RACING TO KEY LARGO
About the time I think that I have seen everything and been everywhere, something always comes along to take me by surprise. It's not often one gets to see an inflated, quite dead cat floating belly-up in Biscayne Bay and a dolphin kissing the side of Angel, Richard's sailboat, all in one day.
The most spectacular sight of that Saturday morning was seeing over 100 sailboats gathered at the same time near the Rickenbacker Causeway, with the Miami skyline serving as a backdrop. Most sailboats already had their Spinnakers ballooning from a tailwind as we began the 'Miami to Key Largo Regatta.' The scene brought back memories of the annual Hot Air Balloon Festival in Albuquerque with all the bright hues of the Hot Air Balloons before their early morning launch.
Spinnakers are the most beautiful of the sails. They are composed of much lighter material than a jib or a main sail. Most days of sailing don't include the use of Spinnakers. It's a special day indeed to be using Angel's spinnaker and see the Bay filled with brilliant oranges, reds, greens, whites, blues, and yellows.
The race began with a light wind from the north. Since we were heading south, things moved rather slowly. Sometimes, I beckoned the crew to start blowing into the sails, wishing that this would speed things along. Otherwise, I imagined several days of sailing to reach Key Largo. While I liked the crew Richard had assembled, it would not be my idea of fun to spend several days on Angel with three people I hardly knew, sharing a limited supply of hummus, fish dip, and flatbread. On the other hand, this could be a great way to get to know them, but only if our supply of vodka and tequila was enough to get through to the final day.
All four of us took turns at the helm, with Captain Richard determining the direction and strategy. While Susan was at the helm, all of the boats had to squeeze into an upcoming narrow channel. The Captain instructed her to steer Angel close to the far left side of the channel opening. Unfortunately, Susan did so well that Angel rattled the channel marker and dislodged some birds sitting atop it, which caused all sorts of bird fecal matter to be sprayed onto the boat. Richard was relieved that Angel wasn't damaged, but the birds' chaos caused him embarrassment in front of his fellow captains. No birds were harmed. Susan later diligently swept the bird mess off the boat as a self-imposed penitence.
Richard asked me to take the wheel on the race's last leg. I didn't know it then, but I got the best part of the regatta. The afternoon wind had increased in strength and turned easterly. The boats were closer together than earlier in the day. We still had to maneuver through a narrow channel, but Richard was in a winning state of mind and directed me to get behind boats at various angles, thus creating 'dirty wind.'
This strategy effectively blocked the wind from the boat in front of us, making it easy to pass them on our race to the finish line.
After six hours of sailing, we finally reached Key Largo. We handily won third place, but Richard was proud that Angel finished ahead of an old rival. When he ran into his opponent at a party afterward, he hardly spoke to us. The only comment he made was that his spinnaker 'blew out.' We were to deduce that this was why Angel finished ahead of his boat. An unlikely excuse since he could have used his jib with the afternoon wind blowing from the east. We didn't buy it. Instead, we drank Rum Runners to celebrate our victory and enjoyed the camaraderie with fellow sailors after a hard sailboat race. After the celebration, the rest of our crew was joined by friends or family taking them back to Miami by car. Richard and I headed for one of the uninhabited islands in the Keys.
We sailed for another couple of hours. The wind began to get serious as raindrops started falling on a moonless night. As I struggled to hear Richard's direction and feared that I would soon ram Angel into another boat, I whined to myself that it wasn't fun. The whining turned into praying for our safety, as I figured praying was much more productive. I couldn't see. I couldn't hear and certainly didn't know what I was doing. I was dog-tired. After several attempts at anchoring the boat in soft, shifting sand on a moonless, windy night, it began to rain. The anchor finally held. My prayers were answered.
We had planned to stay another day, but the strength and direction of the wind convinced Richard that we should sail back to his mooring at Coconut Grove Sailing Club. He had mentioned that this would be a 'tough sail' back home, but I had no idea what the day ahead had in store for us at the time. I figured that after the previous night, nothing could be worse. I was wrong. After nine hours of sailing the boat back and forth across Biscayne Bay, I finally understood the art of tacking. Of course, I overcorrected, didn't go far enough, went too slow, or went too fast. It seemed that I couldn't do anything right, but I learned how I learned. This certainly wasn't a leisurely day of sailing, but it was beautiful to be outside on the blue-green waters of the Bay and moving without using any fossil fuel. Even though I could not perfect tacking the boat, I became less incompetent as a sailor.
