Bruises, scratches, blisters, a sunburn and a smile. That’s what a sailing race is all about. For get skill. It’s all about how much beer you have on board. Well, according to Brian, my skipper. I was out all morning and afternoon with Brian and 3 other guys, Nick, Dave and Richard, all of them my dad’s age, tacking up from St. Thomas around the St. James islands. This was indeed a motley crew.
While Brian was at the skippers’ meeting back at the yacht club, I asked the guys how the boat ran (“She’s a pig,” Richard replied) and how Brian maintains her (“She’s truly a piece of shit”). The boat cruises well at 12 knots of wind and above, but below that, forget it.
We began the race with a great start; the people in the committee boat told us so. As we crossed the line between the buoy and the small boat, the airhorn sounded and we were off. We raced until it was clear that we could never win or even come close with the shifting winds. So then we just sailed. That’s when the fun ensued. Beers were opened, jokes and banter flew about the previous mishaps of last year, and everyone was in high spirits.
There were a few tight moments, like when we had to tack to avoid a collision, forced him to tack also, and almost ran aground. Between a rock and a hard boat, what do you choose?
Anyway. It was great fun, and I was heckled a lot by the guys. I felt very comfortable being in the company of good friends, observing and enjoying the teasing between them and their good natured laughter.
The race ended at 2:30. We came in last, of course, since after the first (of three) laps we had decided against competition and for fun. The prize was a bag full of candy and a silve plastic tiara with “Birthday Girl” written across it. Of course, I got the tiara.
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