Scenario 1: Leeward boat (Red) plays the winning move by shutting the windward boat (Blue) out.

With a well-timed tack just barely on, or slightly shy of the layline, Red can force the windward boat (Blue) to tack shy of the layline, shutting out Blue from the mark. This can end badly for Blue, who has to either slow down and unhook to tack behind, or jibe around. Either way, they lose significant distance, and worse, they are now well in the zone on port. This is not a good look if there is a wall of starboard tackers coming.

But it’s not so easy for Red either. To make it stick, first, they have to tack in just the right spot— shy of the layline and close enough to just make it. This is not without some risk. If they tack too shy, they won’t make it either, and there will be two boats trying to tack or jibe onto port in the zone. We know how messy that can get. 

Rules matter here, too, so as soon as Red starts their tack (passes head to wind), Rule 13 says they are the give-way boat until they complete their tack (are on their closehauled starboard course.) Rule 10 (port-starboard) says they now have the right-of-way. But Blue need not anticipate or take any action until the tack is complete. And even then, Red is not completely in the right yet. Rule 15 says that once they acquire right-of-way, they need to give Blue room to keep clear. In short, Red needs to get onto a starboard closehauled course with enough time for Blue to get out of the way.

Correctly played, Red’s powerful offensive move effectively shuts the door on Blue.

Scenario 2: Leeward Boat (Red) Delays Tack or Overstands, Allowing Blue Inside Overlap

Red may not be savvy to the above shut-out move and sail too far, or they may know the move and just misjudge and leave room for Blue to tack in there. I won’t spend much time on this because either way, Red just plain blew it. As long as Blue can tack to leeward without breaking the rules, and they can lay the mark, they should be able to round. Red has no choice but to keep clear as a windward boat and because Blue has mark room. Blue wins that chess exchange.

Scenario 3: Windward Boat Executes the Shutout

The third scenario is my favorite; it’s the “shutout” move where Blue takes full control of its destiny well before the layline, and well before either boat tacks. Blue needs to be thinking a few moves ahead and recognizes that Red, if they tack in that perfect tight layline spot, could shut them out (as in Scenario 1).  

The shutout begins with Blue aggressively bearing off to a position still to windward, but much closer to Red, preventing Red from completing its tack without fouling. By the time Red would start its tack, Blue would already be in a position where Red could not finish the tack while providing room to keep clear (Rules 13 and 15).

An important practical consideration during this maneuver is communication. Since Blue’s move might catch Red by surprise (as Red is likely focused on the starboard layline, approaching boats, or the mark itself), it’s smart—though not required by the rules—for Blue to hail, “Don’t tack too close!” with enough time for Red to see and digest the situation. This hail alerts Red to Blue’s presence and intention. Red should realize they have no viable option but to wait for Blue to tack, then tack and follow them around the mark.

The bear-away is the key to success; it has to be done right. Blue needs to do it soon enough to leave time to communicate, and close enough to be effective, but not so early and close that they risk slowing considerably in Red’s backwind.

Now let’s add the next layer of complexity: we’re in the zone. If Blue tacks outside the zone, as in our example, they have mark room and can aggressively use that (short of tacking) to get around the mark. But when Blue tacks in the zone, Rule 18.3 puts significant limitations on their actions. Even though they don’t have mark room, they are leeward boat (Rule 11) and Red can’t bear off on them to prevent them from going in there. But Rule 18.3, puts significant limitations on Blue’s actions, they can’t head Red up above closehauled. In a subtle update for the 2025-2028 rules that came out this year, this applies whether or not the original leeward boat, Red, tacked before or in the zone. In short, if Blue tacks outside the zone, Blue can do just about anything it wants to (short of tacking) to get around the mark making Red’s job of shutting them out harder. But if Blue tacks in the zone, Blue’s options to head Red up are limited, making it easier for Red to shut them out.

Occasionally, I use the shutout in the open course, not just on a starboard layline. Suppose I want to lead Red back, but I don’t want to tack just yet because of traffic or something like that, I can then hold them off from tacking for a bit. Wherever used, I love this move because Blue uses the rules to successfully reverse the control dynamic and put themselves in the drivers seat.  It’s a cool move to have in your tactical toolbox.

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Our local Tasar fleet is pretty ­competitive, and the Scamania Coves Regatta this past summer was no exception. An intense seven-­race series in the Columbia River Gorge ended in a three-way tie for first. My crew, Libby, and I sailed a solid regatta, with no finishes worse than fourth. But we failed to win any races, so we lost the tie-breaker. First was Jay and Lisa Renehan, who won three races, and second was Alyosha Strum-Palerm and Analucia Clarkson, who won two. Michael and Molly Karas, in fourth, were only 2 points back.

My initial reflection after seeing the results was how many times we could have saved a point. My internal debrief identified about 20 opportunities where we could have sailed a little bit better and passed a boat or two. But that is not the point of this story. Every team could say the same thing: “If only we had (fill in the blank).”

The more I thought about it, my disappointment with not winning was replaced with a deep sense of gratitude. How great it is that Libby and I can race against such well-matched competition, where our every move is tested. How lucky are we to be able to race against our friends at a high level? And I wasn’t alone with this sentiment.

“I really appreciate the ongoing fierce and respectful competition,” Jay Renehan told me. “It is about testing ourselves, often to our physical and mental limits, against a high level, knowing that there is no ‘mailing it in’ on any day or in any race.”

Competition is mostly a good thing. It’s how we discover how far we’ve progressed and how we perform under pressure. I don’t shy away from competition, but I have also learned that competition is not the whole story. What do we need to be successful in competition? We need practice. How do we get good practice? Cooperation. We need another boat or a small group of competitive boats to push us. Sure, we can practice by ourselves, and that has its place, but our most meaningful learning will come from training in a small group.

To make our time together even more effective, we need to share what we are learning and compare notes with our training partners. Two things happen when we do this over an extended period: We become a lot better at sailboat racing, and we create a community with our fellow racers. When we then go away to a regatta, we race against our training partners and everyone else, and the best team on that day will win. It might be you or it might be your training partner, but somehow it feels better to be beaten by our training partners because of what we have shared and been through together. They are good partly because we helped make them better, so we can take something from their victory as well. And if we win, they can share credit too.

Is it necessary to be the best or is it ­better to strive to be among the best? I find it more fulfilling to strive to be in the elite group, and I no longer feel the need to dominate, to be better than the others, as long as the others are truly equal. Instead of berating myself for not winning, I can celebrate the good sailing of my rivals. Yes, I will try even harder to beat them next time, but I no longer feel the need to prove myself superior by winning everything. It’s more important, and more satisfying, to be part of a winning group.

