I got very exited when I first saw the Windsurfer. It was given to me by a Norwegian
Company dealing with Ten Cate in Almelo, Holland. Ten Cate, a large producer of
textiles and garments had bought the European license to produce this new beach toy.
“Tor, can you try this thing out, and see if it is anything at all.” The salesman indicated that he had very little faith in that odd looking object. It was March 1972, and not exactly a tropical summer in my hometown at the South West side of the Oslo Fjord.
I got “to work” in an extremely uncomfortable 4mm wetsuit, a diving hood and huge rubber boots. I was instantly at war with that slippy little thing. It became personal. Whatever I did, I ended up on my back, but figured somebody must have been able to actually sail it, at least a few hundred yards. My “wild horse” became even more hostile as the breeze picked up a little in the afternoon. I was defeated. To be quite honest, I threw the piece of shit in the back of my yard, and actually yelled at it. It was followed by a short phone call to the salesman, and I strongly advised him to forget that stupid beach freak toy. “I thought so, just keep it.”
It was several months later on a nice and sunny day, I decided to give it another go. We had a picnic on the beach, and it would at least serve as a paddleboard. Somehow, by accident I guess, I got it going, but it should take several days before I became the captain, and could rig steer it around the anchored boats in the bay. The fishermen around in my area had a lot of respect for the ocean, and it was their duty to rescue anyone in trouble at sea. Believe I got “rescued” a couple of hundred times before they left me alone. I was on a mission, and spent endless hours talking my friends into becoming windsurfers. My conservative Yacht Club across the bay had lost one of their “future hopes” and was looking at me as an egocentric nut case. How could a talented dinghy sailor just quit, to start playing with that ridiculous toy? It did not get any better when I brought all my new friends (Most of them had never seen a sailboat) over to the “noble club house” a year later to ask for a collective membership. Our newly established and fast growing Windsurfing Club received a written denial stating, “this serious Yacht Club will not accept bath tubs or any other floating devices now or in the future. Period.” I could not help it, and replied that they should reconsider, as this sport most likely would become Olympic within a few years.
A bit provocative perhaps, and all “diplomatic” relations were beyond repair. I was “a free man”. No more hassle. No more trailing around Europe with my 470 dinghy, my crew and a huge tool box.
I never became a champion.Although it was very close….. I can still remember races back from the early 70’s. Every tack, every move. The adrenaline, the excitements and the disappointments.
My background from dinghy sailing came in handy those early days. Very few of the pioneer windsurfers had tactical knowledge. It was like steeling candy’s from the kids, and my first and maybe still most memorable race- the First Europeans at Sylt in 1973 was one of those “candy parties”. Here we are- 110 of us to battle it out for that first European title.
The organizers had done a good marketing job, but I believe the number of competitors were beyond their wildest expectations. As weight groups were not invented, we were all starting together, but officially divided into senior and junior fleets. It was believed to be a physical and technical sport, favoring the big and strong guys, but the opposite proved to be the fact. The Windsurfer was a class for tactical light weights, and I happened to be one of them weighing in at 62 kilo’s. Dream conditions, seven knots and shifty. After a couple of nasty tangle up situations on the start line, I figured rules do not count. I got steam rolled by “Fritz and Gunther” on clean starboard dream starts, and had to change tactics. I went for port starts and used some decibel in combination with the element of surprise; “Tack or swim”. In the confusion they did tack. There is nothing like successful port starts, and in a fleet of that size it was just heaven. I even did it when it was windward favored. Who wants to get stuck in traffic with a 100 guys at the start boat. Likewise, it was a tremendous advantage to go through the slow fleet at an opposite tack, as it generated an artificial lift created by the fleet itself.
I started out surprising myself with a 2nd. and a 5th. but had some dips with a 21st. and 15th. Still, several top five positions kept me in contention, but not enough to beat Dirk Thijs from Holland. Well, he was a junior but he won overall. An amazing performance from that tall skinny and very talented boy, that was to rule the windsurfing scene in Europe for years to come. Another strong opponent was Ernstfried Prade from Germany. Ernstfried was not an aggressive winner by nature, but did very few mistakes, and finished third. Assume he had a background from sailboat racing. However - he was scored as second by the German organization, headed by the dynamic and foresighted business man and German distributor Peter Brockhaus. The top two Europeans were offered free tickets to the 1973 Worlds in California. The results (before the computer age) were never posted on a blackboard, so I only knew after getting told a year later.
