Something in the water

His face is already pretty much etched into the national psyche, and that easy smile and cool, calm demeanor have become known around the world, but in person, Peter Burling could not be more humble, more unassuming, or any more relaxed.

He may be an Olympic gold medal winner with a string of international titles to boot, and of course there is that not insignificant matter of bringing the America’s Cup back to its rightful home here in New Zealand, but in the flesh the man responsible for whipping a multi-million dollar boat through water at speeds approaching 100 km per hour is just a sweet-natured, very casual, amiable twenty-something. He’s arguably the world’s best sailor, but at heart he is still just a boy from the Bay, unfazed and unchanged by fame and more than willing to spend some time in front of the camera and talk to UNO about the journey so far.

It is a journey that began around 20 years ago in the Welcome Bay estuary, where an eight-year-old Burling and his brother first set sail in Jelly Tip, a wooden Optimist-class yacht that had definitely seen better days. “My brother got into it first and I just kinda got dragged along,” Burling says of his earliest foray into sailing, with that trademark understatement. “My Dad had been into sailing and thought it was a good skill to have. And it kind of spiralled from there.”

And when he says spiralled, he means it whirled wildly and unstoppably onto national then international stages: he won his first Optimist nationals at nine years of age, competed in the World Champs in Texas aged 12, and scooped the 2006 420 Class Worlds title in the Canary Islands at the tender age of just 15; a year later he won the Under-18 World Championship, took the 49er World Champs with Blair Tuke in 2013, 2014, 2015 and 2016, and – again with Tuke – took home silver in the 2012 Olympics and gold in the 2016 event. Then came the America’s Cup and the New Zealand Order of Merit for Services to Sailing, but before we go there, lets just back up the bus and get back to Welcome Bay in the early noughties. 

“I have a lot of fond memories of that time,” Burling says. “Around here can be a pretty tricky place to sail, but one of the cool things about it is that you can sail in any conditions. In a lot of places you end up sailing in only one type of weather, but here, because you can get out in all kinds, it means you are quite well- rounded as you’ve had to deal with a lot of different things and looked at different ways of wining races - if you want to, you can sail in some pretty big swells at times here! The other cool thing about Tauranga is you have the keel boat club and the dinghies kind of just in one group, with adults and younger ones competing. It’s unique in that there is everything from the Learn to Sail level right on up to the keel boat club, and there’s not many around the country that have that.”

The sailing environment he encountered in Bermuda with the America’s Cup Challenge also had similarities to his early escapades on the sea around Tauranga, with a relatively limited area of open water and changeable conditions; but perhaps the main thing his formative years taught him was adaptability, a decidedly Kiwi trait if ever there was one. “One of the skills I did learn here at a young age was to be able to watch other people do a sport and to learn off them, to notice different things about how they’re sailing and have things set up, and to be able to adapt things really quickly and see whether you are sailing well or not. A large percentage of our sport is how quickly you can get the boat to go, and when people say someone is a natural sailor, they mean that person has an instinctive way of getting a boat to go faster than it should. And that is something learnt from hours of getting things balanced and learning about what is fast and what isn’t.”

And whatever happened to Jelly Tip? “I honestly don’t know,” Burling shrugs. “I’m not even sure if it was even my boat. Jelly Tip was bought for my brother and I ended up with it. . . Who knows where it is now.” Somewhere in Tauranga, someone may just have a piece of sailing history sitting in the backyard.

As Burling’s skills grew and the awards piled up – repeated questions about when the silverware outgrew the mantle piece and where they live now are all answered with a sheepish shrug and deflective smile – he also had to learn how to juggle his competitive life and the more mundane aspects of youth. Like getting an education.

Having attended Tauranga Boys College (at the same time coincidentally as cricketer Kane Williamson), he embarked on a mechanical engineering degree at Auckland University, but half way through, in his words, he decided to “major in sailing” instead. Competing in European sailing at pretty high levels and then coming back to try and focus on exams was probably never going to work, but while he may not have come out with a degree, he is the first to admit that two years of engineering studies eventually paid off on the water.

“At the Olympic level,” he says, “a lot of it is just a seat-of- your-pants kind of thing, because today you have a single platform that you can’t really change or improve.”

This is, after all, essentially a one-design race and everyone uses virtually identical equipment, so – as Burling says – “It’s a question of how you set it up and how well you can sail it!” But in something like the Americas Cup it’s different; the variables are almost infinite and change – literally – by the hour. And in that fast moving, high-tech environment, knowledge is power.

“I’ve always really liked the engineering side of sailing,” he says, “ever since I was a little kid and making things and trying things on the boats. I’ve always been quite pedantic on having a really clean and well-thought- out boat, not having anything on there that doesn’t need to be there, and having it all neat and tidy.”

And he would be the first to admit that this has translated from the waters of Welcome Bay to Bermuda. “I do feel like I had a good understanding of the systems on board and our team had a strength in the link between the sailing team and the designers, so that we knew how hard we could push it,” he says, again with an achingly acute sense of understatement. “At the end of the day, we are the ones who have to decide whether to back off or take the risk and play the game. But that is always something that I really loved, that whole side of it.”

If it sounds like a calculated risk, it is. Burling has described international level competitive sailing as being a massive game of chess, and though he finesses that description a little, it is clear he still sees it that way in his mind. “It’s a little different,” he says, “in that you can slightly change your pieces from time to time. But yeah, the better you are the less mistakes you make. And while you have to have an underlying plan, you also have to wing it sometimes.

