Sportsbeat reporter takes to the waves in iShares Cup

IT'S dubbed the Formula One of the sailing world - high octane, fast-paced action just yards from the shore.

CALM BEFORE THE STORM: The Extreme 40 catamarans assemble near the start line ahead of the race (Lloyd Images/Oman Sail)

And I was about to be thrown into the thick of it - the Extreme 40 iShares Cup at Cowes Week.

The format has gone from strength-to-strength since the inaugural event in 2007 and pits ten teams against each other on 40-foot catamarans.

I was naturally tentative, then, when invited to join Loick Peyron aboard Oman Sail's Rennaisance as their fifth man on the second day of racing.

Peyron's credentials are superb - master of 48 Atlantic crossings, two round-the-world voyages and five ORMA world championships.

I was assured the fifth man position was just there for a lucky guest to savour the race - no experience necessary - but my previous experience falls into two categories - disasterous and embarrassing.

Disasterous - a school trip which left my boat capsized in the Port of Dover.

Embarrassing - a mini-catamaran hired on holiday which had to be towed back to the shore by hotel staff - with the whole beach in stitches.

But with that behind me I was excited - and apprehensive, nervous and down-right scared - about taking on the brashest boat on the seas.

I was up in the first race and was taken to Renaissance on a rib. We pulled alongside, I jump on-board and was thrown a yellow bib.

"Right, get that on, we don't have long. What's your name?" shouted Peter Greenhalgh, Peyron's right-hand man.

"If we shout at you don't take it personally."

Some introduction - but I listened carefully as he told me where I needed to be at what time.

The race format is simple - a timer counts down and the crews get as close to the start line as possible without crossing it.

As the gun goes it's every man, or boat, to themselves. There are no friends at sea and each catamaran fights for the best line and strongest wind to get their nose in front as they take on two laps of the course.

The start was a blur of shouting and near-misses, but I was starting to enjoy it - love it, in fact.

The first call came for me to follow the crew over to the other side of the boat. I wasn't going to be the man to let them down having got a flying start and I scrambled across.

CLINGING ON: That's me on the far right in the red and yellow clinging on for dear life (Lloyd Images/Oman Sail)

The netting which connects the two hulls is covered with ropes begging to be tripped over. It was a hands and knees job - not graceful but effective.

Sitting on the opposite hull I got my first face full of water as we bounced across, over and under the waves.

The beauty of the Extreme 40 is its ability to ‘fly a hull' - or sail at speeds of up to 45 knots with one side up in the air. Think a car driving on two wheels.

It makes for spectacular stuff and the first time we flew a hull was unforgettable - a moment of grace in an otherwise frantic voyage.

It is impossible to describe the physical effort put in by Peyron's three crew-mates, who literally throw themselves across the boat, tirelessly fighting the ropes and sails - and by this time they were in full flow.

Before the race got underway, a member of Peyron's crew had warned race organisers of the small boats which had assembled too close to the race course.  

There is no effective way of marshalling these boats - as I found out when we were hurtling towards them.

We missed - just - but Team iShares, skippered by double Olympic gold medallist Shirley Robertson, hit a rib, sustaining enough damage to force them to miss the rest of the day's action, while hospitalising a spectator.

The rest of the race was a blur - I was overcome with adrenaline - but I knew we were in front.

We crossed the line first but had we won? I wasn't sure. There was too much going on during the race - too much scrambling across netting, ducking from ropes, being hit by waves and, quite frankly, clinging on for dear life - to take stock.

"How did it go?" I asked Peyron.

"Okay," he said, with a wry smile on his face. 

A subdued response from the Frenchman - but there was plenty more races to come and he knew there was a lot more work to do.

My time on the boat was over but I felt like I had done a day's work - exhilarating stuff but physically draining.

As the rib came to collect me - and drop the fifth man off for the next race - I quickly thanked the crew and made my way ashore.

Although I may not get a chance to step on an Extreme 40 again, it was an unforgettable experience and sailing has a newfound fan.