4

The Midnight Rambler—A One-Off Boat

It took Ed and Bob a long time to find the right boat. They had always admired a yacht commissioned by a fellow sailor from Melbourne, Bruce Taylor. Taylor's boat, appropriately named Chutzpah, had been custom-built with one thought in mind: winning the Sydney to Hobart Race. Taylor was moving on to a more modern boat, so Chutzpah was up for grabs.

The boat had some unique features that made it just what the crew wanted in their Christmas stockings. It was sturdy and beautifully balanced, and it had a relatively short, stout mast. Taylor had lost Chutzpah's “stick” twice before doing the Hobart and decided it wouldn't happen again.

While the shorter mast could be a liability in the lighter winds east of Tasmania, it would be a huge asset when the going got tough. A boat like this would give them the confidence they needed to match any competitor in the rough conditions they would inevitably encounter in the Bass Strait. Chutzpah was much more seaworthy than anything they'd ever had before. It was a one-off boat.

They bought the boat on the 6th of December, and the Hobart was the 26th. That gave them a little less than three weeks to get the boat prepared for the race. A number of old salts told them categorically that it couldn't be done, but they were determined that the boat would be ready in time.

Through a series of fortunate coincidences and financial machinations, they got the new boat up to Sydney quickly. It arrived just in time to begin the prodigious task of getting it ready for the Hobart. There were mountains of safety, measurement, radio, and crew qualification checks. And to compound the challenge, they had to quickly familiarize themselves with the boat in Sydney. The alternative would be doing a crash course during the race—far from an ideal option.

The first time Bill Psaltis heard about the boat was a frantic call from Ed. “Dad, I bought a new boat. It's arriving from Melbourne, and I'm tied up at work. Can you go down and pick it up?”

Bill agreed to help, but when he saw the boat he was appalled. Unlike the boats he was used to, the bottom was flat with a fin hanging off “like a wind surfboard.” As far as he was concerned, it was not a boat to go to Hobart, and there was not enough time to turn it into one.

Bill called Ed, and he was adamant. “You're crazy to try to get ready,” he insisted. “I've done enough Hobarts to know you can't get a boat ready in three weeks. This is madness—don't do it.” Bill knew his boys well, and he wasn't concerned about their competence. But he was concerned about what the sea could do to a boat, and this new one looked like a Windsurfer.

To the surprise of no one, Ed was just as stubborn as his father. He was absolutely convinced they could do it. Ed told his father he was confident that they could be ready, and his optimism was infectious. Everyone set to work preparing for the big race. Even Ed's wife, Sue, got involved in getting the new boat ready. And Bill, once he realized his son was really going to do the race, was as committed as everyone else to getting the boat set to go.

The sails were desperately in need of replacement. Almost all the wardrobe needed to be renewed, and coming up with the money for new sails wouldn't be easy. Looking for divine intervention, Ed approached the Australian Financial Review—Australia's equivalent to the Wall Street Journal—to ask for help. The paper agreed to sponsor the boat, and, backed by The Fin, they scraped together enough money for a new set of sails.

With a sponsor like the Australian Financial Review, Ed and Bob now had a solid financial platform that would allow them to play in the big leagues. But they were concerned about more than sails. The rigging was a problem, too.

Lines called runners hold up the mast, especially when the wind is coming from behind, and, if the runners fail, everything comes crashing down. No one was sure how much torture the original runners had been put through. Leaving nothing to chance, Ed decided to have new runners fabricated. It was a decision that, with the benefit of hindsight, may have saved their lives.

Beyond the sails and rigging, one other thing needed to be renewed: The boat needed a name. Chutzpah was a great name, but it was Bruce Taylor's selection. The decision was Ed's to make, and the choice was easy. Their new boat would be called the AFR Midnight Rambler. The “AFR” came from their sponsor, and the “Midnight Rambler” came from their history.

The crew always sailed well at night. In most races, that's when they jumped ahead in the standings, and their exceptional nighttime performance was a direct payoff from their diligent practice. They were good midnight sailors, so the name was a logical fit.

Midnight Rambler was a logical choice, but it was an emotional choice as well. Ed Psaltis was a devoted Rolling Stones fan—so much so that the crew speculated that his firstborn son might be named Keith, after Keith Richards. They were relieved when Ed and Sue chose Ben instead of Keith, but Ed's devotion to the Stones was undiminished. He still wanted to pay homage to the band, and there was another consideration as well. Naming the new boat Midnight Rambler would justify playing the Stones at maximum volume all night, every night, even while docked at the Cruising Yacht Club.

Not every member of the crew was as enthusiastic about the Rolling Stones as Ed Psaltis. But they were all excited about sailing the AFR Midnight Rambler in the next Hobart race. With new sails, new rigging, and a new name, the Ramblers were ready for the Hobart.