THE rain had scared away the sandflies.
There was little wind, ‘viz’ was down to around 50 metres. In keeping with weather lore, the fourth Annual Easter Regatta began in far from perfect conditions. Then again, none of the skippers and crew seemed to care, for, at the sharp retort of a gun, an assortment of around twenty boats sounded off a cacophony of tooters, foghorns, wolf whistles, yippy-i-ooohs and giddyups and, with that, the regatta got underway, faster than long weekend traffic.
After weeks of anticipation, preparation and vast sums spent on diesel and a new fuel filter, I had been surprised to discover this was in fact a sailing event. I have been a gigantic fan of the Sydney Hobart race since, well, forever and at the risk…