Fastnet Race: On Board Hissy Fit from the Dazcat Media Perspective

The dock lines slipped in the morning light amidst cheery calls between the boats. The Southwest multihulls, joined by French trimaran ‘Black Cap’, had gathered through the previous day at their traditional spot further up the river from the main event, in East Cowes. Gentle banter and jokes flitted up and down the Folly pontoons in the light morning airs as the smell of cooked breakfasts hovered over the boats, mingling with coffee, anticipation, and that unmistakable mix of nerves and excitement that only a Fastnet start morning can bring.

But there was nothing much gentle about what lay ahead. From the moment Hissy Fit pointed her sharp bows toward the start line we were fully committed to whatever was coming our way, and whatever we needed to do to get her around and back home safely – as fast as she would fly. This was Fastnet 2025. Centenary year for RORC and 25 years of Dazcats in the race.

As on board most race boats, it begins long before the gun. Job lists poured over and one by one ticked off, sail choices debated, weather files re-checked, equipment inspections and last minute adjustments, coffee drunk standing up and on the move – all building towards crossing that line as ready for it as possible. There’s a particular buzz on Hissy Fit when she knows she’s going racing, light on the helm, eager, coiled.

We were at that point, starting to circle with the other multihulls and the thrill of the excitement all around us – poised and ready, deeply entrenched in the scene around us and what was about to happen…When a desperate sounding message flashed up on my phone. A multihull we didn’t know, fresh from Biscay adventures, was just around the corner from the yard back home in Cornwall and was asking for help to get to the yard having suffered engine failure somewhere out there. It was Saturday and almost all of us were here, ready to race. We’re not a rescue service but somehow ignoring it didn’t feel like an option. Hoping to hand over the problem I called Daz who wasn’t racing but it transpired he was out on a bike ride, I then tried Nick. Happily he was on site and immediately took it on, well done Nick and thanks!

Remote rescue handover complete, my focus returned to the scenes around us. I briefly wondered whether that sailor had any notion of how nearly they didn’t get any assistance, or of the scene from which their rescue was orchestrated. Probably not, and probably at that moment in time nothing could be more dramatic than any Biscay induced sagas they had just been through. I was happy to have been able to help and it added a slightly bizarre little twist and additional drama to my race start, if somewhat distracting from the job in hand. The rest of the crew, heads fully in the moment, were mostly oblivious to the little personal (work) drama that had just unfolded with the most inappropriate timing, but I was able to start my race easy in the knowledge that one worn out sailor could now sleep away the worries at anchor while waiting for the tide and Nick.

The race start itself is always a fantastic chaos, even when you’re prepared for it. With around 400 race boats on the water and probably as many spectators the atmosphere is almost crackling with the anticipation and the hundreds of crew coiled and ready to fire. It’s virtually impossible to capture in words, images or even video. I’m lucky, there are enough people on board that I get to focus on the media while we’re surrounded by all the action. Six of us in total. (If you want to know who’s on board Hissy Fit and all the Multihull Centre boats read the pre-race write up ‘Meet the boats and Crew’). The crew are doing a brilliant job manoeuvring Hissy Fit through the pre-start mayhem while assessing our best strategy at the gun, but in media world there’s so much going on in every direction it’s hard to know which way to look, or which camera(s) to use. The Ultimes are spectacular and seeing our Dazcats and Multihull Centre boats sailing across the line alongside them was truly special. If I existed in a world that revolved around media needs, we would ideally have been a lot closer to the main action. But in the event Hissy Fit placed herself beautifully and made a stunning start, which of course was very much more satisfying than capturing the dream media -plenty of non-race boats out with cameras to do that. Having said that, since it’s really my only task at this point in the race (along with regular provision of snacks and hydration) I do feel a certain amount of pressure to get it right.

I wonder briefly if I’ve overdone it with the camera situation. Over previous years I’d perfected the art of holding a GoPro in one hand to shoot video and the phone in the other to capture stills, with one arm wrapped around a stay, or similar – my dad’s voice always ringing in my ears: ‘one hand for you and one for the boat’. But, frustrated by not being able to get the close ups I so wanted, this year I’ve added a DSLR Nikon with telephoto lens to the collection. Cumbersome, just a bit. Addition of complicated decisions? Yes, as it’s impossible to operate three cameras and hold on at the same time. Now two straps around my neck and one around my wrist, all potentially trying to kill me or tangle themselves in something or someone during a manoeuvre. Always mindful that if something goes wrong and all hands are needed for the boat, the equipment will need to be dumped as quickly as possible and regardless of cost to kit or footage, so I can actually move around without hinderance. Focus.

