Summer 22’ Update (1/2)

Welcome back! It has been a busy couple of months since my last Newsletter, and a proper update is long overdue. Since my last update, I have competed at the World Championships In Mexico, Kieler Woche in Germany and the North American Championships in Kingston. I then had a couple weeks off before heading to a downwind training camp in Halifax, and now I am in Vilamoura in the south of Portugal where I am coaching six Canadian sailors at the U21 world Championships. It’s been extremely busy and there is lots to talk about so let’s get into it!

PART 1: The World Championships

First off, I was headed to Puerto Vallarta Mexico for my third Senior World championships. Coming off a strong spring European season, I was excited to show the gains I had made over the winter. My knee was finally back at 100% after my MCL sprain in February, 2022, and I had made good progress to regain my fitness that I had lost during the 6 week recovery. I was still lacking some of the strength I had pre-injury, but I knew that I had done the best I could with the cards I was dealt. Heading to Mexico in late May, we knew it was going to be hot but honestly, I was not prepared for that level. It was absolutely sweltering. 40 degrees Celsius in the boat park was a regular occurrence and the humidity was very high. The only place I had ever encountered that level of heat was Malta in August, and there the humidity was only around 40%. Hydration was of the utmost importance and not just water, replenishing your electrolytes was just as essential. Luckily our apartment had AC and a pool so we were able to keep plenty cool when we were at home, otherwise it would have been unbearable.

I showed up a few days early to the venue as I was still looking to make up for missed time in the boat from the knee injury. My good friend Norman Struthers and I chartered boats from the International Sailing Academy, which is located on the same bay as the Vallarta Yacht Club, and we were able to get 5 solid days of sailing in before most people showed up for Pre-Regatta Charter. This turned out to be very valuable as time went by and we started to notice some very nervous regatta officials roaming around. As it turned, out the shipping containers which held all the charter boats for the event were being held in Mexican customs and had not been released for weeks. No one knew when they would arrive, and we were only days away from the regatta beginning. Luckily, Norm and I had our boats from ISA already and we were able to organize with some other sailors to share them in the afternoons when we would not be using them. Finally, on the morning of pre charter in the 11th hour, the first container arrived with a load of boats. The only issue was that only half had foils, and none of them had dolly wheels or covers. This is one of the issues with hosting events in remote places, sometimes it is challenging to get things there.  Right up until the first day of racing we only had about 10 sets of dolly wheels and no one had any boat covers, but luckily everyone in the ILCA fleet is relatively friendly and we were able to share equipment to make the best of the situation.

The first day of racing was … exciting, but not really in a good way. After a mediocre first race I was heading into the second with a firm game plan. After a great start in 15-18 knots of wind, I was fully extended hiking off the start line and climbing on the boat to windward of me. All of the sudden, I was smashed on the back of the head with force. After a few seconds of daze, I realized that the boat to windward of me had come off a wave and his bow had come crashing down on my head. A flood of emotions came all at once. Pain, anger, confusion, dizziness, nothing like this had ever happened to me before, and to make things worse the sailor was not apologetic. In fact, he was yelling at me! I trundled around the rest of the race trying my best to compose myself but was quite rattled. I finished just a few places from the back and was not feeling great. When I got on shore, I realized that I had a sizable goose egg on the back of my head and couldn’t lift my arm above my head without quite a bit of pain from the large bruise that had developed on my shoulder. I filed a protest, but the guy who hit me never showed up, so the hearing went on without him. In the decision, I was awarded redress as a result of my injuries, which meant that my score for that race would be counted as an average of my others finished in the qualifying series. Now with a redress score all my races would count for double as they would also affect my average.

Heading into the second day, my shoulder and head still hurt a bit, but I knew I had lots of work to do. With the 15-18 knot sea breeze I knew that if I could execute my game plan, I was fast enough to do very well and on day two it all came together.  I had my best day of the regatta, 16th and, 26th which moved me up over 50 places overall and into gold fleet positioning with one day of qualifying still to go. On day three, the final day of qualifying, I knew what I had to do, and I was capable of it as my results the day before showed. Unfortunately, after a bad start at the boat end on the first race I was unable to execute and came home with a scrappy 42nd This left me in a tough position, as I had left it all up to the last race. I had a great start and rounded well at the top. After losing a few boats on the downwind, I fought back to pass a few more on the second beat. I rounded the second windward around 18th with a group right behind me and was working as hard as I could to keep the boat moving through the fast-moving choppy waves downwind. After a hard-fought battle on the final downwind, reach and short upwind to the finish, I had lost some of the group and finished in 23rd. I knew it was going to be close and I was doing math in my head the whole way in to see if I would make it. Finally, once on shore the results came out. I had missed the gold fleet cut off by two points. I was devastated. The year before at the Worlds in Barcelona I had missed the gold fleet cut by 4 points and here I was, even closer somehow still not making it. To make things worse, one of the qualifications for Sport Canada funding is top 50% at the World Championships. After everything that had led to that moment; the knee injury, getting hit in the head by another competitor, having taken the risk to leave my training group in Malta and train with the Canadians again. Missing out by such a fine margin was the stuff of nightmares. But there were still three days of racing to go, and it was now my job to get my head down and learn as much from the rest of the regatta as I could.

