When the wind gets light and weird, a different approach to the racecourse is required says Racing Editor Mike Ingham. Priority No. 1 is to seek the breeze and from there, play the long game.

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if conditions warrant, some boats, like J/70s, FJs, Collegiate 420s and Snipes, successfully wing for the entire run. And for other boats that carry asymmetric spinnakers, such as J/105s and Melges 20s, brief moments of winging can present gains, such as when jibing, (a late-main jibe), coming into a leeward mark gaining an overlap, or shooting the downwind finish line. It’s a powerful technique to have in your toolbox these days, so let’s dive deeper into the art of the wing, how to do it and when to do it.

There’s usually no ­question when in the middle wind ranges—from 8 to 14 knots—where the wing technique works well. By doing so, you’ll sail less distance without sacrificing much speed, getting you to the leeward mark sooner than someone who reaches back and forth. But in light air, it’s often too slow to wing, and the jib or kite doesn’t have enough pressure to fly well. Also, when the wind is light, the main falls into the middle of the boat, causing an unintentional jibe. You need enough pressure to hold the sails firmly in the winging ­configuration to make it work.

In the crossover zone, when you are unsure if winging will work, it can pay to give it a shot. If it doesn’t feel powered up and fast, abort the wing by continuing your turn, jibing the boom, and flattening onto the new jibe. The cool thing with this move is that you can get a boost of speed during the flatten, especially in a dinghy. Experiment with winging in the crossover wind range, then aborting, ­making it a late-main jibe.

At the other end of the spectrum, when it gets super windy, boats like the FJ, 420 and Snipe are still winging and might even plane on the wing. For heavier boats that wing, like the J/70, there comes a time to abandon the wing and start planing on the reach. It’s all about your best VMG to the mark, knowing your boat, and understanding when to transition as the breeze changes. In puffy conditions in the planing crossover range, 14 to 18 knots, the true masters of downwind morph from one mode to the next, putting hundreds of meters on the competition.

When winging, you must have a big lane behind you because winging is difficult in bad air. Also, boats behind you that are also winging throw a big wind shadow. Always work to find a nice lane before winging. Some people call this a seam in the fleet, a corridor of nice pressure with no boats behind you.

Winging Angles

For those unfamiliar with ­winging and the angle changes created by doing so, one way to think about it is to compare it to a symmetric spinnaker boat, such as an Etchells or Lightning, that can square the pole back in a medium breeze. In light air, those boats reach back and forth with the pole near the headstay. Once the breeze increases enough, they square the pole back and sail deep. This is a similar angle to winging. A boat with the spinnaker squared back is basically the same as being wing-on-wing. When in this mode, you’ll jibe through about 20 to 30 degrees.

I always look forward, toward the gate marks or finish line, to determine if I am sailing the least distance. Visualize your new angle if you were to jibe and question whether it would be closer to the mark. If so, and the lanes are free, do it. Usually when winging, I want to see the leeward mark right over the bow or just between the jib or spinnaker and the mainsail. While doing this, let’s say you get a lift. The jib or spinnaker suddenly feels less powerful, so you head up to get to the optimal angle again with the sheets pulling. Now the gate or finish line has dropped out of your field of vision, behind the main. That tells you it’s time to jibe. Conversely, if you get a big header while aiming at the gate and now appear overstood, abandon the wing and go back to a reach. The key is to point the boat at the gate or finish line in whatever configuration you need to be in for the given wind conditions, assuming you have a good lane.

Tactical Winging

A key to sailing well downwind in any boat is to satisfy two basic rules: Sail the jibe that takes you most directly toward the ­leeward mark, and sail in the most breeze. If you can sail toward the mark while in nice pressure and in a big lane, you’ll hit a tactical home run. When you are in a boat that has various modes, like reaching and winging, always use the most appropriate mode to help you. Here are a few examples:

A. You round the weather mark in a left shift and want to go straight downwind on the header. It’s blowing 10 knots, so winging will provide the best VMG. After rounding the weather mark, you reach for a bit until a lane opens up. Now you have to decide which jibe to be on while winging. You could simply wing on the starboard jibe, or jibe over to port and then wing. Because you are headed and happy, the correct move is to simply bear away and wing, staying on starboard.

B. You round the weather mark in a lift, so the game plan is to jibe to port. But there’s a cone of bad air at the top of the course. You reach for 30 seconds to a minute, eager to jibe and go the other way. With a train of boats sailing straight out of the mark with you, winging away would put you in bad air. So, the best move is to jibe onto a port reach to quickly exit the train of boats and their dirty breeze. Once clear of the bad-air zone, let’s say 50 to 100 meters, go into winging mode to sail the header toward the leeward mark on the port jibe. You’ll be in a nice lane, sailing low and fast toward the leeward gate.

C. You’re leading a tight race or might be just ahead of a group of boats, and you round the weather mark. Don’t immediately wing. If you do, you’ll likely get covered. Here, the move is to round the weather mark, reach for a while, and be patient. Once the boats behind you wing, then you can establish a nice lane and wing. If you reach for a while and feel like you should be winging, but no one around you is, and you want to get away from nearby boats, jibe to port, as mentioned earlier, reach for a little bit to get away from the group, and then wing into a nice lane.

D. If you round the weather mark in a lift and have no boats to worry about behind you threatening to steal your wind, a technique unique to the J/70 is you can get into a wing by bearing away and slowly jibing the boom. It allows you to quickly sail the other way downwind, as if you had completed a full jibe and then winged the kite. On smaller boats that accelerate more during maneuvers, it’s faster to jibe, flatten, and then wing the jib.

Practicing and Speed

Winging well takes practice and communicating to your team about the next move. It’s key that everyone is on the same page. With all the tactical options in the J/70, the fleet has developed its own lingo about turning while winging, “left turn 1 degree here” or “right turn 1 degree,” because up and down can get confusing with sails on both sides of the boat. For winging or exiting the wing in a J/70, identify the sail you are jibing. For example, say, “jibing boom to a wing,” “jibing kite to a wing,” or “exiting wing with boom over and a left turn.” In small boats, it’s a little more straightforward, but communications need to be defined regardless. A few examples are: “Let’s wing here,” “let’s jibe then wing,” and “let’s do a wing-on-wing jibe.” And to exit the wing, “jibing the boom to a reach.”

Sailing fast while winging is critical, so let’s discuss what you should focus on. The short version is, once you have winged a jib or a spinnaker, sail slightly up toward the jib or spinnaker on a broad reach, or a “high wing,” as some call it. You’re trying to not sail dead downwind because it’s faster to be slightly up toward the forward sail in a high wing. There’s a sweet spot, which is where the sail would want to fall in toward the boat and assume a reaching position, if you were to head up a few more degrees toward the jib or spinnaker. If you see that happening, bear away a few degrees until it’s stable and happy. At that angle, the jib or spinnaker will be powered up.

If you’re holding the sheet, you can feel the sail pulling nicely. Bear away a few more degrees to a dead downwind angle and the sail will lose a little pressure. Bear away a little more and you will feel the slowest winging situation possible—by the lee where the sheet pulls the least because the main starts covering the jib or spinnaker. I see a lot of kids doing this in the FJs and 420s, and sometimes adults in the J/70s. You can end up there by turning down accidentally, having a wave push the bow down, or possibly by a windshift lifting you. To avoid sailing too low or two high, stick to the rule of sailing high on the foresail, but not so high that it wants to collapse in on itself. This powered-up mode is fast. To keep it here, you need to constantly test the ups, look at the telltales and masthead fly, and feel the power in the sheet.

