The Photographer & The Driver — Two Sailors, One Camera, and a Lot of Opinions
- Mel P
- 4 days ago
- 3 min read
I had the very good fortune (and occasional splash to the lens) of being up close and personal with the entire WBBC fleet at the Optimist North Islands this weekend. Beside me was my skipper, Luke O’Connell (aka Colt), National champ and a world-class sailor who, put the boat exactly where I needed it every time. Photographers dream of this level of boat-handling; sailors dream of not having a photographer commentating from two metres - yet here we are.
Live From the “Thank Goodness We’re Not Bretto” Boat
Two sailors with front-row seat to the chaos, the chat and opinions flowed freely. One recurring theme? Deep, heartfelt gratitude that we were not the Race Officer. More than once we looked at each other and muttered, “Bretto’s got it all on today.” And as always, he absolutely delivered. We could only imagine the soundtrack of opinions, clever quips, and quiet panic happening on the committee boat as the breeze casually spun another 180 like it was choosing a Spotify playlist.
The Green Fleet Gets a Masterclass (Whether They Wanted It or Not)
The Green fleet were treated to some of New Zealand’s world-class sailors floating around as support. And as humble as they are, one of our parent coaches somehow managed to wring out a 30-second sailing résumé from each of them.
Highlights included:
One coach who has lost count of their international and world championship appearances
One coach who kept beating his own coaches on the water
Another who mumbled their way through a list of ocean races long enough to fill a small paperback (who flew in from Sydney 5am that morning)
And said parent coach, who casually has a few Sydney–Hobarts under his own belt (which he definitely didn’t say out loud, because humility lives strong in these sailors).
The greenfleet, hands down, had the best courses; with marks like 'unicorn' and 'tucan?' and races named 'The fastnet' or 'volovo ocean', and having to carry and egg for a race (which some sailors snacked on as they got hungry'), so much fun!
Meanwhile, on the White and Open Course…
Who would’ve thought you’d come to Wellington to battle light winds and tide two days in a row? Yet there we were. Picking shifts in a breeze doing a full 180-degree pirouette that wasn’t in any forecast was a fun challenge — for them. For us, it was excellent entertainment. Especially when the breeze change shifts the finish boat while sailors where struggling to cross the line.
The racing was tight: tack-for-tack, boat-on-boat, right to the finish. Saturday’s sea state caught out a few sailors, but those who embraced the classic bail-and-sail maneuver were off and moving quickly. Watching some of the sailors use the mainsheet drop technique at the top mark? As a former skiff sailor, I can confirm: that little habit will save your bacon more times than you expect.
A Few Insights From a Lens-Nerd and a Very Patient Skipper
A wing mark is not an instruction. You don’t have to gybe on it. Sometimes it’s just… a thing. A colourful object you pass on port while you sail the perfectly good breeze line directly in front of you.
Chatter = gold.The happiest, chattiest sailors created this steady soundtrack across the course. We often knew exactly who was nearby long before we could see them.
Open/White vs Green Fleet: The Open and White fleets put on some stunning racing. Then we visited the Green fleet… and honestly? We weren’t entirely sure what we were witnessing. Chaos? Innovation? Performance art? Whatever it was, the smiles were huge, one sailor sang his way around the course, and they handled the puffs far better on day two than on day one. Progress is progress.
The Wall of Support: Watching the Green fleet from the RIB was good. Watching the parents from the beach was better. A full shoreline of sandy feet, wet shins, and forward-leaning torsos; like a human wind indicator, collectively willing tiny sailors around the track.
Breeze up? No problem. When the sea state built and the afternoon tired-and-hangries kicked in, those kids dug deep and kept going. Absolute champions.
All up, a brilliant weekend: a fleet full of grit and good humour, a Race Officer who has unquestionably earned a strong drink of something, and a skipper who still hasn’t asked me to swim home; which I’m taking as a personal victory.
If only all regattas were this entertaining from two metres off the action.
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