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Showing results for tags 'handicap'.
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Our local club uses the PHRF handicap figures. There is a listing for the Nacra 450 Turbo (close in specs to the 460) but not the 460. Does anyone know of an active, accurate figure for the 460 that could be converted to a PHRF figure? Thanks In Advance
Floating Duck posted a topic in Sailing AnarchyWhy do some hull/rig designs don't seem to "sail to their rating" under VPP-driven handicap systems? ex. Pogo 12.5 Or put another way, why do some hull/rig designs DO sail to their rating, ex. Sydney 38 Barring philosophical discussions of a rating system, could it be an overall systemic rating issue of designs that have a large difference (delta) between their upwind and downwind speeds - which current rating systems are incapable of rating appropriately? I primarily ask because I am looking to have a custom boat designed (by Mr. Perry if anyone is wondering, haven't reach out to him so don't tell him yet ). Looking to race competitively under IRC/ORC but I want something that is not a turd. Looking for serious beam, very low B/D, and a large amount of movable water ballast - all of which don't seem to work under current rating systems? And no, a J120 is not fast nor do I want that. Bieker's Riptide are fast, a SC52 is fast, Pogo 40's are fast (in heavy wind), Rodger Martin's Grey Wolf is fast, and Bob Perry's Stealth Chicken is fast.
I was having a gander at the Paralympic sailing the other day and very good it was too. It also made me realise just how handicapped us so called "able bodied" types really are. My wife has been in some form of assisted transport since childhood (polio victim of the 1960,s), and although a very sweet natured and highly intelligent woman in normal circumstances she can become an absolute demon when obstructed by ignorance or sheer bad manners. People don't seem to realise that she is in fact in control (very precise control) of a personal armoured car. Supermarkets are her favourite hunting ground where on one occasion she left a swathe of empty shelves in the canned goods section after being ignored repeatedly by two chatting employees to please pass her an item she couldn't reach. The supervisor was most apologetic as she sweetly explained that she had lost control trying to reach the said item after being given no help by the said employees. On a more recent occasion during a home visit from social services regarding a replacement for her faulty and now rather old wheelchair, she blithely parked one of her front wheels on the foot of a condecending "expert" who seemed to be of the opinion that "Polio" was a was a severe mental condition affecting only those with an IQ of "demented simian" level or below. The poor chap soon learned that 140 kilos of wheelchair and apparently helpless operator are not to be argued with and duly hobbled off to his car with all paperwork completed to my wifes satisfaction. He even apologised for spilling his tea into his own lap. She's a strong headed woman is my lass and I stand behind her all the way. I certainly don't stand in front of her just in case gets that wicked gleam in her eye. This brings me neatly along to the art of sailing with disabilities. I used to help out with transport and unpaid crewing now and again for an old guy who had a lovely little gaff cutter moored in the Swale behind the Isle of Sheppey on Englands Thames estuary. He was a curmudgeonly old sod with a love for life, sailing in all weathers, and good beer. He had one or two faults about his person, the least of which was a tin leg. The tin leg was of no great handicap to him at all and in fact most of his sailing was done single handed but it was a severe handicap to anyone who ever sailed with him. He only used to pick up a crew if he was overnighting across to Holland or France to stock up on booze or a particularly pungent Dutch pipe tobacco that he used to stuff into a pipe with a bowl the size of a marine toilet. Day watches were fine with the hot rum toddies running like a good following sea but what old George used to love was taking the late watches from midnight onwards and that is where the handicap came in. Usually after a long days boozing at the helm it was bliss to roll into your sack and let the skipper take charge during the wee small hours. Not with George. He would balance the sails beautifully and let the boat sail herself to within five or six degrees of her course and then brace himself in the companionway and let the boat roll beneath him. That's when the hapless crew became handicapped. His tin leg had a squeak to starboard. It never squeaked to port, only starboard which to Georges mind gave him right of way to squeak whenever he felt like squeaking. It wasn't a door like squeak or even a mouse like squeak. It was the squeak of screeching fingernails on glass. It was the squeak of a frequency honed over eons to sever nerve endings, shatter teeth, and to turn even the most exhausted of crew into quivering lumps of jelly. The tin leg was also a time keeper. It squeaked for 1 hour, there would be a silence for 30 minutes while George sat down and had a nip or two from his flask and then, like the seven bells of hell from naval days past, there would be a CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, as George bashed the dottle from his empty pipe on his artificial appendage prior to filling it up and restarting the whole sequence all over again. I discussed every measure with George regarding a remedy but he would have none of it. "Thart's a delikit instrument son and we don't wants ter go meddlin wi' them now, do we" he would say. Old George is long gone now and the last time I saw his lovingly kept boat she was hauled up on the mud looking neglected with a for sale sign hanging over the stern. I swear I heard a squeak as I walked past.