The annual trip up the A12 to the land of fish and chips, Adnams beer, doughnuts, ice cream arrived. A small, but perfectly formed fleet sailed out though the harbour entrance into what might be compared to Rocky mountain rapids with the tide flooding in up the coast bringing Harwich just a long port tack away. The wind S.W. off shore, shifty, with a building selection of weighty cubic whammies squalling out from the beach and the pier of fun turning the choppy, sloppy wind lets into a pleasure park of wet stonking brown Neptune specials. 
Brian (much respected) race officer of the day revealed a new and wicked toy for course setting to enhance the normal macrame handbag course, The sailing area, now mapped out correctly with sand banks and deep water channels including navigation marks, racing buoys all neatly coloured in the form of pegs were set out in a purpose made handy tray and a piece of string scaled to 15 miles exactly (to insure no short measure) was about to be wound around the little coloured pegs. This is a brilliant form of torture that Kenneth of the Halfway Y. C. would have died for. The course read Pp Kp Ws Es Rs Es Rs Kp Wp Kp Ws Ps Ms Ws Ps Ks Ws. (those of you with a knowledge of Klingon, as does Mr Wigg, will recognise the word for some one who spits alot) and fair go's, the beats on the tide were hardy and the reaches blattering, with the runs very twitchy.
Richard and Nicola won the start and were not seen again. Alex and Chris 2nd to the windward and 2nd to finish. And whereas Jacko and Lorna were 3rd to the windward and neatly sailed out the back door. The first over taking boat down the first reach was Liam and Rob who went on to finish 3rd. All in all not a vintage year but a honking hard sail at a unique venue in a top class fleet of sail boat racers.
Picture of a wave for Neil Fulcher to "pump at"
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