As I’ve traveled around the country over the years visiting yacht clubs and community sailing centers big and small, I’ve observed an extraordinary amount of perfectly good raceboats sitting idle on their trailers, racks and moorings. It’s easy to tell which ones don’t get used very often, their owners likely at home and thinking about the happier times when they bought the boat with aspirations of using it frequently and maybe even winning a few races.

Either life gets in the way, or in the case of many older one-designs, when new classes come on to the scene, older ones tend to fade away. Too often, remaining boats don’t have a place on the racing schedule, a spark plug to keep the fleet active or a community to rally. This sad and all too common sight of lonely crafts is often a result of too many types of boats in one area but access to the water and easy storage and launching are other barriers that I often hear about.

But there is an easy remedy to get small boats and their owners back on the water, and it’s been available to us for a long time. I am, of course, talking about Portsmouth Yardstick handicap racing. It’s a fundamental tool that can be used to rejuvenate a local fleet of small boats, and it’s an important step in helping to keep dinghy racing alive in the U.S.

Keelboats of different designs race successfully using a variety of handicap rules. Currently in the US, we have Offshore Rating Council (ORC), Performance Handicap Racing Fleet (PHRF), Offshore Rating Rule (ORR) and a few other options. These handicap rules are primarily suited for larger keelboats, but not smaller one-designs or one-offs. These empirical rules are easy to use and are based on experience and observation and handicaps are calculated by using the performance results of different boats. A yacht club or sailing association looking to get more small boats on the water should try using the empirical Portsmouth handicap system to encourage sailors to get their lonely boats back racing.

At a recent regatta, Charlie Enright, the new chief executive officer of US Sailing, witnessed the potential of Portsmouth racing and agreed more can be done to showcase and embrace it.

“At the Archipelago Rally in Rhode Island you show up with your boat and the ‘rating czar’ assigns you a rating associated with the Portsmouth Yardstick,” Enright says. “It’s a pursuit race with a staggered start that allows people with all kinds of boats to race together on the same racecourse in a fun and meaningful way.

“No one complained about their handicap because it was more about participation. You would be surprised how often it is used on lakes and in Middle America. We (US Sailing) are trying to gather data on how many people use it.”

US Sailing publishes a North American edition of the Portsmouth Yardstick Rating Rule booklet (available online) featuring the ratings of a wide variety of sailing craft and Henry Brauer, president of US Sailing, says the organization already has the tools in place. “The Portsmouth system is ready to go for most one-design boats,” he says. “We are encouraging orphan one-design boats that are no longer supported to give Portsmouth a try. We have to make it easy for sailors to participate.”

The Portsmouth Yardstick system has been in place since 1946. It was first developed in England for racing dinghies. The title “Portsmouth” refers to the Portsmouth Harbour Racing and Sailing Association, which supported the work of Stanley Milledge, the local handicapper. At the time, regatta results were tabulated by the Royal Yachting Association, giving each class a handicap based on the collective performance of boats over the course of a season. The word “yardstick” is used to define the time allowance between a designated boat compared with a variety of other classes.

In “The Centennial History of the United States Sailing Association,” published in 1997, Commodore Harry Anderson wrote, “Portsmouth Numbers were imported from Great Britain in the early 1960s. The Thistle Class was used as the yardstick to compare its performance to other classes.” In the publication Anderson also notes that a mix of one-designs can race together using the Portsmouth Numbers (PN). “Imported from the British and adapted for North American (weather) conditions the PN handicaps classes for one-of-kind boats based on the submission of race results by clubs and fleets.”

The perennial challenge for sailing administrators, however, is how to handicap sailboats without factoring in the ability of the skippers and crews. In other sports, such as golf, handicaps are determined by a golfer’s score. In golf it is the athlete that is rated, while in sailing it is the boat that is handicapped. Empirical handicapping, however, does work when you average out the results of many boats over time. The different skill levels of sailors are evened out by using a large sample.

Yacht clubs and regatta organizers can easily add a Portsmouth division to a scheduled regatta or for a weeknight or frostbite series. The result could be a starting line filled with an eclectic fleet of boats raced by enthusiastic sailors. A sailor would not have to buy the latest equipment and spend a large sum to be competitive. Just dust off the old boat and head out on to the racecourse.

In the 1960s and 1970s, Yachting magazine hosted its “One-of-a-Kind Regatta,” which compared the performance of a wide variety of boats. It was quite a scene to observe a fleet of dinghies charging off a starting line with every boat different from the others. Performance capabilities and differences were soon apparent.

The racing was fascinating, whereas every boat seemed to have strong points and often an obvious weakness. Some boats were better in light wind, others in a stiff breeze. Some boats excelled upwind while others thrived when sailing downwind. The event was intriguing because the sailors learned how their boat performed relative to other craft. After racing, discussions among the sailors comparing notes were always interesting. There was no handicap allowance. Bragging rights belonged to the boat that finished first.

While the US Sailing Portsmouth Yardstick booklet lists dozens of classes and PN numbers that have been in existence for ages, creating an equitable handicap for newer and more modern designs is difficult. Recognizing that all boats perform differently, depending on the breeze, handicap ratings are adjusted for wind strength. Each class is listed in the handbook with a Time Correction Factor. A “time-on-time” scoring system is used. In the U.S., the scale is the number 100. Corrected time is calculated by multiplying elapsed time by the scale, and that result is divided by the assigned Time Correction Factor (which is listed in the US Sailing booklet). For those who appreciate a simple formula, Portsmouth’s is simply: Corrected time equals elapsed time multiplied by the Scale/Handicap.

The desire to create fair handicap rating systems has been elusive, but since 1906 there have been many attempts to fairly handicap boats of different sizes. The perfect system may never be found, yet sailors must continue to optimize their boats and sail perfect races. This is what brings everyone to the starting line.

Handicap rules that are based on velocity prediction programs and complex formulas are difficult to administer. Consequently, owners have spent fortunes trying to gain an edge over the competition. The advantage of an empirical rating system is that the handicap is based on actual performance and this is why PHRF and Portsmouth Yardstick have remained popular over the decades. Still, while PHRF is well known, Portsmouth remains under the radar.

Two books have helped me unravel the handicap rating conundrum. One of them is “Men Against the Rule: A Century of Progress in Yacht Design” by Dr. Charles Lane Poor, The Derrydale Press. First published in 1937 as a limited edition of 950 copies that dissected the handicap rating rules of the era, Dr. Poor provides the reader with multiple stories of yacht owners commissioning naval architects to find “loopholes” in the rules to gain an advantage. It is fascinating to read about the triumphs and failures of design.

In 1997, author Peter Johnson published “Yacht Racing: 170 Years of Speed, Success and Failure Against Competitors—and the Clock.” In the book, Johnson expounds upon Dr. Poor’s narrative: “It is a story that produces classic racing winners, distorted freaks, sharp controversy and disputed results, but always fascination for the participant in, and the observer of, yacht racing.”