If you are at the perfect wing angle and notice a lift (the masthead fly goes from the weather corner of your boat to the center of the stern), the sheet loses pressure, or you just feel like the boat has lost pressure, head up if you want to continue straight. Or immediately jibe to a reach, throwing the boom over, flattening with extra speed onto a header, then bear away and wing again. The jibe maneuver when lifted is super-fast and allows you to quickly sail the header downwind. If performed before others around you, it allows you to lead on the new, long, headed tack. All of this is tactical gold.

Now that you know how and when it’s best to go wing-on-wing, let’s explore seven top winging moves that can make your race.

Cut the corner. Typically, everyone sails out of the weather mark on starboard, reaching, unless conditions call for an immediate jibe set. If you can wing before the boat in front of you, you cut the corner on them and still maintain a starboard-­tack advantage. The boat in front ends up in a difficult situation in that they want to jibe to aim for the gates, but you have borne away inside them and cut them off, and you’re still on starboard. I love using that move in a J/70. I’ve been passed by it, and I’ve passed boats using it.

Be the first to wing. If you round the weather mark with a big enough lead or a gap behind you and instantly wing, you can gain huge on the boats that have not yet done so. Doing that while leading can instantly break the race open. While others are reaching and waiting for the opportunity to wing, you’re already sailing deep, headed straight for the leeward mark, and you’re gone. You can end up winning the race by hundreds of meters. And if you happen to have a gap behind you, winging before the group ahead allows you to cut the corner on them.

Paint the competition into a corner. In the same realm of cutting the corner, this move occurs in the corner, near the layline. Let’s say you’re going downwind, reaching on port jibe, and following someone who is also reaching. As you approach the left corner (looking downwind), knowing they will jibe soon, wing behind them. Now you’re sailing deeper and cutting the corner. When they jibe, you now have a perfectly matched racing setup to jump them and steal their breeze. As the boats converge, watch their masthead fly to see where their wind is coming from, and then jibe over by simply throwing your boom with a right turn and flattening onto their breeze. It’s a quick move and takes the wind out of their sails, literally and figuratively. From here, either you roll them, or they’re forced to jibe back into the corner, reducing their options and forcing more maneuvers. You can also “paint into a corner” against groups of boats.

If in the back of the fleet, wing immediately. Another time to go right into the wing mode is when you’re doing poorly. Maybe you were OCS and went back now to find yourself in last place, desperately hoping to catch up. Wing-on-wing can give you that opportunity. Once rounding in last, you can always lighten the mood by pointing out the good news of having a massive lane, and then instantly wing. I’ve seen a lot of people in that position catch up a ton downwind just by getting into the wing and keeping it the whole run, sailing less distance.

Sail perpendicular. When coming into the finish line or a leeward gate, sail perpendicular to reduce distance. By winging, you cut the corner on any boats ahead that are reaching. I think of it as sailing one side of a triangle while they sail two, by extending forward, jibing and reaching back. You can get to the finish line sooner with this move, even if the wind is a little light to wing.

There is also a specific scenario coming into a gate where you can use it to get room. If you are closely trailing an opponent and both of you approach the gate just outside the zone (aiming at the middle of the gates), you can wing behind them toward the mark to enter the zone first while they extend forward, then jibe to head back and round the gate. You are now inside and have room. Their jibe opens their stern, and you have entered the zone first and inside. This doesn’t happen often, but it feels nice when it does. It leaves you in a much stronger rounding position to start the next leg.

Ping the competition. You’re on the port jibe near the layline, approaching the right-hand gate (looking downwind), and there are other port-jibe boats overlapped to your right. They’re going to have room on you, probably leaving you on the outside of a big pinwheel around the gate mark. In this situation, you can jibe to starboard and reach toward those boats to take them out past the layline, then lead them back clear ahead and rounding ahead. Chances are, they might not anticipate you doing this, but even if they do, they have to stay clear. For safety within the rules, do this well before the three-boatlength zone, maybe as far out as five or six lengths so there’s no question you’re outside the zone. The boats you’re reaching toward can even be winging on the starboard jibe, but they have to either head up or jibe if on port because you’re the leeward boat. In a classic match-racing move, you’ve reached them off the racecourse, forcing them to overstand. They’re typically flailing at this point and probably starting to yell; bear away once you feel the geometry is correct and jibe toward the mark, breaking the overlap with them and entering the zone clear ahead. We call this the ping move. It can also be done at a ­downwind ­finish line.

Vary modes to manage your lane. If you’re wing-on-wing and someone is sailing at a different angle, about to encroach on your breeze, go into reach mode until you find another clean lane. Then bear off and wing again. If you maximize your time in big seams or lanes, you can do some damage downwind.

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Some tacticians like continual input, while others prefer a quiet boat, but the majority of tacticians at least like small amounts of accurate and timely information. In other words, provide the input only when appropriate. Before racing, and especially if you’re new to a team, always discuss the type of information the tactician wants to hear once, and follow these tips after the race is underway to make your input useful.

Sketching Out the Prestart

The tactician will certainly want to know if you spot a last-minute windshift. Indicators are if you notice that you are sailing deeper or higher up or down the line than you were before, or even watching another boat going head to wind or tacking. In a left shift (pin favored) it will take the boat longer to get to the start line. The inverse is also true if there is a right shift or if the boat end is favored. I’ll say something like, “Eyes out of the boat; looks like left shift; it will probably take a little longer to get to the line.” If possible, I’ll add whether it’s a small shift or a large shift.

Traffic is also important to communicate. During the last minute of a start, it is often hard to see everything and everyone. I will often report “shark” or “bogie.” A bogie is someone coming at us that we will have to deal with. Bogies are usually the biggest threat when there’s around two minutes to go and you’re sailing down the line on port. Sharks are boats approaching from behind, like a shark getting ready to bite. When you tack to starboard for the final approach, watch for both sharks and bogies.

The third bit of helpful prestart info can come in the last five seconds. This is where, in all likelihood, the bow person or someone else forward in the boat can let the tactician know if your boat is hidden from the race committee’s view. Sometimes this will let you get your nose poked out in a congested area. Be extra confident with this one, and remember your bow is poked forward of your line of sight. The consequences of getting this one wrong are costly. We only make this call if we are quite sure that boats above and below us are poked well forward and exposed.

Brushstrokes Around the Course

Immediately after the start, you’ll be looking to communicate boat-on-boat relatives. The driver and tactician are looking for comments like, “same speed, higher” or “same height, faster.” With these calls, the trimmers and helmsperson know they are in a good mode upwind. If they hear, “same speed, lower” or “slower, same height,” they know they need to make a change to keep up with the pack.

