Seeking Perfection

Which boat to jump aboard for a race during Antigua’s Classic Regatta? In 2015, the entry list held vessels as varied as snowflakes. I wanted to go fast, sure, but I also wanted to stay dr y and sail with a captivating crew. Are there parameters, I wondered, to help define the perfect ride?

I began my short-list with the newest vessel, the Klaus Röder ketch, Chronos. She’d possibly be the most comfortable and at 179ft LOD, she was certainly the biggest.The magnificent gaff schooner Coral of Cowes was the undisputed matriarch of the fleet at 113-years-old, and the smallest entrant was a 25ft Folkboat, which luckily didn’t have room for me.

To determine the fastest boat, I headed to Skullduggery’s for advice. The rum drinkers voted for the J Boat, Rainbow, but the Wadadli folks insisted on corrected time so I chose 105ft Whitehawk, overall winner of the 2014 Regatta. The slowest, which might offer benefits the others couldn’t, was 52ft Samsara, a converted Danish fishing boat.

With my list complete, I managed to talk my way onto the newest and biggest, oldest, fastest, and slowest boats for four days of racing and clandestine research. It was a Goldilocks move, in search of sailing perfection.

For race one I boarded Chronos, joining their crew and two dozen guests, all togged out in yacht stripes. As she bit into agitated seas, I waited for her to yaw or buck, but she was so steady that the teak chairs never moved an inch. The start happened without fanfare and before we reached the first mark, the deck morphed into a lounge with guests sipping fruity drinks and dining on bowls of soup. I passed on lunch but when the chef invited me into the galley to check out his cakes, I happily went for a taste test. Hands down, the clear winner was the passion fruit confection laced with fine sugar.

On day two I boarded Whitehawk, knowing there’d be no cake. After quick introductions to captain and 22 crew, I was handed a shirt and instructed on how to get out of the way. Everyone headed to their battle stations and the team in the cockpit, armed with an assortment of navigation devices, started formulating their win. With more wind and bigger seas, tacking and jibing the boat and two dozen people was carefully choreographed. On the only dry leg, the chute came out of the bag like a genie from a bottle, and after it was stuffed back in, we clawed our way upwind.

I smartly saved Samsara for race three, knowing that even the slowest boat can manage four legs of reaching and still reach the party on time. The boat, in contrast to Whitehawk’s varnish and high tech gear, is a traditionalist’s dream of linseed oil, galvanized rigging and 86 ash blocks. She lumbered toward the start line, crew hauling all the lines that make a gaffer go, crossing seconds after the gun. Instead of navigating devices, bottles of water appeared and were passed around. I was impressed with the focus on hydration until I realized that the flow of water had something to do with how many crew had partied hard the night before. As the day wore on, the answer was obvious. Samsara finished this page, clockwise from top left:

25 minutes after the second slowest boat, earning a gun blast from the Committee Boat and a round of high-fives on deck.

For three days I’d been photographing my final ride. Coral of Cowes is unbeatable when it comes to spectacular shots. She routinely carries three jibs, gaff fore and main, each with topsails and her bowsprit is an impressive 16ft long. Being that the boat is a geriatric, I stepped aboard, assuming she’d sail like one. I was dumbfounded when she shot forward as each sail was lifted into place. The wind and seas had softened for the last race, perfect for the old gal to strut her lively moves.

That night, after awards were handed out in English Harbour, the band cranked up and I wandered away, still contemplating the question I’d set out to answer. To me, all the boats I’d raced on were perfect in some way. Whitehawk had a repeat victory- taking home another watch. Chronos aced the culinary contest. Samsara edged all others for Miss Congeniality; and Coral of Cowes won the fleet’s beauty pageant.

All of my exhaustive research to determine the best ride ended without a definitive answer; I still didn’t know which one was perfect. Since it wasn’t the largest, smallest, oldest, newest, fastest or slowest, I came to the only possible conclusion… for the sake of science and the chance to sail on the world’s most classic yachts, I’d have to do it again the following year.

Every year at the ACYR, there are too many options; Whitehawk charging along;; Whitehawk busy crew; Close enough opposite, clockwise from top left:

Chronos leading the way; Samsara with her hydrated crew; Coral of Cowes, old, but with plenty of power; Sometimes size matters;. Smallest but not driest. The 25’ Folkboat, Lorraine

I’m not a feminist. Nor do I think men and women are the same. But I do like to see people breaking the mould and defying convention. And traditionally, classic sailing has long been a man’s world and it kind of amazes me that still, after so much has changed, this predominance remains. So let’s celebrate some of the salty sirens that have graced Antiguan waters during these classic regattas.