In the "Sailors confess" series, we confess our stupidest sailing mistakes. But we are also looking forward to your confession. Send us your text, if possible with pictures, to mail@yacht.dekeyword "sailor's confession". If desired, publication will be anonymised.
Large fields and also participants
And every week, the club race calls. Anyone who has competed in Wednesday regattas in reasonably sized fields knows that regular matches with club mates are far less boring than they might sound. It's time to take up the cudgels, or rather a spibaum, for casual regattas in the middle of the week. Cheers to the Wednesday regatta! A large part of the working week is in the wake, the weekend is in sight - reason enough for a communal wind festival on and off the water. For the big-ship crews, the constant coming together also provided an opportunity to rehearse manoeuvre sequences for races outside the club cosmos or on the Baltic Sea.
The setting is a long-established Berlin club. I left my club home on the Unterhavel, albeit only temporarily, and moved from Stößensee to Wannsee. I entered a different world in two respects: more space on the water, larger fields and from boats to yachts, if you like. At the start were inland racers trimmed for light winds, such as an almost twelve metre long one-off from Georg Nissen, fast cruising formats such as a Finngulf 33, various sports boats and a few Xs. We sailed an almost brand-new X-99 across the line using a kangaroo or collective start. The weekly change of start mode guaranteed occasional excitement at the prize-giving ceremony.
Hard work, liberal pleasure
It was a summer evening with a light breeze and there were only three of us on board the 99: the owner and pensioner at the tiller, my mate and I everywhere, both between adolescence and adulthood. We had a lot to do with spinnaker sailing, playing the piano, winches and foredeck like Shiva. Everything went smoothly, as is sometimes the case with skeleton crews who are in the flow and make the seemingly impossible possible. Elated by the good result, which I don't remember in detail, and the excellent Berlin weather, we, the crew of two, got rid of our T-shirts shortly before entering the harbour. The atmosphere was exuberant, including the obligatory high-fives and well-done shouts. Clearing was done in no time at all, and even the otherwise annoying folding of the foil genoa went off without a hitch. We also entered the jetty in half Adam's costume, basked in our success for a while and put on our textiles for the prize-giving ceremony on the terrace at the latest.
The Executive Board misses nothing
During a Wednesday regatta a few weeks later, we heard that our liberal expression of joy had not gone unnoticed. This was followed by an official response, and a glance at the notice board brought certainty. Our behaviour had been discussed at the board meeting. The minutes stated that textiles must also be worn in the harbour and on the jetties. We were briefly startled, but took it in our stride and didn't let it get in the way of our fun. In any case, we were not disqualified.
Great freedom on the Baltic Sea
It is worth mentioning that the midweek regatta at this yacht club was not an overly stiff Prussian event. After some tough sailing, there was always a sociable atmosphere in the clubhouse, without any double-breasted suits with golden buttons. There were spontaneous Kuddel-Daddeldu interludes, plenty of chit-chat and the eternal yardstick discussions. Of course, plans were also made to take part in coastal regattas. Even if the weekly participant lists didn't necessarily reflect it, we still indulged in sailing on an inland waterway. And with up to 30 boats during the week! We then enjoyed the great freedom on the Baltic Sea in the summer months. With a free upper body.