Where it gets tricky for the person calling the relative modes is when you say things like “faster, lower” or “slower, higher.” In these cases, the commenter must quickly evaluate the VMG and decide if it is a net gain or net loss and make that call. For example, if we are going upwind with a big gap to weather and I say, “Higher, slower, net gain,” the driver and trimmers know that it’s OK to be a little slower because our high pointing is letting us gain on boats around us. The rule of thumb is always talk about your boat when communicating relative speeds and angles. It’s best this information comes from someone in the proximity of the trimmer and tactician so the conversation can be quiet and not too distracting for the rest of the crew.

As we sail upwind, I like to let the tactician know where he is in relation to the laylines. This helps avoid getting too close to a layline from too far away. Many tacticians avoid the laylines early because once you arrive at a layline, your tactical options are limited. This communication also reminds the tactician to start looking at laylines when you’re closer to the mark. I refer to the laylines in percentages with whatever layline we’re headed at stated first. If we are directly downwind of the weather mark, I will say, “50‑50 on the course.” This means that there is equal time to spend on port and starboard before arriving at the weather mark. As we continue up the course on starboard, I’ll look upwind and perhaps say, “30-70.” The tactician will then know that he or she has 30 percent to go to the port layline or 70 percent to the starboard layline. Many tacticians will tack before getting within 10 percent to a layline when they are still far from the weather mark to take advantage of a windshift or leave room to tack back out if you get tacked on.

Calling puffs and lulls helps the tactician decide where to tack, but more importantly, it helps the trimmers and drivers. The trimmers can anticipate and adjust power in the sails, and the driver can pinch or foot slightly to keep the boat tracking properly at maximum VMG. “Short-lived puff in 3…2…1…” lets the driver and trimmers know that only a small change will be needed keep the heel angle the same and the boat sailing along properly. If they hear “more pressure consistently in 3…2…1…,” they will know that a more long-term setup will be required to keep the boat sailing optimally.

RELATED: Downwind Tactics For Planing Conditions

Calling chop and flat spots will help the tactician decide on where to tack as well, but equally important, the calls will help the helmsperson drive the boat. In a choppy section, you often need to foot, and you can really point in flat spots because there is less chop or waves to slow you down. We’ll use verbiage such as “chop in one boatlength,” or “chop continues” or “flat water for a bit.”

Lastly, in some areas, ­calling weed or kelp in the water is important. This can be a little complicated. I like when people keep these communications simple. “Up one, up five, down one, down five” are four of the only six calls I like when I’m driving. If I hear “one,” I know to turn a little; if I hear “five,” I know to turn a lot. I also like to know “clear,” meaning I can go back to driving normally. It can be important to know what mode you are in and where boats are around you. If there is a boat close to leeward, saying “down one” is probably bad when you could have said “up one.” Also, pay attention to boatspeed. Rarely should you say “up five” when the boatspeed is already low. The final two calls are “no lower” or “no higher.” This simply lets the driver know that he can stay on course as long as he doesn’t turn toward the debris.

As with upwind, calling puffs on the downwind leg is important. When soaking, the helmsperson and spinnaker trimmer can work together to make some gains. For ­example, if they know that a puff is coming, they can soak deep a little longer. Normally, after soaking deep, you have to head up to build speed. But if you know a puff is coming quickly, you can stay deep and let the puff help you accelerate rather than heading up and burning distance.

The tactician will likely want to know whether they are in clear air or not. This also helps the spinnaker trimmer. I will often call how many boatlengths of clean air we have. For example, I will say something like, “We have three lengths of clear air,” meaning there is bad air from a competitor three lengths behind us. Then later, if I say we have two lengths of clean air, everybody knows that we need to speed up or sail slightly higher to avoid bad air. Then if I say, “One boatlength of clear air,” the crew knows we are in danger of being rolled.

The rule of thumb is always talk about your boat when communicating relative speeds and angles.

Again, like upwind sailing, it helps to communicate relatives between boats. In some boats, such as the Etchells, the bow person can look behind and make these calls, almost becoming the boat-on-boat tactician themselves. If the trimmer, who is ideally talking to the driver about angles, hears “lower, slower, net gain,” they know their mode of sailing slower but lower is gaining on the competition and they can continue sailing in that mode. However, if they hear “lower, slower, net loss,” they know they need to change modes to achieve a better VMG. The tactician may be interested to hear “lower, slower, net even.” This means that you are simply sailing a different mode, but you are not gaining or losing overall. In this case, the tactician can decide how they want to sail for future positioning. The tactician may want to sail low and slow across someone’s bow so that after a jibe, they are again in clear air.

Last but not least, as you come into a leeward gate or finish line, the tactician can benefit from input on which end or mark is favored. Remember, it is OK not to have all the answers. However, even that should be communicated. Don’t be afraid to say, “I don’t know.” It’s better than giving false information.

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The inclusion of a distance-race offering was hatched in earlier years of the Helly Hansen Sailing World Regatta Series, with a goal of getting idle boats and crews off the dock, on to the water for one day, and into the party after racing. Simple enough, right?

Right, but is one day ever really enough? No way. If you’re going to dial up the crew list, order the sandwiches and strike the dodger, you might as well get another day of fun, right?

Right. At all Helly Hansen Sailing World Regatta Series stops this year, organizers are offering two days of distance racing (or what could be more aptly called long-course buoy racing, as there is no overnight element), where competitors enjoy a daylong race that tests the boat and its crew on all points of sail, across a variety of winds and conditions.

One of the best parts of a long-course race is that when the Sailing Instructions state the warning signal will be at 1000, you can bet you’ll be starting your wrist top timer at 1000. There will be no race committee chatter about whether the windward mark is perfectly in place for an erratically shifting morning breeze. Nope. with long-course racing, when you get the course, you know your marks, you get set, you go.

Managing the long-course action this year, as he did in 2022, will be Annapolis-based race officer Bruce Bingman. The plan, he says, is to start the long-course fleet 5 to 10 minutes before the big-boat one-designs on his circle, to send them on a 6- to 16-mile random-leg challenge and finish them right where they started—or perhaps somewhere else. We checked in with Bingman to pick his brain on what to expect and how best to conquer the unpredictable Chesapeake Bay.  

What sort of courses can our distance-race competitors expect?

Of course, it all depends on the wind strength and direction, but the way I normally do it is to send all the boats up to the same weather mark, maybe a mile or so directly upwind, and then after that, judging that we’ll set up near the red bell buoy off the entrance to the Severn River——about 3 miles out from harbor—I’d probably send them to Eastern Shore, around a few markers there with some beats, headsail reaches, some downwind work, and a jibe or two. Then come back around a box; roughly speaking so we get all compass legs if at all possible. I always try and think of interesting courses that we could do and I typically set them assuming that we have the prevailing southerlies or the post-frontal northerlies.

How many times can we expect to cross the current? Which can be a big deal.

At least twice. My intent is always to give people an interesting race. To get to the Eastern Shore you’ll have to cross it going over and obviously again coming back. I will, however, set up a few courses for the lighter breeze where they won’t cross the current because even on a light current day the current will run up to a knot in the center of the bay. If there’s been heavy rain, up in Pennsylvania or Northern Maryland, and they open the flood gates, you’ll get 3.5 knots of current running down the center of the bay.

Can you share some of your wisdom as it pertains to distance racing in this part of the bay?

