The Ultimate Laser Show

By John Ogden and Martin Hawkes – March 2020

The Laser class began at Waldringfield back in the late 1970s with formidable support from the Schlee and the Law families and also from two early class captains Hillary Greenhow and Richard Woolf. Hillary joined the Club especially to sail Lasers and he recalls buying four tankards as the first set of class prizes. Stiff but friendly competition with the long established OK class (for the purist singlehander) led to some wilderness years in the 80s but a resurgence in the 90s has resulted in a hugely popular class, now boasting over 40 boats, all set for racing, training or just messing about on the river, which is what Lasers do best. The class was particularly sociable during the Indian summer of 2017 when they chose, through the power of group email, to enjoy an extended informal Wednesday evening series into September, bolstering The Maybush takings in the process. Over the years hundreds of club members have dipped their singlehanded toes into the river as they experience the sheer proximity to the clear blue waters of the Deben that only the tipply Laser can provide on a consistent basis.

John Ogden is the newly appointed fleet captain who will lead the class through to the Club’s centenary next year and he provides a rallying call below. John follows a succession of well-organised and enthusiastic captains, including Chris Woodard, Diana Pipe, Alan Hall and most recently Clive Quantrill who has brought the Lasers up to date with regular race reports and now a Whats App Group. One of the most entertaining reports from last year came from the keyboard of ubiquitous Laser sailor Martin Hawkes and is repeated below for the sake of posterity:

It was a nervous clutch of Laser helms gathered on the shoreline today, hoping for a dip in the considerable wind strength to allow for a dignified launch. Spurred on by a fearless Lilliputian cadet fleet, six boats were immersed and the fun began. Missing the heavy weather specialists Doug & Patrick, the untouchable Magic Mike, JP and The Downwind Doctor, it seemed the ideal opportunity for the rest of the fleet to shine. With a committee boat start near Galleons up to B, a reach over to C then up to the Bermuda Triangle, otherwise known as Blue, before a long downwind leg back to a frankly piratical Galleons gybe mark.

Captain Clive flew off the start line like a vintage champagne cork, leaving us wondering exactly what he’d had for breakfast. Hawkes’ first tack put the boat into irons giving an excellent view of the fleet sailing past. When the Videlos were seen enjoying a family swim at the turning mark, it was clear that this was a day when anything could happen. Plain sailing was not an option and it looked as though it would be a case of who made the fewest capsizes rather than any tactical genius. Bob Whitehouse had barely finished congratulating himself on a successful gybe at Galleons when he suffered a fatal tiller dislocation which would prove to be the beginning of the end of his race. Pursued by a Dragonfly with trapeze, Hawkes persistent and mostly vertical sailing enabled steady progress through the fleet towards the flying vet who, for reasons best known to himself, decided to set up a gybe/ capsize practise session at the turning mark. Clive continued to impress by maintaining his lead in spite of three spills, until the last rounding of Galleons where, in the full knowledge that there was a birthday approaching, he inadvertently activated his ejector seat and flung himself backwards into the Deben, allowing the grateful Hawkes his first win of the season.

A combination of gear failure and exhaustion and let’s face it, basic common sense, meant that there were only two starters for the second race. The flying vet, determined to lay the capsize ghost to rest, put half a dozen in before the start. He proceeded to pick the correct side of the beat to establish an early lead and expertly neutered the randy tomcat of defeat to seize victory by capsizing half as many times as Hawkes.

