Sunday starts windy, wet and freezing. I am completely unprepared for weather I would normally associate with Sylt. Last year had been hot and sunny the whole time and I had only packed a light summer jacket. Everyone was packed into the party tent for an indoor briefing, which once again was a full show going on for nearly an hour. The plan was for 3 races, but I don’t think anyone in the room believed it would happen. Eventually they announced a shorter start countdown of 45 minutes and race 2 was underway.
This time the start went terribly for me. With the wind much lighter (only 25-30 knots!!!) there was not the same power to get out of trouble. I followed the same tactic that had worked so well in race 1, but this time I was left stationary amongst 1000 sailors, off the plane and out of the straps as the boat flew by and the rest of the fleet disappeared into the distance. It was a disaster start, but actually the most fun race of them all. This time instead of blasting along on my own I was picking people off one by one, heading upwind to get clear of one, then bearing off to go under another. This time for some reason the 10km flies by and I even manage to attack the gybe a bit and take a couple of places. There are people everywhere this time around and I have no idea where I am in the rankings. The wind by this point had picked up about 10 knots and those that chose the right size for the start, are now getting punished. I battle on and eventually claw back to a respectable 19th, even though it felt like 50th.