In the meantime, back in the reality of my world, everything is bouncing. A lot. Need to hold on, hold cameras steady and stay out of the way of deck activity while trying to get a good selection of media…Don’t bang the big lens. Or get salt on the camera. Don’t let any of the straps get caught on something and strangle yourself, or worse…Traffic everywhere, beautiful boats of all kinds, spray flying, the Solent doing what it does best: testing patience and precision in equal measure and early tactical choices play out for better or for worse almost immediately. For some, setting the pace to their whole race. Hissy Fit stretches her legs early, accelerating cleanly through the chop, slipping past the familiar landmarks – as we exit the Solent the spectators at Hurst are so close you can almost smell their aftershave. This is where a Dazcat feels alive, powered up, balanced, making speed without drama. There are Dazcat supporters in amongst the crowds onshore. Ian Fraser, designer of Dart Catamarans and Dazcat’s first ever sponsor among them, and they send a photo of us passing. We look pretty slick and it’s slightly to see ourselves from there in almost real time!

Out past the Needles in company with the larger monohulls, their crews lined up on the rails looking spectacular but we’re oh so glad we aren’t them contemplating the next 700 miles in the same position. The race settles into its first rhythms. We stay in a group with some of the bigger monohulls for quite a long time. Watch systems start up straight away, helming rotates through what quickly comes to feel a perfectly natural pattern, meals are mostly functional rather than social though they’re always enjoyed. The motion offshore is different: longer, heavier, and Hissy Fit finds her groove, driving hard but comfortably in the upwind slogs. She rewards good trim and focus, and she lets you know when something’s off. There’s no hiding from the boat (or skipper!) in a race like this. Negotiating the tricky wind shifts and crucial tidal gates is what can win or lose you the race and Simon is somehow silently processing all these decisions along with everything else going on around him. Many have dedicated navigators, but not Hissy Fit, though Simon often talks things through with his crew inviting contributions to the discussions. Mostly, my inputs are based on keeping the skipper and crew as well fed and hydrated as possible, so they are as fit as is feasible for the decision making. Someone has to do it and that is where my strength lies, not in race tactics, so that’s what I do between media when I’m not on watch or asleep.

As the miles roll on, losing a sense of ‘real’ time creeps in quietly. Sleep comes in short, hard-earned bursts. Even on Hissy Fit everything is slightly damp, nothing seems to stay quite where you left it especially in the dark, time compresses into course and sail changes, and meals are eaten as fast as possible, coffee often left to go cold and salty. Almost immediately pre-race resolutions to change clothes regularly and other similar niceties are soon forgotten and, as usual, all the clean clothes remain unused in the bag. There are times when it’s tempting to just lie down in your wet stuff, but you know you’ll wake up cold and stiff so it’s worth the effort to remove outer layers and climb under the duvet. Inner layers stay firmly in place until the halcyon day of sunshine and surfing just before the end of the race. The weather isn’t extreme enough to necessitate sleeping in the saloon fully kitted in readiness when on standby during the first hour after coming off watch. Crew morale stays high, helped by the simple joy of sailing a boat that wants to be here just as much as you do, even when it does feel like a long slow beat. Every headland and its associated currents, every expanse to cross or TSS to negotiate – they all become little mini races in themselves to achieve whatever goal we’ve set in terms of heading or timing, catching the breeze or tide. Add to this the tightly packed fleet with competition always in sight – a situation where you are always either making on someone or someone is making on you. The race never pauses for slices of luscious Madagascan Vanilla cheesecake, though Hissy Fit’s crew might have done that once or twice.