With the help of years of race results and data, the Portsmouth Yardstick system works well today, so sailors should embrace the opportunity to race—or simply just sail their boats with fellow like-minded small-craft sailors.

I am personally fascinated with racing boats of different sizes and shapes. I appreciate that, if my boat is slower on handicap, then my tactics revolve around finding clear air and avoiding being blanketed by larger boats. On the other hand, when I’m sailing a bigger and faster boat, I look for a clear lane and try to take advantage of puffs and wind shifts early in the race. Over the course of a season, I try to race on boats of different sizes to help me work on different strategies. I find the intellectual challenge one of the most interesting things about racing sailboats. Encourage your friends to get that neglected but back on the water.

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It’s a foggy spring day and I’m off the coast of Connecticut on board Art Santry’s Judel/Vrolijk 66 Temptation, bucking sharp waves kicked up by a 22-knot westerly. The boat’s bow is punching through crumbling crests as we average 10.8 knots of boatspeed. It’s not a smooth ride by any means, and to avoid hard pounding, the helmsman must turn down a few degrees to get through the big ones. Over thousands of offshore racing miles, I’d been trained to feather the bow up slightly when climbing over a wave, to minimize shock loading on the sails, sheets and rig. But modern yachts call for modern techniques, and this different approach to driving Temptation through the waves is proving to be much faster—and a lot easier on gear and bodies.

This summer of racing reinforced the notion that the more we race, the more we learn, and there was plenty of discovery for me. On board Temptation, I served as tactician and a watch captain in three venerable ocean races: The Block Island Race (186 miles), the Annapolis to Newport Race (473 miles) and the Marblehead to Halifax Race (361 miles). Each was very different, of course, and our crew continued to refine techniques and re-learn many lessons that are easy to forget in a long offseason.

The Block Island Race dates to 1946 and is raced annually over Memorial Day weekend. This year, the fleet of 70 boats started on a late Friday afternoon off Stamford, Connecticut, heading east with a light breeze filling our spinnaker. Our class started one hour and 40 minutes after the first of 11 classes, and it took exactly that amount of time to pass 69 boats. Once out front, it was our task to spot the strongest wind on Long Island Sound. The shorelines on either side of the Sound are where we often find stronger breeze, but we observed more wind in the middle, so we chased after it. 

The gambit worked and we stretched away from the fleet. This particular racecourse takes us around Rhode Island’s Block Island, which we leave to starboard, and back into the Sound and its riddling currents. It was here, about 60 miles from the finish line, that the wind came in at 22 knots from the west. The short and choppy waves were making steering difficult so we experimented and learned to head down to avoid pounding. We also reefed the mainsail and did a bare-headed sail change to a No. 4. The boat was easier to control with the reduced sail area. We crossed the finish line eight hours ahead of the second-place finisher and yet, on corrected time, we won by a slim 57 seconds. It was a nice victory and an important reminder that every second counts.

One week later, Temptation was in Annapolis for the start of the race to Newport. This race originally started in 1947 with a course that ran from New London, Connecticut to Annapolis. A few years later, the course was changed to start from Annapolis so sailors could spend the summer in New England. The racecourse now includes a 115-mile scurry down the Chesapeake Bay before a 19-mile leg to an offshore sea buoy. From that turning point, it is 339 miles to the finish line off Castle Hill Lighthouse—the iconic welcome beacon to Narragansett Bay.

The wind was extremely light on the Chesapeake. It took Temptation 23 hours to reach the sea buoy. Our navigator, Hugh Doherty, analyzed many weather models and recommended we head well east of the rhumb line, reasoning that we would find consistently stronger northeasterly winds further offshore. His prediction was spot on, and we enjoyed a brisk upwind sail. The lesson, here of course, is to study every source of weather information available, and thankfully for offshore navigators today, there are many resources from which to pull. My usual strategy for a long-distance race is to sail on the rhumb line, unless there is a compelling reason to sail in another direction. In the Annapolis to Newport Race, our navigator made the case to head east, and it worked.

Unfortunately, my foul weather gear failed and leaked, and worse, my boots fell apart. It is beyond uncomfortable going on watch with wet gear when it is cold. When I got to Newport, I purchased new foul weather gear and better boots. Happily, not one of our crew was seasick on any of the three races. To avoid any chance of sickness I use a scopolamine patch, which is available with a doctor’s prescription. It is important to always stay hydrated, keep applying suncream, wear sunglasses and a hat, and of course, wear reliable foul weather gear. When you are comfortable, you are a more focused and effective sailor.

In advance of my summer of offshore racing season, I took the US Sailing and World Sailing Safety at Sea course offered by the Storm Trysail Club at the S.U.N.Y. Maritime College. The course starts with a mandatory 15-part online course that took me 13 hours to complete. At the end of each section there were 10 questions to answer. If I answered eight questions correctly I moved on (I had to take one section over when I answered only seven correctly). The most sobering part of the hands-on course was inflating and getting into a six-person life raft for 30 minutes. I found the experience uncomfortable. The fun of being in an enclosed life raft goes away quickly. The exercise reinforced my appreciation for being diligent when racing in the ocean. I encourage every sailor to take the Safety-at-Sea course, and not just once in your lifetime.

As the sun was setting on the final night of the Annapolis to Newport Race, we were just 32 miles from Castle Hill Lighthouse. The wrong hydraulic knob was turned, which eased off load on the tack of the headsail. On Temptation the headsail must be eased and the boat luffed when taking tension on the hydraulic tack. That did not happen and the hydraulic was pumped, causing the entire headstay luff feeder to fall on the foredeck and leaving us floundering without a headsail. After spending at least 30 minutes cleaning up the mess we sailed the remaining part of the race with only a staysail. The boat was 2 knots slower and tacked through 110 degrees instead of 80 degrees. The unfortunate episode probably cost about two hours. Temptation was first to finish and won our class, but we finished eighth in the fleet.

During our fast sail to Halifax, Nova Scotia, the wind built to 22 to 27 knots and headed several degrees. We elected to drop the asymmetric and set a reaching headsail with a staysail. The configuration proved to be faster, and we continued to gain on the fleet. As sunrise neared, the wind dropped a few knots and lifted. We were slow to respond and lost five miles on our closest competitors. It reminded me that the wind seems stronger at night and the waves look bigger. When twilight appeared, we set the spinnaker and spent the rest of the day making up lost ground. The lesson I relearned was to always have the next combination of sails ready to set. Often, I use a “10-minute rule” to wait to be sure the new wind strength and direction is going to stay before going through the change of sail routine.

The strong wind pushed Temptation to sail at high speeds. At times we were averaging well over 18 knots. Surfing the waves was like sailing a singlehanded dinghy. The best moments were being able to skip from one series of waves to the next. The boat would accelerate to 21 knots or higher. The problem was the boat was going as fast as the wind and the mainsail would luff and the boom would move to the center of the boat. Whenever this happened, the sail trimmers would give the helmsmen an unapproving scowl when the mainsail drifted inboard. They assumed the boat was way off course, but it was the apparent wind that dropped when the boat hit a high speed. After one exhilarating wave, the mainsail trimmer reminded me that I was an advocate for rotating people on the helm every hour. I smiled as I passed over the wheel.

