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Tim Member  Member#: 238 Location: Registered: 01-06-2003 Diary Entries: 343 Mood: Not enough time to do it all. |
9th September 2004 Windsurfing: Brog - the last race Wind Direction: E Wind Stength: F2-3 Surf / Sea State: Flat Air Temperature: 25 Sea Temperature: 20 Weather: Clear Max Speed: Distance Covered: Racing 9th Sept The Final Battle (Tonys Report) ------------------------------------------------------------ The last race of the season was greeted once again with those infuriating marginal winds. Thirteen compeditors gathered at the start line. It was decided by a majority decision of 12 to 1 that we would finish the proceedings with a slalom event (and sod the wind) With a deafening scream of "go" from the lake manager, the fleet got off to a mixed start from the bank. Dave Skye and Tony tried a beach start that went severly wrong and both landed in a tangled heap, the rest uphauled, not a difficult task you would think, but under the pressure of competing, several made a right balls up of the whole thing! Eventually the fleet were on the move, those that had finally recovered from their fracar with the bank, made up for lost time with a timely gust that had them planing up to the rest of the fleet. Thirteen boards all converged at the top mark roughly at the same time( a recipe for disaster if ever you saw it) It was light watching a particulaly good strike at a bowling ally, for as they all attempted to round the mark at the same time, the pressure of the occasion was too much for several of them and with a sort of knock on effect, well over half the fleet came to grief. The following mark was no better, those that had rounded the Mark successfully were greeted by a mass of boards coming the other way. Many of which were screaming abuse and Starboard! at the on coming victims. Some tried to observe the rules and get out the way ( well to be truthfull I think in actual fact it was only one!) While others (particulaly Mark Fowler on his supertanker) bore down on the enemy with total disregard for human safety, laws of the sea, and board respect. Mark seemed to be under the impression that the more tonnage he sank the better his chances. He left in his wake bodies sprawling all over the lake. Sandy was left lieing on her back on her board like a distressed Tortoise incapble of righting itself. Away from all this mayhem strode Mike George, having carved out a very early lead he was able to avoid the carnage behind him, and frankly their was little chance of the opposition catching him as they fought with one another at every mark. By the third lap things had sorted out a bit. Mike was still out front, but a small hunting pack were in pursuit. Chris Foreman and Chris Burns were snapping at each others heals while John Andel had recovered from an appaling start to close the gap behind them. Dave Pumper Skye was working his way through the fleet having been one of the participants in the battle at Sitting Bull Mark, an encounter he had definately lost! Then things started to happen towards the end of the race. To start with (for no apparent reason) the lake manager fell in, much to the delight of Sandy who swepped past him like Queen Bodicea in her Chariot, chortling as she went! At the back of the fleet Phil (eyeore) Young and his wife Annette were keeping well clear of the Bumper boards at every mark ( well let's be reasonable here, close encounters such as this could render a passing scratch to ones equipment, a thought to horrific even to contemplate!) Nearing the end of the race now and no one could catch Mike, Chris Burns got second while John Andel had moved up to third. Pumper Skye pipped Chris foreman for Fourth place. Mark having destroyed most of the opposition steered his tanker into sixth. Meanwhile the Lake Manager still recoyling from the fact that he was stilling viewing Sandys posterior as she cruised along in front of him, was suddenly aware that he was under attack from a new source. Coming at him from out of the sun came Graham Willey, screaming Starboard as he came. Our lake manager somewhat taken aback by this sudden turn of events, took avasive action. But all to no avail as the Exorcet missile diverted from his proper course, intent on one thing and one thing only. RAMMING THE LAKE MANAGER!!!! And this he did with a full blooded broadside, I was fully expecting him to board my craft with a cutliss in one hand and a parrot on his shoulder. I was wrong, content with the successs of this dastardly deed, he continued on his way, leaving his victim totally bemused as to the reason for this sudden and unprovoked attack. Was this connected to an Alsamma Ben Laden suicide mission? It had all the hall marks of one! You might be forgiven to thinking that this all sounds very serious racing. Nothing infact could be further from the truth, although compeditive, I think all of us just do it for fun, it's an evening out with some mates and all the fracare is just friendly bantar Nether the less it is compeditive and despite all our efforts. No one could stop John Boulter from winning the series. Well done To John (70 + and we still can't catch the bastard!) |
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