There is beauty in parity. In this case, there were four Tasar teams who had different strengths, and over the course of seven races, we all had our ups and downs. Which team is best? Well, clearly that is the team who won, but the better question to ask is: Is your goal to win or to have great racing and continue to improve by being pushed to your limit? Winning is good for our ­confidence, but not winning is good for our motivation and for carefully analyzing how we can improve.

I no longer feel the need to prove myself superior by winning everything. It’s more important, and more satisfying, to be part of a winning group.

Sure, I would have enjoyed winning the Scamania Coves Regatta, but I am even happier that we are in a fleet that challenges me to be better every race. It is no coincidence that the top-three boats were the ones who have trained the most over the past three years. And most of that training has been together. ­Strum-Palerm and Clarkson have been our training partners for the past two Tasar world championships, and we have trained with the Renehans for as long as I can remember—literally 35 years. We practice hard against each other, we share what we learn, we discuss settings and technique, and the next week, we do it all over again. We all get better together, but more important, we have become a community through our shared love of racing and improving.

“I had thought that after sailing in college, I might never compete again,” Clarkson recently told me. “That changed when I joined the Tasar fleet. This group is not only supportive and kind, but also fiercely competitive. Over the past four years, I’ve become a better sailor, thanks largely to countless hours on the water and a shift in my approach to the sport. However, the greatest influence has been the people I’ve had the privilege to compete with. The leaders of our fleet welcome new sailors, encourage the sharing of knowledge, and are always striving to make each boat as fast as possible.

“But in between all the sailing moments,” Clarkson continued, “this fleet has become my family. This fleet, especially these two boats, have supported me through both the highs and lows of sailing and life. So, at the end of a tough regatta, when the results end in a tie, the awards ceremony concludes with hugs all around.”

We all have rivals and rivalries, and in competition, a rival is a necessary component that allows us to gauge how we are doing. Rivalries can be motivating because there’s something innate in all of us that forces us to want to beat them. And without such rivalries, we would not have such a great racing experience, and we would not improve as much.

We are only as good as our ­competition, and without good competition, we will never achieve our potential as sailors. We could choose to sail in a weaker fleet, where it would be easy to win, but instead, we choose a competitive fleet, which means that we will win less often—or never—even when we are good and well-prepared. And we are always improving.

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In sailing, there are two things we can all count on when we hit the water. The first is that you will encounter some amount of uncertainty, and the second is that everyone—you, your teammates, your competitors, and even the race committee—will all eventually make mistakes. Whether we’re competing at the Olympics, the Orange Bowl or our weeknight beer-can series, each of us will have our slipups, possibly without ever knowing. The winner simply makes the fewest, or least consequential, mistakes.

Strategies for success are simply any effort that anticipates and minimizes mistakes—not necessarily eliminating them outright, because we are human after all. No single strategy is bulletproof, and everyone has a different way of seeing the world, so we have to find the approach that works for each of us, an approach that can be repeated on a daily basis.

To get started, I highly recommend a book called Checklist Manifesto by Atul Gawande. Gawande demonstrates how even the most skilled experts in many fields make preventable errors that can be minimized by using checklists. Pilots, for instance, follow preflight checklists to ensure all essential safety measures are completed, rather than depending solely on memory or routine. The aviation industry accepts the fallibility of the human brain, and in sailing we should too. Whether we are checking over the boat after rigging, pushing off the dock for the first race, or packing the spinnaker between races, under stress, our brains can skip over regular and crucial steps. So, putting structure and routine around mundane but consequential tasks will go a long way in minimizing mistakes.

Over two Olympic campaigns with my teammate, Stephanie Roble, we lived by our pre-race checklist. Every day, when we hit the slipway to launch, I would say our checklist aloud to her: “Stern plug, tracker and signed out?” Without fail, she would respond: “Yes, yes, yes!” This ritual allowed us to avoid losing points or warmup time due to embarrassing procedural errors, like forgetting to sign out at the race office or filling our boat with water. If your boat has a stern plug, you know what I’m talking about. Our checklist allowed us to share the burden of routine high-stakes tasks and added predictability to somewhat annoying questions, like, “Did you remember the stern plug?”

“A checklist could and should include a simple head count, a sail inventory confirmation, and a spot check of the crucial rigging steps.””A checklist could and should include a simple head count, a sail inventory confirmation, and a spot check of the crucial rigging steps.”

— Maggie Shea

Equipment preparation is another area that benefits greatly from checklists. Preventive gear maintenance is a controllable variable that may not win races for you, but failing to do it can potentially cost you points, money and time. Over the past six years of Olympic sailing, our team had extensive boatwork checklists that helped us avoid losing points in a single race due to gear failure. Any time we had a gear failure on the water, we would add another line to our checklist or another item to our spare kit. We also derived some confidence from knowing that we had inspected all the pins, split rings and bolts. Knowing that your boat is in top shape is an easy confidence booster.

And this is not a routine exclusive to Olympians and professional teams. Think of how you can apply it to your weekend club racing program. It happens a lot where someone’s rushing to the boat from work, delayed in traffic or trying to find a parking spot. A checklist could and should include a simple head count, a sail inventory confirmation, and a spot check of the crucial rigging steps. To ensure it happens every week, assign one crew to confirm the checklist before dock lines are cast.

Checklist routines can also help keep communication positive and predictable. Often, our emotional reactions to the previous race—whether good or bad—permeates the post-race debrief. It can be really hard to talk about the takeaways from a race that didn’t go according to plan. This is where routine comes in. As a team, decide what questions you are going to answer and when. Then keep it consistent. We found it helpful for everyone to have a minute to regroup, grab water and cool off, and then have a predictable set of questions to answer that would help us learn and reset for the next race.

In a sport characterized by elements beyond your control, checklists and routine can minimize preventable mistakes and free up mental space for the creative decision-making that wins races.

Olympian Maggie Shea is now the Executive Director of the Chicago Yacht Club Foundation.

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We were in a bad position off the start. The wind unexpectedly shifted in the wrong direction, and we were immediately at the back of the fleet. I could sense anger building in my head, and I was struggling with how to deal with the “unfair” bad break we’d been handed. The leading boats all looked to be well ahead, and it appeared that there would be no coming back. I went dark.