The official results were never corrected.
Top 3;
1. Derk Thijs, NED 6 - 1.6 - 1.6 - 0 - 0 - 7 - (9) = 16.2
2. Ernstfied Prade, GER 13 - 10 - 4 - (15) - 1.6 - 1.6 - 8 = 38.2
3. Tor Bakke, NOR 1.6 - 5 -
21 - 1.6 - (15) - 2.9 - 11 = 43.1
Or have a look at this;
http://www.originalwindsurfer.com/site/pdfs/1973_WS_News.pdfThey had conveniently discarded my 15th. instead of my 21st. These things hurts. Not insinuating anything, but all the other scores were correct. Mine should have been 37.1, but who wants to know. History says I was 3rd..
My next memorable race was the French Open in St. Malo France, the year after. And what an extravaganza that was,- hosted by Count Ludvig von Seyssel. Mainly French, German and Dutch sailors, and my first encounter with Olivier Vitasse and Jaap Keller. Both of them became milestones in my life. Jaap was a strong well built veterinarian from Slewijk in Holland, and Olivier was a playboy from Marseilles. I am still not sure what his education is, even after our reunion in the Kona class in 2006. He knew a little about everything, so I employed him a year later as a driver. That was unfortunately not his strong side. Costly, - but he was fast, and he started to pick up some English as well. We had only been communicating with body language and telepathy. We became instant buddies.
The tide difference in the British channel is an awesome 12 meters at some points, and St. Malo is one of them places. Imagine a race against that tidal wave. The wind was blowing slightly off shore, but this race was not going to be won by the windy guys heading for the ocean. My longest tack on that first upwind must have been less than 30 meters. I was crawling along next to the beach - short tacking all the way up to the windward marker, while the whole fleet went out to sea to catch the breeze. I won by forty five minutes. The second race was hilarious as the opposite happened in the afternoon. The water was running out, and we had the current from behind. Easy stuff; just head out to the ocean. The whole fleet was short tacking along the beach, and I won by one hour and ten minutes. Interesting. Yes, because it was a real eye opener for the other guys, and I conducted my first tactical lesson ever, trying to explain the impact of current as well as wind shifts. My “audience” was staring at me in disbelief with their mouth open. What a bunch of nice guys I met in the early days. We were an assembled crew of adventurers, coming from sailing, water skiing, surfing, but the majority from no water related sports at all. Windsurfing has brought an amazing amount of people into the noble art of sailing. Without the Windsurfer, they would never have been there. Windsurfing has educated them. It has created an elite of physical and tactical athletes we would most likely never have seen close to the water. Thank you Jim Drake and Hoyle Schweitzer. I strongly doubt that Wojtek Brzozowski, Antony Albeau or Robbie Naish would have found dinghy sailing challenging enough, but they should all be capable of helming a 470 or a 49’er in a top level fleet today, without shitting their pants. What I am saying is that this little piece of polyethylene called the Windsurfer has brought thousands of people to the water. It has changed the world of water sports, and most definitely my life.
My next challenging and memorable race happened in Bendor, France in 1975. It was the worlds, and I was very well prepared. Pumping weights has never been my favorite hobby, but I did – all winter. I was physically and mentally in good shape. Dirk Thijs and most of the Dutch team had been out showing their muscle’s in Mistral conditions two days prior to the race, but I decided to rest. Had to check out my new gear, and my new super racing sail in particular. I had noticed that the yellow/white striped sails from the previous year where the fastest. They had a relatively flat top, and a lower weight point. Consequently I stopped by Ten Cate in Holland and bought one (of the last ones) on my way down. What a disaster. It had stripes, uneven seems and looked terrible, regardless how much down haul and out haul I pulled.
