Published: Friday, January 16, 2004 at:11:19 PM




A Day At The Races
By Wrlight Place




It’s early in the morning, and the sun’s reflecting on Eustatia Sound outside my Beachfront Villa.

Too early for breakfast, but not too early for a quick visit to the Vita fitness track to stretch out. The morning breezes are rustling the royal palms — 8-10 knots and building I figure. Bring on the breeze. Still spry at 40, and at 6’1” and 190 pounds, I’ll need it. After all, I’ve planned a full day of racing.

Every Sunday the Bitter End runs a series of Laser races in the morning, and Rhodes 19 races in the afternoon. And, depending on who is staying at the resort, or on a charter yacht in the mooring field, the competition ranges from beginner to world champion. The Bitter End can field as many as 15 Lasers, and 6 Rhodes 19s. And when there is enough interest, Watersports will break out up to 8 Hobie Waves for catamaran enthusiasts.

As I finish my morning routine, and settle in for breakfast, the breeze has filled in to about 10–15 knots. The butterflies well up in my stomach. Isn’t that Sam Schoomaker, the U.K. Lark champion, at the buffet, I ask my wife. She nods. As I finish a light breakfast and head over to the sailing school for the skipper’s meeting, I run into Bill Stitcher from South Sailmakers. Bill makes my sails back home, and he’s a former Finn champion. He’s on a Moorings 4500 in the harbor, but he’s entered in the racing this morning.

At the skipper’s meeting I also notice a few recent graduates of the Bitter End Sailing School (one a honeymooner, but clearly hooked on sailing), and a couple of fit and cocky-looking sailing school staff on their day off. I listen attentively to the tanned young sailing instructor, today doubling as race committee chair. “The courses will be triangles, and windward-leewards or a combination thereof,” he says. “Penalties for rules infractions will be 720s, or a round of Pina Coladas in the bar later,” he adds, emphasizing the relatively low-key nature of the regatta. “And by the way, there will be a cooler full of beer and beverages for everyone, as well as neat-o prizes at 5:00 pm.”

Out on the beach, the Lasers have been rigged for us by the staff. Next to one Laser, I notice a gentleman I hadn’t seen in the skipper’s meeting. His regulation BEYC Laser has been fitted with a custom telltale, his own personal mainsheet (softer on the hands I presume), his own tiller extension, and some other custom-looking lines. Despite being in the “Master+” age category, he is fitted out in high-tech hiking-out shorts, and hiking-out boots. His hands are fitted in the latest kevlar gloves, his face white with zinc sunblock. A picture of modern maturity, Kendall Justice really came to race. And though years my senior, Mr. Justice looks intimidating.

I drain my hull, don my life jacket, adjust my clew tie-down, and head out. My wife and 3 year old wave to me from the end of the dock as I promptly capsize—a victim of the monster shifts just off the beach. And I wanted more breeze! Out at the starting line in the middle of North Sound, I further size up the competition. Mssrs. Justice, Schoomaker and Stitcher are going to be tough. And I’ll have to use my age and experience to beat the sailing staff. That or I’m guessing they can be bribed with a beer or two at the Pub.

After three exciting races, with plenty of jibe mark capsizes to go around, I stand second, one point out of first, but two points from falling to fourth (and out of the “neat-o” prizes). Between races the banter ranges from “nice job at that leeward mark rounding” to “you fouled me at the start.” But the fourth race will decide it all. The breeze has built to 15 knots, but there are light spots all around. Mr. Justice squeezes me over the line early, and I have to restart. But the right side of the course has been paying off so I tack away immediately, and at the weather mark, have worked back up to 4th.

On the first reach, Sam performs a full layout capsize to windward, as I plane by. One down, two to go. At the jibe mark Bill has a spectacular roundup wipe-out. Just one to go. But a flyweight sailing staffer is planing up behind me at full-throttle, and rounds the leeward mark overlapped with me. Mr. Justice covers us both, and a three-way tacking duel breaks out that lasts the entire beat. At the finish line, all three boats cross together, with Mr. Justice taking the gun, followed a humbled young sailing staffer (so much for the bribe) less than half his age. I’m pleased with third for the race, and second overall, and I look forward to the awards party that evening.

My wife and daughter welcomed me ashore, as I vowed to train harder so I can be in just the same shape, both physically and skill-wise, as Kendall on my next visit. I immediately wanted to shake his hand, and I asked him if he planned on racing later that day. His answer: “probably not… the Rhodes are for older folks… besides, I’m going snorkeling.”

Over lunch, my wife and I debate whether our egos could take a beating that afternoon on the Rhodes course. We decide it might be better to take our daughter out in a Boston Whaler to spectate. Three of the skippers from the morning, including the honeymooner, signed up for the afternoon. But there were three newcomers, including a skipper more than 20 years older than Kendall! Mr. Wes Selhome has been a regular at Bitter End, and a tough customer on the Rhodes course. The skippers for the day’s heats ranged in age from 25 to octogenarian.

Over the course of three super-close races, youth and enthusiasm were taking the upper hand, as the honeymoon couple (Steve & Suzanne), fresh from three full days at the helm of a Rhodes, showed a boat-handling edge. Hot on their heels were Rhodes veterans Spinny Tartan and crew Jorge Spring. But in the finale, age and experience again prevailed, as Wes and his lady friend crew played the shifty afternoon puffs just perfectly for the overall win. My daughter wondered if this was the same man that had beaten Daddy in the morning. No, I said. I was beaten by someone quite a bit younger!

At the post racing party, Gord-o, the BEYC Guest Activities Director, came by to remind everyone of the “Racing at Bitter End” slogan “It ain’t over until the coolers’ empty.” Plenty of frosty malt beverages were consumed, as tends to happen at regatta awards parties, and congratulations were handed out all around. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Steve (the honeymooner) being regaled by Wes with stories of races long ago. Steve was captivated. Wes, winner of no fewer than three Rhodes Sunday regattas over the last two years, handed Steve his first place prize (a Bitter End tee shirt with the aforementioned slogan on it) and said, “I’m sure that in the future you’ll win as many of these as I have. But have this one as a start.” Me, I split a bottle of neat-o champagne with Kendall.

The above is a fictional account of a typical Sunday race day at the Bitter End.

Names have been changed to protect the innocent!