9 November 2012
Kenya Fireball Championship 2012
Upon being asked to crew for Chris Shaw in some form of dinghy called a 'fireball' in a presumably relaxed and amiable event in Kilifi, I cordially accepted with little hesitation, imagining that I was in for a few days of sun, sea, cold beer at the bar, and perhaps some sailing in between all this. Right. Little did I know that I would finish the event with shins battered black and blue, arms aching, thighs burning and hands resembling a particularly choice slab of shredded mutton-not to mention a severe compulsion to return the following year and repeat the whole beautifully torturous process again. 'Good fun' does not begin to describe it.
At the outset it was quite apparent to most people that the set up was mainly a bizarre cocktail of seasoned and expert helms shaken thoroughly with some wide-eyed and reasonably inept crews, which made for some very interesting sailing and no doubt spectating. That said, by the end of the event everyone was performing their job with an air of effortless competence and ease, with the notable exception of yours truly who was floundering about for that damnably elusive spinnaker pole, gloveless and gormless, right up to the final klaxon. Having never set foot upon a fireball until the day preceding the first races, I was not to know that it contains more controls and fine-tuning instruments than most light aircraft, that they tend to move rather quickly when the wind begins to blow, and as anyone who has ever sailed on one will tell you, that they topple over as easily as a toddler if you lose focus for even an instant. It was therefore nothing short of a miracle that Chris and I won the first race; but then again I try to block out the memory of the practice triangle as best I can… We neared the start line, perfectly trimmed and set for a beautiful start, as close to the committee boat as we dared to go-Ah. "Monstrous wind shift!" I heard. I had no idea what had happened apart from the fact that my head was a bit sore and I appeared to be upside down. Upon closer inspection it soon became apparent that we had dared to go a little too close and that the Committee boat's beautifully shiny and straight chrome outrigger had jumped in the way of our mast with the result that not even a red-neck US senator would have dared call it 'straight'. Oops.
After an anomalous victory by Sure Thing in the first race and by Team Furaha (David Carroll and Russ Neylan) in the third, Don White and Charo Karani (Chris Shaw's incredibly competent boatboy in White Mischief)) made it quite clear that they were the only people taking that trophy home. Time and time again I convinced myself that this was the race, that they are only human after all, and time and time again I was left staring helplessly as Don sped calmly away, occasionally glancing back to have a little chuckle at Barry Pretorius' giant gardening gloves (Gordon Bell from Uganda and Barry Pretorius in Echo) or Teddy's mud covered sail (TeddyNdaro and Evans in Umeme). I was bamboozled as to how he did it and if I hadn't checked I would now be insisting that he had a secret motor stashed underneath his hull. Don's father (Dennis White) had had the questionable idea to try and stamp on a remarkably spiny and viciously sharp sea urchin on the morning of the first race. A replacement crew was needed and duly found in Charo, who had been in charge of setting up the course and driving the rescue boat. What most of us didn't realise was that Charo's spinnaker drills were more of a military operation and that his tacks were ruthlessly and mechanically efficient; added to Don's magical wind-finding skills the overall result of the competition was something of a foregone conclusion.
Despite being told in no uncertain terms by the OOD that if we were to capsize that we were to do it at the deep end of the course, the windward mark, Umeme contrived to make it a set-in-stone rule that at the shallowest point of the course they would promptly turn turtle and fish for some catfish in the mud, earning themselves- despite the best efforts of Gordon (the top of whose head was never allowed the chance to clot) and Barry (with the aforementioned yellow gloves)- the strongest claim to the 'Chaos Cup'. The only other competitor in this race was Art Spore - AOD, who having dropped the majority of the flags over the side of the Committee Boat, left us wondering whose underwear would do best as a replacement recall flag.
The races began to develop a distinct pattern: one would forget that Don and Charo were involved, and once that was accomplished, a cut-throat and tensely competitive War of Wind, Words and Wits would ensue between the rest of the pack. The races were often so close that I actually worked out how much time would be added onto the RS 500 (entered by 3 Degrees South from Kilifi) given its supposed 0.5% speed advantage over the fireballs. After three long days of fantastic sailing from everyone, the results were in: First were Don White and Charo in White Mischief what a surprise. Second were David Carroll and Russell Neylan in Team Furaha. And third, and I must mention this, by one point, were Chris Shaw and yours truly in Sure Thing.
I cannot stress how much the event was enjoyed by all who took part, and a big thank you is in order to Peter Bateman for providing us all with such fantastic facilities at the Kilifi Yacht Club and Boatyard, and to the Kenya Fireball Association for organising and putting together the whole event so masterfully. Rest assured that I will be returning for next year's championship and let us hope that it will be as adrenaline-fuelled and nail bitingly close as this year.
Jamie Walker