I always run with both a knot meter and a GPS, as well as the boat’s compass. You want to make sure you’re optimizing all the way around. On a distance race, you always have to be thinking about optimizing VMC—that’s velocity down the course, not necessarily velocity directly to the mark. Part of the thinking of that is that if it’s long enough of race and you know the wind is going to shift during the race, and if you’re beating to the mark and another competitor has been just cracked off and going faster than you, they will be further down course, even though they may not be directly downwind of the mark. They’ll be further toward the mark than you are, so when the windshift comes, they can take advantage of the shift. They’ll either tack and lay the mark or be lifted toward the mark. I’m very much a VMC racer provided it’s long enough. You can’t do that on a one or two-mile leg, but once it gets over 2 miles, you really need to be thinking about what the wind will do. Look at clouds—obviously you want to sail to the dark cloud. Try to improve your chances the longer the distance gets. The shorter the leg, the more you need to focus on VMG, and that’s all about optimizing sail trim and boatspeed. When it comes to distance racing, I try never to pinch unless I have a very good reason.  

What are your thoughts on dealing with the current?

The further you get to the center of the bay, the strong the current is, so you don’t want to get caught short going around a mark in the middle of the bay. That last tack of 50 feet will cost you a lot more than over-standing by 200 feet of the mark. If I’m tacking for the Hackett’s Point can, for example, and the current is flowing down the bay and I’m in light northerly (going up the bay), I will wait until the thing is 45 degrees off my transom before I tack.

How about some more tips on racing in Annapolis; If you were racing, what would be your priorities?

Lots of water. Not beer, until after the race. I spend a lot of time looking at the weather and being really confident on which sails I will want to use and which ones come off the boat. For sure you want to make sure you’re prepped and have an outboard lead of some sort so you have a better slot to control for headsail reaching because you will almost certainly do some headsail reaching. If you’re rounding the mark and rigging up outboard leads, you’re too late. That’s not fast. If I’m going to run a staysail, I’ll make sure that’s set up and ready to go. Change sheets should be ready and available. Practice. If you can, before the race, get the crew together and practice some headsail changes and a spinnaker peel. It’s an opportunity to get out there and shake the cobwebs.

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When approaching the ­leeward gate, there are a lot of possibilities to consider: Which mark to round? How to best round it? What’s the exit and the next windward leg plan? All of this needs to be discussed on the run so your overall game plan is clear well in advance. It’s much easier with a single leeward mark, in which case you can jump ahead to the next ­section—the approach—and focus on techniques used for rounding the left-hand gate, which is likely what you’re doing when there is only one leeward mark. But when there are gate marks, things get complicated, and the tactician has a number of factors to consider. Let’s start by defining your choices.

Closest and most windward mark: If the gate marks are in place before the start, it is usually possible to sight them with a hand-bearing compass and then determine the wind direction that would make them square (add or subtract 90 degrees depending on which way you sighted). The mark that is farther upwind should be closer, similar to the favored end of the starting line.

Most favored from where you are: The mark that is farthest upwind (or highest ladder rung) might not be the most favored from where you are in the moment. In other words, if you approach from one side of the course or the other, the mark which you can round soonest is probably favored for you.

Least crowded: This is important, especially if you’re stuck in a pack of boats.

Cleanest air: With the approach and the exit looking upwind, consider where the ­fewest obstructions and the best wind will be. One good test of the favored-gate mark is when two boats round opposite marks simultaneously and continue on opposite tacks. After the fleet is cleared, if both boats tack, the boat that is ahead probably had cleaner air and perhaps rounded the favored or closest mark.

Most advantageous current: Rounding the down-current mark will usually make an easier and faster turn. However, there may be tactical or strategic advantages to the up-current mark. When the current is running across the course—i.e., from one gate mark toward the other—it’s usually best to round the down-current gate (the mark toward which the current is running) because the rounding will be easier and the boat will get there faster due to the movement of the current.

The Final Approach

The goal here is to work hard to be the inside or farthest ahead boat. One way to do so is to stay out of the “no-go zone” in the middle. Approach one of the gate marks from outside the funnel and maintain boatspeed while avoiding bad air.

We learned about the no-go zone the hard way at an Etchells Worlds. We were caught back in the pack (50ish in a 90-boat fleet) and stuck smack in the middle of the funnel, with boats pouring in from both sides. The race committee had set the marks so close that there were less than six boatlengths between them, which meant the three-boatlength zones for each mark overlapped. We intended to round the left mark, but boats to the left of us were telling us to turn right for the right-gate mark while boats to the right of us, who also wanted the left mark, were telling us to turn left for the left mark. Eventually, the funnel overfilled and the whole group converged, locked rail to rail with no one able to turn. The lesson here is to prioritize being inside—with rights, of course.

Approach the three-boatlength zone with the most speed possible to obtain or break later overlaps. It’s imperative to be vocal if you have rights, or if another boat does not have rights and is trying to take inside room. The observation moment for whether an inside boat obtains an overlap and therefore has rights to room inside is when the leading boat of your group that is overlapped and rounding together reaches the three-boatlength zone. If you have been overlapped or not overlapped with another boat for a minute or more as you approach the leeward gate marks, and it suddenly changes, be sure to let the other boat know you have either broken the overlap or established it as soon as that occurs. And remember, Rule 18.2(e) (Giving Mark-Room) says: “If there is reasonable doubt that a boat obtained or broke an overlap in time, it shall be presumed that she did not” (obtain or break the overlap before the first of the two boats reached the zone).

If a boat tries to establish a late overlap to windward of you, your best defense is to luff them above the three-boat-length zone, and then bear off sharply to break the overlap and get your bow into the zone. This defense works well on both port jibe to the left gate and ­starboard jibe to the right gate.

A common ­mistake is getting pinned beyond the laylines when both boats are outside the zone. Rule 18 (Mark-Room) does not apply until one of the boats is in the zone, so it’s important to understand the nuances of the rules in this situation.

And here’s a quick tip on spinnaker handling when approaching the zone: Count down the drop for the crew to hear. Usually, the tactician will provide a 30-second warning and then a 10-second countdown. Once the count is established, the pit, crew boss or bow person should also voice the countdown. For boats with string takedown systems, the sheet is released (slacked) sometimes as late as 2 on the countdown.

The Strategic Rounding

Once we’ve decided which gate mark we want and where we want to go on the second beat, we have to manage and optimize the rounding strategically. Let’s first tackle the standard reaching approach, which is by far the most common and generally regarded as the easiest method.

Some types of boats may require a brief bear away to unload pressure on the spinnaker and facilitate its drop. So, we need to reach into the mark a little high of the layline, allowing the time we need to finish the bear away, and then head up to a fast reaching course.

Another approach is to jibe around the left-gate mark (aka the “Mexican”). Here, we come in, usually at a hot angle, on starboard with rights until reaching the protection of the three-boatlength zone, where the mark-room rule begins to apply. The spinnaker is usually coming down on the left side of the boat, and a wide jibe rounding makes the douse easy for the crew. The douse is ideally left so late that the boat is already jibed and on port jibe, so the spinnaker falls on the new windward (port) deck.

