howler!

(Seems my event reports are a bit longer than other peoples. But mine are funnier and involve more sailing. So tough)

Leeds. It’s a bad boy. After only 3 weeks of this thing we call University, after only 2 (if they were lucky) training sessions, we thrust our freshers into the savage cockfight that is the Northern University team racing circuit. It was time to man up.

Two cars left for Leeds on Friday 26th, two bulging, sack filled cars, having decided to take no risks with our precious fresh and pad them up. Our illustrious and inspirational 2nd VI Captain, James ‘Chud’ Shepherd was the second car in our convoy and performed to our high expectations admirably, steering his ship through dual carriageway and darkest night despite having only once driven on a motorway before. Applause and a moments respect please. The captain even held his nerve when faced with oncoming traffic, skilfully spinning us out of danger. Onto the right side of the road. (That’s the textual equivalent of a dry wit) (sorry).

Arrival in Leeds meant the Library Pub. Having secured ourselves a table and sofas (plural) it was time for that luscious lash (translation: drinking). In the absence of our emigrated social secretaries, the first team took up the mantle of lash masters and commenced the games. Pints were unsafe, bunnies were lost and 21 was unlucky for many (translation: lots of drinking). (Chud played snake) This was the warm up. During Cowes Week this summer certain members of the 1st VI had learnt the excellent possibilities of that game we love to hate. Arrogance. After several of the scummiest pints ever to be consumed by warm blooded creatures, finances were draining. Luckily a shortage of notes means an abundance of change. Pennies to be precise. Regicide was rife, with certain 2nd VI members refusing to save their gracious Queen on multiple occasions. Proper punishment was enforced and drink was consumed. Rapidly. On to dancing. And the Union.

[A point must be made before continuing. VKs should never. Ever. Not even under pain of penetration, be sold in plastic ‘squeezy’ bottles to unsuspecting sailing clubs about to attempt a boat race. It’s not pretty. It was a major problem for us rare breed of men with strong, manly grips, but small girlish gullets. That’d be me then. Am I excused?]

After some mess in the upstairs and a little bit more mess in the toilets (sorry) the dance floor was well and truly HIT. If dancing is the vertical expression of horizontal desires then we must have been hornier than a unicorn (yeah, that’s one of my own). It was pretty hot. We danced on through the night, with liberal top ups of tequila, sambuca, and anything else that came in a big, sticky (glass) bottle. At the end of night, after a brief panic at the Captain’s absence (he may have been playing snake), home (well, someone’s home) was reached and collapsed in. For about 4 hours.

Hung-over driving was overlooked by hung-over co-pilots but the sailing club was reached, and we were greeted by the greatest smell known to man. (And possibly woman. I wouldn’t know.) Bacon. Full of meat and arrogance (the good kind) we set out to compete. Confusion on the start line lost the 1st VI their opening race but the snares of the weed ensured an easy victory in the next. A lacklustre performance midday was enough to push the firsts down to the Silver flight, but a pair of victories soon after put us at the top of the flight looking towards the next days sailing. Meanwhile the 2nds had secured their first team racing victory to avoid the curse of York 2nds at Leeds (Wooden spoon!). Placed into the bronze flight they now had an excellent chance of competing against the easier teams to stamp their pink bobble-hatted mark on the racing circuit. Chud played snake.

With the day ending on high it was that time again, that time of social chat, social wining and social sharing of the popadoms. As the mango chutney flowed the curry once again proved itself as the meal of champions, even with noticeable loss of Capn Chud who was rekindling contacts with an old school friend (No, not like that). A late curry meant it was straight to the club in the form of the double pleasures of the Quilted Llama and Halo. Tired sailors, stuffed with rich spices and expanding rice attempted to party like it was the night before but rapidly flagged. Despite a few hardcore voices the party decamped at the midnight bell and hit the local pubs. An hour or so and lots of dirty ‘I have never’ secrets later it was bed once again.

More sailing. Yep, this report thing is getting old very fast so can I just summarise? Like in the Ben and Jerries adverts? I’m not lazy, I just think it would be more effective. Not that you care if you’ve stuck with me this far. Thought so.

1st VI good but not good enough, (YET) one point off the quarter finals. 2nd VI impressive, finish somewhere in middle of bronze flight. Highlight of day: 1st VI have a fleet race to decide who will be forced to take the train home. Team Fast win narrowly. Race captain loses embarrassingly. Proves a sore loser. Arguments ensue on water, fisticuffs are thought about then discarded, shouting is encouraged. Wise heads prevail. Race captain sulks. Gives rise to new first team tactic, ‘circling the wagons’ pre-start in order to appear professional and ‘unified’.

End of event, West Kirby wins. Everyone sulks at being beaten by a bunch of 12 year olds. Who can’t even drink the beer they win. Ridiculous. York stay for prize giving despite not winning anything. Other teams bemused. Chat is enjoyed on club house steps. Everyone bonds. Pictures taken. Chud goes missing. Chud is found. Playing snake. We pack up. Chud stalls several times and almost hits gate on the way out. Everyone amused/worried.

(Back to proper writing stuff) So, relaxing in the car on the way home, what thoughts, what morals drifted through my head after such a weekend? Did we muse on the dividing nature of inter-team racing, or on the zen-like properties of playing snake before, during and after a tournament? Or did we just listen to music in moody, tired but companionable silence? I’d leave it to your imaginations, but, in a brutally cunning twist of narrative (I’m good aren’t I), instead I challenge you to find out. Join us on our travels sometime, get lashed, sail like beasts and kick your opponents between the legs and throw them in the lake. Then, maybe then, you will understand what we feel on that ghostly but satisfying drive home.

