10 minute read
Fierce Racing on a Tiny Scale
A small crowd forms outside Kittery Point Yacht Club in New Castle. Members getting ready for a luncheon watch from the warmth of the club as a small group of sailors pulls into the parking lot. This isn’t an unusual sight, as the club neighbors a popular launch point for people looking to sail or paddle around the tidal Little Harbor.
Except today it’s 32 degrees. And it’s January.
The sailors gear up outside, unloading sailboats small enough to fit into the trunks of their cars, putting on extra layers of warm clothing and zipping up their dry suits before putting on the finishing touches of hats and dish gloves.
“You guys are crazy,” one club member says, “certifiably insane!” There may be an inkling of truth in that statement, but the sailors, members of the Mostly Maine Frosty Fleet No. 9, laugh it off as they get ready for a day of racing.
In the sailing world, the Cape Cod Frosty has become a cult classic since its creation in 1984 by former Harwich, Mass., harbormaster Tom Leach. Much like the late-night comedies of the late ’80s and ’90s, those who love the Frosty love it with a passion, and those who don’t “get it” probably won’t — until they’re hooked.
The sailboat (technically the sailing dinghy) is only about 6 feet long, and is the smallest racing dinghy in the world. The one-person vessel is fast, light and masterfully designed for winter racing.
New Castle is home to the most active Frosty Fleet in the nation, Fleet No. 9. On Sunday mornings, from roughly late October through May, in rain, snow or shine, these dedicated Frosty devotees gather together to race.
Why spend your winter getting up at the crack of dawn to spend your day on the water? In a tiny boat, where capsizing is almost a guarantee, with the winter winds and water whipping you from all angles, ready to snap your mast? There must be something to it. Even though they’re usually blue-lipped and freezing, it’s rare to see a member of Fleet No. 9 frown when they’re coming off the water.
Kali Sink has wanted to sail for as long as she can remember. She finally started around eight years ago, and had her first season racing Frostys last year. Now in her sophomore season, Sink has become the fleet’s commodore. At the end of each season, following the Intergalactic Championships, after announcing each sailor’s rank for the year and crowning the national champion, the fleet votes on who they believe should lead and organize the races for the next season. Once the majority chooses a commodore, whether you want to or not, you’re in charge.
“Years ago, I had a roommate who was very involved in the sailing community and raced Frostys,” Sink says. “I always laughed at how ridiculously tiny her boat was and how blue with cold her lips were every time she came home. I thought she was crazy, but she was always so happy after those races! I get it now.”
Sink enjoys the feeling of thriving in adverse conditions and what those experiences can teach her.
“There's nothing like being on the water when it’s snowing, and the spray is freezing on your boat,” she says. “Racing sailboats is also a really fun skill to work on. You learn something new every week you're out there and, if you’re lucky, sometimes you actually string those lessons together and have a really fast race!”
Between the size of the dinghy and the techniques needed to rip it on the water, Frosty sailing is an undeniably unique experience. And Frosty vessels aren’t easy to come by. Each one is built by hand and then passed down, sold (sometimes for a case of beer) and swapped between sailors.
Every Frosty comes with its own quirks, and each has its own rich, oral lineage and history that traces back to its original builder. Each owner tweaks their dinghy so it’s customized perfectly for them. If you didn’t build your own, you know who did and everyone who has sailed it before you.
Frostys that were built in the late ’80s by Fleet No. 9’s original sailors, like Paul Bilodeau, are still on the water today. Bilodeau may have given his original Frosty to another sailor, but he fondly recalls the early days of the fleet’s formation.
“We are a sailing family. When my son was old enough, we joined the Agamenticus Yacht Club because it had a racing program. I was the race committee chairman, and we were mostly racing Lasers and International 210s out of York Harbor,” Bilodeau says. “That was how I met Peter Follensbee. We hosted the Senior and Junior New England Laser Championship, which Peter won. He went on to the North American Championship, and while competing, he met folks who were racing Cape Cod Frostys.”