We perfected Mexican drops on the TP52 Spookie using a string takedown system. The crew trained me to pause the turn, nearly dead downwind, as soon as the boom jibed. At that moment, the chute was dropped onto the port (and now windward) deck. It was ­counterintuitive at first, but it worked so well, I readily adopted the technique. We proceeded to mimic the maneuver with a new name for the right-gate mark called the “Rodeo” drop. That way, the crew always knew exactly what type of drop and rounding to expect. The Rodeo goes like this: We’re on port jibe and want to go around the right-gate mark. We stay wide outside the funnel to ensure an inside overlap at the zone and jibe onto starboard around the mark. The spinnaker is still coming down on the left side of the boat. The Rodeo differs from the Mexican in that the spinnaker will end up to leeward.

A third approach—the “Flop”—is a specialty maneuver for certain asymmetric-rigged boats that is used when you can’t quite lay the mark without jibing, but don’t really want to complete a full jibe. A similar technique can be used on symmetric spinnaker boats, possibly by removing the pole and trimming the sheet and guy outboard by hand or foot. The Flop should only be attempted in moderate winds, flat water and clean air. It does not work in light or heavy winds. In light air, there simply is not enough wind pressure to keep the spinnaker full; in heavy air, it can become unstable and hard to handle, and lead to a ­spectacular wipeout.

When flopping, the boat goes wing-on-wing, meaning the main and asymmetric sails are flying on opposite sides. Ease the tack line by 15 percent of the boatlength as you bear away to by the lee to encourage the asymmetric to fill, and then return to slightly above a dead-downwind course. A successfully performed Flop is a very sharp arrow for your quiver and should be practiced to perfection. There are several variations of the Flop, and it is possible to jibe either the asymmetric or the mainsail. We have even tried a “Double Butterfly” by jibing both the main and asymmetric at the same time. I have never seen it attempted before—or since—and I wouldn’t recommend it again, but it did work.

Executing the Rounding

With approach determined, the next focus is the execution of the rounding. Here’s where we need to address the term “seamanlike.” When the inside boat does not have right of way, it is only allowed enough room to make a seamanlike rounding of the mark (see the definition of “room”), which is a smooth, curved rounding that maintains speed and stays within a boatlength or so from the mark.

The next term to remember is “tactical.” When the inside boat has the right of way, it can make a tactical rounding, which basically means “swing wide and cut close,” all the while keeping maximum speed.

One of our options during our rounding is to intentionally slow down once we reach the zone. A brief slowdown can pay big dividends if it improves your rounding, especially if you would have been forced to the outside of the boat ahead had you maintained your speed. You always want to round behind boats you are giving room to and round close to the mark. The slowdown can be achieved by taking the spinnaker down early, overtrimming the mainsail, or weaving with the helm (using your rudder as a sort of brake). When and how much to slow the boat is an art form ­practiced by team racers.

On rare occasions, we might plan to tack around a leeward gate mark. This is usually a bad idea because it sends us straight back into the funnel, with its attendant bad air and confused sea state. The main reason to tack around a leeward gate mark is to take advantage of a windshift, especially if you have just made a big gain and are unsure it will continue (and may perhaps oscillate back the other direction, thereby ­negating or reducing your gain).

In special circumstances, it’s better to round outside of an inside boat we are giving room to; this we call “Round the Outside” (or “Buffalo Girl”). This move helps ensure we can punch out, getting our bow forward of the inside windward boat. This approach works only if we have our bow well forward of the inside boat as we approach the mark and are ­confident we can maintain a safe leeward position. The technique is simple: Keep speed up by making a more gradual rounding than the inside boat, which might have to do a sharp head-up, causing it to slow. If the inside boat sails over and blankets you, it’s game over. It’s a high-risk move, and if it goes bad, it usually results in losing several more boats rather than the one you tried to get around.

The Exit Is Equally Important

The goals coming out of the gate include the following modes: fast, maximum VMG and boatspeed, with sails always correctly trimmed. As you round, the main must be trimmed ahead of the jib to add helm, thus reducing the amount of rudder angle needed for the turn.

Clear wind: Use your approach with reaching speed to coast slightly high of closehauled in order to hold a lane for as long as necessary while the tactician executes the exit plan. The tactician might want to hold high of the bad air from the boat(s) ahead by pinching in order to keep clear air to either maintain a lifted tack or continue toward the favored side of the course. Or the plan could be to tack as soon as the downwind traffic clears out. It’s rarely advantageous to foot through to leeward of the bad air from the boat(s) ahead.

Advantaged: If the gate you chose is favored (more upwind), then you should be able to tack and cross a boat that rounded the other gate. But just being ahead is not enough reason to tack. You need to continue on the lifted tack, heading toward the favored side of the course, and with clear air.

The ideal exit is all about ­flexibility, having the ability to tack when and if we want to, or just go as fast as possible and execute your strategy like you’d planned it on the run.

Rules at the Leeward Gate

Let’s now have Dave Perry, author of Understanding the Racing Rules of Sailing, take us through the roundings:

When two boats are overlapped as they enter the zone of a leeward gate mark, the inside boat will either be the “keep-clear boat” (windward or port-tack boat) or the “right-of-way boat” (leeward or starboard-tack boat).

An inside keep-clear boat is entitled to “mark-room” from the outside boat under Rule 18.2(b) (Giving Mark-Room), which is room to sail to and around the mark in a “seamanlike way” (see definition of “room”). If it stays within a seamanlike course, it is exonerated by Rule 43.1(b) (Exoneration) if it breaks Rule 10 (Port/Starboard) or Rule 11 (Windward/Leeward). Typically, that means the inside boat needs to stay closer than a boatlength away from the mark throughout its rounding. It is not entitled to room to make a “tactical” swing-wide or cut-close rounding.

On the other hand, an inside right-of-way boat can sail wherever it wants to, subject to a couple of limitations. Because it is a right-of-way boat, it does not need the protection of mark-room. Furthermore, Rule 18.4 (Jibing), which requires inside right-of-way boats to jibe around single leeward marks, does not apply at leeward gate marks (see the second sentence of Rule 18.4). Typically, inside right-of-way boats sail a tactical swing-wide or cut-close rounding. But with no Rule 18.4 at a gate mark, an inside right-of-way boat can sail farther from the mark than its proper course and delay or attack ­outside keep-clear boats during their roundings.

However, there are two ­limitations on how aggressive an inside right-of-way boat can be at a leeward gate mark:

1) If it became the leeward boat from clear astern, Rule 17 (On the Same Tack; Proper Course) applies and requires it to sail no higher than its proper course. Typically, but not always, when a boat enters the zone of a gate mark, it is fastest to round that mark. In that case, the leeward boat would need to jibe when its proper course was to jibe to round the mark.

2) Anytime a right-of-way boat changes course, it has to give the keep-clear boat room to keep clear under Rule 16.1 (Changing Course). If the right-of-way boat is changing course away from the mark, it is not sailing within the mark-room to which it is entitled, and so it is not exonerated by Rule 43.1(b) if it breaks Rule 16.1.

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Mike Ingham explains the process for planning for a regatta strategy using weather, tide, current and geography sources available online.

