Sailing is Bullship…

by Jim Sinclair

I’m sorry, what…?!? Welcome to Bullship, America’s Premier Sailing Event (says the banner at registration). You might be thinking that it sounds similar to ELYC’s June regatta, probably Scotland’s premier sailing event. I can confirm that both events definitely involve boats and that any similarity ends there…

Let me explain. The boats in question are El Toro class dinghies, the kind of thing you’d get if an Optimist was bitten by a radioactive spider and sprouted a carbon fibre mast, a carbon boom and a high tech foam sandwich hull. It still looks like an 8 foot long kids boat designed in the 1930’s (because it is) but it now attracts a much more experienced following. As usual, this year’s event included former Olympians, national champions, sail makers and professional boat builders (and me). Ages ranged from under 10 years old up to 78 years young.

The race is hosted annually by Kane’ohe Yacht Club in Hawaii (there is also a younger sister Bullship race in San Francisco Bay). The course is very simple - start from your allocated start line inside the marina, sail around Coconut Island about a mile away across the bay (either direction - you choose whether to race clockwise or anti-clockwise) and back to the finish line inside the marina. 

Allocated start line, I hear you ask? Yup, the race is handicapped based on weight. These are little boats and, in theory, should benefit from a lighter crew (generally the boats are sailed single handed but there are a few who double up each year). So if you weight under 150lbs (it’s America - that’s about 68kg, or 1.05 Jim Sinclairs), you start right next the clubhouse giving the heavy mob a big head start (and subjecting yourself to the torment of the shifty, gusty, patchy conditions inside the harbour). The next start line is 1/3 of the way out of the harbour and is for those up to 180lbs/82kg. At 2/3 distance up the dock, there’s the line for those in the up to 210lbs/95kg. And then, at the harbour mouth, you’ll find the line for those over 210lbs (the Panamax or Yokozuna class……). In case you’re trying to picture the chaos, I should add that this is generally a running start. 

A historic aside which might appeal to ELYC members of a certain vintage; the weight handicapping was applied differently in the past. Only one start line was used but lighter sailors had to carry extra weight to even things up. The weights? Cans of beer, measured out in six-packs. Whether to leave the cans unopened during the arduous and thirsty journey was up to the sailor….

This year’s event - the 71st annual running of the Bulls - was held on Sunday 25 September in slightly lighter conditions than normal. There was no more than 10 or 12 knots at any point and there were big holes waiting to ruin your afternoon. Of course, it was still blazing sunshine and 32 degrees (another difference between KYC and ELYC). Across the Junior and Senior fleets, a total of 55 intrepid souls ventured forth. 

Getting out of the dock was every bit as frustrating as usual with the gusts appearing to carry those on the outer starts away from us as we languished on a millpond. Most headed for the north channel, a bit like our fairway at North Berwick except that it threads through the tropical coral reefs….so nothing like North Berwick, really. This leads to the anti-clockwise course which tends to be the popular choice. Half a dozen boats headed out through the south channel, a bit like our fairway…etc… which leads to the clockwise rounding. Clockwise always looks like it should work and almost never does, hence it’s lack of popular support. 

The broad reach out to the island was glorious and also very kind to your author. By sailing a straight line (often considered to be the shortest distance between two points), I was able to cruise past many of the boats who had opted for the ever-popular “let’s keep luffing each other until we’re all completely stuffed” strategy. More places were gained by sailing a bold (stupid) line over the reef behind the island, trusting the high tide to be higher than the short foils on an El Toro. Things were starting to look promising. Another place was gained when a good friend opted to lasso one of the poles that mark the reefs with the laser-style mainsheet of his boat. Admirably, he continued to look focused and determined as boats streamed past until he realised he was anchored at the stern… 

Us anti-clockwisers met the clockwisers at a point that suggested it was going to be a very close finish. It might well have been but I can’t say for sure - I had fallen too far behind to opine on the matter! However good the outbound leg had been, the return leg was bad. I’d like to blame this situation on a series of external factors but that would be untrue. Operator error appeared to be the cause. I was not in high spirits as I approached the harbour, a place of great pain as the fitful breeze amongst the piers and moorings toys with the brave sailors fraying nerves. Thankfully, the sailing gods decided that they had already layered enough humiliation on me for one day and allowed me serene passage up the dock to the finish line. I even managed to pick up a couple of places from those less fortunate than myself. I feel sure that they saw the funny side of this.

I ended up third in my class, continuing a long run of second and third places, completely unbroken by any first places. I like to tell people that this is by choice because it would be rude to steal victory away from the local members…. 

Onwards to the prize giving which always adopts a Mexican theme (probably the only reason Donald Trump never competes). Sombreros and tacos (again, just like North Berwick). A ceremonial shovel (because, obviously). Glassware and some wonderful old trophies (photographic evidence presented). First overall, Class winners, First Wahine (Hawaiian for girl), Junior winners, Half Fast (whoever finishes exactly half way down the fleet), Most Huli’s (Hawaiian for capsizes), Tail End Charlie (self explanatory) etc. The first time I competed, they added a prize for furthest travelled competitor. I felt a moment of pity as the chap who’d flown in from Seattle sat back down, realising his short hop wasn’t going to win anything.

It’s a unique event. It’s great fun. It’s a little bit bonkers. If you get the chance, do it!

Toro, Toro, TORO!!! 

(as they frequently say)

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