There is an encyclopedia of different watch systems for long-distance passages. I have used many that range from simple (four on four off) to elaborate with different time sequences and sailors rotating on and off at short intervals. On Temptation the watch captains were on watch for four-hour periods. The rest of the crew changed watches two sailors at a time. The idea is to avoid confusion with a full crew changing watch at the same time. Temptation used the same system for all three races. The system works if every sailor keeps to their assigned time slot.

One of the most important things to do on a long race is to practice good communication. It is hard to hear when the wind is up, and boats are moving swiftly. Commands are lost when shouting from the stern to the bow. A better practice is to call the crew together and explain the next evolution, so everyone understands what is expected.

Temptation sailed over 1,000 miles during our three races. The boat was first to finish in each race, was first overall in the Block Island Race, won class in the Annapolis to Newport Race and set a new racecourse record by 46 minutes in the Marblehead to Halifax Race. We had a great season on the water and learned how to sail better—one race, one mile and one lesson at a time.

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every week, there are important regattas that take place across the United States, with competitors all sharing the same goal: namely, to win. To be successful on the water takes a lot of work and the type of knowledge that comes only from experience. As it relates to improving, top sailors are always quick to say that their defeats are as helpful as their victories. This is a common thread that runs through the weave of the National Sailing Hall of Fame, which will induct another class this fall.

Two inductees among the Hall of Fame’s incoming class are Greg Fisher and Ken Read, both of whom have enjoyed similar career paths and impressive results over the past four decades, but they have done so each in their own unique way. These two professional sailors are certainly two of America’s best, and now that they’re in their 60s, they both spend more time helping others achieve their goals rather than chasing their own victories.

Read grew up racing in New England, while Fisher honed his unique skills on what he describes as a “dinky pond” in Ohio. Read was a three-time All-American sailor at Boston University and was named Intercollegiate Sailor of the Year in 1982. Fisher was an All-American sailor at Ohio Wesleyan University in 1975. Read has won world championships in the 12-Metre, Etchells and J/24 classes. Fisher has won 25 North American or national championships in seven different classes. Later in their careers, Read went on to skipper in two America’s Cup campaigns and two Volvo Ocean Races, and Fisher elevated the College of Charleston’s sailing team into a national powerhouse. And today, both are in the sailmaking business.

Interestingly, both sailors got their professional start working for Shore Sails. Read says that he is grateful to its founder, Bill Shore, for giving him a job and helping him to become a better sailor. “I crewed for Bill when we won the Lightning North Americans on Lake Ray Hubbard near Dallas,” Read says. “He got up at the trophy ceremony and said, ‘None of you people know who this kid is, but you’re going to hear about him.’ It was one of the nicest things anybody ever said about me. He was a master at boats; he was intense; and he taught me the details about boats and getting the most of it.”

Fisher echoes Read’s comments about Shore: “Bill’s done a lot for a lot of people in the sport. I came through his program after college. It was great to be around people like that.”

For Fisher, the specifics of what makes a winning sailor should come as no surprise. “It starts with speed,” he tells me directly, rolling into his well-oiled coaching speech. “You’ve got to practice and work on getting the boat to sail fast. You need the right equipment that makes the boat easy to sail. If you’re confident in your speed, you can come off the middle of the starting line and get to the first shift. When I coached at the College of Charleston, I had the sailors spend time speed testing and experimenting with sail trim, weight placement, and steering. They improved their technique even though the dinghies were simple one-designs.”

As the president of North Sails, Read spends a lot of time these days racing with maxis and superyachts, which is a delicate balance of delivering results while ensuring an enjoyable experience for the owner. “It’s not easy,” he says. “There are plenty of times I’m not very good at it. I can be a little edgy striving for perfection. I hold myself to a standard as close to perfection as you can. I’m often not even close. I try to get the best people and put them in the best spots to be successful. You put the right people in the room, and now you’re the dumbest person in the room, and you let them work and trust their abilities to thrive.”

Like many of the greats of the sport before them, Fisher and Read have plenty of stories of soaring victories and disappointing defeats. For Read, there are two events that stand out among his most satisfying wins. “I made multiple attempts to win the J/24 Worlds, but I was too brash and young to know how to win at that stage,” he shares. “A few years later, we were racing in Japan and won. It was a big moment in my sailing career to realize I could win a big one.”

His greatest disappointment: dismasting in the South Atlantic in 2011 during the Volvo Ocean Race. When the mast broke on Puma Ocean Racing’s Mar Mostro, they limped to the remote island of Tristan da Cunha. “Talk about your dreams crashing down,” he says. “We had a good team that stayed together. We got ourselves back into the hunt.”

One of Read’s most notable performances came in the 2003 Etchells World Championship, which had a fleet of 93 boats competing in an eight-race series off Greenwich, Connecticut. Read and his crew, Scott Norris and Karl Anderson, opened with a second and then won six of the next seven races to win the title. Read remembers it well: “The starting line was three-quarters of a mile long. There was a midline race-committee boat. We started just to windward of the midline committee boat and had clear air off the line. After three races, [1998 Etchells World Champion] Dirk Knuelman came up to me at a beer party and said, ‘I know what you are doing.’ So, we battled Dirk for position.”

Running a racing campaign these days is very much like running a business, he says. And he would know, through his involvement with the big record-breaker Comanche, the J Class sloop Hanuman, and the 12 Meter Challenge XII, which won the 2019 International 12-Metre Class World Championship. “The structure starts with funding, finding the right people, being an operations manager,” he says, “filling holes with competent people, and not micromanaging them to death.”

Fisher, who always had a reputation of being a great starter, suggests being conservative early in a regatta. “I avoid the pileup at the pin end of the line or the stack at the windward end,” he says. “I try to sail in clear air. Even a little bit of clear air is good. Be careful about putting your boat in a risky position that you can’t get out of.”

Fisher wrote a book with Dr. Thomas Hubble, past president of US Sailing and a veteran Thistle sailor. In the excellent book, the authors say that a boat’s speed is “paramount” and that a conservative tactical philosophy will prevail. “Tactically, decisions now are a little easier with new electronics and technology,” he says, “which makes getting good speed even more important.”

While the bulk of Read’s professional sailing career was primarily in keelboats, Fisher has been a master in the sport’s enduring one-design centerboard classes, including, Snipes, Y Flyers, Thistles (five-time national champ), Flying Scots (seven-time national champ), the Johnson 18 class and Highlanders (four-time national champ). Fisher’s keelboat racing has been in the J/22 class. The 2010 J/22 North American Championship stands out as a special victory for him. “My wife, JoAnn, was on the boat along with my oldest daughter, Martha,” he says. “This was just before I went to coach at the College of Charleston.”

During his tenure at Charleston, by the way, his team won the Intercollegiate National Championship in 2017.

