Come Sail Away with Me

(The events in this post are now more than a month old, but it was an experience worth recounting, even if it took me a while to write about it.)

Ed's dad really enjoyed boats and sailing. He spent a lot of time on Long Island racing his sailboat, and he left the boat to Sean, Ed's cousin, who grew up with boats on Long Island and still lives there. Sean loves racing the boat and often asks Ed to come be part of the three- to four-man crew he needs to assemble when he wants to race. For the first time, I went out to Long Island with Ed a few weeks ago to watch him help operate the boat from a photography boat that would be anchored near the middle of the course.

When we arrived, it turned out that Sean had found only two other people for the crew and that there was space for me on the boat. He asked if I wanted to join them - though I had no sailing experience, extra weight in the right places at the right times would be helpful, he said - and I happily agreed to come along, having no idea what was in store for me. It was a beautiful day, and we set out for the course from the small yacht club where Sean keeps the boat, rubbing on sunscreen and getting to know our fourth crew member Joe, an appropriately crusty older man who'd spent decades on the water.

The crew of the Doodlebug II: Sean (standing), me (in sunglasses), Ed, and Joe

Sean's boat model is called a raven, and apparently it's one of the hardest sailboats to operate. As this was my first experience around a sailboat, I had no basis for comparison, but I can say that there certainly seemed to be a lot of different ropes to pull. Sean has almost everything labeled, which really helped me learn my way around. My jobs were to put my feet under a strap and lean out to counterbalance the boat when it tipped far to one side, do odd tasks when directed, and otherwise stay out of the way. Sean manned the rudder and directed everyone, and Ed was on the trapeze, which meant that he wore a harness and, bracing his feet against the edge of the boat, leaned really far out to counterbalance us more than hefty Joe, Sean, and I could do put together. Joe was kept busy by adjusting sails. 

We're the leftmost boat. Ed is leaning out to the side on trapeze.

The course was pretty simple: We started at the same time as everyone else and went back and forth a few times around some buoys before trying to cross the finish line first. All this rapid turning around meant lots of adjustments to the sails. We tried to get the spinnaker - the extra sail that billows out in front of the boat - going a few times, but ended up scrapping that plan because the time it took to hoist it was not worth the minimal speed it provided us before we had to take it right back down as we changed directions. Apparently, lots of things on the boat needed repairing, making for a frustrating sailing experience for everyone who knew how it was supposed to work (i.e. everyone but me).

There were only four boats in the race, and we competed in three different rounds. We took two second places and a third place. I gradually learned where things were and got better at ducking under the jib as the boat came about, hoisting rigging where directed, and operating the bailer, the hole in the bottom of the boat that will drain water that's sloshed in. All told, we spent four or five hours on the water. I had a great time during the races, but the trip back to the yacht club was less enjoyable. The sun had disappeared behind thick clouds, the wind had made the water choppy, and a persistent drizzle ensured that the few tiny dry spots the waves had spared were sodden in minutes. I was cold and miserable by the time we got back to shore at last.

Because I'd thought I was going to be on the photography boat, I'd worn jeans and a cotton t-shirt for the occasion, which is about the last thing you want to wear on a sailboat where you're going to get soaked. Luckily, Sean's wife is just about my size, so after we'd gotten everything on the boat squared away, he drove us back to his house where I traded my wet clothes for some dry ones of hers. It was a welcome relief, as the train back to New York was overly air conditioned, as usual. I was exhausted that night and sore the next morning, so it was hard to imagine how Ed, who actually did hard work all day, could even stand.

I had plans for Sunday and so could not go back to Long Island the next day for the second round of racing, and another man joined Sean's crew. Ed said they spent the first part of the morning repairing all the things that had been malfunctioning on Saturday. As a result, the sailing went much more smoothly, and Sean's raven won most of the races. The weather was better, too, and Ed came back covered in scrapes and bruises but in high spirits. I really look forward to next summer when I can go back on the boat again, this time with a better understanding of how the boat operates, and dressed in more suitable attire.