Ben Crossland
Boson & Beginner's Representative

 

 

2006-2007


6th-8th April 2007 - Citigroup SUSA Team Racing Championships - Edinburgh

The 2007 Easter bank holiday weekend saw three brave sailors from York and one mutinous Scotsman, cross the border, enter a land of barbarians, and treat them to an exhibition of team racing and drinking. The road trip northwards was long, split across three days. With splitting headaches the explorers eventually reached Edinburgh on the Friday afternoon armed with an amazing collection of tunes and a new hatred for caravans. The early arrival allowed the foreigners to explored this alien landscape, they found the ancient town pretty, and were tantalised by the density of bars.

As the Scotsman had not yet arrived the memories of the first night are thinly spread. There was lots of drinking in the usual bar, club format. Using the smoking ban to his advantage, Crew managed to tame some locals and a few volatile Irish, that man could talk for England. With the other two unable to enter the club due to problems with gravity, I faced the club alone, it seemed fun, but I soon tired without my fellow explorers and decided to walk home without any knowledge of the geography of Edinburgh, but did wake up in the right bed.

The first day racing at Loch Ore was remarkably successful considering hangover levels. Led by the as yet still sober Scotsman Will Normand, only Glasgow 1sts went untamed, with emphatic victories against St. Andrews, Aberdeen 3rds and Limerick 2nds. Hired crews from Limerick, Strathclyde and Durham all played their part. Sprits were high.

The second night was fancy dress, with Seven Deadly Sins the theme. Will paid the price for his absence with an outfit based on Lust. Nighties were donned suggesting sloth, and Harri was green with envy at seeing the success of everyone’s costumes. The English, finding the natives a little odd, decided to stick together. York and Durham exchanged drinking games, the rest is a blur.

With the compound hangover getting stronger York relied on their form from the previous day rather than any kind of awareness. Finishing a very convincing second in the pool league York faced Limerick 1sts in playoffs for the gold league, and got trashed by some excellent sailors, so filtered into the silver league. This was a much more comfortable standard, and York did OK, although the loss to Durham hurt. By this time nationalist undertones had crept into the event, with Irish flags being erected and then being captured by the primitive Scots, and the English increasingly keeping to themselves, not being allowed to be patriotic.

The third night saw everyone dress up and head to the infamous SUSA Ball, although this time it was in a minibus featuring a bottle of Vodka and a game of “I Have Never”. Will showed his true colours, wearing his kilt with a pride that nobody else could really understand. The English again stuck together with York and Durham sharing a table, there was lots of wine, lots of games and lots of chanting. SUSA traditions such as eating dessert standing up without your hands, and the Céilidh, a dance that evaded us all, were enjoyed with vigour. These antics soon had the entire party evicted from the hotel, the Irish were collectively blamed.

After the brutality of the ball the last day of racing was an unattractive prospect, and conditions that could be best described as “Breeze On” added to this reluctance to race. After lots of standing around and conflicting rumours racing was abandoned and boats were packed up. Limerick 1sts took the SUSA title back to Ireland since they led the Gold League before racing was abandoned. It was a very well organised event by Edinburgh University Sailing Club, but thanks should also go St. Andrews and Glasgow for lending boats, Durham for putting up with us and The Irish for making it such a colourful event.

The English then said their goodbyes and faced the long drive home. They were now shells of their former selves, silence descended until one traveller turned round and said, “What have we done, we have ruined ourselves”, but it was worth it. Five days, over 100 units of alcohol, numerous victories. Savage.

Ed Evans
Vice-Commodore

 

24th-25th March 2007 - ANUSC Team Racing Championships - Sheffield

It is with great pleasure I report back to the University of York, and perhaps even beyond, on the 2007 ANUSC event (Association Of Northern University Sailing Clubs).

However, before I continue, it is with grave disappointment I report that there was in fact no sailing at the ANUSC event 2007. Sailing was cancelled due to winds deemed too fierce for the might of the Firefly dinghy. The spirit of a zealous team York consisting of three out going helms keen to dominate the circuit one last time, was further spoilt by the English Rugby team’s loss at the hands of the French in Paris. However, woe betide a member of the sailing community who lowers their head in despair when the task of partying hard is at hand. Cue St. Patrick’s day. The Irish celebratory event provided the perfect medicine for a day spent off the water, yet certainly on the drink. Sporting our lavish party outfit; wetsuits, gloves and boots were exchanged for St. Paddy hats, whistles and ‘blowers.’ Led by our most hospitable and stunningly beautiful hosts we embarked on the city of Sheffield.

Needless to say, alcohol ran freely as green face paint was slapped across the face of many a frustrated sailor. On a slippery slide of spirit fuelled misendeavour, Vodka Revolution formed the penultimate pit stop on a night few can recollect beyond this point. Culminating in some rather untimely dancing in Sheffield’s Student Union, the York Sailing team may not have sailed yet still managed to rock the party to the tune of bar tabs great enough to sink the Titanic. Moreover this sinking feeling proved no match for a buoyant team, some of which chased women through the night with fair to moderate success, although the bulk of the team headed home as spinning heads lay to hypnotic slumber.

An early start set the pulse racing among an intoxicated squad of sailing enthusiasts. Calls were made home, wishing happy mothers day, while drivers battled with windy, Yorkshire roads under attack from hailstones pelleting from ominous clouds. Indeed our worst fears were realised when sailing was cancelled for yet another day. However, the true character of the various sailing squads shone as true team work expelled the threat of a chilling wind destroying further firefly dinghy’s.

I would like to thank the University of Sheffield for hosting ANUSC 2007 event and look forward to returning next year for more partying and perhaps even a bit of sailing thrown in.

James Robert Shepherd
Beginner's Representative

Page Created: 7th Nov, 2007
Last Updated: 11:52am on 22nd Jul, 2008 by Thomas Robert Simon-Norris