While both sailors started their professional careers at Shore Sailmakers and years later worked together at North Sails, Read leads North Sails from his office in Portsmouth, Rhode Island, and Fisher is putting his decades of experience to work with Evolution Sails based in Charleston, South Carolina. Being a sailmaker keeps both superstars on the water helping clients improve their skills and making their boats fast. Any young person considering a career in the marine industry can learn from the arc of these two dedicated champions who push themselves hard and are happiest when they are on the water racing in any form.

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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 was a sobering moment this past spring as my wife, Janice, and I put away our boat after a pleasant afternoon of sailing off Annapolis, Maryland. We’d just learned that Gov. Larry Hogan had declared that recreational boating was prohibited, starting the following day. The growing restrictions of the early COVID-19 pandemic felt confining already. There was so much confusion with restrictions being imposed on travel, school attendance, sports and workplaces, along with a new concept called “social distancing.” It was all combined to change our fortunate way of life, but if anything, we thought, sailing would be safe, right?

Nope. “Stay ashore” was the new commandment. What a bummer.

Regattas across the United States were canceled, sailing charters fell off the cliff, and boat shows were either postponed or canceled. Similar restrictions were put in place across America. I’d never spent so many days in a row at home, and as weeks passed, I felt a building desire to get back out on the water. When our governor finally lifted the restriction on boating, Chesapeake Bay was suddenly filled with boats. Dealers reported record sales of vessels new and old, large and small, and our freedom to be on the water was restored. The sanity of every sailor was renewed.

The Annapolis YC, which had canceled its busy ­racing schedule, decided to give a simple 12-mile race a try, one that required minimal ­race-­committee personnel. The new event was the brainchild of Kevin Reeds, who came up with the Two Bridge Fiasco race. The name and concept of the race was borrowed from a similarly formatted and long-running event on San Francisco Bay called the Three Bridge Fiasco. There would be no trophies, only bragging rights. Entrants were encouraged to race doublehanded with family members.

Reeds figured he’d get 20 to 30 boats, but he ended up with 133.

“I was flabbergasted by the response,” he told me.

The Sailing Instructions called for a pursuit start, where you cross the starting line based on your handicap time allowance. The starting sequence certainly spread out the fleet. As you might expect, it created quite a logjam at the finish line as the larger boats overtook smaller boats in the fleet.

Using US Sailing’s new Portsmouth Ratings Capability, Reeds said it was quite a challenge to rate a Laser Radial against catboats and a wide variety of other small craft. Ratings guru Bruce Bingman and his wife, Taran Teague, worked hard behind the scenes to bring the Two Bridge Fiasco together. Teague told me afterward that the philosophy was to get ­everybody—from a kiteboarder to a 50-footer—into the race.

Bingham received rating ­assistance from US Sailing’s Nathan Titcomb, who helped them get a Portsmouth number for every boat. He used US Sailing numbers and converted them back into PHRF to establish the starting times. The experience, however, reinforced Bingham’s concern with there being too many handicap rules. “One of the problems these days is that there are too many different numbers,” he told me. “I think yacht clubs need to stop offering so many different rating numbers because it’s just too hard to calculate all the scores.”

When I heard about the race, I entered my Hood 32 sloop, Whirlwind. I’d never raced the boat, but Bingman helped me navigate the process of acquiring a handicap rating, and we were off. I was curious how Whirlwind would perform in what could be the boat’s first and only race.

The race starts were staggered by about an hour, and competitors were allowed to sail the race in either direction. The course started off the US Naval Academy on the Severn River, and you could either head out to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge or up the river to the Severn River Bridge. Most boats chose the Bay-first ­strategy, but one boat that bucked the trend by heading up the river—a high-performance Nacra ­catamaran—ended up winning the race, with bragging rights granted.

We started at our designated time alongside three other boats with the same handicap. On the short beat to the first turning mark, we took a small lead and set our asymmetric spinnaker for a 3.6-mile run to the bridge. The breeze picked up to a brisk 18 knots, and Janice steered while I trimmed the spinnaker. Whirlwind was ­gliding along at 8.5 knots.

The spinnaker douse went reasonably well, and we sailed back upwind. A fleet of Etchells that were well behind on the long run made up ground on the beat. At the next windward mark, we set the spinnaker again and headed up the Severn River. It was going well, but as the wind went progressively light, the trailing boats caught up to us. What a delight it was to see 80 or so boats jammed tightly together on the final milelong sprint to the finish.

We sailed 12 miles in 1 hour, 49 minutes, and finished ninth in our 44-boat class. No official bragging rights for us, of course, but we did OK. Best of all, we had a great sail, and that was the point, right?

A few weeks after the Fiasco, Tred Avon YC in Oxford, Maryland, notified the US Naval Academy that they were unable to host the annual Annapolis to Oxford Race. Varsity Offshore Sailing coach Jahn Tihansky (who won the Fiasco on a ­catamaran) wanted a race that the academy’s midshipmen could compete in, so he helped ­pioneer a new race.

Taking a page from the Annapolis YC’s Fiasco, the academy created an alternative race called the Three Lighthouse Challenge. The course would take the fleet to ­channel markers close to Sandy Shoal Lighthouse, Thomas Point Lighthouse and Bloody Point Lighthouse. The course was 21.6 miles.

I entered Whirlwind for my second race. Bingman and Teague served as race officers for a traditional starting sequence. This time, my ­doublehanded crewmate was our son-in-law, Brian Conroy, who was competing in his first sailboat race. I figured he would be a good downwind ­helmsman. Ninety-five boats crossed the starting line in a brisk 20-knot wind and made a fast trip around the bay. Aboard Whirlwind, we made the passage in 3 hours, 40 minutes, with only 6 of the 21 miles sailed under spinnaker. We missed the podium by 1.7 seconds, but more important, it was another exhilarating day on the water. There was plenty of bragging around the Jobson family dinner table afterward.

As we passed the fleet on ­different legs of the course, I was astounded by how many different types of boats were in the race. The Three Lighthouse Challenge used six different ratings for 13 classes. I look forward to the day when we have one handicap rating rule. In this age of supercomputers, it would seem that goal should be attainable.

While Bingman’s concern is of too many handicap ratings, Reeds is of a different opinion. “We need to embrace different formats to get as many people out on the water as we can,” he said. “We find there are a lot of boats that spend time cruising that might like to do these kinds of races. We need to be more inclusive and more open to doing things in creative ways.”

Navigator-style races are becoming more popular, and these race distances don’t have to be excessive. I think two to five hours in duration is about right. It makes for an interesting day on the water, and you get to see many sights along the way. For us in Annapolis, we rarely race under the imposing Chesapeake Bay Bridge, but there is always some kind of intellectual challenge of passing underneath it. The roadway high above creates wind thermals, and tidal currents swirl around the bridge’s structure. Big gains and losses can take place around bridges.

During our two races on board Whirlwind, I learned a few valuable lessons: Clear sailing lanes are absolutely essential; be ready to shift gears by setting the spinnaker at a moment’s notice; give the crew a long trick on the helm; study the tidal currents; have plenty of food to eat; and don’t worry about the results. Finishing the racecourse is reward enough.