The invention of the loose leach.In my desperation, I started to experiment . Simply had to get rid of the worst wrinkles, and noticed they disappeared when pulling the aft leach. It was like 5 cm too long, but how to shorten it.? My first idea was actually just to pull in two directions and sew the access cloth together somewhere in the middle, but I ended up using a thin kevlar rope instead. With my rig laying on grass, I mounted the rope to the mast top and connected it to the boom end. Then I pulled it until I achieved a perfect profile. No stripes left,- just a clean good looking sail apart from the aft leach. It looked “terrible”. It was completely loose, and just “hanging there”. I had created some interest at that point, but mostly from guys shaking their heads, and acting like they felt sorry for me. Little did we know, I had just incidentally invented the loose leach. It was the afternoon before the biggest Worlds ever, and I went out testing,- expecting the worst, but what a fantastic sensation it was. I was pointing like crazy, accelerating out of tacks, and most of all – without any efforts. My sail was pulling forward. Period. All the heroes were out there that afternoon, including Matt Sweitzer, Mike Waltze and Bruce Matlack, fine tuning together. I mingled, and noticed that my speed and pointing was superior. They did not, as I camouflaged it by holding back. Another interesting discovery was that the weight point in my sail slightly moved. It moved from the front to the back, like a wave. When moving back it gave me power, and I could point significantly higher. It looked like pumping, but it wasn’t. I could climb upwind like never experienced before. I found out later that this “phenomena” only happened in light to medium breeze. In more wind my rig was completely stable, and extremely easy to hold. (we did complete Olympic courses without harness) Another advantage was the help I got from Bruce Matlack, the first American and World Champion. He showed me “the big glue secret”, well maybe because I caught him in the act of “sticking” a ball of harpix glue to the inside of his boom front piece.. It is a kind of glue used by handball players and it is extremely sticky. “You just keep it there, and rub it on your hands whenever needed during the race. “ I took his advise, and it really made the boom grip easier, as my fingers did not slip off that square teak boom as easy anymore. It made a huge difference actually.
With superior speed, better pointing and good tactical knowledge I know I should have won those worlds, but I did not,- but finished 4th. overall among 212 competitors, and 3rd. in light weight behind Matt and Bruce. Here is to you Rainer Gutjahr; (I hope you don’t mind after 35 years) That port- starboard at the first upwind marker in the last race did cost me the title. From being in a narrow lead, to swim around trying to re- connect my rig to the board- while 36 competitors passed me, is something difficult to forget. It was somewhat complicated to finish the race as well, with my centerboard moved 10 cm closer to the tail.
If you would have seen me, you would have gone behind me to avoid a potential broken leg, (It was 25 to 30 knots) and why protest when you finished ten places behind me.
The European Windsurfing revolution.
Windsurfing matured in Europe at the speed of light. The sport was highly accepted in Holland, and the Dutch were ahead both on the water and ashore. Not a surprise maybe, as the Windsurfers were produced in Holland. Martin Spanjer at Ten Cate did a good job of it, although the boards came out like a bunch of bananas. It did also grow quickly in Germany, and Peter Brockhaus became a very fundamental person. He was the first strong opponent to the unstable quality of Ten Cate. At several Class Association meetings with representatives from all the European Windsurfer countries, he suggested a different production technique, new aluminum booms, plastic mast bases and various other improvements. The changes never happened, and the Mistral was born as a result of it. Out came the “super Windsurfer”. Lighter, stiffer and faster, but it should take many years before the Mistral infra structure was ready to compete with the established Windsurfer Class. Peter was also behind the first European windsurfing magazine, which I believe was the predecessor of today’s German Surf. Peter did a lot of things for the sport, and deserve the title of Mr. Windsurfing Europe. He established and organized the first Euro-Cups in 1977, and the first test centers were master minded by Peter. His marketing skills were unique, but Peter’s budgets were not always adding up. I had the pleasure of meeting him in Sardinia in 1979, and got the full story about the new Club Mistral travel agency, as well as a tour of the Hotel he was there to buy or rent. Hotel Mistral it was. I could almost see the sign on the roof. Peter knew all about the power of a good image. Fred Osterman, also from Germany was the other extreme. I dare to say that the Windglider was the ugliest board ever made, but Fred never gave up, and the fast growing market allowed him to stay. The positive thing was the huge volume, and some of the heavy weight guys drifted over, and a racing class developed in the late 70’s. Still, the Windsurfer were the undisputed class.