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I’ve been asking myself this lately: As we emerge from our collective pandemic fog (hopefully sooner rather than later), will we go back to the good old days of regatta sailing? Or will some of us each go off in a new direction, following a path forced upon us by the isolation and caution that came with COVID-19? In my last column (“Rebuilding a Team,” Winter 2022), I suggested that now may be a good time to think about our own sailing teams—they’re makeup and how we can rebuild them to meet new goals. But the second part of this is about defining new goals. For myself, I used this winter to think deeply about my sailing projects and my aspirations. My recent seasons as a professional sailor have been immensely satisfying, competing alongside committed owners and their crews, and doing cool events in amazing places. But over time, I also felt something was missing: I need to do something truly epic. I’ve been doing the checklist regattas, but what about the ol’ bucket list? Wouldn’t now be a good time to fill it? If not now, then when?

I suspect many of us have our favorite sailing events already lined up for this year, which is great. But what about adding in something different, something totally crazy and new? I also suspect we all have fantasies of racing in new events, sailing cool boats and going to exotic locales. Maybe now is the time to do more than dream about it. So, I challenge you to sit and wonder what you’ve always wanted to do with your sailing. Make a list of your secret fantasy events. Racing in the Caribbean is a must. Going to a world ­championship—in any class—is super cool. Sailing on a new foiling boat? Completing a long ocean passage? Taking up wing foiling? Oh, the options available to us sailors—there are so many.

I’m sure we all have these kinds of aspirations percolating in our minds, but it’s so easy to keep doing what’s familiar, sailing in the same class or on the same boat for a long time, telling ourselves that’s how we get better, how we get to the top. Yes, it’s more difficult to try something new, but the rewards of exploring what else is possible can help us improve in ways we never expected. We may have to make compromises to break away and put these desires in motion, like finding a new sailing partner, getting into better shape, sailing a smaller boat, or cutting back on something else.

I am. For 2022, I’ve chosen to reduce my pro sailing commitments to make more time for races on my own. Specifically, I have always wanted to do all of the classic ocean races. While I have done many of the big ones, including the Fastnet, Transpac, Around Britain and Ireland, and the Bermuda Race, this year I am entering the Rolex Middle Sea Race and the Race to Alaska on my own boats (both of them shorthanded). For the Middle Sea Race, I will ­campaign a 33-footer, not the larger, faster yachts I usually sail. The 650-mile course can be quite challenging, especially doublehanded, with periods of very strong wind and no wind. But I’m told the scenery is fantastic, including the volcanoes of Etna and Stromboli, and the competition is always top-shelf. The challenge of preparing a boat from thousands of miles away and somehow delivering it to Malta will be substantial.

And for the adventuresome Race to Alaska, I’ve entered my Riptide 44. The unique rules of this race will require me to remove the engine and figure out a means of human propulsion. The innovative course from Victoria, Canada, to Ketchikan, Alaska, can be completed either east or west of Vancouver Island. My plan is to take the westerly route, which will put Dark Star in the open North Pacific Ocean for more than 500 miles. This, by the way, is one of the roughest patches of ocean around. Why would I willingly do this? Because it is a crazy challenge that I find fascinating. And nobody has ever completed this route on a racing boat before. In 2023, I plan to do at least two more epic events, which means I will be paying the bills rather than getting paid, but it also means I can create the program I want. Bucket list, indeed!

If the last two years has taught me anything, it is a recognition of how much sailing enriches my life, and how grateful I am to have the chance to race as often as I do and be with our sailing friends. I’m excited to take myself beyond my comfort zone, embrace these new sailing adventures, and do something amazing. None of us knows the future, so I say let’s get on with the now.

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The past two years have been strange ones, on land and on the water. Big-boat racing essentially stopped on Puget Sound in March 2020, stranding any racing ambitions for my teammates and me on the 44-foot Paul Bieker-designed Dark Star. Gradually, I figured out a way to race the boat doublehanded, and a few local events opened to allowing shorthanded crews. It turned out to be a really fun period, but during this time my regular teammates moved on to other boats. I couldn’t blame them as I had nothing to offer.

One of the first fully crewed events on Puget Sound was the Seattle YC’s Grand Prix Regatta in October, and for this important local event I decided to resume Dark Star’s full-team race program, which meant I had to put together a crew, something I had not done for a while. I wondered whether I should simply call up my old mates and get the band back together or try a different approach.

I chose the latter.

In my career as a professional sailor, I have been involved in many new teams and rebuilds. Usually, the motivation of the owner is to reset his or her team, create new energy or a new identity, as well as improve performance. When involved in this process, I think about the skills and experience each crew brings, but also their attitude and team focus. Are they truly interested in learning and improving, and helping the whole team get better? Are they able to admit to their own mistakes? How will they interact with the other crew? Now that I was picking my own team, I had a chance to put these ­principles to work on Dark Star. 

But where to start? First, I needed a trusted lieutenant. Two obvious choices were my longtime friend Jay Renehan and Alyosha Strum-Palerm, a 23-year-old rising star from Tacoma, Washington. Both are expert Tasar sailors and had raced with me on my doublehanded adventures. They were familiar with me and Dark Star. Renehan, however, had just bought a J/111, so he was out. Strum-Palerm eagerly agreed, so we set to filling in the crew.

Next, we had to determine which positions we needed to fill. If we could find a good driver, I was happy to do pit, runner and tactics. Strum-Palerm could steer, but he preferred to trim jibs and kites. While either of us could have chosen to drive, we both felt it would be more interesting to take on other roles and find a good helm. Strum-Palerm suggested we contact Scott Smith, a local legend who is one of the most talented and experienced sailors around. I called him and he eagerly agreed. Now we had a first-class helm who was also a good starter. But he is my age, and it’s always good to get some young blood into a program.

The next day, the phone rang. It was my friend David Schmidt, who called to ask about racing on Dark Star, and whether there were any races coming up. Schmidt had done mast and midbow for Dark Star for years, back when we had a full crew. He knew the job, and is super-enthusiastic and in great shape—perfect. He also mentioned that his friend Chris Burd was looking to go sailing again. Burd is young and super-fit, but he’s also experienced on the bow. He was a previous winner of the Race to Alaska, so he was clearly fearless and tough as well—I like that in a bow person.

The crew was coming together nicely. I had the young gun, the grizzled veteran, the eager and athletic mast person, and the rock-solid bow person. But who could trim the main, probably the most important job on the boat? I asked Stasi Burzycki, the son of an old friend of mine and an up-and-coming Tasar talent. I realized it would be a stretch for him to trim main on a technical boat like Dark Star because most of his experience was with dinghies, but I knew he had the focus and the feel. He eagerly agreed, and the roles were filled.

We sailed two afternoons in October as practice, and it was clear we had all the pieces to succeed with our six-person squad. We worked together well, everyone got along, and there was a lot of mutual respect. For the Grand Prix, we faced a small but competitive fleet of similar boats, and the regatta had great conditions. We ended up tied for first and won the tiebreaker. 

After the awards, I reflected on the qualities that had created a strong team: We had no big egos (except maybe mine), but everyone had enough experience to do their job well. Equally important, each crew had to stretch their skills to really excel. We all trusted each other to do our job well while also helping each other improve. This combination of trust, experience and continuous learning keeps it fun and rewarding while still challenging. It was satisfying to be part of a new group coming together so smoothly. Even if we had not won the Grand Prix, it was still amazing to see each of us have a great sailing experience, becoming better sailors—and a better team
—along the way.