Overall, I finished in 71st place, disappointing after my strong European season but nonetheless my best world finish to date and confirmation that even on bad days, we are trending in the right direction.

PART 2: The Long Drive

After worlds was done, I had lots of work to do. As a way of making some money to fund my campaign, I have been doing some odd jobs for Sail Canada. As it turns out, the coach boat that we had been using in Mexico was getting delivered to San Diego after racing and then it was going to be my job to get it from there home to Toronto. My dad had volunteered his services as co-pilot and so only three days after getting home to Canada, we boarded a flight to San Diego to set off on the ultimate father-son road trip. There was a slight hitch in our plans (or rather lack thereof) when we realized that the truck we had originally rented didn’t have a trailer hitch on it. After some initial panic and then some looking around, we finally found one that had what we needed and sent off to the dusty border warehouse to pick up the rib. More drama waited for us there as we found out that en-route from Puerto Vallarta, the axel of the rib trailer had broken right in the middle and then been sketchily welded back together, probably on the side of some Mexican highway. Additionally, said Mexican highway must have been quite bumpy as some of the lights were no longer working. Never discouraged, we ran some wires to get the lights working and (probably foolishly) decided to trust the welder who slapped the axel back together and we were off! Over the mountains of San Diego and into the desert.

The first day was through Yuma and most of the way to Tucson. This was the first time I had ever been in a real desert, and more than anything the thing that surprised me was the cacti, they were massive! I mean 20-25 feet tall! I don’t know why, but I had never really thought about the scale of a cactus before, and I was honestly taken aback. Day two was the rest of the way through Arizona, New Nexico and then El Paso Texas. I hadn’t realized before how much life there is right along the Mexican border. There is a 100Km stretch of highway that follows the border only 5-10 km north of it. From El Paso you have a view of most of the City of Ciudad Juarez. Another interesting thing we noticed was the US border patrol presence in this area, along the stretch of highway there were stops where you were asked for identification and on many occasions, we saw agents on horseback patrolling the area. All these things we hear about in the news, but when you are there, it feels like such a foreign world.

The highlight of day three though happened in the morning just as we were filling up at a gas station. You can appreciate that the sight of a bright blue coach boat is not a common thing in the small west Texas town of Pecos, and when we came back out to the truck after paying, we were greeted by possibly the most Texan man to have ever existed. He had a big white sun browned Stetson hat, a long white scruffy beard, a checkered collared shirt with both elbows worn through tucked into a pair of blue Levis jeans held up by a brown belt with a large belt buckle, a pair of worn brown cowboy boots, and to finish it all off a leather strap over the shoulder holster that held a revolver at each hip. Slightly taken aback by the cartoonish appearance, we answered his inquiries which went something along the lines of “I’ve been sittin here rackin my brain and I can’t figure out for the life of me what in God’s name that boat is for” (imagine the thickest Texan cowboy accent you can) and then we asked him where the best place for breakfast was, figuring if anyone would know it would be him. Naturally he recommended burrito bowls. I’m not exactly sure why, but I find it a little comforting to know that people like that still exist. Safe to say I was just as out of place in Pecos, Texas as I am in any small European villages, maybe even more so.

On the third day we continued through Dallas the rest of the way across Texas and spent the night in Texarkana. After three days in the desert we were thankful to finally see some trees as we sat down for a rack of ribs to finish off another long day. The fourth day was the shortest of all of them as we had a some touristing on the agenda. First stop was Elvis Presley’s Graceland. We didn’t go inside but we walked around the front and got a good look at it before getting on the road again for the night’s destination, Nashville! Nashville for those who don’t know is the home of country music. And as a result, it is where everyone who wants to become a country musician goes to make a name for themselves. Because of this, the main street in Nashville has about 30 bars each with bands playing from 10am to 2 am every day of the week. You walk down Broadway and all you hear is world class live music coming from every direction. For music fans it is the experience of a lifetime. Even on a Sunday night, which is when we were there, it is packed. My dad and I spent the night wandering around, with me enjoying being over 21 in the US for the first time. It is something that needs at least a full weekend to properly take all in but even just being there for one night as we passed through town was an amazing experience.

Finally on the 5th and final day of the trip, we left Nashville in the morning and drove our longest stint to arrive home just after midnight. It wasn’t an easy drive, 5 days being the longest I’ve ever spent in a car, but it was an amazing experience and something I am glad to have done. On reflection, it really gives me an appreciation for just how diverse the US is. They are often referred to as one place, but in actuality they are 50 very individual places that just happen to share a capital. The cowboy we met is just as different from a New York Banker or a California surfer as a Brit is from an Italian or a German. The only thing the Americans have in common is they mostly speak English.