ILCA Sailing Reflections From a First Masters Championship
From September 27 to October 1, 2023, I raced in the International Laser Class Association (ILCA) Master North Americans Regatta at the New York Yacht Club - Harbor Court in Newport, RI. I got DFL (dead *@$! last) in nearly every race, and I’m 100-percent okay with it. In fact, I am supremely proud of myself for getting out there and just sailing. A long time ago, I accepted the fact that I wouldn’t be a podium finisher in sailing and instead focused on the camaraderie and joy that flows throughout the community that is competitive sailing.
Throughout my time in the racing scene, I have had a few successes, but mostly I have worked very hard to be a middle or bottom of the fleet finisher. Five years ago, I decided to start racing my husband’s ILCA (formerly Laser), as I wanted to get back to my sailing roots. The ones that trace back to sailing Sunfish with my friends at Girl Scout camp in Galveston Bay, TX.
Annapolis is home to a rare and elusive ILCA 6 (formally Laser Radial) fleet; perhaps more impressive is the fleet is composed of primarily women. This collection of women have been instrumental in me continuing to be involved in ILCA sailing and making me look forward to turning 35. Back in 2018, I was 30 and too young to compete in Masters events (you had to be 35; the age has since been lowered to 30). I told myself, I had five years to practice before I would get to travel to all the amazing events I would hear about whenever I sailed against the other women.
This weekend it was finally time for me to compete as a Master. I had no idea what to expect from Newport, except that it would probably be breezy and a long sail to the racecourse. Thursday’s sunny practice race preceded racing that began on Friday with a big breeze, chop, and a strong current (oh and rain, so much rain). I was immediately out of my depth, capable but little to no experience with the conditions. The wind would continue to blow. The racing area changed each day during the three-day event, and the current rarely ceased. However, with each race, I figured out another piece. My boat speed improved, and my body resigned to the pain.
The boat and I began to find our rhythm.
I found myself smiling as I finally went from pounding through waves to slicing through them. And yet, when I took the time to look around, I found myself in the back of the fleet, usually one of the last ones around the mark. The regatta conditions were nothing short of epic and occasionally downright miserable for me. Thankfully, the rain finally turned to a sunny haze by Sunday. Still, I continued, race after race—just being out there became my victory. I realized I could sail in these conditions, to make it around the course without too much trouble. In the last five years, my ability to sail the ILCA in breeze has vastly improved… and this regatta reminded me of just how far I’ve come.
Last place or not, I have never been challenged day after day by conditions, seemingly, hell bent on increasing the attrition of the fleet. In the end, I retired during race eight (of nine total) and sailed home with a body barely hanging on but my head held high. I had sailed hard, through pain and frustration and celebrated small victories. I still can’t believe how hard I worked for last place. I will keep working on improving, but for now I’m okay being the someone that has to be last. To every person who waited for me to finish, thanks and cheers! Until next time!
This first appeared in SpinSheet’s November 2023 issue.
By Koralina McKenna
