Did you ever get hit by something you just weren't expecting?!
This is a recount of a return sail with one of my closest mates and sailing partners, heading back from Cherbourg after racing Double Handed.
After an amazing race across the Channel, we got to the finish and came to a simple conclusion...
Motoring into Cherbourg just wasn't worth it.
The weather was too good.
The plan became very simple: finish the overnight race, turn around on the finish line and see if we could make it back to the Solent for last orders.
Race 2!
What followed was one of the best sails back I've ever had.
A beautiful 15–18 knots of steady breeze all the way home, clear skies, moon out, and a sea state that was about as flat as you'll ever see in the Channel. As we closed in on the Needles entrance, the water looked more like a millpond than the English Channel.
The plan was to arrive just as the tide changed in our favour and started flooding into the Solent, giving us a helping hand through Hurst.
We absolutely nailed the timing.
Then we heard it.
At first it sounded like waves breaking on a distant shore. But there wasn't a shore.
As we carried on, the roar got louder.
And louder.
What had been off to one side now sounded like it was behind us.
Then it sounded like it was chasing us.
In the darkness we couldn't see much, but whatever it was, it was moving fast.
After hours of sailing through some of the calmest water imaginable, neither of us expected what came next.
The roar hit us first.
Then a huge wave from behind.
Almost immediately the race waters seemed to erupt underneath the boat.
One second we were flying across flat water, the next we were being thrown around by steep waves coming from behind and the side of us. It genuinely felt like the sea had gone from a millpond to survival mode in a matter of seconds.
The Needles tidal race had properly kicked off.
Normally you sail into race waters and the sea gradually builds around you.
This felt completely different.
It felt like we'd been hit by the very moment the race formed.
For a few moments both of us just looked at each other thinking exactly the same thing.
What the f*** just happened?
A strong spring tide had started flooding hard into the Solent. Huge amounts of Atlantic water were now charging around the Needles and squeezing into the western entrance.
Hours of beautiful flat water.
Moonlit skies.
Perfect sailing.
Then out of nowhere, a huge wave from behind, race waters exploding underneath the boat, and a reminder that even on the calmest night, the sea can still reach out of the darkness and slap you round the face.
Just in case you'd forgotten who's boss.