UK 505 NATIONALS, LYME REGIS 1983

• Swedish Report by Petter Nilsson, S-7592 (translated to english)
• Complete Overall Results

Since I had been volunteered to help in the organisation of the 1984 Nationals it was essential that I should participate at Lyme Regis having never sailed at a Nationals before. But who would have me as a crew knowing my limitations? My regular helmsman even got married and used all his annual holiday in order to avoid having to sail with me. Mr Z. came to the rescue and mentioned that a well-known measurer and class captain with a 'ropey' name was without a man for the week. Surprise, surprise, one phone call and I was booked.

That was the good news for me, the bad was to follow very soon when I strained a groin muscle when doing the breast stroke (at the swimming pool) � a week's sailing was just about the worst news for my groin and Tim's chances. However, at Thorpe Bay I was informed by Tim's former crew that he hoped I really enjoyed lifting since Tim had one of those anti-lifting back problems � a common complaint usually found in helmsmen. So there would be two old crocks in 7345 if we could manage to get into the wet stuff. September 2 arrived and the family, including dog, were all sardined into the car ready to make an overnight trip to the South Coast. Now what would be the ideal wind conditions for the old crocks � 2 to 3 and no sea? 'I'll just hear the shipping forecast before we leave dear.' I remember it now � Dover, Wight, Portland, Plymouth, Southerly veering Westerly, severe gale 9 or storm 10 increasing storm 11 at times.

Saturday dawned � it blew the 9 so there was no practice race and no chance for me to get to know where everything was on the boat. Standing in the boat on its trailer Tim showed me how to change gybes with the spinnaker pole. 'For God's sake Gerry, when you bring in the pole don't poke me in the eye � you pass the pole back over your head like this' � and promptly poked his wife in the eye who happened to be leaning against the boat at the time � almost a perfect start to the week.

Sunday � it still blew old boots and racing was abandoned after about five pints. I was really limping well by now and the thought of actually sailing was becoming a bad dream. But hang on, if this wind persisted we could get a 1st equal along with another 118, and that would be a good story for the office. Monday � a gentle NW 2-3 greeted us � just about ideal for the crocks but ruining our chances of a 1st equal. Having persuaded our neighbours in the harbour to lift the boat from the trailer to the water, we set out. Two recalls and what seemed like six hours later the race was over � one of the longest I have ever sailed in and just about the last straw for Tim's back and my hip. If the race officer was planning to sail the second race back-to-back and for it to be as long as the first, we wouldn't be in the bar until after dark. We couldn't leave the wives for that long could we and therefore, for marital peace, we came home � well that's what we told the wives!

Tuesday. Pre-race preparation was not becoming a ritual. Ralgex; back pills; muscle relaxants; disprin and embrocation, even before taking the cover off the boat. The only notable memory of this day was Vern inviting an audience before the start to watch the preparation for urination over the transom which was carried out with the subtlety of a monkey removing a flea from its nether regions.

Wednesday. The race of the year turned out to be the best of the week for us since there was hardly any wind and we were close enough at the first windward mark to be able to read the sail numbers of both Swedish boats. The Felixstowe favourite at last produced a fine result but not without a little divine help courtesy of the Shetlanders � but that's another story.

Thursday. Smiles all round from the heavy weather boys with plenty of crews becoming mobile water bowsers. The regular pond sailors did not look quite so happy and many didn't bother. The popular excuse afterwards seemed to be 'We knew they would abandon it'. The crocks, not being ones to chicken out before the start, managed to put to sea and I remember the comforting words from Tim's wife � 'Look after Tim he can't swim very well' � Christ with my leg I wanted Tim to look after me! Interesting sea conditions had developed and I knew my leg was not going to last one beat let alone five reaches. 'I don't think we'll bother' says Tim. 'Thank God' says I under my breath, and we made for home. Of course we knew they would abandon it.

Friday. My Nationals was over. Totally unable to walk, the only place I was going to was the osteopath and even he could do very little for me. But what about Tim � luckily an ex-Scorpion sailor from the Ferry had arrived in town to watch and needed little persuasion to take my place. It was very satisfying to hear the outcome, only two capsizes and the experience has resulted in this fellow vowing to sail a 'five oh' next year � it's an ill wind.

I should like to publicly apologise to Tim for ruining his week's sailing and doubling his overall position from the previous year at Largs. Now how on earth am I going to get a sail in next year's Nationals at the Ferry with my record! 'Buy one of my boats' says Pete and so having conned another Scorpion sailor to change boats the order is placed for a plastic machine and who knows what could happen next year.

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