Follensbee introduced the idea of Frosty racing to the area during Portsmouth Yacht Club meetings, Bilodeau recalls. The only catch was that every sailor would need to build their own Frosty because none were available.
“So, Peter got the plans and specs — he even had some full-scale layouts for the hull and deck,” Bilodeau says. “So, we each built the first set of Frostys ... to be honest, I had more fun building the Frosty than racing it!”
Like with any sport, each competitor uses their own equipment. In sailing, that means each race is B.Y.O.B. (bring your own boat), and you race the boat you bring. For Fleet No. 9, however, that’s not always the case.
“One thing that sets us apart from other fleets is that we record sailor names on the scoreboard, instead of sail numbers,” says Frosty sailor, Stewart Craig. “We can trade off boats without a scoring penalty ... it’s casual competitive racing — what more can you ask for on a frosty winter day?”
It’s not uncommon for sailors to swap Frostys between races, so they can see how someone else’s boat handles and how they might want to fix up their own. The ability to jump around also makes it so that newer or prospective members can race without having to build or track down the elusive “Frosty-for-sale” first.
Regardless of how much smack talk is yelled on Sundays, Fleet No. 9’s sailors are always giving each other tips and tricks on how to improve their technique, performance and their boats.
The fleet is made up of a mixed bag between nationally ranked racers, weekend warriors, adrenaline junkies and sailors just looking to try something new. No matter how long they’ve been racing, everyone is there for the same reason: their love of sailing.
“The culture of Fleet No. 9 is awesome,” says Frosty’s reigning national champion Eli Slater. “People are friendly, welcoming, helpful and everyone has a good sense of humor. It’s hard to find groups that are as great as Fleet 9.”
Part of the appeal of Frosty racing is learning how to master sail in such a tiny craft, Slater says.
“Frostys are a terrific little boat. They’re easy to dismiss and view as being a bit goofy, but while they certainly are funny, Frostys are great racing dinghies,” Slater says. “I’ve learned more about racing through sailing Frostys than any other boat that I’ve raced, and I’ve been racing seriously since the age of 9. Because the boat is so weight-sensitive and responsive, you can apply all the little things that make a Frosty go fast to bigger, heavier and more complicated boats.”
Longtime sailor Matt Glenn first heard about Frosty racing in March 2014 and wanted to try it right away.
“I was loaned a boat and dry suit by Scott Cioe on a breezy early April Sunday. It was cold with around 15 knots of wind, but I managed to pull off third place in an exciting first race and was hooked,” Glenn says.
As the day progressed, the wind gusted up and he ended up capsizing three times, “to leeward, to windward and then on a downwind run by submarining the bow.”
“The dry suit held, but by the end of the day I was pretty banged up, nearly hypothermic, and exhausted, but still hooked — I told Scott I’d buy it on the spot,” Glenn says. “I keep coming back because it’s a great group of people and it’s really good, friendly competition. Sailboat racing is physical, mental and tactical.”
Fifteen years ago, Tony Lee was recruited to the Frostys by friend and fellow sailor, Bruno Paciulli. As a math teacher, Lee saw an opportunity to engage students through sailing.
“He (Paciulli) told me I could build a boat, and I could share the math of the fleet’s scoring with my elementary school students,” Lee says. “I think it made me better at connecting with them. I also found that the 3-minute start signals were a good way to give students enough time to transition to the next activity without a lot of reminding, but with the expectation we’d all be ready to start together.”
A passionate sailor, Lee sails every weekend in the Frosty he built, nicknamed “Moxie,” since the paint is the same bright orange as its namesake’s label. Lee braves the cold and the wind because he loves the camaraderie and the competition.
“I come back because I love sailing, and I love being with people who love sailing and usually appreciate the goofiness of fierce racing on such a tiny scale,” Lee says. “I also respect these fine sailors. I learn from them, and I trust them with my life when I need to be rescued from the icy water.”
It’s where he wants to spend his time on a cold winter day.
“I might add that Bruno always asked a great question,” Lee says with a laugh: “‘Where would you rather be?’”
