May Island Race Report, courtesy of Steve Fraser.

Photo album available here.

Yesterday, we took part in ELYC’s annual race around the Isle of May, far out in the Firth of Forth. Today, I’m content to relax my creaking back timbers. It took us around six hours and ten minutes to complete the circumnavigation of both the May and the mighty Bass.(we’d done the same trip in reverse in under four hours in stronger winds just two weeks previously).

The promised wind blew, we had a goodish start, narrowly beating Bill and Grace in Boracay to be first around the windward mark, thus avoiding the usual carnage, a wee stumble and then the kite flying bravely. Martin Baillie in Westaway came close, threatening a luff, Robbie Lawson and crew in Rebekah stretched out in front with McGonigal hanging on to his coat-tails by diligent and endless tweaking of the spinnaker.

The nine-strong boat fleet (a long time since ELYC raced so many simultaneous keelboats?) hung close together. We were making 6 knots over the ground past the Craig until the 30m contour. Then, slowly we separated, as the wind dropped, becoming more strung out, but all on a north-easterly course to the north end of the May. Most boats were on a line well to the north of us and evidently in different wind, which came and went. South of us the two Alistairs in Aquila came on strong, seriously narrowing the gap to Fidra (the boat) then faded as the wind dropped. The front of the main fleet to our north pulled ahead, then dropped back at the fickle dictates of the weather gods. We’d chosen a different line but converged within a few boat lengths behind Rebekah at the North Ness, carefully skirting the shoreline, sails by the lee, seals, too many to count, fishing in the tidal slack.

Iain’s speculation that there would be low turbulence in the lee of the island, (it’s a wing shape in a westerly, you see) proved to be spot-on as we gybed the kite and followed Rebekah’s fast rock-and-buoy hopping reach down the May’s eastern shore, a good 1nm at 5 knots. Still ahead at the South Ness, Rebekah (prematurely and fatefully it transpired) dropped her kite, we sailed over her, kite still up, trying to luff her and gleefully feed our dirty wind. We’d both more or less cleared the May before the next boat (Aquila) was on the downward reach. The wind dropped off as we left the May-constricted streamlines, the spinnaker tidily returned to its chute, sails set close-hauled and bow pointing well to the east of the Bass, sometimes even down the firth towards Dunbar.

We ghosted along in the light wind, never dropping below 2 knots except in brief exploratory tacks towards Fife, soon discarded. ‘It’s not a boat for pinching’ was Iain’s refrain. Go for boat speed, not height is the irresistible conclusion. To Neil’s delight, we sailed through rafts of puffins, razorbills and guillemot, noisily feasting on the bounty of the hidden deeps. Flights of gannets surface skimmed, Bass homeward or outwards on new raids. We gradually left every one else behind, paying close attention to each tiny shift, perhaps our new mainsail helped just a little bit to maintain momentum in the lulls between the weak ish puffs. I’d been obsessively studying the weather forecast all week.

The highest resolution 2km grid forecasts had predicted a large dead zone to the east of the May, to form in the afternoon, others forecasting a sea breeze filling in later. It would have a grand thing to fly the spinnaker out and then back again. But the cement factory down the Firth, a useful early weather vane stayed resolutely pluming eastward. It seems we’d got south of the May just in time to catch the last of the weak puffs, enabling us to make a good southing. Rebekah languished away to our north in what appeared to be a mirror-like flat calm. ‘Come on the wind, you’re pinching, come off the wind, was our low-wind litany, some patches of confused swell knocking the bow off-course in the light airs. Eventually only Neil could distinguish the following boats through his binoculars, distant smudges of white against deep blues and high piled cloud over the now distant cliffs of May. We heard later ( in the bar) that the rest of the fleet had sailed into a dead patch, stuck drifting in the now flooding tide.

Inevitably Jon Shaw, crewing on Mischief temporarily abandoned ship, further proving his otter-like qualities by swimming alongside. I believe they had a nice picnic on Red Lady, making the best of the dead lull. I scoffed my soggy tasteless coop sanny, slugged a tepid Diet Coke, kept on the wind (such as it was) all the while inwardly revelling in our good fortune. I can’t say for sure, it’s said that Ricky on Free Spirit slung a hammock and snoozed. David Robertson on Two Six O openly boasted of catching fresh mackerel and gloated on social media with full disclosure on method of cooking. All this was well beyond our ken. I suspect that it was at this stage that most boat’s bowed to the inexorable, lowered sail, dropped their outboards and motored home.

Meanwhile back on Fidra…..Swirling particles of fish-killing gannets spiralled overhead as we sailed on in splendid isolation around the Bass picking up a lift, then a brief stronger downdraught then inshore towards Canty Bay. We finished on the best wind of the day, beating hard all the way to the line with numerous short tacks, first inshore to catch the wind bend, then out to evade the land-spill, and then again tackling inshore as the land breeze died off further off-shore .

A brief snatch of the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ over the marine radio was all we had heard all day, until the laconic voice of Jim Sinclair (Officer of the Day who had stayed at his solitary post well beyond his duty) welcomed us home as we blasted through the line on a final lift, Fidra making short work of the wind against tide chop. That both my crew we’re definitely overdressed for the occasion was evident when they stripped off salopettes to reveal sweat stained T-shirts whilst sinking well earned pints.

Thanks to Mike and Gerry from Team Kinsman for keeping us all safe and to all who took part. I’m nursing a quiet hope that we can rejuvenate the cruising/ racing fleet at ELYC. What a nice bunch of people. Yesterday, we made a good start! We were well on to our third pint before Rebekah made it back, the only other boat to finish. Additional brownie points to Robbie, Keith and Cameron for persistence methinks.