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When everything on the ­racecourse is running smoothly, it’s important to remember that it’s because good decisions were made by the race officials, leading to a fair and well-managed race. There are many variables that need to be addressed before a racecourse is set and the starting sequence commenced. While perfection is the goal, it’s incredibly difficult to achieve.

Pressure on race officers, judges, umpires and ­handicap measurers is immense these days. Highly motivated ­owners, professional crews and paid coaches push hard to win, again the reality that regatta organizers are staffed mostly by volunteers and have to deal with the strain of demanding competitors. There have been many changes in our sport over the past 10 years: faster boats, foiling craft of all kinds, kiteboards, new race formats, more professional sailors and coaches, drone and onboard footage, and telemetry leading to more sophisticated analysis of performance. With such a fast-paced evolution, I regularly wonder if our race-official system is keeping up with the changing times. The answer is not straightforward; it depends on who you ask.

Race management across America was uneven 50 years ago. To its credit, US Sailing launched a series of standardized educational and certification programs in the 1970s in order to elevate the collective skill level of our essential race managers. The goal was to conduct safe, fair and compelling regattas. These educational programs have been painstakingly upgraded over the years. The efforts by many people have paid off for all stakeholders, and as a result, sailboat race management is better today at every level.

Matthew Hill, director of US Sailing’s Race Administration, recently explained to me that the organization is focused on consistent race administration across the sport. “Our task is to make it better,” he says. “One of our priorities is to improve the pathway to get certified.” To do so, he says, they continually update the curriculum and offer proper tests for officials at every level. “This is important because our race officers have to make safety decisions and keep racing fair,” Hill says.

Taran Teague, chair of US Sailing’s Race Officials Committee, says: “It’s serious stuff. You have to take time to run through the judge’s [certification] process. To go beyond the club level takes time and money to take educational classes, and you have to travel. We try to make an easy on-ramp for the club-level race official. To do this job, you have to be passionate. It takes a lifetime to be a good race officer.”

The challenges race officials must grapple with are notable. “A race official needs to be balanced and have good judgment,” Teague continues. “We ask ­ourselves, how perfect should the racecourses be? When should a race be canceled?”

Teague also says that the pool of qualified race officers must grow, ­geographically, because the sport is ­underserved. Which prompts the question: How do we recruit volunteers to serve as race officers?

Kathy Lindgren chairs US Sailing’s Umpires Committee and is upbeat about attracting new umpires. She points to a recent surge of younger people looking to get involved. Many are former college sailors. “We need to expand our footprint and encourage them to stay with the program,” Lindgren says. “Our committee is working to clean up our requirements. We want to be more transparent in our process, and our tests need to be standardized and in sync with World Sailing’s Regulations.”

There are also a few ­practical challenges, Lindgren says. “We need to practice our techniques. Our people need to learn ‘umpire-speak.’”

So what exactly is umpire-speak? “We pair two umpires in a boat in match racing, and each takes the role of one boat. They verbalize the actions of each boat and use a specific language about each maneuver, cross or rounding. There is a cadence to it.”

Mistakes are made, Lindgren admits. “Remember, we are making calls in real time, with no video to review. If we are wrong, the competitors take it in stride. It is a learning ­experience for everyone.”

The GPS technology applied in the past few America’s Cup matches for precise location and racecourse management have made viewing better for fans. This technology has also been used by umpires to determine if boats are over the starting line, foul another boat, or go out of bounds. We might see a day when judges and umpires are obsolete, with competitors instead relying on software that instantly interprets boat-on-boat situations and start-line infractions. This would also eliminate the need for a formal protest hearing after racing, and would certainly improve the experience of yacht racing.

The size and scope of our Racing Rules of Sailing rulebook seems to expand every four years. The next edition is scheduled for release in early 2021. It seems there are always discussions at the committee level on how to make the racing rules easier to understand and how to streamline the text. Both sailors and judges must study the racing rules to understand the subtle differences every four years.

Judges are charged with making reasoned decisions when adjudicating a protest, and for them, there is a lot at stake, including the outcome of regattas or the determination of fault when it comes to damages after a collision. It’s not easy for judges to make rulings, but Sarah Ashton, who chairs US Sailing’s Judges Committee, says that while the goal of every decision is fairness, the rules are convoluted, and they require a certain level of mastery and experience that comes only with time. “It’s hard to get enough judges because most people would rather sail,” Ashton says. “Most judges are over 50 or 60, but I don’t think we should have [a minimum age] for judges.”

All three committee chairs have mixed opinions about the certification process. Ashton says she’s disappointed there are not more American international judges. World Sailing’s list of international race officials includes only 23 American judges, 21 umpires and 10 race officers.

“It seems difficult to get ­international certification,” Ashton says. “There seems to be a roadblock.”

She says the process in the United States is easy for club-level judges. “You take a seminar, work some local events, and take a test. For Regional Judge certification, there are more seminars and tests, and you need to work events in your region. It gets harder to be a National Judge so you can work anywhere in the States.”

What used to be an “old boys club,” she says, is improving. “We need to be more creative in the future. The tests are better, we have revised the Judges Manual, and we host clinics and webinars. We are proud of our education. I especially like working with the kids and young people. They accept more education.”

Ashton doesn’t feel as though judges like her are feeling more pressure from professional sailors and coaches. The greater demands, she says, are placed upon race officers and organizing authorities. “We do expect competitors to behave in the protest room,” she says. “They should understand that protest [hearings] are for learning too.”

With an increased presence of professionals and coaches on the water, there has been a noticeable demand—and expectation—for efficient races and race management. I have witnessed younger hotshots being highly vocal and critical of organizing authorities and race officials, sometimes to the point of being abusive. Most race officials are volunteers and need to be respected, and such behavior should never be tolerated. In college and scholastic sports, there has been a sad increase in abusive behavior toward officials, and as a result, 26 states across the United States now have laws protecting sports officials. The key to making our system work is mutual respect between all parties and understanding that post-race discussions can clear up any misunderstandings, and protest hearings are always learning experiences for ­sailors and juries alike.

At this writing, the roster of national race officers in the United States seems slim, with 114 national judges, 39 national race officers and 47 national umpires. Competitive sailing relies heavily on the dedicated work of these race managers, and each of them will welcome additional sailors who are willing to join their ranks. The process is easier and there are many opportunities, so the next time you’re at an event, take a moment to thank your race officials and regatta organizers for making our sport available and good for all of us.

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The race started on a beautiful summer day in June, with bright blue skies, a building sea breeze, and a flat sea ahead. Our first 100 miles of the 635-mile course pass by quickly, with 15-knot gusts pushing Llywd Ecclestone’s 65-foot Kodiak down the rhumbline, but once we reach the Gulf Stream’s Northern Wall, the wind stops. Completely. Zeros on the instruments.

