The question posed by Scuttlebutt, and eloquently echoed by Mark Johnson, cuts to the very heart of modern competitive sailing: is our relentless pursuit of speed and innovation truly securing the future, or are we inadvertently alienating the very foundation of our sport?

Having witnessed every America's Cup since 2000, from the IACC monohulls of Auckland to the hydrofoiling marvels of the AC75, the evolution is undeniable. The freedom from a stifling rulebook, a hallmark often championed by the likes of Emirates Team New Zealand and their design maestro Dan Bernasconi, has indeed fostered incredible advancements. We've seen wing sails replace soft sails on the grandest stage, Harken's hydraulic systems become ever more sophisticated, and Southern Spars push the boundaries of carbon fiber.

But at what cost? The SailGP circuit, with its identical F50 catamarans, offers a compelling spectacle, democratizing foiling at a high level. Yet, the entry barrier for the America's Cup, with its $100M+ campaigns for teams like INEOS Britannia and American Magic, has become astronomical. Are we creating a sport so exclusive, so technologically advanced, that it loses its connection to the vast majority of sailors who still race a J/70 or cruise a Beneteau?

The brilliance of Peter Burling and Jimmy Spithill on a foiling machine is undeniable, but does the average yacht club member understand the nuances of their windward-leeward foiling angles or the intricacies of their flight control systems? The Ocean Race, with its IMOCA 60s, attempts to bridge this gap, showcasing both raw speed and offshore endurance. Perhaps the future lies in a more balanced approach, where innovation is celebrated, but accessibility and a connection to sailing's foundational principles are not sacrificed on the altar of pure speed. The debate, much like a complex tidal gate, is far from settled.