Some sails are so much much fun that you have to tell the tale
Don’t worry, you won’t have to jibe the jib, sheet the mainsail, re-track the genoa, or any technical stuff. We just want you along for a nice daysail in the trade winds on clear warm waters on a fine sunny day here in the Turks and Caicos Islands. Anybody can steer if they want. Some of the boats are here to race, we’ll stay out of their way.
I might have said that when JoAnn introduced me to the two crewmembers she’d recruited from the beach. Instead I smiled and said, “Hello, I’m Captain Bligh.”
Understand, my little sloop Ambia and I are entered in this race. We’ve paid our fee, received our free beer and t-shirts for the crew, and are expected to cross the starting line and sail the course. Tim, conductor of Provo’s annual Multihull Fool’s Regatta, already knows that Ambia intends to finish last — or thereabouts. We might even stop for swim call, though I don’t tell Tim that — in addition to being a serious racing sailor he is a friend.
Ambia and I had a perfect record of avoiding sailboat races in the eight years we’d been together — other than when we are going the same direction as another sailboat, of course. The Annual Multihull Fools Regatta hadn’t been a problem since Ambia, a monohull, didn’t qualify. This year there is also a monohull category. The race slogan is “Any fool can enter.” And Ambia was at Providenciales on race day. What could I do?
Each skipper gets a course map with easily understood instructions written large enough to read without my glasses. Would that our bureaucracies could do as well. Tim cautions that we are all here to have a good time. “But,” he adds with that maniacal grin of a racing sailor, “some of us are serious about the racing!”
I usually sail Ambia single-handed, which is good since my crew has little sailing experience, none aboard Ambia. The plan was for a short sail after the skippers meeting before the race, and to be last across the starting line. But the skippers meeting got delayed. By the time everyone was aboard and briefed, snorkel gear stowed, dinghy ashore, and Ambia made ready to sail, it was time to get behind the starting line. There was little that my noble crew could do other than to stay clear of the sailing and hope that I knew what I was doing. We maneuvered well clear of the gathering monohulls… well, they were kind of gathering.
The horn sounds, the race is on! Several boats shoot across the starting line! The rest of the monohulls, boats designed for cruising not racing, tack ponderously towards the line. Everybody gives everybody plenty of room so it takes a while. I begin to worry about being around for the multihull start, scheduled ten minutes after our start. So I sail Ambia into the fleet then tack towards the starting line.
The wind direction changes. The tack that should have crossed the center of the starting line is taking us towards the offshore end, marked by the magnific trimaran, Tao, anchored at dress ship. As nimble as Ambia is, we could easily tack towards shore, but even my miscalculation leaves us enough room. None of that is true for the much larger sailboat ahead of us. She has to run her engine to get clear of the situation.
The racecourse runs shorewise so that folks on the beach can watch, then crosses the lagoon and goes through a wonderfully wide break in the reef. Then it is deep water to a mark outside of the reef off of Pine Cay. Thus boats unfamiliar with the local waters are not subjected to undue hazards. A final mark off of Pine Cay’s beach gives folks at the Meridian Club a chance to see us. We return as we came. It is a nice daysail that the slowest boats can do in four or five hours in today’s breeze.
We started the race with the mainsail reefed to subject the novice crew to minimum heeling. We also started the race maneuvering among other boats, tacking and jibing (in which the sails change sides and the boat leans the other way) so the worst of it is already over. Now we settle back and enjoy the sailing as the late starting monohulls slowly pass us.
Rounding the mark where we turn offshore (still close astern the fleet) the course is downwind. Here, in a proper sailboat race, huge, colorful spinnakers go up. Most of the serious racers today, however, are aboard the multihulls. Except for having remarkably large crews, the boats off our bow look like a goodly fleet of cruisers putting out to sea together. Presently the first multihulls, Minx and Beluga, pass up through the fleet.
Once established on the long leg outside of the reef, more multihulls, Two Fingers and Visa Vie, pass us. Shortly the beach catamarans, which started ten minutes behind the multihulls, zip by us.
Aboard Ambia we are settling into standard daysailing routine, sipping drinks, talking, enjoying the sun, breeze, and beautifully clear waters, wandering around the boat and hanging out… who wants to steer next?
Bruce, JoAnn, and Gary arrived yesterday. This is the beginning of their vacation. The fourth in their party, Kerry, hasn’t arrived yet, which is fortunate for Eleanor and Linda. The Fools Regatta requires Ambia to carry a crew of five or more. Eleanor and Linda are flying back to Canada tomorrow. Crewing in a sailboat race is how they are ending their vacation. We are all having an excellent time.
From off of the Pine Cay reef mark, the fleet is a wonderful sight. Nearly all of the boats are between us and shore, large monohulls tacking back and forth towards the beach while Minx and Beluga charge back with spinnakers flying. Atabara’s large new gaff sails shine white in the sun. Nobody’s Tri’n is pretty too, all three of her sails being multicolored.
The breeze has slacked some, the mainsail has been raised to its full size. Conditions warrant a larger headsail but she’s moving okay and none of us is in a hurry.
We aren’t actually last as we sail outside of the reef back towards Grace Bay. Space Ship holds that distinction. This is her first sail under her new master, Nicky. Space Ship and at least one other boat get honorable mentions for being improvised into sailing condition for the race.
Back inside the reef and tacking towards the buoy off the beach, I do a sailboat heave to, which parks the boat in a slow drift mode, the deepwater sailor’s equivalent of anchoring. Declaring swim call, I jump over the side and demonstrate Last Chance (the man overboard line) and the swim ladder, which have been dragging in the water for the whole race. Like magic the Caicos dolphin Jojo joins us. I anchor so everyone can swim with the dolphin. He is still with us when we get underway again so anybody who wants, up to three at a time, hangs on Last Chance or the swim ladder watching the dolphin escort Ambia on her way. I expect him to get bored with us since Ambia is down to half speed but he doesn’t. The dolphin follows us for more than a mile and crosses the finish line with us.
All things considered, I reckon that we won the Fool Regatta, even though we finished next to last.
For more about the Caicos dolphin, including more photos, see ’In the Wake of Beluga’ in my e-book, ’One Man’s Sampler’
© Jim Hutchinson