Magical Moments — An often untold story
9.30pm, 21st November, a Tuesday evening. Most of my friends were at home, ready to end a busy day. I was packing up a small camera bag, ready for what was to be an unforgettable moment. Rambler was arriving shortly, and my job for the night was to be there to capture the shots of her entering the mouth of Marsamxett Harbour. As I headed off to the Royal Malta Yacht Club to hop onto a rib, many thoughts crossed my mind about how I was meant to tackle this situation. Darkness and movement put together are an extreme challenge for any photographer, add sea to the mix, and it gets on another level. However, a fresh challenge is always exciting.
As we headed out, I began to understand what these sailors who are out there on these yachts go through. They are not sitting on the sofa, enjoying their evening. No, they are being soaked by invisible waves that blend into the darkness of the night, being driven by the winds. This year the stretch down from Stromboli was a rough one, with 5 metre swells, and 30 knot winds, forcing many crews to retire from the race, I’m sure all these sailors just wanted to get home. As these thoughts filled my mind, I was subconsciously taking test shots, to figure out how to get the best result from the circumstances. We arrived just off the Tip of Sliema, at the mouth of the Harbour, and we patiently waited for a sign of the soon to be first across the line, Rambler 88.
10 minutes in, a flashing light appeared above the sea, some 200 metres away. There she was, one of the biggest yachts in the fleet, so close, yet so invisible. The excitement was real. Suddenly, there she was. 20 metres away at most, just there. Big black sails towering over her grey hull, as she literally flew past us over the choppy waters. And so the chase began, I was firing away, getting closer and closer, not even having the time to check what I was getting on the camera. And there it was, she crossed the line, the whole scene lasting maybe 15 seconds. She turned windwards, and the sails howled with disapproval as they flapped uselessly in the dead centre wind, as they were lowered. There really was no time to think about the experience as of yet.
On the jetty, I stood there waiting for her to dock, with several journalists, photographers and videographers. As she docked, owner George David stepped onto the jetty, and we pounced on him. I won't lie, I really hate doing this. Yes, it is great to be the first to get the shot out, but it was obvious, the crew were tired. Fair enough, these men have won line honours, it is a time for celebration, but its 11pm. These men had a long few days, and it really showed on their faces. They looked fatigued. Microphones, lights, and cameras being shoved in their faces whilst being bombarded with questions must get in the way of the moment. It would for me at least. After capturing a couple of shots, key ones being the textbook ‘cracking open the champagne’ shot, I rushed home to edit some photos and send them off.
As I looked through them, I could actually begin to appreciate the moment, that I was so lucky to be part of. The rush, the uncertainty, the tired happiness of a successful team, moments that very few poeple get the privilege to experience first hand. Which brings me to the reason why I am writing this; I want to share this story, with you.
