RACING WITH THE MOON
The Lighter (or light-air) Side of Sail Boat Racing
By Lorenzo Caricchio
I assume that if you are reading this you are interested in sail boat racing. I further assume that if you are still reading this after the first paragraph, you either, race your boat or regularly serve as crew on a racing boat; because most normal people don’t believe that sail boats go fast enough to race. Normal people consider the term “Sail Boat Race” to be an oxymoron (a combination of contradicting words, such as: corporate ethics, executive leadership or computer technical support.) After all, what other competitive sport can you indulge in while drinking beer? Oh, I know what you’re thinking, “What about golf?” No, Golf is not a sport! Golf is a self-indulgent, essentially, solo pastime that was invented by a lonely Scottish Sheppard, it has no real purpose other than to provide short-term satisfaction at the expense of long-term frustration to those who engage in the practice. It is akin to the very basest forms of self-gratification. Sail boat racing, on the other hand, (no pun intended - at least I don’t think it was intended) is a team sport where the fierce competition and gunwale-to-gunwale action recalls the glorious sea battles of yester year.
Oh! The thrill of coaxing a few tons of Fiberglass to move forward at an eighth of a knot on a windless night. The crew crouched in battle positions that have been predetermined to have the most beneficial effect on the speed and balance of the boat. They bravely resist the temptation to swat at the gnats clustering around their heads for fear of creating currents that will disturb the tenuous, laminar flow of air over the sails. All-the-while, the fearless skipper holds the helm as still as possible, ignoring the spiders building webs between his ear and the nearest stanchion as he cranes his neck skyward to watch the spinning Windex, at the top of the mast, for any sign of a zephyr that might propel him in the general direction of the next mark. What can compare to the heart throbbing suspense of watching the moon gradually rise above the mainsail of a competitor’s boat, which has been drifting next to you for the past half hour, as you try to not go as slowly as him toward the finish line.
What other sport excites participants to the point that they will even curse the non- competitors? Normally, only tennis or hockey referees have been subjected to the kind of vilification an irate skipper will shout at a powerboat passing across his bow on a light air night. And only baseball umpires have had to endure the kind of tirades (and sometimes beer cans) hurled by racing crews at the unwary cruising sailor who inadvertently follows along on the windward side of the fleet. Of course, the abuse of these non-competitors is nothing compared to the insults, denigration and threats that are reserved for the (innocent?) fishermen who crowd around the racing buoys. Some of us have even been known to intentionally come close enough to snag their tackle, especially if we didn’t have a prayer of finishing in the top three anyway.
But in the end, all the tension, frustration and aggravation are worth it, as you approach the finish line and a breeze begins to come up. The boat comes alive, there is a slight pressure on the helm, the skipper can exhale now and the crew can finally move around without fear of reprisal.
As you peer into the darkness, trying to ascertain your position relative to the competition, you hear the cannon fire off in the distance and you think, “Well, we’re not going to be first but were still in the race”.
Just then the VHF radio crackles, “Race fleet, Race fleet, Race fleet, this is the committee boat. Due to the lateness of the hour we are leaving station. Please take your own time and call it in to the Race Chairman tomorrow”
Under your breath you curse the wimps on the committee boat. The moon slips quickly behind the low black clouds that have suddenly appeared, but rumble of thunder that shakes your boat doesn’t shake the will of the crew, the rain won’t dampen your spirits, you are racing sailors, and there might still be a flag to be won.