Maybe you are looking to change up your team for the next season. I would suggest following a similar approach: Find good sailors, maybe even some younger ones, but make sure they have the right attitude, and think about how they will work together. Pick a team that can have fun but also help each other improve every time you sail. Then cultivate a culture of respect and continuous learning. Like me, you will find yourself smiling every time you step on board your boat.

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The problem with conventional jibes, where the main and spinnaker cross the boat simultaneously, is that the mainsail acts like a big wall, pushing air the wrong way across the spinnaker. That makes it harder to fill the spinnaker on the new jibe. And the longer it takes to fill, the longer you’ll be sailing slowly.

Picture this: You’re about to execute a conventional jibe, from starboard to port. The wind is flowing from right to left across the spinnaker—from luff to leech. Jibe to port and the wind now flows from left to right, still from luff to leech.

Now let’s consider the mainsail. While on starboard jibe, the wind flows across the main from right to left—again, from luff to leech. But as you jibe, the main starts pushing air ahead of it as it crosses the boat. That pushed air hits the spinnaker, which is also trying to fill at that moment, from luff to leech—in this case, from left to right. That means that, until you settle onto the new jibe, the flow moving across the spinnaker is countered by the flow created by the main. The net result? It becomes much harder to fill the spinnaker—no flow, no drive—meaning the sail is not working at its potential through the jibe.

Enter the late-main jibe. As its name suggests, you jibe the spinnaker first, then the main. Done right, the spinnaker is not affected by the main and can keep you on a faster track downwind.

Here’s how it’s done. As the boat bears away into the jibe, ease the active sheet so the spinnaker is just curling. Typically, that ease is a little ahead of the turn. Keep the sheet tensioned until the clew of the spinnaker is at the forestay. Simultaneously trim the new sheet. For a few seconds, the new sheet will be pulling slightly against the old sheet. The idea is to create a direct load transfer from the old sheet to the new, so don’t just let the old sheet go before the clew reaches the headstay. Do that and the spinnaker will go out in front of the boat, luff, and you’ll lose speed.

Rapidly trim the new sheet until the clew reaches the new leeward shroud. At that point, the boat should be pointing just by the lee, and the spinnaker should start filling. You might even end up wing-on-wing for a second. The helm watches the spinnaker clew, and once the spinnaker starts to fill, they will typically say, “Finish it off!” That is the cue to jibe the main.

The key is to initiate the flow across the spinnaker and get the spinnaker full and pulling before jibing the main. Done right, the main should almost float from one side to the other. Jibing the main a little late is always better than letting it cross too early. If you let the main hit the other side before the spinnaker fills, you’ll end up back in conventional jibing territory. It’s even OK if you’re wing-on-wing for a few moments.

In light air, your boom is probably not going to be all the way out because you’re reaching a little. When you turn down into the jibe, ease the main. That not only aligns the main with the new wind angle, but also allows you to bear off farther yet before the main wants to cross the boat. If you end up sailing by the lee, or the main wants to cross the boat early, have someone hold the boom out, especially if it’s bumpy. As a general rule, if the main wants to cross too early, try easing the mainsheet more before the turn down to jibe.

As the breeze increases to around 12 knots, a late-main jibe is easy because the apparent wind drops as you bear off into the jibe, reducing pressure on the main. Now when you bring the main across, the boom should land gently on the new leeward side. It’s not pushing any air, and throughout the jibe, the spinnaker is pulling you dead downwind, at speed, toward the mark.

At 15 knots, you’ll be sailing deeper, so the boom is going to be pretty far out when the jibe is initiated. If the main comes crashing across, bring the boom in a little as you go into the jibe. At 16 to 17 knots, when you turn down, trim the main instead of easing it. If the boom is over the leeward corner of the boat and the driver turns down to where you’re almost by the lee, the wind on the leeward side of the boom will help it across. In stronger winds, tail the mainsheet 100 percent of the time when bringing it across. When it lands on the new side, be sure to ease it immediately to avoid shock-loading the boom and mainsheet tackle.

RELATED: How to Use Jib Telltales

The top windspeed for a late-main jibe depends on your boat. If you have running backstays, when it gets windy, you’ll probably need to do what’s called a “priority main jibe.” That’s where the first goal is to get the main across. Above 20 knots, you might not be able to pull the main across, and sailing wing-on-wing might be really difficult, so there’s an upper limit, but it can be pretty high. If you lose control coming out of the jibe, you’re over the limit.

For the helm, a late-main jibe is great because it’s a slow jibe. It gives you more time to find the correct exit angle, and there are clear indicators of how the turn is going. Turn down until you’re by the lee, keep the boom out, see the spinnaker fill on the new side, and then say, “Jibe the main.” The landing is pretty easy because the full spinnaker helps keep the bow down, and the main just kind of flops across. ν

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Accurately calling puffs and shifts really separates good sailors from the best. Andrew Campbell is among the latter. A while back, I sailed with him in the Lipton Cup on a shifty San Diego day. The onboard conversation revealed his uncanny ability to understand what the wind was doing. He’d say, “Nice right shift coming in 15 seconds,” and then, “Four, three, two, one—here’s the righty!” As that puff hit, we eased sails, the boat accelerated, and as we headed up to closehauled, we trimmed in sails. It was as if we were on rails. Fast-forward a bit, and he’d say: “Next puff is a header, five seconds out. Looks like a big one…three, two, one—here’s the header.” He was spot-on every time.

Seeing wind and anticipating its direction, like Campbell does, are two different skills. Seeing the wind involves finding the best wind on the course and positioning your boat in it. It’s the skill you need for good tactics. Anticipating a shift’s direction is a higher-level skill, one requiring detecting the puff’s angle as it approaches your boat.

Seeing the Wind

Two basics: First, stand up. You’ll often see top sailors such as Bill Hardesty, Michael Menninger and Tom Slingsby standing just before the race, positioning themselves as high as they can, either on the deck or boom, and looking upwind. They’re trying to see everything as if from a drone’s perspective because it’s much easier to see breeze from higher up. Coupled with constantly asking the crew where the most wind is, they plan to start and position their boat in the most favorable wind. Second, wear polarized sunglasses. They really help reduce glare and allow you to better see the breeze on the water as well as its edges. Simple stuff, but they’re both key to taking the next steps in reading the wind.

Finding the Best Wind

Finding puffs is especially important in light air because a small increase in breeze is a large percentage of the overall wind increase. Say you’re sailing in 4 knots and get a 2-knot puff. That’s a 50 percent increase. But if you’re sailing in 10 knots and you get a 2-knot puff, it’s only a 20 percent increase. To read the water, start by looking at the color contrasts—the darker it is, the windier it is. That’s pretty easy to see in flat-water venues. But be careful that sun glare or cloud shadows on the water don’t mislead you. In light air and sunny conditions, the sun glare can look a little bit like wind but might not be. Look for sparkles on the water, kind of a shimmering, diamond look. That’s wind. If you are concerned that lighting is affecting your view of the wind, try reaching down the starting line to see if the glare travels with you. If so, you know it’s just the sun.

Seeing puffs is trickier when it’s choppy or wavy because you’re seeing only the tops of the waves. There’s a lot less surface area compared with smooth water. It’s like being in the mountains. You can see other mountaintops but not much in the valleys. In chop and waves, you have to rely on what little you can see along with the heel angle of other boats on the course and previous knowledge from tuning and racing that day.