The Gulf Stream is the Bermuda Race. Within a few miles you can be fighting against a 4-knot adverse current, or riding a meander in the direction you want to go. Getting it right requires some careful weather and ocean current studies long before race-day boat call. If there’s any light wind in the forecast, we avoid getting close to areas of strong adverse current, using every weather resource available. At the chart table we huddle around the latest weather data, and we study the position and performance of our competitors. Everyone in the afterguard is on these sessions. There’s merit in using collective wisdom. Aboard Kodiak we keep to our original game plan, only making small modifications along the way.

If any one of us were to compete in 100 long-distance races over the course of our lifetimes, and we only stuck to one strategy—staying to the rhumbline—our results would be better than average. The reason is simple; the rhumbline is the straight line.

Historians say the key to the Bermuda Race is to “sail 30 miles west of the rhumbline.” It’s an excellent rule of thumb because the Gulf Stream generally flows to the northeast. In theory, by staying west, the current will set you on the rhumbline upon exiting the Stream.

But first, one must get through it, and our passage through the North Wall is a test of patience. I assure you there’s no greater test of morale than slating on a calm sea. Sail changes seem to take place with every helmsman every rotation and jokes run their course. Worst of all, the distance-to-finish needle doesn’t budge. When this happens we fear the competition is somewhere over the horizon, speeding away. So we remind ourselves that other boats nearby are suffering, too. But then the Stream’s confused sea prevents the boat from gliding over the waves, and when there’s no wind, no amount of sail trim seems to work. It’s a struggle to build speed or simply hold a straight compass course. Nerves start to agitate.

In these conditions I avoid staring at the large bank of displays, and instead scan the water for puffs, check the telltales, concentrate on steering, and use the compass. One of our helmsmen, Fred Detwiler, of Detroit, sails a lot in light winds on Lake Michigan, so he’s a natural at nudging Kodiak along in sloppy conditions. His technique is to sail a slightly low course while on the wind to generate speed. When the wind was coming from behind, he’d keep a slightly higher course than normal to get the boat moving and the water flowing past the underwater foils.

Keeping a positive attitude is a challenge in these conditions. It helps to set small, attainable goals. For example, we keep track of the time it takes to sail one mile. Then, try to sail the next mile in less time. It’s good mental therapy for everyone because racing sailors, by nature, like a challenge. Of course, there’s the inevitable and healthy competition between watches. There is a quiet satisfaction when you’ve gained more miles during your four-hour watch. During one long stretch, Detwiler’s watch outperforms the other watch by 10 miles, twice in a row. Of course, part of this is pure luck, but it stokes our competitive fire.

We avoid a lot of extra conversation among the sailors on watch because if the talk isn’t about the boat’s performance, our performance suffers. The best time for conversation and story telling is during meals, when everyone is more relaxed, and the chatter doesn’t disrupt the flow of trimmers and helmsmen on deck.

A good attitude on and off deck is important. Frequent sarcasm destroys confidence and team spirit. I once heard the great Captain Irving Johnson say to a crew before leaving the dock, “If we each do a little bit more than our share, we will be OK.” Great skippers, watch captains, and tacticians build morale by asking for ideas and input. Whether to use the input can be decided later. Sure, it’s common sense good manners, but “please” and “thank you” do positively contribute to the boatspeed.

A favorite old-time ocean-racing adage dictates that one should not race on a boat shorter in length than one’s age. Kodiak, at 65 feet LOA, gives me a one-year cushion. Three crewmates are in the 70s, three of us are in our sixties, and several others are over 50. It’s great for us to be out enjoying this at our age, but I’ll admit it’s not getting easier. The process of going on watch is exhausting, especially with the boat pounding in big waves and no wind. At one point chuckle to myself, thinking how much pleasure I used to get from going on watch. We were young, rugged, and didn’t know any better, but the rewards of ocean racing forever outweigh any forgettable discomfort.

We endure three agonizing calms, each lasting 8 to 12 hours. Between them, we’re pounded by three powerful storms. At the helm, it’s difficult to see through the intense rain, but the strong winds and resulting speeds lift everyone’s spirits and recalibrate their minds back into race mode.

At one point during the race, I’m talking to Karl von Schwarz while preparing to go on watch. It’s 0340. No one had gotten much sleep with the boat pounding. I ask him if we still have the same spinnaker flying?

He laughs and says, “We’ve had six sail changes.”

It’s hard to believe I actually slept through all the commotion on deck, but maybe deep sleep comes with age, too.

Kodiak is a 19-year-old Reichel/Pugh design. It has sailed under different names, including Exile, Blue Yankee, and Aurora. It’s a well-rounded boat, and the Bermuda Race organizers, the Cruising Club of America and the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club, score the race using different handicap rules. Often a boat will end up in a different finishing position depending on the rule applied, which creates all sorts of confusion. It sure would be great if race organizers would use one handicap rule to avoid the inevitable argument of who actual won?

We win our class in ORR, and placed second under IRC, so we get a trophy.

Finishing at 0200, after 86 hours at sea, a hard rain drenches our long motor into the harbor. The rain bothers no one. Our minds are on race committee patrol boat passing us cold beer. With each swallow there’s great satisfaction that an amateur crew of veteran sailors has successfully completed the thrash to the Onion Patch.

After a long shower at the hotel I check the dates of the 2016 edition and wonder if Ecclestone would stretch Kodiak by another foot.

This article first appeared as “Fresh Air” in the September/October 2014 issue of Sailing World. Click here to read more from Gary Jobson.

Kodiak Sails the Newport Bermuda Race

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“As a matter of fact, I grew up close to that area,” I answered.

He explained that he’d sailed at the Penguin Internationals there in 1966, and was stunned when I told him that I’d sailed in that regatta, too.

In the back of my mind I was trying to remember how I finished, and I also wondered about his result. The only memory to come rushing back was capsizing in the first race of the junior series. As it turned out, he also flipped, which gave us both a good laugh. Later that night I searched the Internet for the results of that regatta and discovered I’d finished 11th and Gianelli 14th. Forty-eight years had passed, and here we were, still talking about our youthful racing experiences. It’s a small world, indeed.

During my weeklong visit, which included time in Uruguay and Argentina, I visited six different yacht clubs, spoke to a group of juniors, and went sailing on a classic yacht with a fascinating history. There was an impressive amount of racing happening at every venue. I’ve noticed that many U.S. yacht clubs and sailing teams employ sailing coaches from South America, and I now understand why: Youth sailing instruction is a high priority.

My first day was spent traveling with ISAF president Carlo Croce. We visited several sailing clubs in Buenos Aires. The first stop was Club Nautico San Isidro. This huge facility on the Rio de la Plata has more than 3,000 members, and on the day of our visit, about 100 Optimist dinghies were competing in a regatta. Very few parents hovered over the youngsters, which is quite different from what we see in the States. The sailors competed on different courses, and coaches worked with the youngsters. The boats were right up on the line at every start, and the young sailors were sharp with their tacks and jibes. Onshore, the boats are stored in large, semicircular roofed barns. There were hundreds of Optimists in one barn, and in other storage barns I saw racks of International 420s, which made me wonder if the tuning requirements of the International 420 produce more technically-savvy juniors than do the Club 420s preferred here at home.