One of the crew saw my ­emotional state, came aft, and said to me, “If anyone can get us out of this, it is you.”

Really? I thought.

At that moment, my sour mood shifted, and I asked myself, How can we recover?

Snapped out of my misery, I went to work. Over the next four legs of the windward-­leeward racecourse, we connected one favorable windshift after another, and focused on staying in stronger wind while the leaders inevitably missed a few shifts while tacking on one another. At the final leeward mark, we had sailed from last up to second place in the eight-boat 12-Metre fleet, and as luck would have it, the leader overstood the finish line, and we won the race.

Overcoming an emotional setback is difficult, but recognizing in the moment what we can and cannot control is essential to influencing the outcome. I was reminded of this recently during a late-autumn daysail in Annapolis, Maryland. The afternoon sun was fading, and I found myself racing to get to the Spa Creek drawbridge before it closed for the afternoon rush hour between 4:30 and 6:00. The same helpful crewmate from my earlier 12-Metre experience happened to be on board with me. My watch read 4:03. We had 27 minutes to reach the bridge for the final opening, and yet we were 3 miles away, with the wind slowly fading. Making matters worse, my electric motor wasn’t working.

I must have displayed the same negative emotion I had during that 12-Metre race because my crewmate squared his shoulders and said, “I bet you will find a way to make the bridge.”

The pressure was on to make it through on time. It was another challenge, and once again, I went to work. I asked him to sit to leeward to induce heel. I adjusted the sail controls for light wind. I studied the water and took advantage of every puff and windshift. With 7 minutes to go, we were still a third of a mile away. Just when we needed it, a miracle gust accelerated us toward the bridge, and I called the tender as we neared. The bridge deck opened at exactly 4:30, and we sailed right through.

These two moments reinforced the notion that we can overcome emotional setbacks and gain confidence, but in order to do so, we have to first recognize that the emotion is real and to transform negativity into a ­challenge that can be overcome.

Overcoming negative emotions is difficult in every sport, including sailing. Coaches, weather experts, and tuning gurus are helpful with the technical aspects of sailing, but in recent years, high-level sailors have turned to sports psychologists to help hone the mental part of the game and build ­confidence. Dr. Tim Herzog, an Annapolis-based sports psychologist, method performance coach and founder of Reaching Ahead, is one who has worked with top-level sailors. I recently sought him out to learn how he instills confidence and clarity in those who seek his help.

“Training your brain should be no different than training your body,” he advises me. “Everyone will tell you that the mental part of the game is the most important. Some sports cultures perpetuate an attitude that one must take care of the mental part of the game by oneself. Yet, at the top levels of sport, we would not expect anyone to go without a strength and conditioning coach. Brain training is no different.”

We can’t control our ­initial thoughts when something goes wrong on the racecourse, Herzog says. It’s natural to become upset or emotional, but our next thoughts are important. “Center your thoughts on things that you can control,” he advises. “Accept your emotion. If you try to squash it, then it can get worse. Bring your thoughts to things that are controllable.”

My technique is to do two things: First, I say aloud, “OK, let’s have fun working out of this bad spot.” Using the word “fun” reminds me to put things in perspective—it’s only a ­sailboat race, and it’s supposed to be enjoyable. The second thing is to switch focus and try to sail the boat “by the numbers.” I try to be more pragmatic and think about how to make deliberate moves. Patience is an asset when we are behind because it’s rare to pass an entire fleet in one bold move. 

We can’t control our initial thoughts when something goes wrong on the racecourse. It’s natural to become upset or emotional, but our next thoughts are important.

Paul Cayard, one of America’s greatest racing sailors, once said, “It’s amazing how boats will get out of your way if you just stick to your game plan.”

He’s right, and to drive home this point, Herzog refers me to a diagram (opposite) he uses to illustrate things a sailor can control. He uses an acronym: USODA (which he points out does not stand for the United States Optimist Dinghy Association). He starts with an inverted “U” that is a graph plotted on an X-Y grid, with “performance” on one axis and “amped” on the other. The graph shows that we need to be “somewhat amped” to get the best performance, but if we get too amped, our performance will fall. The “S” is for “speed,” or how we set and tune our boat. The “O” is for “offense,” which he defines as “big-picture strategy.” The “D” is for “defense,” or short-term tactical decisions. And the “A” is for “agility,” which includes crisp maneuvers, being smooth on the boat, and steering well.

“If something goes wrong, replay it one time,” he suggests. “Don’t be hyperfocused on something negative. Instead, replay five times something that you want to do correctly. Bring your thoughts to the ­controllable. Little voices can be distracting.”

When asked how we build a desire to excel, Herzog says: “Readiness is important. Mental preparation is a big part of the game. Shift your attention away from the outcome and toward the process of the race. When you feel anxious, sad or angry, just accept the emotions, and then let them go. Again, work on the controllable things.”

I have found that thinking back to past successes has helped me overcome emotions at times. For lectures, I use fun stories about races that went exceptionally well, and a few races that went exceptionally bad but are good tales. The overall message is to use examples of victory and defeat to emphasize that comebacks are possible and disappointments are inevitable, but confidence is a contributing factor in either outcome.

The Merriam-Webster dictionary definition of confidence is: “A feeling or consciousness of one’s powers or of reliance on one’s circumstances. Faith or belief that one will act in a right, proper, or effective way.” Gaining confidence is an essential ­ingredient in achieving success. 

It is easy, however, to be overconfident—a trap that has ensnared many sailors. We want to feel confident that we have carefully prepared for a race, but as all sailors are aware, there are factors we can’t ­control​—weather, windshifts, the actions of others, equipment ­breakdowns, rushed decisions, and any number of unplanned ­mistakes and mishaps.

Take time after every race to debrief with the entire crew, and with yourself if singlehanding (a miniature waterproof notepad should be in every sailor’s pocket), and outline what went well and what can be done to improve. Make a list and write things down in a logbook when back ashore. When you review past mistakes, it will help you to avoid repeating them.

The best sailors embrace the attitude of improving with every race. Regattas are won by sailors who consistently sail with the best average. They rarely make risky moves because being steady pays in the long run. Prepare in advance by making sure that every piece of equipment is in good shape, the correct sails are selected, the afterguard understands the weather forecast, there is tactical knowledge about what the competition will likely do, that everyone is familiar with the Sailing Instructions and, most important, the crew is sure that everyone on the boat is ready to do their job.