One trick to figuring out where there’s more wind on days when it’s hard to see is to look at the course as you would a whiteboard. If the same side of the course pays upwind and downwind, you can conclude that side has more wind. If opposite sides of the course pay upwind and downwind—course left versus course right—it’s likely a difference in current.

Anticipating Puff Direction

When spotting the wind and calling tactics, visualize where you have to put your boat to get into the meat of the puff or wind line and how to stay in it as long as possible. For starters, you need to recognize if the puff is moving or stationary. Some wind lines just sit there—they look like columns on the water. When that happens, sail into it for a while before tacking. The question then becomes, where do you need to tack to maximize your time in the puff? I like to picture the wind line from a drone perspective and pick the course that maximizes my time in the wind line, with the goal of sailing toward the mark as much as possible.

If the puff is moving, determine its direction of travel. I always think of a big arrow superimposed on the puff aiming in the direction it’s moving, and that arrow tells me the puff’s actual wind direction. Then, there’s a simple rule of thumb for shifts: If the puff is headed at my bow, coming straight at me, it’s going to be a header; if it’s coming over my windward shoulder, coming down to me, it’s going to be a lift. In a shifty breeze, where a puff is moving toward your bow, you might want to tack when it hits because you’ll be getting headed, and your new path will keep you in the breeze as it flows over you. Conversely, if the puff is coming over your shoulder, you’ll get lifted, so don’t tack. Before entering a puff, ask yourself, As we enter it, is this going to be a quick tack or slow? If it’s a fast-­moving puff and you get headed, you’ll probably tack, especially if the other tack is the long tack to the mark. If it’s a slow mover, you might have to sail into it a ways.

Consider a few examples: You’re sailing on port tack, toward the right side of the course, and a puff is coming at you, from the right and directly at your bow. You know that when the puff hits, it’s likely going to be a header. But there are rare instances where a puff will not be the shift you think it will be. Say you were already thinking of tacking because you were getting toward the right corner. The other tack is becoming long, so when the moving header puff hits, roll straight into a tack. If you’re a tactician, knowing that is great because if you’re thinking about tacking anyway and that header puff is coming, you can roll into a tack right when the jib bubbles and save a few degrees of steering. For example, let’s say you tack through 90 degrees and get a 20-degree header. If you just turn right when the jib bubbles, it means you’re now tacking through 70 degrees. You’re making less of a turn, and it’s a faster tack. Plus, you don’t spend any time on the headed tack sailing away from the mark; you just roll into the lifted tack on the other board, and off you go—a huge gain.

Now let’s say you’re sailing on port tack again, to the right, and over your left shoulder, on the windward side, a puff is rolling down toward you. That will be a lift. If a lift is coming, the goal is to generate speed out of it. Right as it hits, head up a little in anticipation, and ease the main and jib slightly to pick up speed. If you get a 10-degree lift, all of a sudden you’re tight reaching for a moment and the boat really takes off. Then bring the sails back in as you come up to the new closehauled course, ideally going above target speed. In this tactical example, you know you will continue sailing straight for a little longer, hoping to get a header before you get too deep into the right corner.

Clouds can also help you anticipate differences in wind strength and potential shifts. In tropical venues such as Miami, you’ll often see cumulus clouds. These puffy, white clouds are usually sucking wind toward them—inflow—and grow in size throughout the day. Because of this, there’s typically less wind under those clouds and on their edges compared with areas of the course in the sun. So, if the left side of the beat is covered with cumulus clouds and the right side is open and sunny, it’s usually best to head for the sunny skies, where there’ll be more wind. I experienced this in an Etchells regatta in Miami. Our team started at the boat and headed right into the open sunny skies. Most of the 50-boat fleet went left, so my risk meter was going off, but I stuck to the basic “sail in more wind” tenant of tactics, and it paid off. Our team, along with a handful of others who went right, was 50 meters ahead of the fleet at the top mark.

What about when there are dark rain clouds? These clouds have rain pouring out—­outflow—and are pushing wind in all directions as they dump rain and wind. They’re often moving pretty quickly, and if one is approaching the course, you can usually make big gains by sailing toward it to meet the increase of wind. Just like a moving puff, the wind direction is typically flowing in the direction the cloud is moving, in front of its leading edge. When you intercept the wind, the basic tactical rules apply: Tack if it’s a big header, which is often the case as you approach it head-on. If it’s a big lift, keep sailing. When the storm cloud has passed over, the wind will usually lighten and shift back, so stay away from the backside of those clouds if possible.

In addition to getting clues about the wind from the water and sky, you can learn from other boats. In your prestart tuning, note how fast other boats are moving, how much they’re heeled over, and their angle. This helps you identify locations of more wind or a more favorable shift. For example, if they’re near a shoreline and they’re getting a geographic shift, you’ll see that their angle near that shore is often bow-up compared with boats away from the shoreline. Continue those observations while racing because you can use the knowledge gained during your second lap and in the next race.

Downwind

Sailing downwind requires a slightly different type of anticipation because you’re moving with the wind, staying in puffs longer, and the approaching wind is usually behind you. Constantly look aft to locate the most wind, and position your boat so that a new breeze catches and overtakes you. Again, you need to see the size and shape of the puff and the direction it’s traveling. Using this information, you either go straight and let it come to you, or maybe slightly change course up or down a little to meet it sooner. Sometimes you need to jibe to intercept the best breeze. Simply put, the play is to let the puff come to you or jibe at the right time to meet it. With faster, planing boats, and especially catamarans, looking aft isn’t necessarily the answer because you’re going so fast. On a fast boat, look slightly ahead and to windward, similar to upwind sailing. When you meet the puff, you might be going fast enough that you can sail the whole run in it much more so than you would on a slower keelboat. Always work to maximize your time in those puffs. And if you must jibe to get to a puff, time the jibe to intersect the puff at a point that will allow you to spend the most time in it.

Sometimes, in a boat like a Melges 24, you get a nice puff, and 30 to 40 seconds later, you need to jibe to sail back through the puff to maximize your time in it. That’s where the art form of downwind tactics comes in. The tactician who can position their boat in a way to maximize their time in a given puff is sailing the most direct route to the next mark. On puffy and shifty days, focus on looking for the large puffs rather than the smaller, short-lived bursts. It’s easy to get tricked into setting up for a short-lived puff only to lose long term to those who intercepted the big puff somewhere else on the run.

The final consideration when looking for wind and anticipating its direction—upwind as well as downwind—is to think about lanes and boats around you. If you find the best puff on the course but then get tacked on, especially while sailing the tack that’s taking you most directly toward the mark, you’ll miss out on all of the potential gains. The best tacticians position their boat in the best breeze while also trying to sail in big, fat lanes. If you can position your boat in the most wind, keep a nice lane, and sail toward the mark, you’ve got the tactical trifecta.

Tip

Every morning, I wash my sunglasses with warm, soapy water, then rinse them and dry them off with a microfiber cloth. I do that every day, 100 percent of the time, to help me best see the wind. If it’s a breezy and wet day, a secondary benefit of this trick is you can rinse them with fresh water on the boat to quickly clean them again without having to touch the lenses. Water droplets tend to shed right off.

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