After a long couple of weeks working on Kai Ohana in the Nanny Cay boat yard, Spring Regatta had finally come. I walked through the marina and saw a group of volunteers setting up for the event. A band practiced under the pavilion where I did my yoga in the mornings, and the volleyball court where we played after a long day of working on the boat, was now covered with huge tents that sold food and booze for the competitors. Most of the race boats had come from Florida to Trinidad (the balance from around the world) and had filled the marina to capacity. I could barely discern the boats from the previous weeks in the marina from all the new arrivals. Well, this was the night it would all start, the drinking, the painful hangovers, the aggressive racing, and the unforgettable memories.
I saw Cameron in the distance casually walking around with his hands clasped behind his back, his face with that same calm, yet joyful expression. He stopped occasionally to chat with someone, and then looked around to make sure everything was going smoothly. I ran over and gave him a quick hug. Cameron is not only the owner of the marina, but an inspirational guitarist, a kind person, and a great friend. (Not to mention I totally had the hots for his son.) He convinced my family to stay for Spring Regatta because he knew Preston and I loved to race sailboats.
“Hey Sara! Have you found a crew position yet?” Cameron asked. “Nope,” I replied “Not yet, but I will, no worries.” To tell the truth I was a little worried. The friends I had made the previous weeks who were sailing in the race didn’t have room for extra crew, so if I did get a spot it would be on a boat with complete strangers. Though that wasn’t what I wanted, it wasn’t going to stop me.
As it got closer to the start of the race, I met a lot of new people and just about talked everyone’s ear off, but I wasn’t that excited about the crew position I had found. I wasn’t even sure what boat it was, but I did know it was full of men and I had a stinking suspicion I was going to be the token babe, getting shoved in the galley making sandwiches and handing out beers.
As I was walking back to our boat, thinking about how I would wake up at 6 a.m. to find the captain of the all-men sailing boat, I suddenly found myself in a group of people pulling me backwards. “Come with us! Come! Come party with us!” Normally I don’t go running off with drunken sailors, but when I turned around and saw Al, a skipper from Trinidad my family befriended at the front of the group; I figured they were all walking to his boat. That’s where I met Angela.
As we talked on for hours, I could tell she was an experienced sailor, and I wanted to sail with her. She invited me to crew on her boat, and there was no question about it, this was the boat I’d be racing. The next morning I was dressed and ready to go, but I found myself aimlessly walking around the dock trying to remember the name of the boat I was to crew. Phil, Al’s friend, saw me wandering around, and knowing from the night before that I was crewing with Angela, kindly pointed me in her direction.
Everywhere I looked people were rigging sails, checking their masts, and putting on sailing gear. I was pumped when I finally arrived at my commission, Augustine. I stared at the beautiful Beneteau 1st-40 racer/cruiser, yet discovered everyone was still asleep. I wandered around the dock doing what I do best, talking with people, when Angela popped her head out of the hatch and said, “Sara? I knew I heard you! Come aboard and I’ll show you inside.”
We walked down into the cluttered boat, and I turned around just in time to see the startled naked captain who had just gotten out of the shower. He swiped a towel off the hook and wrapped it around himself while Angela and I laughed. In a half-sleep, hung over, and in a grungy voice, he introduced himself then stumbled forward to his cabin to get dressed. I could tell already, this would be an interesting weekend.
As we sailed out of the harbor, I tried to remember all eight of the crew’s names I had learned that morning. So far Johanes was the easiest, because the Captain, in a slightly Antiguan accented, high pitched voice, would call out “Johanes! Where’s the sail? Johanes! Make them help you untie the sail. Johanes! Untie it now, Johanes!”
We got further away from the harbor when the captain turned on the radio. “Nicki! Nicki dearest listen to the radio would you.” Nicki, the opti sailor of the group, crawled over to the radio where she listened for the start sequence. I listened with her, but all I heard was how hard the wind was blowing and the size of the swell – I knew I was going to get sick. I called over to Angela, “Do you know it’s blowing 35 knots?” “I know! It’s CRAZY! This is supposed to be a light wind regatta!” She said, as she ran up to the bow in the heaving seas, holding on to everything possible, so she could rig the jib.
As she got to the bow, the boat dove into a breaking wave and covered the entire boat. Everyone was gasping from the cold water running down their backs, while the Captain hooted and hollered at the challenging conditions. I was rather amused with the whole crew. Everyone was pumped up, having fun, and though they were serious, were being goofy at every opportunity as well.
