I would have written this up for the Magazine but I was too excited to take pics so here are the words.

Ok, so I'm just over halfway through my first full season as a Mac owner (or any kind of boat owner, come to that) and I realise that I have, on my doorstep, a terrific opportunity to get to know my boat better and to refine my sailing skills. Yes, it's the Falmouth Week sailing regatta.

Having decided to enter just one race, I trot along to the race office, in town, and the super helpful lady organizers guide me through my entry form. I already had my FAY number (Falmouth Area Yardstick - a local handicap system) and I was soon entered in the Handicap Cabin Boat class.

Next it's off to the chandlers to buy myself a class flag. Butterfly's in my stomach now, have I really done this? I blame it on all your great advice and encouragement :) Maybe it won't be so bad, my class competitors are a couple of small Beneteau's and a Nordic Folk boat. But then I realise that they all have spinnakers and I don't.

Anyway, Race Day dawned with great excitement and my good lady sent me off early with a full Cornish breakfast to sustain me through the day.

I'd pre-programmed all the potential marks into my plotter and practiced entering routes for when they were announced - something that could be delayed until only 10 minutes before the start - eek!

I then got some practice tacking around marks and generally gauging the wind strength - it was stronger than predicted so I settled for my single reef plus a few turns on the furling genoa (no, I don't have a jib; although was wishing I did for this scenario).

I soon realised that, even with full daggerboard, there was an awful lot of lee helm - yes I know, I need one of those 1500 US$ flat-topped mains with two reefs plus a jib. Racing certainly brings one's boat's, and one's own strengths into sharp relief.

Anyway, I started trying to locate the committee boat amongst the 400 plus boats that were milling around but the potential course area was pretty big and I couldn't spot it; hmm, ok "I'll just follow the rest".

Then one of the nice ladies that organise these things came on the radio to introduce the day's proceedings and told us she'd give us our courses as soon as she got them from the course planners.

I'm getting a little nervous at this stage; haven't got the course and can't find the start line. Very soon she's back again and starts reeling off courses. I'm ready for this, double check it, set up the route in the plotter and pencil it on the hard copy chart with marks pre-printed.

Feeling better now I get out my Steiners and start scanning the horizon for the grey hulled "Noon Hi" parked near a yellow buoy which is where we start apparently. I spot it and run for the start side but get a little freaked as I get closer and find myself in amongst hoards of race-hardened veterans with no idea how I can get where I want to be without running into someone.

There are two other classes to start before mine and I soon get the feel of proceedings. Warning signal (class flag) at Start minus 5, Preparatory signal at -4, Prep down at -1, Class flag down at Zero - Go-go-go.

Ok I've got the hang of this. I plan what tack I want to start on, given the wind and the location of the first mark - and, more importantly, to be in view of Mrs F who has planned a dog walk along a high point where we watched some starts a few days earlier.

Ten minutes to go and I begin my approach to the line. I tack a couple of times when I realise the magnitude of the leeway, set and drift but am cautious about being over the line early, you know, like in Bermuda.

Here I go! .....hmm, I'm not charging up to the line quite as fast as I thought I would. At least I won't be early.....ok it's looking like I might be around a minute late. I then get the first glimpse of one of my class competitor boats and imagine myself steaming past him as I close the line at top speed; but it's not happening (that was the last I saw of him:))

Why is the line not getting closer quicker? (I still haven't reached the stage of figuring out what I did wrong). I might even be two minutes late, I think....three minutes maybe.

Suddenly I remember there is a rule which says; "If you're 4 minutes late you're out". I start to see the sense of this as the Preparatory flag drops on the following class and I look to starboard and see this huge fleet of flying Sunbeams charging the line.

"I can still make it" I think, optimistically. "30 seconds" she says, over the radio. I might just make it. "15 seconds, 10 seconds" ok it's looking like I'm going to need a plan B, these guys must be wondering what on earth I'm doing. I feel like I'm driving a long trailer over a railroad crossing and the express train is approaching.

I didn't want to admit defeat before having even started but the writing is now clearly on the wall and I tack away from the start line feeling a complete idiot and wishing my class flag would somehow vaporize.

Anyway, I get over this, get well clear of the succeeding class fleets, and decide to have a go at completing the course anyway, even if it won't count.

After about an hour of beating towards the first mark it dawns on me that there's no way I'm going to complete the course so I decide to take in a few local marks before heading back to our mooring. At least l now have the leisure to watch the racing from a great vantage point; the Falmouth Work Boats are truly spectacular, as are the Sunbeams.

I take the opportunity afforded by the gap in radio comms between the sets of race groups to let the race committee boat know that I've retired although, judging by their response, I'm not sure they noticed me missing the start...anyway it was quite fun later to see our details recorded in the "results" section. Interestingly most of the daily entrants (like me) failed to complete.

I'm getting pretty tired by this stage, not to mention bloodied and bruised from various scrapes. At one stage I very nearly went overboard. With the genoa partly furled, one of its sheets was occasionally getting trapped by one of the mast cleats when I tacked. On this occasion I went up to free it and a fluky wind shift (Falmouth's like that) swung the boom across and knocked me over. I was hanging onto the guard wire and just managed to haul myself inboard, much to my relief. I now have a huge lump and bruise on my thigh as a reminder to be more careful.

I finally make it back to the mooring but I've misjudged the state of the tide and find myself having to raise the rudders, db and motor to avoid the mud. I escape grounding, just, and head off back down the river to try to pick up a spare, deeper-water mooring. However, with my reefed main still up and the katabatic Penryn river winds extra strong, this takes me half an hour.

But it passes the time and finally, main-sail down and everything tidied away I can easily get onto my own mooring and,,, breathe!

Unbelievably I was on the water for nearly 9 hours and didn't even manage to start. However much was learnt and I definitely felt more confident from the benefit of all your advice and encouragement over the last year or so, so thank you!

I'll be back next year for another go.