In Dazcat Media’s world there have been a few distinct changes since the last Fastnet in 2019. Luca will talk you through the technicalities of the race and the tactical decisions made on board the winning 1295 Minor Swing, but I want to discuss more pressing matters – socks. More specifically, the discovery of waterproof socks. A total gamechanger. Even in Hissy Fit’s ‘luxurious’ accommodation, the floor is inevitably always wet as you quickly strip off your outer wet kit to crawl into your bunk for a couple of hours. For me, this has always meant that no matter how I tried to keep them dry, life on board always included wet socks with permanently wet feet. As most of you probably know, wet socks make getting boots on and off even harder in the darkness of the forward cabin as the bow repeatedly buries itself coming off waves at 20knots…It was with great relief when I realised I’d solved this particular battle with the newly purchased waterproof socks. Although I’d purchased two pairs of these recently discovered essentials, once on the first pair didn’t come off until Cherbourg and inside them my feet remained perfectly dry. I was slightly afraid of what might unleash when I finally took them off but even that wasn’t too bad, or maybe by then I’d become immune to my own aromas…Either way, I’m left wondering how long have these marvels of modern clothing existed and how I have only just discovered them? As so often happens I find myself wishing my dad was still around to share this invention with – I clearly remember his excitement and delight when he first found disposable paper underwear, sometime in the early 70s – last centrury’s solution to soggy socks! I’m thrilled that things have moved on as I never was in with the paper solution.

The second change for the better was having a crew of six on board. This meant that even with my self-imposed galley duties and additional media responsibilities, there was more sleep to be had than on previous Fastnet races, always a bonus and it felt like absolute luxury to have three hours off at a time.

More crew on board also meant that for the first time I would have to share what I’d come to think of as ‘my’ ensuite – the berth in the bow that no one else actually wants to sleep in when we’re racing as it spends so much time airborne. But it comes with its own head, a luxury not to be turned down, and airborne doesn’t really bother me so I thought it was safely mine alone, indefinitely, but with Beth joining the crew my time in splendid and solitary comfort was over. Beth is tiny, so the fact that it’s not a full width double wasn’t really a problem, though Simon had somewhat ludicrously suggested that as it is double length, perhaps Beth could sleep right up in the very pointy bit of the bow. This idea was soon put away.

However, being so small proved to have a couple of downsides for Beth. Firstly, she spent quite a lot of time in-flight. Apart from my rather obvious additional size, which helps to maintain gravitational pull, sticking myself to the mattress so sleep can happen through anything has become second nature. Beth, being both light as a feather and new to offshore overnight passages, had no such tricks to call on and so spent much her time ‘asleep’ in mid-air. When not in mid-air she was at mortal risk of being crushed – I don’t do waking up particularly well and when groggy from sleep cut short, I repeatedly forgot she was there. With my internal autopilot in action, perching on the edge of the bunk to pull on the (now not soggy) boots meant that on several occasions I sat right on top of her, water-logged waterproofs and all, causing us both to jump and squeal in surprise. I would apologise profusely, and then promptly forget again the next time… So sorry Beth, I did warn you it might be challenging!

So, I’m not entirely sure how it was for Beth, but having spent almost my entire sailing life as the only woman on board I have to admit that I was a little nervous about how it would be. I discovered, somewhat to my surprise, that it was nice to have a female crew mate. Someone you could have slightly different conversations with, a quiet mutual understanding.

Anticipation builds as we approach Ireland, but getting there seems interminable as we tack our way painfully towards the turning point. The Fastnet Rock is never just another mark – its majestic form arrives with weight, whether emerging through mist and darkness, stark and raw in its clarity under some rare Irish sunshine or bleak, dark and imposing as its most familiar guise. Regardless of its mood, weather, tide and traffic all converge as the spectacular features come into view, and suddenly after what feels like a lifetime slopping up into the light airs, the race feels very real again. Rounding the rock is a moment you don’t forget: awe, relief, pride and focus snapping back as the bow turns for home, the wind moves astern and the race resets.

The return leg brings its own battles. Boats converge, positions compress, final tidal gates present win or possible all-is-lost scenarios, and still every decision matters –  perhaps more than ever. Some that had lost pace in the upwind are suddenly charging back up the track and boat positions start to shift. Hissy Fit thrives in this phase – fast, direct and unapologetically competitive. Pushing her on. Tweak the wheel, trim, surf, repeat. Just keep doing the basics well and doing them relentlessly and hope like crazy you make those tidal gates in time.