If these pieces are in place, your crew will have the confidence that you will have a good race. When you find yourself at the back of the fleet like I was, that confidence can help you move to a better place on the amped axis, and what do you know? Your position on the performance curve, and in the fleet, will advance as well.

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It’s not the first mistake, it’s the second,” world champion sailor Bora Gulari once said while I was coaching him in the Nacra 17 for the US Sailing team. When asked if it was OK to quote him, he said, “In fairness, I got that from Terry Hutchinson.” Regardless of the origin, I like its message—that the unexpected is inescapable, and that it’s how we manage problems that matters. That doesn’t mean being complacent, however. It means finding solutions.

When I’m sailing, I make ­mental notes of any adversities such as “spinnaker takedown late.” Then, once onshore, I add details into the Adversity Spreadsheet that I keep. It’s an incredibly useful tool to keep those second mistakes from happening again. I recently added an Impact column to the spreadsheet, which is a measure of how many boats were lost due to a noted adversity. This is easy to estimate sometimes, such as our flubbed takedown cost us two boats, so the impact is simply “2.” But it’s harder to estimate the impact of a bad start. Did it cost me 15 boats at the moment, or five? All I can do is make my best guess.

The Impact column also helps me identify my repeat offenders, understand which ones cost me most, and motivates me to work on improving. It’s eye-opening that, for any given regatta, even in winning, I might have an impact of 30 or more. In losing, I might see just a few things I could have done better that would have made all the difference.

This Impact column has led me to pondering the risk ­versus reward trade-offs of an OCS. For example, I recently sailed a regatta where I pushed the line and was OCS in one of the 10 races. But the other nine starts were excellent. It’s hard to measure, but maybe my finishes would have been five places worse per race if I’d held back. Over nine races, that’s 36 points. But the OCS cost me 60 points. Without a discard, ­pushing the line risking an OCS is a major error, but if there were a discard, I get to shed those 60 points, so risking the line is the right move.

The whole point of ­gathering all of this information into the spreadsheet is to come up with solutions. For our poor spinnaker takedown, my teammates and I concluded that there were two solutions. The first is to start the process a little earlier when we are not fighting for mark room. But when we don’t have that luxury, we came up with a process change: When we need to carry the spinnaker late, we need to put the board down and jib up very early, then strip the pole and free-fly the spinnaker. The Solutions cell in the spreadsheet can be simple and to the point, or long and in depth.

Boathandling adversity is definable and mostly in our control. Practice is usually the solution, but in the long run, I think that the best way to reduce it is to empower each team member to succeed and equally empower them to be human and, with that, make mistakes. When I see someone on another boat lay blame and even yell at their team member, I cringe. I expect an occasional boathandling error from my teammates, and they expect the same from me. In the moment, the right response is to work together to recover. Then, after the race, the spreadsheet is a low-conflict way of defining problems.

Boat-on-boat tactical adversity is often our mistake. If I am on port tack and feel strongly about wanting to get right, for example, a mistake would be to lee-bow a starboard tacker instead of taking the big duck. Most tactical errors can be solved by the tactician clearly planning and communicating. A good comms example would be: “We are going right, so if anyone comes, then we are ducking.” It reinforces planning for specific moves with an if/then.

Strategy is an interesting study in adversity mitigation. We can put solid thought into our race strategy, but in the end, Mother Nature does whatever she wants. Suppose I identify the adversity in my spreadsheet as: “I went left as local knowledge dictated, but instead a persistent righty won.”

If, in looking back, I can see no way to have predicted the right shift, I can’t count that as an error. However, the error might be that I did not mitigate the damage. The root cause would be: “I did not see the righty soon enough.” The solution could be: “We need a team member assigned to regularly to check the opposite side of the course for signs of change.”

Boatspeed adversity is the most frustrating because the root cause is often hard to identify and elusive to solve. But it is always in our control. 

For adverse tactical situations over which we have little control, we switch our focus to mitigation. Suppose we identify adversity as “we were tacked on.” We might call it an error because “we tacked into too good a lane and it was inevitable we were getting tacked on.” The solution should be: “We should have tacked in a compromised lane, that way the odds of ­getting directly tacked on would be low.”

One easily identifiable adversity is a protest situation. Many fouls can be avoided with clear communication with competitors. Suppose the error was: “We thought it was obvious that we were clear ahead at the zone, yet someone jammed in anyway.” The root cause is: “We did not communicate that they had no room.” The solution is: “We should always start the overlap conversation 10 ­boatlengths out. Doing so establishes the overlap status in case of a protest situation, but more importantly, it leaves enough time for both boats to think things through and be mentally prepared to round in the proper order.”

Boatspeed adversity is the most frustrating because the root cause is often hard to identify and elusive to solve. But it is always in our control, and as such, is listed as a mistake in our spreadsheet. If the problem is: “We are slow in medium wind and chop,” and the root cause we might have to write is: “We have no idea why.” In this case, the solution is: “We need to ask some of our friends who are doing better in this condition, come up with a list of things to try, and then find medium wind and chop to train in with a tuning partner.” There is no simple solution to boatspeed woes, but to do well, we must be fast, so we must never stop working on speed.

An ongoing boatwork list, along with regular inspections and replacements, takes care of most mechanical adversity. But mitigation comes into play too. For example, born from things going wrong, I have added redundancy to some systems. For example, my outhaul broke once, and it’s ­impractical to inspect it often because it’s inside the boom, so I have added a safety line. I’ve busted my spin pole more than once, so now I carry a spare. While coaching, whenever my athlete asks, “Do you think I should replace my—” I interrupt with a “Yes!” before they can finish. It does not matter what they were about to identify, if they question whether it should be fixed or replaced, it should be. If ­nothing else, for peace of mind.

Managing adversity is a deeply personal mental game. For me, when something goes wrong, I take a deep breath, hold, then exhale. It probably takes only about 5 seconds for that full cycle, the amount of time my brain needs to move on. And with my breath held, I can’t possibly do something in the heat of the moment that I will regret.

I once coached an ­emotional team of three sailors, and we used the word “helicopter” to get the team back in focus. Anyone on the team could say it, and the agreement was that the others would each visualize being dropped into their boat from a helicopter, with no knowledge of how they got into their current position. The message was: “No blame, no bad history, just focus and hard work from where we are.”

