WINDSONG

It was just after sunrise when I arrived at Burnham Overy Staithe in Norfolk, England, to witness the birth of a new racing class. Despite the early hour, people bustled on the foreshore in front of the massive, rustic boathouse. Four new dinghies were on trailers being readied for launching. Although they were built of wood, there was no mistaking the shallow draft and flat run aft of a hull designed for planing. The carbon-fiber spars and modern rigging also pointed to the boat’s racing pedigree. And yet when the boats’ sails were hoisted they revealed a surprise: a lug mainsail. Unless your name is Nigel Irens, the lug rig seems to have few fans among contemporary race boat designers, so the launch of a new racing class driven by this supposedly archaic rig was not to be missed.

The four boats made a magical sight as they headed out in a line down the River Burn, punching the last of the incoming tide, with the picturesque village behind. A bank of low clouds was blocking the sun to the east, but sky to the west was turning a brighter blue by the minute. It looked every bit like a painting by one of the old masters (carbon-fiber masts notwithstanding). By the time the fleet reached Overy Harbour, an enclosed bay sheltered from the North Sea by sand dunes, the sun had risen over the clouds and the breeze had picked up. The four boats started darting around the bay, occasionally accelerating in gusts. Lug or no lug, these boats were determined to plane.