With the wind at your back, the sun shining down, and all of the freedom in the world, sailing is one of the last accessible adventures left. You can take a race car driving course for a weekend, you can jump out of planes for the afternoon, or you can spend a week trekking the Himalayas with a sherpa carrying your pack, but nothing compares to the freedom of the open water.
Along with my friend Cristina, a guy named David, and our instructor John, I recently spent 3 days on the Cool Girl, a Beneteau Oceanis 43 foot sailboat with an inflatable rubber dinghy towed behind, owned by Swain Sailing in the BVI. A 43 foot sailboat sounds big on paper, but it’s a lot smaller in person. There’s not a lot of room on the deck that doesn’t put you in the middle of the ropes* or at risk of being knocked overboard, but the cockpit comfortably seats 4 with a fifth at the wheel. The belly of the boat has 3 separate bedrooms, each with it’s own small bathroom, a kitchen, and a lounge. It wouldn’t be too hard for two people to live on the ship for a fairly long period without too much discomfort. The plumbing leaves a lot to be desired, with a hand-pumped toilet and a shower that has a limited water supply. 3 days on the boat may be the longest I’ve gone without a shower since my Army days. Fortunately, each bedroom, each bathroom, the kitchen, and lounge area all have windows that open to the outside. They’re left closed while you’re sailing to prevent salt water from getting in, but when you’re docked or moored, they allow for a nice breeze to flow through the rooms, making it surprisingly cool, despite the warm temperatures outside.
Starting at Nanny Cay in Tortola (no, they didn’t make that name up for Pirates Of The Caribbean), we sailed around the eastern end of the island to Trellis Bay on the north shore of Beef Island. After a whopping 90 minutes of sailing, we moored for the evening. We took the dinghy ashore and popped into De Loose Mongoose, a local watering hole, for a drink and dinner. The bartender, Sika, knew John well, probably because he used to run the place in years past. In more recent times, his personal boat sits moored in the same area as where we parked the Cool Girl and had been there for the better part of a decade. John insisted on calling his boat a sailboat despite the fact that it had no mast or sails. I think this fact makes his boat less of a sailboat and more of a raft (or flotsam), but that’s just me splitting hairs. John introduced us to his drink of choice, which he called a poor man’s dark and stormy. After trying one and seeing what it did to John that evening, we decided that it would be better called the ‘drunk and stormy.’ It’s simply Cruzan Gold rum and ginger beer on ice. The ratio is up to you, but 50/50 seemed to work surprisingly well for us. It’s hard not to feel like a sailor when you’re in a beach bar with the salty breeze blowing and a cold rum drink in your hand. I know it’s not how the pirates lived, but it was still not too bad. After working our way through most of the drink menu, we walked (almost in a straight line) back to the dinghy, and John motored us back to the boat for our first night’s sleep on board.
In the morning, we cast off and set sail for Virgin Gorda, about 10 miles east of Beef Island. The winds were a little strong, so we motored most of the way there, getting a feel for the ship and enjoying the scenery. We went around the northern end of Virgin Gorda, past Mosquito Island (where Richard Branson just built a home) and into the sheltered north shore. We practiced various skills required for our American Sailing Association level 103 certification, including mooring, docking, man overboard drills, and basic navigation. My fellow students were far more adept at docking than I was, which was clearly established when I ran into the dock on my first try. I hit the dock not once, not twice, but three times in a single docking attempt. Fortunately, the boat had bumpers on it, so the damage to the ship was nil, however I may have knocked over an electrical charging station on the dock. (I’m not saying I did and I’m not saying that I didn’t. But in case it did happen, I’d like to apologize to the owner of the dock.) After another hour of skills practice, we moored at Saba Rock.
Saba Rock was once a small island that someone bought and built a tiny bar on (what else would you do with a small island?) From what I understand it was probably less than 1,000 square feet when it was purchased. Yes, feet. An island the size of a 2 bedroom apartment, and somebody put a bar on it. Anyone who wanted to drink there had to moor nearby and take their dinghy to the bar (which I still think is cool as hell). As a result, it became tremendously popular with the locals. Fast forward a few years and it got built up. They built piers on the side of it to extend the square footage of the island, which I think is cheating, but it seemed to work well for them. They added a hotel, lounge, dive shop, and gift shop, and now it is a semi-upscale bar that caters to tourists. I could almost see a tear in John’s eye as he told us about the demise of a favorite local watering hole. Despite the changes, Saba Rock was still a fun place to hang out and eat and drink (more drunk ‘n stormy for everyone!) and watch the tourists. Families and couples, instructors with their students, even a handful of locals were all hanging out at the bar and in the lounge. But it didn’t have the same feel as De Loose Mongoose. Another evening of sitting around and socializing, and we headed back to the boat for our second night of rolling on the waves.
The third and final day saw us sailing back to Beef Island with the wind at our backs. We sailed almost the entire way there, taking the sails down just before we got to the island. It was the day of the full moon, which meant that everyone was out and ready for a party that evening. Crowded harbors are a bad place to sail, especially when a member of your crew has an established habit of running into things. We wove in and out of the boats with John at the wheel, cigarette hanging from his lip, looking every bit of the old salt that he was. Unable to find a place to tie up, we quickly parked at a dock so that Cristina and I could get off. We said our goodbyes to John and David, who were staying on the boat for another few days to continue with David’s next level of training, and we watched them motor away into the distance.
The basics of sailing aren’t hard to learn. The vocabulary is a nightmare, especially when sailors use the same word for multiple things. Learning it from a book is one thing, and can give you some familiarity with the concepts, but getting on a boat and getting your hands dirty is the only way to really learn how to sail. You can pick up the basics in an afternoon if you’ve got a good instructor. After that, it’s just a matter of getting out on the water and practicing until it becomes instinctive. You can feel the direction of the wind on your face, and gauge the speed from the waves. You know how the sails should be set and you quickly learn how your boat handles in different conditions. Every time you’re on a boat, you learn a little more and you get a little better. Unlike driving a car, where you’re cut off from the outside world with the radio blasting, sailing is very much an immersion experience; you’re one with the boat and the waves and the water. For those who practice mindfulness, I can’t imagine a better environment to be at one with the current moment. The freedom that you feel when you untie from the dock and sail off is not something that can be put into words and I would expect that everyone feels it differently. To me, it feels like you’re leaving all the stresses of life behind, with an unlimited future and untold fortunes ahead. You can go anywhere and do anything. But try not to hit the dock when you park.
* Yes, I know they’re called ‘lines’ on a sailboat. I’m trying not to use too many nautical terms since I have a predominantly landlubber audience, so work with me.