Even in winning major events, I have never raced without plenty of adversity. Some clear mistakes, some completely out of my control, and plenty somewhere in between. I have learned to expect them, and with that, I am free to move on to managing whatever the problem might be. In the moment and with a clear head, I want to quickly come up with the best solution. Postrace, I want to identify the root cause and hopefully agree with my team on a solution. Even if I can’t identify the root cause, the solution will be to study it to find the root cause. Those that are squarely in my control, such as ­boathandling, I want to do everything I can to eliminate. Others, such as picking a side, are less in my control and I am only playing odds. For these, I work on mitigating their damage. But most importantly, when the inevitable problem does come our way, I want to empower my team to do the best they can to mitigate the damages and move on, ­avoiding that second mistake.

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One of the coolest uses of a centerboard I’ve ever seen was at the Smythe Laser Championship qualifier—a junior sailing regatta. The two best sailors were fighting for a chance to go to the finals as they approached the leeward mark with the trailing boat barely overlapped. In an amazing move, John Torgerson, who was slightly ahead of the competition, pulled his daggerboard up all the way, and pushed his tiller toward the competitor to start sliding sideways, breaking the overlap. He literally slid into the zone like a race car drifting around a corner and started hailing, “No room!” He then slammed the board back down into the trunk and jibed to round the mark ahead. There was a protest, but he prevailed in the end and off to the Smythe finals he went. So cool.

For many dinghy sailors, the centerboard is hardly a consideration. It tends to be out of sight and out of mind, and either up or down or somewhere in between, but rarely dynamically adjusted. As a high school sailing coach, I can see that most sailors focus on other skills first before thinking about the importance of the centerboard, but this important underwater appendage can make a world of difference in your performance and speed, so let’s discuss in the simplest terms how it’s best used.

The first rule of thumb is that you want your centerboard, daggerboard or leeboard all the way down while sailing upwind to create more lift and side force, and to give you more power while reducing leeway. Downwind we prefer the board as high as possible to reduce drag while keeping the boat tracking, especially if we’re not sailing dead downwind. And let’s not forget stability—no sense in capsizing for a small gain in boatspeed. 

In most boats, this means putting the centerboard all the way down upwind while sailing in light to medium winds. On some boats and in certain windspeeds, it can be faster to pull the board a few inches, but we’ll get to that later. As a point of making sure the centerboard is fully down and then some, I’ve noticed top FJ and 420 sailors experiment with the type of blocks used on top of the board to allow it to go down just a little bit more than the competition. This deeper board gives them more power and less leeway upwind, which is a performance gain. 

Downwind, if running very deep, let’s say close to dead-downwind, we don’t need the board dragging through the water, so we can pull it all the way up. However, if the boat starts rocking excessively and is hard to control, we can drop the board down until the boat becomes stable—think of this as your “roll control.”

Top high school and college sailing crews are very active with the centerboard downwind, dropping it down a few inches in puffs to prevent the boat from overheeling, and pulling it up in lulls when it is less needed. Playing the board can be very fast.

If you are reaching, the basic rule of thumb is to pull the board up until you notice the boat starting to slide sideways, then put it down a touch so that you are tracking straight. By doing so, you’re reducing drag as much as you can and using only the amount of board necessary to track and go forward.

When sailing downwind with the board up to some degree, it’s also effective to put it down for a maneuver, which gives you stability and helps you power forward out of roll tacks and roll jibes when you’re generating a lot of side force. As a bonus, it also clears it out of the way for the forward crew in doublehanded and triplehanded boats. 

For more high-level thoughts on centerboards, I reached out to my friend Will Ryan, a fantastic Olympic International 470 gold medalist. After dominating the class for many years, he’s got a solid handle on how and when to play the centerboard. As a general rule, he says, having the centerboard to its maximum down position is useful when sailing upwind or in light air. Having the centerboard at its maximum down (or vertical down such as in an International 470 or 505) helps the foil create its maximum side force, which helps generate power in the boat and to create lift. That’s a good combo. This setup is also fast when you’re overpowered but trying to sail a “high mode.”

In smaller boats especially, Ryan adds, pulling the board up a few inches in breeze is fast: “The centerboard acts as a power control. Water has more drag resistance than air, so the benefits of reducing hydrodynamic drag can outweigh the benefits of reducing aero drag (smaller sails) because often the bigger sails can still be useful on the downwind legs.”

For many dinghy sailors, the centerboard is hardly a consideration, but this important underwater appendage can make a world of difference in your performance and speed.

Ryan also reminds us that raising the centerboard is a good way to optimize the balance of the boat when overpowered: “Changing the centerboard’s side force can make the boat more responsive  to gusts and easier to handle in waves, while also making the boat easier to steer, which generally makes the boat easier to control. Upwind, more side force might be required from the centerboard to help with the boat performance (because the lift from a centerboard is related to the speed it is moving through the water). Conversely, more centerboard up may be used downwind when the boat is traveling faster (a smaller centerboard area still giving the same amount of required lift or stability with the boat traveling at a higher speed) or when the course of the boat does not require as much side force (i.e., downwind); even less centerboard can be used in the water because reducing wetted surface area might be even more beneficial.”

In lighter airs, he says, some boats such as 470s and 505s can rake the centerboard forward—even forward of 90 degrees. “Raking the board forward can help to provide a greater side force, giving the boat more power. The board shape can create more lift, and this can also help to optimize the maneuverability of the boat because it makes the distance greater between the rudder and the centerboard. On boats such as these, where sail shapes have a number of available controls, and mast rakes or mast step adjustments are also allowed, the rake change of the foil can also help to balance the boat for better upwind performance.”

Next-Level Board Play

What we’ve covered so far are mainly straight-line considerations, but let’s take it back to Torgerson’s slick slide into the zone at the Smythe. If your ­centerboard adjustment is easy to play, consider how you might use it like Torgerson did so masterfully. Someone once told me about what he called the “­prestart slide.” If he got to the line a fraction too early, was exposed, and had room to leeward to rumble, he would turn to a reach, pull up the board quickly, and laterally slide the boat one width to leeward. When it was time to turn up, all he had to do was drop the board, let it bite, turn, and trim.

In the prestart, Ryan says, having maximum centerboard down provides the aforementioned side force (or grip) to help hold a boat in position, and minimize leeway. This can be particularly helpful when the boat is sailing at slower speeds. Keep in mind, however, that you’re not overpowered when you trim in and go. Also, raising the centerboard a little might help the boat to bear away and accelerate.

One additional tip Ryan shares is that for small boats that might be prone to getting caught in irons, or ones that don’t have a jib, raising the centerboard briefly can help get a boat to rotate the bow away from the wind. This is not a practical maneuver on all boats, but having some centerboard angled aft or raised up a bit can also help on the exits from tacks.