Angela came to the back of the boat, soaking wet, with a hudge smile on her face, and said “Hey Sara, come sit up on the rail with us.” Just as she said it a wave of seasickness came over me and I ran to the back of the boat to let fly my granola breakfast for all to see at the start line including the Regatta camera crew. During the race, I was so seasick; I was wondering why I was out there at all. I just sat on the rail, hiking out with Angela, saying, “This will be over soon, and I will be able to go lie in my warm bed.”
I surprised myself the next morning by hopping out of my bed, well rested, and ready for another day of sailing. When I showed up to crew again, the wind still blowing around twenty-five knots, the captain gave me a look of, “Oh no, Sara’s going to get sick on my boat again.” And sure enough I did, but it didn’t matter. I wanted to race, and I wasn’t going to give up.
The third day was the best, the wind had fallen off about fifteen knots, and I felt awesome. I was ready to do what ever needed to be done. I was used to everything on the boat by now, and I spent most of the day on the bow with Angela while she taught me what she knew about sailing. We had a great start and sailed all the way around Norman Island in the first position. While we were behind Norman Island, we noticed the boats were catching up to us so Angela and I ran to the bow to switch the cruising jib with the bigger racing jib. We had to sit down and press our deck shoes against the toe rail to prevent ourselves from falling overboard and pulled the sail on top of us making sure it didn’t end up in the sea, while Johannes pulled up the racing jib.
It took me a while to get out from under the sail, but once I did, I scrambled to the back deck with the sail in tow while Angela got the jib pole set up for going down wind. When we turned down wind I could see Angela was having difficulty controlling the jib pole; it was slamming against the shroud, and the sail was whipping around in the wind hitting her occasionally. When she finished clipping the pole in she ran to the aft deck demanding duct tape. I didn’t know why she needed duct tape until I saw blood in her hand; her finger had been smashed between the shroud and the pole. She duct taped her finger and continued helping out on the boat as if nothing happened, all in the spirit of winning the race.
Standing up on stage with the whole crew at the Awards Ceremony was a really cool feeling. Though I have sailed in many Austin Yacht Club races, I have never been in such a big regatta, and been able to say that I crewed on a boat that took first place in it’s fleet. We all walked off the stage, and after dozens of pictures, we went to the bar where Mike, the first mate, treated us to our first round of Pusser’s Rum Painkillers.
Angela, her finger very swollen and still wrapped in the same duct tape, told everyone how she heard it snap between the shroud and the pole. And after a while of spinning sailing yarns and knocking back a few more painkillers, the crew decided to have a dinner together. Everyone still had to finish their drinks so Angela and I went up to watch the band and dance, but when we returned we found Mike eating lasagna by himself. “Where is everyone Mike?” Angela asked. “I thought we were going to eat dinner together.” “Well all I know is the captain ran off with a pretty lady, Nicki went with her friends, and I’m hungry, so I’m eating here.” All we could do was laugh at how disorganized the crew was still acting.
Angela and I danced between talking with all the other racers. We heard all sorts of stories. One was about how a man suffered head injuries from being caught in a sheet and thrown around the bow of his boat upside-down and had to be medi-vaced to the states. Several other sailors spoke of boats breaking their masts, or blowing out their sails. On the boat my brother crewed on, the captain got the dreaded Caribbean flu and, the crew got the dreaded severe hang over so they forfeited after the first race. I was grateful that all we suffered was one broken finger and a severely sunburned lower lip that I discovered the following morning.
When I woke up and looked in the mirror, I discovered I had extremely painful blisters the size of skittles on my lower lip. I stayed in my room and rested most of the day because every time one of my family members saw me they would giggle and comment on how sailing favored me, and my newly acquired Angelina Jolie lips.
Once I finally made it over to the showers, I found the marina nearly empty again. Apparently all the sailors woke up early and took off to their next destination: race week in Antigua. I felt empty. Most of the cool people I had partied with that weekend were gone forever, or so I thought.
The following week, I felt better, however, after I surprisingly ran into John, a crewmember and mainsheet trimmer, at a Foxy’s party on Jost Van Dyke. And after a couple emails to Angela, and other members of the crew, it was as if I had another extended family after that sailing experience. This is something that we’ve learned on the water: you keep bumping into sailing friends whereever you go, and I look forward to seeing all my old crew in the future. That one-week of my life will be one that I won’t easily forget.