At a reception at the Yacht Club of Argentina I came upon a full-scale model of an interesting boat named Fjord III, designed by German Frers, Sr. I was told it was one of the region’s most successful racing boats. The Yacht Club of Argentina hosts the Buenos Aires to Rio de Janeiro Race, which Fjord III won in 1950. A few days later, I discovered one of the ISAF Executive Committee members, Scott Perry, of Uruguay, was the new owner of the boat. He acquired it in San Francisco in 2013 and commissioned a major refit before shipping it to Punta del Este. The wooden boat is 50 feet long, and as the story was told to me, Frers was a partner in a boatyard with his cousin, Ernesto Guevara Lynch, whose son was the Cuban revolutionary Che Guevara. In 1952, Frers planned to ship Fjord III to New York for racing in the States. Eva Perón, the First Lady of Argentina, requested that Frers paint the side of Fjord’s hull with her political propaganda. He refused, and as a result, the boat’s exit permit was denied. When Perón died a few months later, the exit permit was approved, and in 1954 Fjord III won its class in the Newport Bermuda Race.

Forty years later, Marcus Koch, a German sailor who played football for the Washington Redskins, purchased the boat and sailed it in the Pacific Northwest for several years. One can image how important it is to Perry and the sailors of Uruguay to have such an iconic yacht return to its home waters.

I could sense this pride when, after three days of ISAF meetings, Perry invited me to go sailing on Fjord III. He said there’d be four of us, but by the time we left the dock there were 13 onboard.

Uruguay is a remarkable place to sail, and its sailing hub is Punta del Este, which translates to “Point East.” It is located at the intersection of the Rio de la Plata and the Atlantic Ocean. The locals told me the prevailing northerly thermal sea breezes had been absent all summer and that they had received an unusual amount of rain. Many marinas are nestled along the beautiful coastline, and boating is an important activity. Punta del Este, a thriving resort city with a population of 9,000 residents swells to 200,000 in the summer. Between 1985 and 1994, the Whitbread Round the World Race stopped in this town five times. There are reminders of the Whitbread everywhere.

Junior sailing is also a high priority for the Yacht Club Punta del Este. Optimists filled the harbor every day alongside large fleets of 29ers, Lasers, and Bytes. The island of Gorriti, about a mile south of the marina, creates a sheltered sailing area for small boats, but out in the ocean the waves can be huge, providing locals with two diverse training grounds.

Both Uruguay and Argentina are a long way from my home in Annapolis, yet the sailing culture is familiar. Yes, the language is different, and they don’t eat dinner until 10 p.m. (or later), but the thirst to enjoy time on the water is just the same in South America as it is in the States.

Any sailor looking to expand their experiences would do well to head south and train with our South American brethren, especially during the Northern Hemisphere winter. A little cultural sailing exchange could do us all well. Who knows? You might have the chance to meet someone you crossed paths with on the water long ago.

This article first appeared in the May/June 2014 issue of Sailing World. Click here to read more from Gary Jobson.

Rolex Circuito Atlantico Sur

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In order to create our list, I review the results of dozens of junior regattas, consult with coaches, and look for special achievements that stand out. In truth, our list could easily number over 100 sailors. Here, we present five sailors who represent an impressive cross section of junior sailing in the United States today.

Nic Baird, 16, grew up watching his father, Ed, earn a Rolex Yachtsman of the Year title, win multiple world championships, and drive Alinghi to an America’s Cup win. That’s a big legacy to live up to, but Baird and his older brother, Ty, have been building their own strong resumes. In 2013, Baird won the U.S. Junior Singlehanded Championship for the Smythe Trophy and finished in the top 10 at the Laser Radial North Americans, Cressy Nationals, U.S. Youth Sailing Championship, and the Orange Bowl.

Baird started sailing Optimists out of the St. Petersburg (Fla.) YC and now races for the Shorecrest Prep School. His main focus is on singlehanded classes, but he also likes the 29er and the club’s junior offshore boat, the Frers 30.

He credits his family for his success: “My dad has shown me what is possible in the sport of sailing along with my mom—they have given me their total support. My brother, Ty, has been my training partner.” Looking ahead, Baird says, “I hope that joining a sailing team will be a major part of my college experience.”

Jack Barton, 18, of San Anselmo, Calif., won the U.S. Triplehanded Championship for the Sears Cup for the second consecutive year in 2013 with crew Sammy Shea, Alex Moody, and brother Sam Barton. Barton understands that improving is a process: “No matter how good you get at sailing, there will always be more to learn, and there is always someone in another fleet who can beat you. That’s motivating because it shows there’s no end to what you can achieve if you’re a truly dedicated sailor.”

Barton started sailing Optimists at the age of 6 and has since focused on Lasers and J/22s. His home club is the San Francisco YC, and he also crews on a Santa Cruz 37, Tiburon.

Looking ahead, Barton would like to get more involved with match racing, and he hopes to attend the California Maritime Academy next year. When asked about his mentors, Barton says, “My father has always inspired me; seeing his success in the sport has motivated me more than anything.” However, he does mention an unfortunate incident when he was 9: “I sailed a Mercury with my dad. One race he let me skipper. I couldn’t find a hole at the start and ended up sailing through the side of the committee boat—a 17-foot Boston Whaler.”

Casey Klingler, 17, races out of Larchmont (N.Y.) YC, and she’s on the Hotchkiss School Sailing Team. She was part of the team that finished third at the 2013 Mallory Cup. In 2013, Casey and her crew, Fiona Walsh, also traveled to Limassol, Cyprus, where they placed 11th at the ISAF Youth World Championship in the Girl’s International 420. Meg Gerli sailed with Klingler at the 2013 International 420 Worlds in Valencia, Spain, where they were the top female U.S. team.

Klingler started sailing Optimists at age 7. Both of her parents are active sailors, and she races a J/70 with her father. Her grandfather, Butch Ulmer, is one of America’s most accomplished sailors. Next year, Klingler will join the sailing team at Yale. “I decided I wanted to go to Yale when I was in eighth grade,” she says. “It has the right combination for me of challenging academics and a very competitive sailing team, with a great coach.”

Klingler credits her coaches with her growth in sailing: “Steve Keen has been great at teaching me technique and keeping me focused on fitness. Elizabeth Kratzig really helped me with teamwork. Zach Leonard has helped me learn to maintain mental toughness during regattas.” Leonard will be one of Casey’s coaches at Yale.

Elena VandenBerg, 18, races out of the Annapolis (Md.) YC, and she’s the co-captain of the Archbishop Spalding High School Sailing Team. She, too, started at the age of 7 in an Optimist, and currently prefers one-design racing. “My favorite boats are Club 420s and J/105s—the fleet on the [Chesapeake] Bay is very competitive.”

Vandenberg has been racing for the past four years with Lilli Salvesen, of Annapolis, and also with Amelia Hardy, from Richmond, Calif. Junior sailing is an important part of her life. “I have had the opportunity to travel to a lot of amazing places and meet a lot of new friends.”