And just as on the board, so too on the water, it is often he who dares – wings it but errs on the right side of the parameters – that wins. As we all saw played out on our

TV screens, in this level of competition things can go spectacularly wrong, and when they do, they do so at speed. Who can forget the heart stopping minutes that stretched in to hours when it seemed New Zealand’s America’s Cup challenge had nose-dived figuratively and literally. But pushing things to the limits, and recovering from the results of dancing too close to those limits, is what marks the difference between winning and losing.

“They’re incredibly cool boats that we sailed in Bermuda,” Burling says. “We were really pushing the technology side in regard to what you could and couldn’t do, particularly in regard to the structural side of things, and there are so many decisions to be made in regard to how many risks to take in regard to that structure. On the windy days during the Cup, you were really looking at the loads on everything! And whether it was luck or good management we seemed to have got it pretty right.”

‘We’ is a very common word in the vocabulary of Peter Burling. It is not the royal

‘We’, it’s just ‘we’ as in ‘us’, in lower case, and it is striking how even in his own mind he edits out Peter Burling and defaults to the team persona. Striking, and also remarkably endearing in someone who is clearly such a very competitive person; you don’t take home the huge string of awards Burling has amassed without wanting to win, though he confesses – a little apologetically – that he’s forgotten just how many World Champs or 49ers wins he has: “You’d have to look it up,” he says. 

“I’ve always been fairly competitive,” he admits, and that really is an understatement, “but I think we have gone through a period in New Zealand when we had heaps of people who were really competitive and who were pushing each other forward. And that has left us in pretty good stead for what we are doing today.

You learn that you have to keep improving and be your own critic and not really rely on too many people to help you out. We had quite minimal coaching when we were young, so that tends to make you more self reliant, and in this sport that is pretty important.”

Burling had barely been back on dry land – and yes he is aware that a huge chunk of his life is spent on the water – when he entered the international Moth class World

Champs at Lake Garda in Italy, and with almost no prep time he placed a very creditable second. Then it was back to New Zealand to continue touring the Cup, but along the way he announced that he would be joining Team Brunel in the Volvo Ocean Race, a decision that will put him up against his long time sailing partner Blair Tuke, who will be part of a different team in the race. The Volvo, formerly known as the Whitbread Round the World Race, demands a whole new skill set, with the crews being expected to much more than just sailors – medical response, sail making, engine and hydraulics repairs are all par for the course, and some legs of the race can last for up to 20 days. It ain’t for the faint hearted.

But having mastered everything from the one-man Moth class to the finely choreographed racing of the America’s Cup, it seems only fitting that he turns his talents to a new challenge. “Its something I’ve always seen as the other side of our sport,” Burling says, “and it has been a great opportunity to jump in with a team that is going to be on the pace. But we’ll have to wait and see how competitive we are, though it will be really good fun and a great chance to develop some skills. I enjoy change and variation and that is why I like doing other events and finding other ways to improve yourself. Everyday is different.”

In addition to being a remarkable success story, perhaps what we like about Peter

Burling is not just the dedication, the classic Kiwi can-do attitude and the team spirit, but the ability to do it all with a composure that borders on, well, almost disinterest.

The perfect antidote to the white-knuckle rides of the America’s Cup Challenge races were Burling’s pitch perfect performances in the post-race press conferences. He was famously accused of being asleep at the wheel, but his opposition and TV viewers alike soon found that to underestimate Peter Burling was to make a grave mistake. By the final races, more than one commentator was calling Burling’s deadpan delivery on and off the water his secret weapon, a star-turn that both baffled - and incrementally and incredibly infuriated - his opposing skipper.

“Yeah,” he says, slipping into trademark laconic post-race monotone, “it’s always been something that, from a young age, there has been pressure in competing and

I’ve always enjoyed that. I generally bring the best out of myself when I have a bit of pressure on, when you are racing for something rather than just going out for a sail.

But during the Cup, you always look quite relaxed because you know what is going on in the background and you know there are so many bits and pieces in place and obviously you have to perform really well and there is a lot of pressure, but you try to get a nice easy message out and keep everyone nice and relaxed. The main part of my job is to sail the boat fast, and we definitely did a good job of that as a team. We had some pretty tough situations to overcome at times, but we pulled through those pretty well. Having to pull through some bit and pieces – some are public knowledge and some aren’t – pulls you closer together and once we got past that first weekend, when we knew we were in with a chance, I don’t think we were ever going to let it go.” 

Bits and pieces. Those would be the near total disaster of a wrecked boat, quite possibly injury or death, and the dashed hopes of a nation who were waiting and watching eagerly at home. But as we know they overcame the bits and pieces – the public and not so public – and took home the sailing world’s greatest trophy.

“The awards are not really why we do it,’ Burling says, “but it is cool to be recognized for what we’ve managed to achieve.” There’s that we again, but then – lo and behold – there is also a brief flash of just Peter Burling. “For me, a lot of it’s about having fun along the way. Win or lose, at the end of it you want to have had fun doing it,” he says.

And behind the cool, calm exterior and the laid back public persona, behind the calculated risk taker and the perennial team player, that is all you probably need to know about Peter Burling. It’s about having fun.