DESIGN FICTION: A Brief History of Sailing

DESIGN FICTION: A BRIEF HISTORY OF SAILING

The Solent, 2035

Since animal-hide sails were first flown on animal-hide boats, we've wanted to go faster. Faster in absolute terms, but faster too than other boats. We can never know for certain when that first race was. But my guess is that it was within days of sails being added to two boats.

Who had the faster boat, or faster crew. It was an exercise in prowess, strength, stamina. It also had obvious benefits beyond bragging rights. Getting to a new land first, brought with it the choice of spoils. Or back home to safety meant rest, recovery, family. Perhaps a better question might be, why wouldn't you race. It's a boost when the spirits are lagging and the mind is flapping in the wind. We are pulled to it.

The first written record of a sailing race came a lot later. From Greenwich to Gravesend and back. 1661 between the pleasure-craft Katherine and Anne.

Organised sailing races evolved from there. Growing out of a club scene, initially in Cork Harbour in 1720. Here, the pleasure class engaged in races, usually straightforward - from one place to another. Handicap system eased in by 1820 as bigger boats were typically faster, and better sails or more hydrodynamic hulls meant sailing skill was less the issue than investment in boats.

100 years of further evolution. In-shore, Off-shore, Oceanic. From one place to another, with some markers along the way.

The sailing we know and love today is of course nothing like that. We race each other, but we race towards a moveable, chaotic, unpredictable mark. And so it not only tests speed, and planning, but most importantly, adaptability.

And the luck involved, is no longer the luck of the winds and the tides. But the luck of the chase.

We can date the first Chase-sailing race to 2028. Off the Cornish coast, two university yachts, Little Agamemnon and Moonduster were out observing the Atlantic Bluefin tuna shoals that had reemerged with ocean conservation and rewilding. Knowing the real-time location of those shoals (some of the Bluefin has been fitted with sensors), the crew of the boats challenged each other to a race. The first one to the Tuna didn't have to buy the first round of beer that evening in Falmouth.

Fair enough. Off they went. It quickly became clear that the race wasn't a straightforward one. The Bluefin moved, not always predictably. Moonduster in the lead. A sudden change in the tuna. Little Agamemnon in the lead through no obvious plan of their own. Until planning became predicting where the school would move to next. And that was a skill, not just luck-work.

The race was said to be so enjoyable it became a habit, a source of bragging rights within the Plymouth university fleet. In May of that year, they set up the first formal Bluefin Race, with 7 boats entering and the rules quite clear. The first boat to get to within 250 meters of the shoal or the boat who was closest on the 2 hour mark would be the winners. No time handicaps.

It was cleaner. The skill of the chase levelled the playing field. Of course, major mismatches occurred where the fish would travel distances greater than the boats themselves could reasonably cover. And so quickly, the race planning tended to locate fish species and specific schools of fish that would be amenable to the boat class themselves.

Mackerel in the harbour in August for dinghies. Dolphin pods in the high seas for the foiling monohulls.

Today of course we have variations on this. We have randomly programmed drone-fish that can match the pace of the fleet. Though purists dislike the form, for professional competition it is of course necessary to standardise somewhere. Then again, despite the best cryptography, there's always the suspicion that the drone can be tampered with and pre-programmed to favour one boat or another. Famously, the Russian team in the Sagres Cup in 2034 were known to have hacked the drone-fish to claim a victory that threw the sport into disrepute for a time.

That disrepute plunged the sport into suspicion for a time. Gambling drove huge sums into Chase-Sailing, and with it ever-bigger incentives for tampering. Suspicion was weaponised. The JP Morgan team was accused of tampering in The Solent Chase, though no proof or anything close to it was ever produced. The results stood. But the trust in those results was a more fragile one.

Activists have said that the sailing disturbs the fish. Brings anxiety. Interferes with their movement patterns. That may of course be true. Even yachts powered by the wind create sound. Vibrations that are alien to fish they chase. But is it worse than whales or dolphin or shark hunting those very same fish? We don't know. The latest research suggests it's fine. And the disturbance, provided it's sporadic, is enough to add variation into the movement patterns of the fish. Itself, a good thing.

Some have called for balance. And how to make Chase-Sailing ecosystem-positive not just neutral. That has had mixed results. Entrance fees going to conservation appears to work well. For a time, the Sagres Cup experimented with providing feed to the fish. That proved counter-productive. An unnecessary intervention.

Perhaps the greatest good that Chase-Sailing has brought us has been a widespread informal policing of these shoals. Stealth poaching and illegal fishing is less likely with so much scrutiny on the whereabouts of these shoals. And indeed the tagging of so many shoals means that sailing clubs around the country know where tens of thousands of shoals are at any particular time. The shoals are tracked and information is freely shared.

If a shoal disappears, questions are asked and investigations undertaken.

We know of at least two major cases of prosecution with life-sentences handed to captain, crew and owners of the Yuedianyu 45992 and Yuemaobinyu 65443 who illegally fished Yellowfin tuna off the Chagos Archipelago.

The other great good the booming sailing industry has brought is attention to the emerging conservation-tourism of the marine protection areas. The Dogger Bank, the Chagos Archipelago and St. Helena.

The sailing circuit now follows the fish.

And though racing and conservation is the main aim.

There is usually good eating at the end of it. Moderate, sustainable. And as natural as we're likely to get.

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Tiny Bet #2: Prehistoric Artefacts

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DESIGN FICTION: Great Hall of Possibilities