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AFFAIRS OF THE HART – TAKEN BY STORM

29/06/2016
by

Harty discusses the reality of storms and stormy encounters.

Windsurfing became popular for many reasons; but one of the most compelling was that here was a small, cheap, fiendishly simple sailing craft which could perform meaningfully in winds and seas where million dollar super-yachts could do nothing but rock and roll under bare poles and provoke endless streams of vomit from its miserable, life-threatened crew.

Windies look forward to storms just to show the sailing world who continues to boss the big winds. Oh yes – we tweak the nose of gales and laugh in the face of storms … or do we?

The term ‘storm’ is usually hyperbolic. According to the seafarer’s vernacular, a storm is a force 10, or to give it its full title, ‘storm force 10’ – 50 knots – brutal. Most people are on their smallest sail by a force 7 (30 knots). That’s pretty fierce. A force 10 produces more than twice as much pressure as a force 7. If you’re already maxed out on your 3.7, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Storms have been the talk of the winter. I’ve known a few over the years – here are my most and least memorable.

‘Force 10 at Hayling’
More mature readers may remember the feature from this very magazine in the late 80’s. On the strength of an impressive forecast, a handful of us abandoned the London Boat Show one January morning and fled to the coast. We arrived to some big waves and a proper gale; but it wasn’t off the scale – perhaps 35 knots. We all got out and thrashed around for a bit, when a confluence of events occurred to turn a good day into an iconic one. In the blink of an eye, the cold front swept through. The wind suddenly increased and banged round offshore, just as the sun came out and just as the local photographer Kier Francis turned up and got ‘the shot.’ So violently were the tops of the waves whipped away, that for about 5 minutes the sea was completely hidden by a blanket of spray. Just visible through the atomised mist were the sails of 5 windsurfers, highlighted by a shaft of light that emerged from an otherwise inky black sky. It was like an over-the-top Renaissance painting depicting angry gods and divine mischief. This was pre Photoshop so people believed it. Had that gust come through while we were on the beach, we would never have gone out. From a sailing point of view we didn’t really do anything. A few seconds after the shot was taken we were all flattened  – that was the force 10 bit. But for a moment we were just in the right place at the right time.

TARIFA and the speed storm
I don’t know which competition is officially the windiest, but battling for honours is surely the Tarifa speed world cup of 1993. At the briefing on the second morning the race crew were in turmoil. The best speedsters were gathered at the best speed course in the world. Given the forecast, a world record was on the cards … except there was a delay. One of the rescue boats had radioed back to say they were measuring 55 knot winds with gusts of 60. What were the legal implications? Could it possibly be wise to send us out in force 11 offshore winds? It wasn’t about wisdom and under pressure they reached a compromise. In the event of a sailor getting into trouble, the boats would only rescue the human, not their kit. To sail back up the course upwind meant going some way out to sea where both wind and sea state were even wilder. Most decided to walk back. Only 2 of us elected to sail, Dunkerbeck and myself. Dunky because he could; me because I had to. I’d had knee surgery 3 weeks before and walking wasn’t an option.

The problem was that if you let go of your kit in 50 knots, it’s just airborne and gone.

My survival plan was to imagine I was pinning down a hungry alligator. Simple mantra, power to the nose, stay low and do NOT let go!  On one run back out, I had to drop in because I couldn’t see, so thick was the spray. It was so brutal the rig started cartwheeling with me hanging on. I stood on it to sink it and waited. After 5 minutes I tried a waterstart. The wind had only to sniff the underside of the sail for me and rig to get turned over again. Back on the beach someone revealed that the scary gust had been recorded at 64 knots. That’s force 12 – a hurricane. When someone tells me now they’ve sailed in a hurricane I nod politely in disbelief.

On the course itself it was carnage. Ten of the fleet were hospitalised, 6 bones were broken along with 2 world records. What an event.

THE GREAT DAMP STORM SQUIB of 1987
At 2 am on October 16th 1987 I awoke to a loud crashing – surely not a riot in the streets of sleepy middle class Chichester? I opened the front door and the wall, which 200 years ago had been built to protect visitors from the prevailing south westerly, had been demolished by the wind. It was ferociously stormy but what I remember most was how it suddenly went from a typical thrashing, screeching gale to a deep sinister hum – something I’ve haven’t experienced before or since but which people tell me is the noise of a
proper hurricane.

Sleep was out of the question, so determined to exploit this cloud’s silver lining, at 7 am I headed for the beach.  Due to fallen trees, the 12 minute journey took an hour. But when I arrived, the sea looked absolutely … pathetic. The storm had tracked so rapidly that it had no time to build up a swell. Worse still, it seemed to be dropping. They say winds are like love – if they get up suddenly, they die equally suddenly. Three sail changes later and I still hadn’t planed.

Some 30 years later, I still enjoy a good storm and the winter of 2015/16 has been a corker. Apart from kit making the whole process a lot more enjoyable, the main change I see is in the onlooker’s attitude. At Hayling, on that glorious day, I remember a small crowd (at least 10 of them) cheering us on. Today there seems to be more and more people desperate to be worried on our behalf as we confront the stormy challenge.

“Aren’t you being very irresponsible?” High winds and rubber hats don’t aid communication but I was determined to get my point across to this risk-averse humourless bint.

“Danger makes you feel more alive. Humans thrive on challenges. I mean look at the great explorers. Scott wouldn’t have got anywhere near the South Pole with attitudes like yours.”

“He died.”

Good point.

PH 23rd February 2016

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