Here’s my final thought on the centerboard when in close quarters, and this applies ­especially in windward/­leeward luffing scenarios. If you’re the weather boat, remember to drop that board before the attack. And if you’re keen to try Torgerson’s move, remember to drop it before the turn—unless, of course, you like leaving the barn door open.

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Much has been written in ­textbooks and articles about how to win sailboat races once you cross the starting line, especially when it comes to tactics, speed and boathandling. And while it is true that races are won and lost between the start and finish lines, it’s also true that the outcome of any race or regatta can be affected by what happens well before the start. Here we’re talking about building an overall plan for the day before we even suit up to go racing.

Our first order of business is to align with our teammates on our goals for the regatta well in advance, which will ­eliminate any stress that creeps in when or if your expectations and actual performance don’t match up. If your team is intent on bringing home a trophy, it usually makes for an awkward dynamic on board when you choose to win the regatta party instead. Step one is to set performance-related goals, like “finish in the top 10.” Our performance or results-based goal will be determined by factors that are outside our control, so the second type of goal is even more important: ­process-oriented objectives that are completely in your control. For example, if we expect a shifty and puffy venue, we will set a goal to “look up the course to identify the first puff at one minute before every start.” On the other hand, if we anticipate steady wind, making boatspeed the critical element, we would set a goal to line up with multiple competitors before the start and check our control-line marks for the first sprint off the starting line. Putting these goals in writing will give us a framework for debriefing after each day of racing. It also allows us to better divide and conquer the pre-regatta homework.

Speaking of homework, let’s talk about hitting the books. A little research can go a long way to minimize surprises during the regatta. Start by printing or taking a screenshot of the racecourse areas and annotate the common breeze directions. Familiarize yourself with the body of water and surrounding land features so you can put the forecasts and local knowledge into a geographical context. Identify which weather-­forecasting app is most useful for the region, and make sure your subscription is up to date. Ask local racers about which forecasting model they find reliable. If you don’t know anyone, check out the validation feature on the PredictWind app. Local airports and fishing, surfing, and NOAA websites are excellent sources because these entities catalog a ton of historical data. The goal is to better understand the regional weather systems during the regatta window, the direction and strength of the typical sea breeze, and the ­influence of currents or tides. At a minimum, you will make better-informed choices when deciding which wetsuits or spray gear to bring. 

Once you have a general idea about the venue’s ­predominant wind characteristics, brush up on wind-related strategy basics. My favorite textbook to reread is Wind Strategy by David Houghton, and you can also find great web-based resources from sites like Sea Tactics by Chelsea Freas. If we are sailing in a bay like Palma de Mallorca, the typical sea breeze creates a racecourse with a left-hand shoreline looking upwind. This tells us we can expect convergence on the left side of the racecourse, so we’ll likely have some drag races from the starting line to the shore and need to be set up for it.

Practice Winning Moves

Visualizing the winning path and rehearsing likely tactical scenarios will build confidence during your pre-regatta training. In the Palma example with a left-dominant racecourse, our pre-regatta training will focus on strong boat-on-boat positioning off the starting line to control our lane to the left corner. Drills that replicate the left-corner-exit scenarios provide a chance to practice communication during critical moments, such as: Are we going to be the first or last boat to tack out of this corner? Can anyone tack on us?

On a shifty, high-tempo ­racecourse, being able to tack or jibe on a moment’s notice will be important, so maneuver readiness should be a focus of our boathandling training. All of our venue homework should give us a sense of what style of racing we can expect and the best way to establish good ­habits and confidence. 

Study Your Competitors

It’s beneficial to skim through class-results archives to get a sense of which teams dominate in certain conditions. For example, we can avoid starting next to the fleet’s light-air experts. Look for trends, like whether a fleet is generally conservative or aggressive on the starting line. It also helps to identify our fleet’s starting-line repeat ­offenders so that we don’t get tricked into being pushed over by a team who has a history of OCS penalties. This is especially important in fleets who cannot use GPS instruments. It’s important to know who tends to misjudge the starting line. There is one caveat, however. A venue with strong current can introduce unique starting challenges. For example, we can take Charleston Race Week scores with a grain of salt.

It also helps to identify our fleet’s starting-line repeat offenders so that we don’t get tricked into being pushed over by a team who has a history of OCS penalties. 

Also, we examine the score lines of teams with the same performance goal we set for ourselves at recent, ­similar-size events. We like to set a daily-total-points goal for ourselves each day before racing. Focusing on our average score line should help us avoid desperate and risky decision-making.

Race-Day Preparation 

When looking at the forecast on the morning of the regatta, make mental notes of the most important things, and don’t try to memorize it all. Knowing the minimum and maximum of the velocity range and expected trend will help us make informed choices about our rig and sail settings throughout the day. The most important piece of information we want to pull from the forecast is what type of breeze we will race in because that will dictate our priorities on the racecourse that day.

Try to identify whether you’re going to sail in a sea breeze by looking for the key ingredients for a thermal: a land and water temperature difference greater than 5 degrees and a forecast direction more or less blowing perpendicular to the shoreline. Expect three major trends when racing in a true sea breeze in the Northern Hemisphere. First, as the breeze builds with heating over land, it will likely veer (shift to the right). Once the breeze is established, watch for small, rhythmic oscillations. Then, as the breeze fades in the evening, look for the direction of the wind to get pulled toward the angle of the gradient wind aloft.

If we don’t have the key ­components of the sea breeze, the forecast can still help us understand the likelihood of predictability. For example, if our forecast calls for an offshore wind throughout the day with a wide range of direction and velocity, we get ready to follow our instincts and sail what we see at the moment. If we see that we’re going to sail in a gradient breeze, our challenge on the water will be to determine a pattern to the oscillations. Look closely at the predicted directions throughout the day to see any hints of a persistent shift. We treat the first few hours of the day as if we are detectives trying to determine the accuracy of the forecast. Look at the wind strength, direction and clouds to see if things are aligning. Forecasts give us clues about possible patterns, but most of the time, it’s only that: clues. We are trying to find indicators of the expected change, such as a temperature drop and darker clouds that can be a red flag for a storm system nearing. Even if we don’t know exactly what the new system will bring, telling ourselves to be heads-up for a change here can give us an edge over our competitors. There will be days, however, when we have to ignore the forecast and sail what we see. 

