At 79 years old, Malcolm Dickson brought his offshore racing career to a close with a second handicap victory in the Solo Trans-Tasman race.
Few sailors can claim their careers begin and end with wins, but Dickson belongs to that rare company. His first handicap victory came in 1978, in an event still finding its feet, during a crossing that turned cyclonic. His second arrived in 2026, at 79 years of age, in conditions widely regarded as among the worst the race had produced in years. Between those two bookends sit two further entries, a first across the line, and a second placing. As a body of work, it stands among the most extraordinary records in New Zealand offshore sailing.
Dickson has been open about where this result sits in his racing life. The 2026 race, he has confirmed, was his last.
"I think it's probably time to hand on to the next generation. Step back and enviously watch them sail out at the start of the next race."
No gift from the Tasman
The crossing offered nothing easily. In the opening stages off the top of the North Island, winds built to 48 knots, conditions that took him back to what he had encountered out of New Plymouth in 2023. Worse followed. Squalls near Lord Howe Island pushed past 50 knots and at their peak he believed they had climbed beyond 60. He rolled away the genoa, put a deep reef in the main, and kept going.
"I didn't have any significant breakages at all. All the systems continued to work as hoped."
He had gone to the start line expecting a contest between four boats. Bill Kidman's Young Ross 12m Pretty Boy Floyd, Glen Jeffery's Grand Soleil 50 Wave, and Kevin Le Poidevin's Lutre BOC Open 40 Roaring Forty all retired before the finish. Kevin's withdrawal near Lord Howe Island, the result of a structural failure that left him no real option but to turn back, was the last of the retirements. What remained was a two-boat fight between Dickson's Sarau and Peter Elkington's Young 11 Pacman, and it stayed close until the very end. On the final night, with Pacman pressing and the result still genuinely in doubt, Malcolm pushed Sarau hard rather than give his body the rest it was asking for.
"I needed to push it to make sure he finished behind me. If there'd been another day in it I would have snatched more sleep, but I knew I'd be able to sleep after I finished."
Sarau crossed the finish line in the early hours, just after half past six in the morning, as the first light was beginning to show. Dickson had been sailing continuously since leaving Ōpua, his elapsed time recorded at 7 days 18 hours 38 minutes 44 seconds. The number that mattered most was his PHRF handicap time of 6 days 4 hours 56 minutes 35 seconds, which placed him first in the monohull PHRF handicap division.
The pilot house advantage
Asked how his 55-foot monohull handled winds and gusts of that severity, Dickson was clear that while Sarau is a capable vessel, the real edge in this race came from something his competitors largely did not have: a pilot house. Remaining warm and dry throughout the passage made a genuine difference. Going forward to trim sails or change a headsail carried none of the mental weight that cold and exhaustion impose on sailors in open cockpits. Experienced offshore sailors have made this point before. Keep the crew comfortable, and that comfort pays dividends when conditions are at their worst.
"The contribution of the pilot house is probably underestimated. If you're warm and dry, you tend to go and do things straight away. The performance gain isn't obvious to many people, but it's a big plus."
Steady watching from home
Joan Dickson, following the tracker from New Zealand as the weather intensified, felt none of the anxiety those conditions might reasonably have produced. Her confidence in Malcolm and in Sarau runs deep, shaped by many hard miles shared at sea together.
"Total confidence in Malcolm and the boat. It's never been an issue knowing what we have put the boat through. She'll always look after us."
Coming home
Joan will join Sarau for the return trip, alongside the couple's 16-year-old granddaughter, a fitting way to bring the boat back to the Bay of Islands.
Once home, the racing configuration comes out and the domestic fittings go back in. The microwave, the washing machine, the diesel heater, the dining table, all stripped out before the start, all restored to their places. Sarau becomes a home again.
A better start line
Malcolm was direct in his support for the race's move from New Plymouth to Ōpua. The gradual beat out of the Bay of Islands gives solo sailors time to settle before conditions build, an opportunity the straight exit into open water from New Plymouth never afforded.
"Opua is the logical place. A wonderful marina with all the services. I was pleasantly surprised at how well the start worked out."
Watch this space
Race director Julie Kidman drew warm praise from a man who has watched this event unfold across half a century.
"She's basically driven it. She's done a fantastic job, up there with the job that New Plymouth used to do. I think this race will be the pinnacle of shorthanded offshore racing in New Zealand. Watch this space."
Fifteen boats left Ōpua. Four retired. Eleven finished. The hardest part, Dickson noted, is simply getting to the start line.
He has managed that four times and won twice, with nearly fifty years separating those victories. At 79, he has more than earned the right to watch the next one from shore, enviously, as he put it himself.
