I managed to get to the Beaulieu rally by boat this year. By the way, Beaulieu is pronounced "bow lee uh" if your name is Christophe, and "bew lee" by the British. Thanks to Sandy Lady for organising a wonderful event. You can read more in the rally report when it is published.
I left at 5.20am Sunday, just after high water, for an early return to my drying berth at the top of the River Hamble. Having left the fleet behind, departing as quietly as possible, I enjoyed a mirror-like river surface covered in misty patches. Fish flicked the water as I approached. I watched a diving bird toss and twist a six inch eel until it was ready to be swallowed. I felt like I was inside a poem, all very dreamy and rich in nature. And then I saw it.
Ahead of me as I approached Bucklers Hard, the site of our Parker 25th anniversary sail past, a blue flashing light caught my attention. It was mid river. Ah, the harbour master. On the river bank I could see hundreds of people. I looked at my watch. 5.45am. I thought of Elmer Fudd - "there's something screwy going on here". I looked again. Bloody hell. The river ahead was a mass of foam. Swimmers! I was politely invited to tie up until it was safe to proceed. I learned from the harbour master that this was the annual Swashbucklers Triathlon. Start: 5.45am. Swim 1.9km. Cycle 80km. Run 22km. It starts with the swim and as the water was cold the course was slightly shorter this year. No kidding! The sea at the Bramble Bank was eleven degrees. These are hardy competitors. Then I learned that this race is part of the practice for the real race. Oh really? Incredibly, these athletes race from Old Harry by Poole to The Needles. That's a
13 mile swim. Impressive.
By the time the swimmers were off to their next race leg, there was not a huge amount of time left to return to my berth. On a windless morning on a flat calm Solent it was maximum engine power as I struggled upside against the ebb. But I made it.
Ken Surplice
Commodore