KEY POINTS:
It may not be so memorable to you, but for me, Team New Zealand's win over China Team in round robin one of the Louis Vuitton Pacific Series would have to rate as one of the best moments of the regatta. In fact it could quite possibly have been the greatest yacht race of all time.
Slightly hyperbolic perhaps, but it's not often that we in the media get the chance to be a part of the performance.
Admittedly the part played by the 18th man (the title given to the guest on board) in Team New Zealand's success that day was negligible. It has to be; that's part of the rules. But just to be on an America's Cup yacht during a competitive race was an exhilarating and unforgettable experience.
It was the creaking and groaning that took the most getting used to.
You don't really get an appreciation of how noisy these 25-tonne behemoths are until you're actually out on the water.
With bows slicing through the waves, the speed and agility of the sleek America's Cup yachts looks almost effortless. The reality aboard these multimillion-dollar, state-of-the art racing machines is something else.
With a carbon-fibre hull weighing next to nothing, a huge missile-shaped bulb weighing more than 20 tonnes at the bottom of the keel and a mast soaring 33m, even with a relatively light wind the boat feels as though it is stretched to breaking point.
When the boat gets settled on a particular course for any time, there is an eerie silence aboard, apart from the fizzing of the water against the black hull.
But before I was to experience the excitement of racing, we endured a long wait out on the race course and I discovered the side of the sport that isn't so glamorous.
After a short tow to the racing area from one of the team's motor launches, the crew lounged about and chatted - classic cars, the state of the economy, property prices and the complete lack of wind were all discussed.
It was because of this lack of wind that we spent four hours floating out on the Waitemata in the searing heat. Perched at the back, I was pretty much ready to go to sleep by the time the race committee decided the wind had picked up enough to get some racing in.
Teams can be bitten by these sorts of days, as it is very easy for the crew to lose their focus during the lengthy delays.
But luckily, Team New Zealand, with the exception of their rookie 18th man, were very good at what Grant Dalton calls "re-engaging in the start process".
As soon as they got word on a start time, the team sprang in to life, performing a series of practice manoeuvres and going through the start processes to ensure their heads are in the game once the pre-start gun fires.
With five minutes to go before the start, Team New Zealand and China Team both made a dash to get into the "box" behind the start line, where they vied for the best starting position.
So began the "dial-up", 300 seconds of frenetic activity on board as both boats performed a series of pirouettes, huge carbon-fibre mainsails whipping wildly from side to side.
In the ensuing game of cat and mouse, China Team helmsman Ian Williams crossed in front of Team New Zealand, getting dangerously close to the bow. The Chinese effectively sailed into Dean Barker's water, as Team New Zealand, on the starboard side, had the right of way.
Kiwi tactician Ray Davies swiftly raises the protest flag, then throws his arms up in exasperation to emphasise the injustice of it all. I join in the theatrics and shoot a suitably appalled look towards the umpire boat. They don't buy it, and the green flag is raised.
It wasn't to matter in the end though, with the China Team crossing the start line a fraction too early and being recalled, while Team NZ made a perfect start at the committee boat end.
My orders were simple: on windward legs keep down low and out of the way, while downwind I was to stand at the back of the boat and again, stay out of the way.
With Team New Zealand given a big headstart from the outset, they only needed to maintain loose cover over China Team for the remainder of the race. It meant there were no epic tacking duels, so my slides across the stern of the boat were kept to a minimum. It was a pity, I was getting really good at it by the end.
While Team New Zealand were always firmly in control of the match, the concentration and focus on board was evident until the very end. There is a constant stream of information relayed to Barker from the afterguard of Davies, Kevin Hall and Adam Beashel, while the crew had their timing down to a fine art.
There was a sense of euphoria, from me at least, when the hooter sounded, signalling Team New Zealand had crossed the finish line first. But there was very little celebration from the crew, with a few pats on the back and a "well done guys" call and that was it. It's the way it's been for 15 years, harking back to the Black Magic days.
This was just another race. It had been well-sailed and convincingly won, but it was just another step along the way. The difference for me was that it was a step along the way which I, for once, had been part of.
