racing with rolyalty

When it comes to travel, we tend to move en-masse. We sail en-masse. Drink and eat en-masse. And sleep, well….in apartments and/or on the boat. So, with an Airbnb organised, literally as close as you can get to CYC without being arrested, the weekend began with G&T’s, followed by a small, yet Sydney steep stroll up a hill to an Italian bistro where, even on a cold night, you can order pasta to be ferried out to your table on the street, under a Morten Bay Fig and put all that’s wrong with the world, right.

Later, those who’d been up the hill were to discover that the CYCA bar happens to close unreasonably early, so additional bottles of plonk would need to be secured allowing the discussion to continue back on the mothership. FAIR WINDS is good like that and it was down below were attentions soon turned to tactics, a race the following day and a forecast for excessive and building wind.

It must be observed that standing on the deck shouting farewells across the marina at midnight found there to be not a breeze and the sky, completely clear. The strong wind warning for the morrow was playing hard to get.

Read on.