I also learned that sailing all day is physically and mentally exhausting work. After returning home and in the few minutes before deep sleep follows intense fatigue, I thought I might be too old or too out of shape to sail. That explains why I asked Richard when we'd sail the following day.
5/2/07
The most spectacular sight of that Saturday morning was seeing over 100 sailboats gathered at the same time near the Rickenbacker Causeway, with the Miami skyline serving as a backdrop. Most sailboats already had their Spinnakers ballooning from a tailwind as we began the 'Miami to Key Largo Regatta.' The scene brought back memories of the annual Hot Air Balloon Festival in Albuquerque with all the bright hues of the Hot Air Balloons before their early morning launch.
Spinnakers are the most beautiful of the sails. They are composed of much lighter material than a jib or a main sail. Most days of sailing don't include the use of Spinnakers. It's a special day indeed to be using Angel's spinnaker and see the Bay filled with brilliant oranges, reds, greens, whites, blues, and yellows.
The race began with a light wind from the north. Since we were heading south, things moved rather slowly. Sometimes, I beckoned the crew to start blowing into the sails, wishing that this would speed things along. Otherwise, I imagined several days of sailing to reach Key Largo. While I liked the crew Richard had assembled, it would not be my idea of fun to spend several days on Angel with three people I hardly knew, sharing a limited supply of hummus, fish dip, and flatbread. On the other hand, this could be a great way to get to know them, but only if our supply of vodka and tequila was enough to get through to the final day.
All four of us took turns at the helm, with Captain Richard determining the direction and strategy. While Susan was at the helm, all of the boats had to squeeze into an upcoming narrow channel. The Captain instructed her to steer Angel close to the far left side of the channel opening. Unfortunately, Susan did so well that Angel rattled the channel marker and dislodged some birds sitting atop it, which caused all sorts of bird fecal matter to be sprayed onto the boat. Richard was relieved that Angel wasn't damaged, but the birds' chaos caused him embarrassment in front of his fellow captains. No birds were harmed. Susan later diligently swept the bird mess off the boat as a self-imposed penitence.
Richard asked me to take the wheel on the race's last leg. I didn't know it then, but I got the best part of the regatta. The afternoon wind had increased in strength and turned easterly. The boats were closer together than earlier in the day. We still had to maneuver through a narrow channel, but Richard was in a winning state of mind and directed me to get behind boats at various angles, thus creating 'dirty wind.'
This strategy effectively blocked the wind from the boat in front of us, making it easy to pass them on our race to the finish line.
After six hours of sailing, we finally reached Key Largo. We handily won third place, but Richard was proud that Angel finished ahead of an old rival. When he ran into his opponent at a party afterward, he hardly spoke to us. The only comment he made was that his spinnaker 'blew out.' We were to deduce that this was why Angel finished ahead of his boat. An unlikely excuse since he could have used his jib with the afternoon wind blowing from the east. We didn't buy it. Instead, we drank Rum Runners to celebrate our victory and enjoyed the camaraderie with fellow sailors after a hard sailboat race. After the celebration, the rest of our crew was joined by friends or family taking them back to Miami by car. Richard and I headed for one of the uninhabited islands in the Keys.
We sailed for another couple of hours. The wind began to get serious as raindrops started falling on a moonless night. As I struggled to hear Richard's direction and feared that I would soon ram Angel into another boat, I whined to myself that it wasn't fun. The whining turned into praying for our safety, as I figured praying was much more productive. I couldn't see. I couldn't hear and certainly didn't know what I was doing. I was dog-tired. After several attempts at anchoring the boat in soft, shifting sand on a moonless, windy night, it began to rain. The anchor finally held. My prayers were answered.
We had planned to stay another day, but the strength and direction of the wind convinced Richard that we should sail back to his mooring at Coconut Grove Sailing Club. He had mentioned that this would be a 'tough sail' back home, but I had no idea what the day ahead had in store for us at the time. I figured that after the previous night, nothing could be worse. I was wrong. After nine hours of sailing the boat back and forth across Biscayne Bay, I finally understood the art of tacking. Of course, I overcorrected, didn't go far enough, went too slow, or went too fast. It seemed that I couldn't do anything right, but I learned how I learned. This certainly wasn't a leisurely day of sailing, but it was beautiful to be outside on the blue-green waters of the Bay and moving without using any fossil fuel. Even though I could not perfect tacking the boat, I became less incompetent as a sailor.
I also learned that sailing all day is physically and mentally exhausting work. After returning home and in the few minutes before deep sleep follows intense fatigue, I thought I might be too old or too out of shape to sail. That explains why I asked Richard when we'd sail the following day.
5/2/07
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