Rigged up and Ready

Sailing around Sydney Harbour in a racing yacht at twilight is exhilarating stuff. Julie Ihle tells us how to get hooked

Although I've lived in Sydney all my life. I'm a sailing virgin. So when the opportunity comes to take a hands-on sailing lesson aboard Pla Loma, veteran of the Sydney-to-Hobart, in a Sydney Harbour twilight race, I leap at the chance.

My fellow sailing newbie, Mike, and I are met by our minder, Julie, the yacht's navigator with a soft spot for sailing virgins.

Julie issues us with sailing jackets and warns we will get wet. Her other warnings are more ominous -  don't touch this rigging as the last person who did lost three fingers, and don't step on the rope as you could lose a foot. Whew. Suddenly, it's feeling less like a rollicking high seas adventure and more like boot camp with consequences.

We watch as the crew works furiously checking rigs, pulling ropes and getting mysterious gadgets out of sailing bags. I can sense the excitement mixed with what feels like pre-exam nerves.

Julie explains that as Pla Loma won the previous week's race it is handicapped tonight and will start the race last. She adds that twilight racing is more about friendship and camaraderie than winning, and I notice a keg of beer on the deck.

After a final tug at the ropes and a quick unscrambling of the sail, we set off. The crew launches the billowing sail and the boat immediately lurches to one side. Mike and I grab on to the railing as though our lives depend on it. "Mind your head in case we jibe," yells Julie.

"Tack", bellows the skipper and we clamber to the other side. Tack, jibe . . . we are learning new words.

Julie and I dangle our legs over the side of the boat. I'm just getting comfy when the skipper yells: "Tack", and we hotfoot it to the other side, taking care not to grab the rigging that might slice off our fingers.

We tack a few more times but I'm getting the hang of it now and have time to drink in views of harbour mansions and secluded bays, as well as Sydney icons such as the beaches at Balmoral and Lady Jane, which is Sydney's most famous nudist beach.

The weekly twilight race follows a different course depending on the wind and sea conditions, and tonight we are following an especially scenic course up Middle Harbour to Rose Bay and circling Shark Island.

This hands-on sailing experience is designed to give newcomers a taste of what sailing is all about and, if you like it, the club recommends you do a course at its Flying Fish Sailing School.

As we circle Shark Island, we tack a few more times and then jibe.

The hard yards have been done so the crew breaks open the beer. We drink in the scenery: the sun a molten orange disc above the Harbour Bridge, flanked by the Opera House.

The skipper kicks back and shows us what he does at the helm, before he relinquishes it to someone else. I get a sense of camaraderie on board. Crew members are a range of ages and an even male/female ratio; not the blokey atmosphere I expected.

There's a seafaring solidarity, evident as the crew waves to a tourist boat while Julie has an especially keen eye for rowers. "More talent starboard," she whoops when we spy a group of toned paddlers.

As the sun slinks out of view and lights twinkle on the harbour, we retrace our route to the start. We glide down Middle Harbour, waving at navy divers practising drills.

We hop ashore at the clubhouse which is swarming with crews from returning yachts. A band is playing and the beer is flowing.

We take a seat in the clubhouse's marvellous bistro and chow down on beer-battered orange roughy.

"How did you enjoy sailing?" asks the skipper. I tell him I am hooked.

I have learned new words, experienced the thrill of being on board a racing yacht, felt the wind in my hair and forgotten all the worries of the working week. I'm coated with salt spray, my jeans are soaked, but Sydney Harbour has never been this much fun, and I know I'll be back to learn the ropes properly.