On the Racecourse

The hour before the race is our last chance to gather the final and critical pieces of information: starting-line and racecourse geometry. Before each race, check the race committee board to find the bearing to the windward mark, and identify the compass heading numbers that are “neutral to the course.” Compare the compass bearing of the starting line to the compass bearing of the head-to-wind numbers to determine the bias of the starting line. These data points won’t usually dictate our strategy for the race, but occasionally, we find an opportunity to gain an ­advantage off the starting line. 

Now comes the most important moment of our pre-race preparation: determining what we need to prioritize. If we’re sailing in light air or in a steady breeze, we need a comfortable upwind lane off the starting line, so we will need to set up in a low-density area, home in on our distance to the line, and determine if we want a two- to four-tack beat. If we see puffy, shifty craziness upwind, we choose our starting position as late as possible to keep our options open, remaining ready for anything and reminding ­ourselves to stay flexible. 

In an ideal world, we can accurately predict the priorities of the racecourse and execute flawlessly. The easy answers of racing to a geographical feature are convenient but actually rare. Usually, only hindsight makes the winning strategy perfectly clear. The most important skill, which takes humility and confidence, is admitting when we don’t know what will happen on the racecourse. There should be no shame in the no-plan plan. We must come to terms with unknown variables in order to be open-minded enough to learn as the racing unfolds. Ultimately, developing a solid racing strategy requires skills in filtering information, remaining adaptable, and learning as you go throughout a race, a day, and a regatta. Now go get ready.

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When boatspeed comes up in a debrief with your team, ask yourself: Did we put ourselves in a position to be fast on the racecourse? If the answer is no, do not waste your time on the topic. A few things have to be good enough before you leave the dock. Will your sails and hull allow you to be competitive? Is your team close to the overall target weight? The best sailors can make slow boats and old sails go fast, but for most of us mere mortals, it’s much harder with bad gear.

There are a few more caveats on the racecourse. If your upwind lane is compromised, you cannot evaluate your boatspeed. Even the fastest sailors in the fleet cannot defy the physics of being on another boat’s windward hip. Instead, they are usually better at tacking away before too much distance is lost. Also, a boat can be optimally set up, but improperly trimmed sheets or an erratic hand on the tiller will make it perform like it’s towing a clump of weeds. 

All this is to say it’s critical that you make sure your team is doing the big things well—getting off the starting line, choosing smart moments to tack, and executing reasonable trimming and driving technique—before blaming boatspeed. 

Aside from boat-specific equipment optimization, any speed-­related problem-solving on board requires solid communication between the skippers and trimmers. The words we use matter; onboard communication related to speed should be concise, direct and actionable. On board the 49erFX, for example, my teammate Stephanie Roble will often tell me the “boat won’t release” when a puff hits. When I hear this, I know we need more twist in the mainsail. Here, Steph is giving me feedback that I can act on and address. When using adjectives to describe the boat’s performance, make sure you’re all on the same page about the meaning of terms such as “sticky,” “wobbly” or “narrow groove.” Ultimately, if the boat is set up properly, speed-related communication should be mellow. A quiet boat is a fast boat.  

The tiller gives us some of the most valuable onboard feedback about the setup of the mainsail and jib in relation to each other. When sailing upwind with the sheets fully trimmed and the crew hiking appropriately, have the skipper release their grip on the tiller and take note of what happens to the bow. If there is a strong reaction to leeward or windward, you might have an imbalance in the setup of the mainsail and jib. If the bow gets pulled too leeward, away from the wind, it can indicate that your jib is too powerful or the mainsail could take more leech load. The opposite might be true if the boat wants to naturally round up when the skipper eases their grip on the tiller. If so, your mainsail might be too powerful. On most dinghies, the helm will not ever be totally neutral, but an extreme windward or leeward helm tug indicates you can find a better balance between the mainsail and jib. To keep things really simple, sometimes I ask Steph, “Are you pushing or pulling the helm?” 

When you sail upwind to check settings, ensure the skipper and trimmer are aligned on wind strength and where it leaves you in the power curve. Are you searching for power, trying to use the max power available, or needing to depower your setup? The answer usually varies across the day’s wind conditions, such as: “Overpowered in the puffs, but OK on average.” This analysis should lead you to the next decision about whether you set up for the puffs or lulls. The sea state will influence which way you hedge. In flat water, you can feather into the wind when a puff hits to depower more easily. In a wavy sea state, you have to drive around the waves, so your setup will need to allow a wider groove. 

To simplify the many decisions needed to properly set up your boat, let’s rely on data whenever possible. Your tuning guide for the rig should be scaled to wind strength and sea state. Your homework before the day of racing should include understanding the ranges of wind strength you are likely to see and memorizing or recording the high and low tide times. The easiest but rare days are, of course, those with consistent wind strength. But on days when you get every windspeed possible, it’s helpful to understand where you are at any given moment in the greater trend. Knowing if the puffs you’re feeling are reaching the maximum forecast for the day, or vice versa with the lulls, should help you hedge your settings for the upcoming race. It really helps us decide on the rig setting when we can say something like, “This lull is the lightest velocity we were meant to see, so let’s anticipate a build from here.” 

It is critical for trimmers to identify which sail controls will have the biggest impact. On a hiking or trapezing boat, sacrificing crew weight in the right place to make a control adjustment, like the cunningham or vang, comes with a cost-benefit analysis every time. On the 49erFX, for example, which weighs about 100 kg, the crew’s body weight of approximately 70 kg makes a bigger difference in most puffs than one last inch of cunningham. In an ideal world, control adjustments would happen before the puff or lull hits. But if you get caught out by a puff, before leaning in, ask yourself: Will easing the mainsheet a little more or having the extra bit of cunningham on help us more at this moment? And more so, if the puffs are short-lived, you should not aim for perfection. On high-tempo, transitional days, Steph and I will agree that we are going for 80 percent boat performance, and we both try to find a forgiving and versatile setup on our sheets.  

Lastly, keep in mind that if you’re caught out at the wrong rig setting, it’s likely the majority of the fleet is as well. Don’t let it become a mental distraction during the race. Announce to the team, “We are overpowered; the boat is not going to feel great.” Doing so can help eliminate any distracting input and focus everyone’s attention on going as fast as possible in the moment.

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So many factors go into prepping for a typical around-the-buoys day race: rig tune, sail selection, start line bias, course skew, and currents, but one of my biggest pieces of advice to sailors is to remember to regularly “look up!” One overlooked component of sailing strategy is how the wind behaves around the clouds and by understanding how they can influence wind patterns at the surface, you can gain a competitive edge on the water, especially if you are the only one looking around at the clouds. Clouds are a big topic, of which entire books have been published, but to get you started, here are my five top tips for cloud management. 