The European hotshots.A group of elite sailors had materialized, and among them where a surprisingly large contingent of Scandinavians. The most famous ones were Anders Foeyen from Norway and Claes Haglund from Sweden. Claes won the Europeans in 1976, but his name as well as his consistent performance was not really given the credit deserved.. Claes was as far from the beach image as windsurfing was from being recognized as a serious sailing class at that time. Consequently he fell between two chairs, and was never recognized for his amazing achievements. When Claes entered the podium in Holland, the camera’s did not flash. He had beaten the shit out of all of us. He was 39 years old, sailing with regular rubber boots up to his knees. He was almost bold, and he was not exactly Mr. Beach Boy. As a contrast, Malte Simmer, Nicko Stickl, Michel Garaudee, Rainer Gutjah, Guy Ducrot and a bunch of other “European Beach boys” appeared.
I refused to believe Malte was from inland Germany before he showed me his passport. He was inventive and fearless but still somewhat humble out on the course. He was always smiling - with one of his front teeth broken in half from earlier battles. Believe it was from hand gliding.
Simmer StyleMalte came in as a fresh young breeze. He took risks nobody even dreamt about. He invented a new technique- holding the boom under his armpits, and constantly shifting power from his front arm grip to his armpit. Can you picture this.? Malte was sailing upwind without holding his boom with his fingers. His armpits were doing the job. Try that today, and you will discover that catapults are instant. The technique was not that difficult in itself, but Malte was the only one that could still point while doing it. I practiced and practiced, but in vain. Malte never won any major races, as it was not in his nature to win. He entertained us, and he eventually realized his potential as sailmaker, but that was after he “drifted” to Maui as one of those “this is the place to be” guys.
Cross roads.
After a good season in 1975, winning the Scandinavians, silver in the Europeans, and bronze in the Worlds, - 1976 became a real set back. I was up to my ears in work with my new company, and had little time to practice. The Europeans in Vollendam, Holland was the first disaster. Stiff competition, and the French started to emerge. For some reason the French got off to a late start in Europe, but after the Worlds in Bendor, they recruited a whole armada of young and keen guys. They were loud aggressive and determent, and French as a language became known to all of us, especially on the start lines. I had bought a second hand Volvo bus, and it became THE perfect team transportation. We ripped out all the seats on one side, and engineered some very nice racks for twelve boards. What a way to go. Arriving a few days early,
I had time to relax and getting to know the organizers as well as another early arrival; Piotr Jankowiak from Poland. The very first windsurfer from “behind the curtain”. He had established himself in the middle of the camping lot in the smallest tent I have ever seen. It was a great and very pleasant surprise to all of us, and Piotr was immediately “adopted” as the Windsurfer Class’ connection to the east. “Go tell the people”. It was almost religious. For some reason he also ended up among us Norwegians, and did in fact come to Norway shortly after and started to work for my company. We had bought an office building that needed a total renovation, and Piotr did it all. We could not buy the building materials quick enough. What he has done for windsurfing in Eastern Europe and Poland in particular is well known to all of us today. The Europeans went off, and I could not point and was reasonably slow as well. My starts had to be aggressive, and I had to take more and more risks with port entries, to be able to stay in the top ten at the upwind marker. Only at the last day I discovered that my centerboard was completely twisted. It was looking as an S, and I had only my self to blame. I had overlooked a very important factor. Changed centerboard, and was immediately back in the race, but maybe in a state of shock or surprise as I got my speed back. I did irrational tactical moves, and here is a classical one I will never forget - heading up to the last upwind marker among the top five; It was shifty, and I suddenly had a wonderful header at the left side. I was to leeward of the fleet. Looking over my shoulder I saw the windward guys falling down on me. I was in a position to tack and pass in front of everybody at port , but I DID NOT!!!! I continued as if I was hoping to collect an even bigger bonus further ahead. Dirk Thijs and Claes Haglund were both close to me on that left wing. Claes tacked away on that shift and made his way into the middle. Dirk and I got stuck on the port lay line and lost 20 places as the shift came back and everybody got lifted. Claes won the race. Dirk and I finished 21st. and 24th. respectively. The Europeans in Vollendam was historical in many ways. It was the first time a qualification was made, and “only” 76 men and 12 women were allowed at the starting line. The cream of European Windsurfers.