CAPTAIN’S CALL TO ARMS

So what does a newly appointed captain tell his fellow class members, that they don’t already know, and more particularly the rest of the club, eager for news of their premier singlehanded class!  Well the good news is that membership is stable (sorry to see you leave us Alan, Elspeth, Heather, Diana, Ollie and Tony, but welcome to the fold Marc, Roger, Steve and Tom), turnouts are good (particularly on Wednesday evenings), standards are generally high (although we all have our moments!) and the curry nights are excellent (thank you Alan and Peter).  My predecessor, Clive Quantrill, deserves much credit for this, and we all thank him for staggering on for an extra year whilst his Machiavellian plot to ensnare a successor unfolded.  The not so good news is that our demographic is aging and somewhat aged.  Not that there is any shortage of vim and vigour in this merry band you understand, but the beats seem to get longer and the abs are not what they once were.  What we need is new blood, and preferably young (or at least middle-aged) blood.  Having our backsides royally whipped by the Commodore in the Cartoons last season did little to lower the age average, but it did help to keep us on our toes.  What we really need now is to be thrashed by some of you ‘youngsters’!  So come on you graduating Cadets and outsized Toppers .  Forget those flashy RSs (which do need a crew) and come and join the sleek Laserers for a positive sleigh-ride of thrills and spills.  For those who might have been somewhat unnerved by that description, you can always use a radial or 4.7 rig – just ask Club Captain Jonathan Penn or the Go Sailing Guru Jules Rains – there’s absolutely no shame at all and, as I like to remind them (frequently), we always welcome diversity in our class.  You don’t even need to find a crew and you certainly don’t need a boat, at least to start with – hire one of our 2 very competitive Club Lasers through the Club website if it’s for racing, or through Toby Tracey () if it’s for training or cruising, and see what you’re missing.  It’s a snip at £10 per race, except for Wednesday evening races, training or cruising when it’s £5.  Why not try one of them out at either a training morning or our Laser Open on Sunday 26 April.

We look forward to seeing you on the water. 

John Ogden

My own sailing journey began with trips out on Southampton Water in a home built Enterprise and later Wayfarers which came to be associated with stress and a lot of shouting. The combination of this and the endless hull washing and folding of sails was enough to dampen any desire for the water for at least twenty years. After a couple of decades playing football very badly, I realised that I could keep going until my knees gave up or try something else.

Whilst volunteering on the rescue boat for my youngest daughter’s RYA course one summer at Neptune, it was clear that the kids were having way too much fun. A pair of seals would often arrive to play amongst the fleet, appearing drawn to the babbling brook of their laughter, splashing and often very deliberate capsizes. I duly shelled out £350 for an old topper and proceeded to endure a full season of humiliation on Alton Water and smirking off it, as I discovered that a twelve stone adult in a force three is in fact slower than an Optimist but still moderately exhilarating in a blow. I also learned here that Harken equals faster and duly changed everything on the boat. Luckily, I realised just in time that even changing my name to Harken would make no difference whatsoever to my boat speed and that it was all about hours on the water.

As a veteran now of one season, still unable to distinguish a lee-bow from a bowline and thinking that Cunningham was a character from ‘Happy Days’¹, I made the switch to Laser and WSC (thanks dad). Apart from moored boats, tide, mud, better cake and people who are ‘a bit shouty’ on the start line, it was essentially the same as Alton water. The real difference is the environment. Returning at the start of the season after the frostbite series the beauty of the river always makes me pause and reflect how lucky we are to share this little corner of England on a Saturday afternoon (cue Elgar). I remember being told by one of the Dragonfly fleet that I was sailing a Laser because ‘I had no soul’… I’m not really sure what he meant but perhaps he too was in the pit for The Ozric Tentacles² at Glastonbury in 1993 and saw me dancing.

Whilst not exactly classless, the Laser fleet is a truly mixed bag. With an age range between fifteen and eighty odd there are many foolish enough to endure a boat about which it is said that ‘if you are comfortable, you are sailing it wrong’. British Telecom are well represented on the start line, which is useful if you are having broadband trouble, the NHS also. In fact, our anaesthetist rear commodore Peter Mills recently sent several of the audience to sleep whilst giving a talk on his trip to the Himalayas. I’m sure I am not alone in hoping that midwife Elspeth Orme rejoins this season. More than once I have felt very close to giving birth on approaching a gybe mark. We also boast solicitors, estate agents, farmers, as well as several normal people. These guys and girls accepted me readily into the fold as a humble builder and even humbler helm and I like to think that I provided some entertainment in my first season, winning the capsize cup and most improved helm.

At Waldringfield, I have enjoyed new and surprising forms of humiliation; ejection from the rear of the boat with only a tiller extension for company, falling in backwards, the simple pleasures of re-launching after going aground in knee-deep mud, pinning the mast under the committee boat and how sometimes, capsizing can actually be a relief. I had to wait for my second season for a first win. I’d like to think that skill played some part but ultimately, Stephen Videlo touched my hull before the start and in doing so, a little magic must have rubbed off. Constantly striving for more speed, I made the same mistake of ‘Harkenisation’ with alarmingly similar results. With the evidence in front of me, I even considered getting my mother to cut my hair as a possible pathway to success. Sadly I am returned to the same conclusion that there is no replacement for time on the water and however well equipped or coiffed, it is the person holding the stick who makes the real difference.

Martin Hawkes