Her hard work has paid off: She finished 11th out of 102 Club 420 teams at the 2013 Orange Bowl and in the top 10 in the Club 420 at the Buzzards Bay Regatta, the Club 420 North Americans, the U.S. Youth Sailing Championship, and the U.S. Junior Women’s Doublehanded Championship. Next year, she’ll attend Stanford and plans to sail on the team there. When asked about her inspirations, she says, “Adrienne Patterson is the one person who really stands out. She got me really excited about sailing, worked with me during my transition from the Opti to Club 420, and helped me get to the next level.”

Duncan Williford, 18, from Fort Lauderdale, Fla., sails out of the Lauderdale YC. The club has worked hard to build a strong junior program, and Williford shows that the effort is really starting to pay off. Williford also races on the St. Thomas Aquinas Sailing Team.

With his crew, Matthew Mollerus, Williford won the 2013 U.S. Youth Championship in the 29er class with eight first-place finishes in 14 races. The duo also placed ninth at the 29er World Championship in Denmark last summer. He likes the 29er for its high performance and fast pace, and looking ahead, he’d like to race a 49er and eventually reach the Olympics.

Williford credits his twin brother, Christopher, as the person who has been most influential in his sailing (Christopher was on our 2010 Junior All-Star list): “We started sailing together and have pushed each other every day since.”

As for motivation, Williford says, “Sailing is special because you’re given the opportunity to compete internationally at a young age. There’s no better motivation than knowing you’re competing against the best in the world.”

For an embarrassing moment, he recalls an Opti green fleet start: “At 30 seconds to go, I accidentally ran into the back of Christopher’s boat, knocking him in the water. He still ended up winning the regatta, but I earned myself an honorary mention at the awards.”

All-Star Honorable Mentions
Lindsey Baab, Cat Feder, Henry Fernberger, Haddon Hughes, Marion Lepert, Charlie Lomax, Luke Muller, Maximo Nores, Ravi Parent, Dana Rohde, Nicholas Sertl, Carolyn Smith, Kristopher Swanson, Allie Toppa, Wade Waddell

This article first appeared in the March/April 2014 issue of Sailing World. Click here to read more from Gary Jobson.

Nic Baird

Nic Baird

Jack Barton

Jack Barton

Casey Klingler

Casey Klingler

Elena Vandenberg

Elena Vandenberg

Duncan Williford

Duncan Williford

The post Jobson’s Junior All-Stars 2014 appeared first on Sailing World.

Dinghy Sailor Runyon Colie Jr.

As 98-year-old Runyon Colie was being introduced at the induction ceremony of the National Sailing Hall of Fame last fall, my mind wandered back to a race 47 years ago. It was 1966 and I was crewing with Sam Merrick at the E Scow National Championship. There were 60 scows lined up for the start on Lake Minnetonka, Minn., that year, and up until then no East Coast sailor had ever won the Nationals. But Colie, a Jersey Shore standout, had been consistently in the front pack.

The only other guy who could sail at Colie’s high level was the previous year’s winner, Buddy Melges. From my position on Merrick’s boat, I witnessed Colie win the start of the last race. Inside, I was cheering him on to win, and when he did, each of us who had traveled from the East Coast applauded. He’d won nine of 10 summer series races on Barnegat Bay that year, and although I was only 16 at the time, I was intent on finding out what made Mr. Colie so good.

At a local Penguin regatta a few months after the E Scow Nationals, I sought out Colie and asked the most simple question I could: “What does it take to win?”

His response was concise, and I can still hear his voice in my head. “Gary, if you want to win, just sail around the course more often than your competitors,” he said. “Make every minute count when you are sailing. Set a goal, and practice. I will watch you with interest.”

The man was a genius on the racecourse. Whether racing a Penguin or an E Scow, he was fast and always had a great start. He was extremely skilled at working his way to the favored side of the racecourse and avoiding incidents and hassles with other boats.

More than 100 of his family members and sailing friends traveled from Barnegat Bay to Annapolis, Md., to see this hero of New Jersey sailing inducted into the Hall of Fame. His inclusion is the recognition of one of America’s all-time greatest dinghy racers. The mission of the National Sailing Hall of Fame is to recognize outstanding contributors to the sport of sailing, those who inspire generations, and Colie certainly fits the mission.

He counts among his friends several of America’s greatest sailors, including Dennis Conner, who to this day says he regrets never being able to beat Colie in a Penguin. Buddy Melges, a fellow Hall of Famer, calls Colie “America’s foremost dinghy sailor,” and Peter Commette, an Olympic Finn sailor, refers to Colie as “the dinghy sailor.”

“His influence seems to course through the veins of every person that had the good fortune to sail with or against him,” says Commette, “and these people are passing his positive influence on to the next generation. Many find themselves quoting him when teaching others.”

A regular presence in New Jersey’s Barnegat Bay Yacht Racing Association for 92 years, Colie has won 18 class championships. His first local championship win was in the Sneakbox Class in 1934, and his last championship was in the E Scow class in 1994. That’s an astounding 60-year winning span. Colie’s E Scows were all playfully named Calamity, and his longtime boat number, MA 4, has been retired by the BBYRA.

Beyond the shorelines of Barnegat Bay, Collie won Collegiate Nationals as a student at MIT in 1937, 1938, and 1939. When the International Penguin Class was introduced in 1938 it rapidly became one of the largest and most competitive small one-design classes in the world, and Colie won the International Championship title a record seven times between 1947 and 1962.

In 1960, he lost the 5.5 Metre Class Olympic trials to George O’Day by a single point. O’Day and his crew, Dave Smith and Jim Hunt, went on to win a gold medal at the Olympic Games in Rome.

Colie, still sharp today, enjoys sharing stories about his time as a blossoming young junior, including the one about the day when he capsized off Mantoloking YC, in his hometown, when he was very young. The Coast Guard came to the rescue in a small powerboat, with his mother chasing the Coast Guard in a rowboat.

There’s also the one about how he received regular assistance from an unlikely source as a junior sailor. “There was a fellow named Abe, who was the tennis man at the Mantoloking YC,” he says. “He would tell me what the wind would do on race days, and he always seemed to be right. Abe never steered me wrong.”

One of Colie’s most memorable moments was at an E Scow regatta that he was winning after the first day. On the second day he was unusually slow, and instead of being among the leaders, he was behind the fleet all day. When he got to the dock Colie discovered that his bilge boards had been reversed when they were reinstalled after polishing the night before. After that blunder Colie painted one bilge board green and the other red so his crew would install them properly.

While leading by a wide margin in another regatta, Colie realized he was sailing for the wrong mark. If he suddenly changed course, the trailing boats would cut the corner and sail directly to the mark and pass him. To deflect attention away from his intentions, he lowered the boat’s jib to make his competitors think he had a breakdown. Once the fleet sailed past, he hoisted his jib, sailed for the correct mark, and held on to the lead. It was a clever trick, but that was Colie—always smarter than the rest of us.

Click here to read more from Gary Jobson.

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