Non of us will ever forget the very professional work of Robert van der Speck, the speaker and entertainer. “Specky” was a magician with the microphone. He managed to get serious sponsors, and he paid back in style. I still remember the sponsors from the Europeans in 75 and 76. It was AB Dick office equipment and Bolls. Specky was constantly on the air, but it never got boring. He was updating the competitors and spectators, as well as keeping the interest of the sponsors in focus. Robert was a famous auctioneer by profession. In addition to being super competitive, all the early mega events were extremely social.
The social peak came at the Worlds in Nassau in 1976.
This 3rd. Windsurfer Worlds broke all records in yachting history, being the largest Class Regatta ever held with an amazing 456 entrants.
Robbie Naish and the rest of us.Before I could check into my room at Emerald Beach Resort, I had heard rumors about
that little kid that could sail on his rails. What a joke I thought. Wouldn’t it be better to spend some time racing instead.. The Nassau worlds were one of those occasions where new equipment was provided by Windsurfing International. The “oldest” of us knew the importance of getting a good board, or at least a board with a straight fin box and centerboard well. Consequently the “container race” had already started. More than half of the boards were already gone by the time I got to the container, and what a disaster.
I remember Japp Keller and several other Dutch guys just sitting there waiting while others were frantically checking rocker lines and fin boxes out of the remains.
“Tor, it is better to wait until we get to the last boards. They are absolutely flat, and we can start building the rocker lines from scratch. Go and get yourself a black plastic bag from the garbage cans over there.” I had seen “the black plastic bag trick” being performed in France the year before, and took their advise. By the time I got my pancake out of the container, it was already late afternoon. We must have been at least 15 guys building rocker lines that evening. But what to use as weights.? The beach was absolutely perfectly clean without a rock in sight. We used the cement feet of the parasols around us, and accidentally created rocker lines never seen in the history of this sport. The tremendous weight of those things in combination with the extreme heat totally deformed our boards within minutes. My cement block had also slid down from it’s original position to a point almost in the middle of the board. It could best be described as a modern plastic beach chair. What a mental boost, - just one day before the race. All this happened while we had dinner. We were all standing there trying to figure out how to
re-shape our disabled boards, and it was a lot of factors to consider. It was after sun set, and consequently less heat. It was going to be an over night operation, and less weight was needed. I just took my board with me to my room at the 4th. floor. Placed my suitcase and a table on top of it, and went to bed. To my big surprise, it looked exactly the same next morning.!!! At the registration desk, we got our sails and centerboards. It should be
a death penalty for making black and white sails. All our centerboards were absolutely flat, without a any profile whatsoever, but who cares,- they were all the same I thought.
And what’s next.. Ah – the brand new 3.2 kilo greasy teak booms. What an assembly..
The four weight groups were posted, and of course I had to be one of the heaviest light weights. Twenty two (22) kilos heavier than “that little kid” from Hawaii. In the next weight group,- the two extremes were only separated by 5.5 kilo.
I really had to dig deep to come up with some motivation. Well, here I was at this beautiful beach with all these beautiful people. Let’s make the best out of it.
I still remember Robbie’s sail number. It was 26374,- red and white stripes, but I can not remember my own. He was just out of another planet. After a couple of light wind races, the entire windsurfer world was in a state of shock. Robbie had beaten us with half a leg in both races. It got a bit heavier the second day, and you could spot Robbie from miles away. With his 41 kg’s he was literally sailing with his rig horizontal. This little 13 year old kid was hanging under his sail. Still pointing, and still flying, without a sign of fatigue. Robbie always started in heavy traffic to windward. In one race in particular, I had a dream start dead leeward. It was heavily favored. In addition to that it kept on moving left. It was a persistent shift. I went all the way and timed it perfectly with one tack that actually lifted me exactly to the marker an ocean ahead of the fleet - apart from Robbie. He came in at starboard as the only survivor of the windward warriors –from the disfavored lay line – to pass just behind me. Needless to say I lost track of him on the first long reach. It was a serious blow to my spirit and self confidence. I had a long talk to myself that night. It was time to do something about my life. I realized I was born in the wrong place at the wrong time, spending most of my time working my guts out. I even saw myself as a materialistic little
snob, and had to admit that I had lost some friends in the process.
I was at a cross road and my mind was made up, - I was going to move to the Bahamas.
