A night at the races
Adventure Girl
By Megan Burkholder |
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Sailboats circled like hungry sharks around the center committee motorboat, jockeying for the best position from which to leap into the wind. The race was about to begin, and Captain Jim wanted us off the starting line as soon as the horn sounded.
Jim and Crewmate Allison murmured sailing banter, forecasting our best tacking route and noting which boats were way off course. I had my eye on Sledgehammer, sporting mellow yellow sails; the sleek racing boat boasted an experienced crew, willing to sacrifice their bodies by leaning parallel over the water to get that extra weight distribution.
"They won seven out of eight races last season," Captain Jim, not the competitive type, related. "Ours is a cruising boat; if I was worried about speed I wouldn't have a gas grill and a kayak on board."
I ignored my Captain's indifference. I had brought luck with me and knew today was the day Sledgehammer would go down.
We were sunset sailing on a relatively calm day at Alum Creek State Park. The sailors, members of the Alum Creek Sailing Association, endured the low wind in the spirit of friendly Wednesday night competition. But the race was on, so I gave my best wind-witching evil eye at Sledgehammer.
The damned wind really was slow, and the lighter racer was pulling away in the doldrums. I contemplated grabbing Captain Jim's kayak from inside the cabin and paddling in front to pull our boat along, but there were no paddles aboard, and I was informed that this would be considered cheating. Then I considered deep-sixing our extra crew over the side - my husband and photographer had taken plenty of pictures, and Jim and Allison's son seemed like a strong swimmer.
I was informed we had to finish the race with the same number of people on board with which we started the race. Pesky rules. My murderous, mutinous fantasies faded when I noticed that Sledgehammer had "lost wind" and appeared sunken and motionless.
Aha! We had a chance, and my competitive juices flowed again.
Crewmate Allison handed me the ropes. Captain Jim approximated the angle so that our second tack aimed straight at the buoy, which we needed to circle around for our return to the finish line.
"Okay, let's tack!" I freed the rope from the cleat holding the sail starboard, which captured the wind coming from the left, released the rope and transferred the sail portside. The boat turned 45 degrees to its left. I tightened the ropes so that the 'tell tails', short, flimsy tape-like strands hanging off the jib sail, would blow outwardly, signaling optimum sail position.
614's own Adventure Girl Megan Burkholder
Photo: Derik Burkholder
I read the oncoming wind: flat and shiny water was dead air, and darker areas were full of wind. I didn't know what I was to do with this information, but I was told it was good information to have. I read the speed gauge, yelling to my Captain when we lost steam. Our crew moved fore to balance the boat.
Sledgehammer found wind again, rounded the buoy first and headed to the direction of the finish line. Damn them! We neared that buoy ourselves when I noticed the boat sailing straight towards us, from our right.
"We can make it!" Captain Jim estimated.
"No we can't!" Crewmate Allison estimated more accurately. "He's starboard, he's got the right-of-way!"
We tacked to slow down and let the other boat slip by. Our crew maneuvered brilliantly, an arm's length around the buoy, and we were angled straight for the finish line when we ourselves hit dead wind. The boats in front and behind hit the same lull.
Sledgehammer was now 30 yards ahead. The water placid, our boats crept. Those of us stuck in this dead zone knew we all had lost the race and the only thing left to do was to razz each other.
Captain Jim hailed to the boat next to us in an Irish accent.
"You dinnae mind if I borrae enna of yer air now, lad and lass?"
Jimmy Buffet's "Son of a Son of a Sailor" blared from their boat.
"I'm going to sue that meteorologist," the lad replied. Crewmate Allison made fake slashing motions and sounds near their blue spotted sail. She added that this would normally be the time they'd bring out the water cannons.
The horn sounded and Sledgehammer was declared winner. Our sailboat grabbed any wind it could find and eventually crossed the finish line when I finally remembered to ask Captain Jim the name of his craft.
"Insecurities," Jim had his tongue in his check, "because I'm in the financial business, and because Chicken Shit wouldn't sound right."
Where can I be Adventure Girl/Boy?
Alum Creek Sailing Association, Delaware
Learn to Sail - $150 over 6 weeks, June - August. No, you don't need your own boat.
Wednesday Evening Races - call ahead and they'll find a spot on a boat for you, for free.
www.alumcreeksailing.com
Hoover Sailing Club, Westerville
Learn to Sail - $150, June - August
Wednesday and Sunday Races - you can hitch a free ride here, too.
www.hooversailingclub.com
Leatherlips Yacht Club, Shawnee Hills
Learn to Sail - $100 / $210, starts in June
Private Lessons: $25/ hour
www.leatherlips.com
Originally Published: August 1, 2009