Incorporate clouds into your race strategy 

What information can clouds really tell us about what the wind will do in the next hour, next half hour, or even the next 5 minutes? A lot, actually. First, we need to know which clouds we should pay attention to, and which ones we can ignore. This comes down to height, size and shape. Clouds that are low to the surface, have a flat or dark bottom, and/or are puffy in nature are the ones we want to pay attention to. If you see clouds that are changing quickly, getting taller (taller than they are wide) or moving fast, those will also tell you a lot about what the wind is going to do. For example, cumulus (those puffy, cotton-ball-like clouds) over land that are growing taller indicate heating and a strong thermal component to the wind that day, which is likely to be a sea breeze in action. Fast-moving clouds tell you what the winds are doing at the upper levels of the atmosphere. Thin, wispy, or high-level clouds could offer insight as to what the weather will do in the next 12 to 24 hours, but these clouds will not directly impact the wind on your short windward-leeward course. 

On days where clouds are a significant feature of the racecourse, I’ve made checking the clouds part of my pre-race routine. For example, in Miami, where cumulus clouds are routinely moving across the course, I make it part of my routine to look up and check the speed, distance, and height of the clouds every 5 to 10 minutes. Set an alarm on your watch to remind you, just the same way you would systematically check the wind angles and bias on the start line. 

I also check to see how much cloud cover there is across the course, and whether the coverage will change at any point. For example, if the left side of the course has about 40-percent cloud cover (puffy cumulus) and the right side has 20, I will favor the right side of the course (all else being equal) because there is more blue sky in that direction and therefore more of the upper-level winds reaching the surface without being impeded by clouds. 

Avoid sailing underneath clouds

Cumulus clouds are a clear indication of thermal updrafts, which are pockets of warm air rising from the surface. As warm air ascends, it creates lower pressure underneath the cloud, and much less wind at the surface (a relative wind lull). This phenomenon also generates more wind around the cloud’s edges where the air is sinking (relative high pressure) and can provide a puff if you stay on the edge of the cloud—just don’t get stuck underneath it. The best way to get good at reading the clouds, and learning where the edges are, is to practice. It takes experience with many different types of clouds to get really good at nailing the pressure zones and judging the speed at which they are moving

Check for rain

It’s also important to note whether the cloud is actively raining or not, as this will change your strategy dramatically. Clouds that are not raining are as described above, with rising air underneath. Clouds that are raining, however, also have a downdraft near the rain. The strength of the downdraft will depend on how big and intense the rain cloud is. Smaller isolated rain clouds will have a quick downdraft that will flow out from the leading edge of the cloud and provide a small gust of wind as the rain starts initially falling (you usually feel this gust first on the leading edge, or as it is coming toward you.) If you are on the side of the cloud (it is passing to the left or right of you), the wind will tend to shift outward and away from a raining cloud. For example, if a rain cloud is passing to your left looking upwind, you can expect a left shift from the outflow gust.  After that gust, keep clear of the rain cloud because the wind will typically die afterward for up to an hour as the cell collapses, and until the previous prevailing winds return. 

To illustrate this, I’ll use an example from a recent 49erFX Worlds medal race. Pre-race, winds were very light, around 5 knots, and we had many distinct layers of clouds with occasional rain, some clouds were lighter and higher and some lower and darker. In the final minute before the race, winds were barely raceable. Then, I noticed an area of much darker clouds approaching from the left with some spitting rain, and the right side of the course had whiter clouds that were a bit higher up. The darker clouds were approaching fast. I figured they would arrive within the next 5 minutes (just after the race started) and I prayed our sailors (on the US Sailing Team) could see this too. After the start, it was clear they had. They were the only boats going hard left. They got a massive left shift with enough pressure to launch them to the front of the fleet, which had mainly gone right in the old breeze.  With it being such a short racecourse, they were able to hold their lead through two laps and won the medal race. 

Practice navigating cloud-to-cloud
What should you do when you see a few puffy cumulus clouds heading downwind on your race course? Well, if you’re in the Northern Hemisphere, more often than not, the clouds will be moving downwind and slightly right to left across the sky. This is because friction over the water tends to shift the winds on the surface to the left. The winds pushing the clouds are not as affected by friction, and therefore are relatively right-shifted. This would, of course, be opposite in the Southern Hemisphere. For example, let’s say I notice clouds coming down the course on the run, and they are moving faster than I am. I predict they will overtake me and knowing they are moving right to left (looking upwind), I decide to jibe to port to let the clouds pass to my starboard, while I stay under blue skies. 

We can also use this rule of thumb when we see low, flat, blanket-like clouds (stratus or stratocumulus) near or approaching the course. Due to friction, winds under large patches of clouds will generally be lighter and more left-shifted than the surrounding winds under clear skies.

Heed the big-picture forecast

Clouds from synoptic (large-scale) weather systems—fronts for example—indicate a new breeze arriving, if that is expected within the day’s forecast. To illustrate this, I’ll use an example from Miami a few winters ago. The forecast called for a light northerly wind to be replaced by a much stronger northwest wind.  As we sailed out into Biscayne Bay, sailors and coaches were focusing on getting into upwind drills and checking the breeze as it came from the shifty direction of Downtown Miami, where skies were sunny. No one was looking behind us, toward the west. I made it a point to spin around and check for clouds in all directions, as I typically do.

I noted to the coach I was riding with, “I bet the wind will drop in the next 10 minutes and then get ready because it’s going to blow 15 to 20 knots.” As he looked at me, surprised, I just pointed to the horizon where we both saw the clouds and it then clicked—those clouds must be indicating the new wind.

If one were to look at a satellite image from that morning, you would have seen the large cloud bank approaching. But let’s assume you didn’t, and you only knew the wind was forecast to shift and increase. Noticing this cloud bank and how quickly it was moving before anyone else would have made a big difference for your next-race strategy. 

The most accomplished sailors will attest that understanding and utilizing the wind around clouds significantly enhances your strategy. Mastering the wind around clouds is an art that requires a combination of observational skills, meteorological knowledge, and practical experience, so get out there and practice identifying and timing the clouds before your next race. In other words, remember to look up! 

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When the wind gets light and weird, a different approach to the racecourse is required says Racing Editor Mike Ingham. Priority No. 1 is to seek the breeze and from there, play the long game.

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