At first the finish seems to be nearing tantalisingly fast. We’re still flying, despite having blown out the light weight spinnaker. The sun is shining and mood is bright on board. The sailing is too good to miss and as the miles to the finish fly by, the watch system breaks down – everyone is up and willing the miles past as fast as possible. Then the wind dies, currents fight against us and our world slows back down into a slightly nervous watchfulness punctuated by the tapping of screens – What’s the wind going to do? What speed is that boat doing and what heading? Why are they off down that way? Will we be more likely to catch the breeze at a favourable angle if we go this way, or that way?

In a race where just seconds make a difference there’s still much to play for, even in the last 50 miles. Especially with UNO, the Grainger 36 trimaran, sitting just off our stern like some strangely attached appendage that has followed us this way from the very start. Not much further back is Adamas, the Rapido 40 trimaran that has also behaved like a slightly more loosely attached limpet throughout the whole course. Unexpected match race buddies indeed, but having them in eyesight most of the time has kept us pushing Hissy Fit on. UNO in particular fired up our competitive spirits, as on board is Matt Baker, Simon’s brother and previous crew on the 2017 Fastnet winning Hissy Fit, and owner James Holder, previous owner of Dazcat 1295 Slinky Malinki. We were determined not to let them cross the line ahead of us. In the event they came in just 5 minutes and 9 seconds after us. Astonishing after over 800 miles of racing!

Crossing the finish line brings that familiar mix of adrenalin, exhaustion, satisfaction and a definite feeling of unreality that settles over you for quite some time afterwards. The boat noise fades yet still rings in your ears, the adrenaline ebbs, and suddenly you’re just a small crew on a very capable boat, having shared something intense and rare. On Hissy Fit, Fastnet isn’t about drama, it’s about execution, teamwork and a boat that does exactly what she’s built to do. It’s quite the bonus that that includes being able to stand at the helm and snack on wild truffle salami and French cheese while hurtling along at 17 knots and surfing down waves in the sunshine.

And when you finally sit back, salt-streaked, tired and still powering along on the tattered shreds of adrenalin remnants, one thing is very clear: there’s no better place to experience the Fastnet than on board a Dazcat that has taught you to love racing as much as the boat does. Then to share that sense of achievement with others in our multihull community. Sharing drinks, laughter and stories once again with the crews that we have been match racing against for days, watching on the trackers in the dead of night and trying to work out how we can beat them – our greatest adversaries out there on the water are happily once again our greatest of friends. Cheers to all the sailors and most especially to my amazing crewmates on board Hissy Fit, a great time was had by all. As Adam so aptly put it – Best skipper ever. Thanks Simon and Hissy Fit for another great and memorable experience.

Some quick summing up:

The multihulls were divided into three groups – length rules speed and so they are in different classes by length:

1. The Ultimes
2. The 50s
3. The under 50s

All our Dazcats and Multihull Centre boats were in the biggest group of 20 boats, the under 50s class. The Dazcats performed exceptionally well.

• Minor Swing (D1295) came 1^st on corrected time – ahead of Hissy Fit by one hour and two minutes after handicap was applied. Do we regret those cheesecake breaks? Not really.
• Hissy Fit crossed the line first – her elapsed time only 03d 15:33:26 and just over three hours ahead of Minor Swing in ‘real time’, who crossed at 03d 18:42:52
• Hissy Fit was 3rd overall in MOCRA corrected order at the Fastnet Rock, behind the class 50s Rayon Vert and Paradox 3, and first in under 50ft, meaning she led all < 50 ft multihulls to the Rock on both corrected and elapsed time.
• In terms of total distance sailed, D1150 Bare Necessities won the prize with an impressively low 797 nm. Keeping their eye on the goal, precise routing and sailing true to laylines. Well done team Bare Necessities!
• Five other Dazcats followed in terms of shortest course sailed, before this run of good upwind sailors was interrupted by Uno, the Grainger trimaran that stayed on our heels the whole way around:

If you enjoy stats, clicking around on the Race HQ results page produces some immensely satisfying spreadsheets you can use to compare the fleet.

Stills in no particular order from the start and pre-start.

Many thanks to all who contributed to the media.

Click on the photos to view full size.