Abaco Race Week and the theory of relativity

Albert Einstein said that time is relative, and I am certain he would have found proof for his theories had he ever attended Abaco Race Week.  Einstein said time speeds up or slows down depending on how fast one thing is moving relative to something else — and for proof of that, one only need hop aboard a racing sailboat as I did this week.  But I'm getting ahead of myself in the time/space continuum, so let me digress.

Abaco Race Week started one week ago today with the Stranded Naked Party at Fiddle Cay.  There they serve Cheeseburgers in Paradise and Margaritaville Margaritas and Rum Punch mixed up in plastic garbage pails and served by the gallon.

I figured I was only there for the party and that after that I would sail on to Marsh Harbor for some quiet time while the Regatta sailed off to Treasure Cay and Guana Cay. On Sunday, I had a lovely sail on my boat away from the crowds and a quiet 4th of July.

But the Regatta caught up with me on the 5th. Ashore, I ran into an old friend who was racing off Marsh Harbor on the 6th.  He issued an invite to sail on a Moody 42 in Race #4 and as a writer who needs to do research, how could I say no?

Light air and a heavy boat means racing around buoys at 4-5 knots, but the crew was gifted and we managed a mid-fleet finish.  And a la Einstein, I got bit by the sailboat/relativity bug that makes a slow sailboat race damned exciting.

How can you explain to the uninitiated that moving through the water at five miles per hour can produce moments of heart-stopping drama?  Theories and science cannot explain the thrill of that prolonged moment when the helmsman decides that though you are the port tack boat, you can surely clear the bow of that starboard tack boat that is bearing down on you.  The sound of the wind and the whooshing of your wake all disappears for a moment as you hold your breath and beseech the wind gods to push you clear.  And when you make it and share a grin with a crewman, time stops and hangs like Michael Jordan on a dunk.

I was invited back for Race #5 from Marsh Harbor to Hopetown and the forecast was for heavier air.  How could I resist?

C.E. wrote yesterday about the thrill/fear superfast powerboats, but I am here to suggest that the thrill of big sailboats maneuvering in close quarters is just as thrilling.  And the moment when you look back and see most of the fleet behind you is heart-stopping.

I'm a cruiser and singlehander who normally does everything I can to keep my distance away from other boats, and I came away from my race experience aboard MIKAYA with tremendous respect for the talented crew.  There was the helmsman Phil who had an uncanny 360 degree sense of who was around him and in what direction they were traveling as well as a feather-light feel for every slight shift in the wind.  Matt, the boat's owner and skipper, knew the idiosyncrasies of his rig and fine-tuned the sails for every puff and lift, and I watched every move to learn what I could about racing sail trim.  And Rich, our mainsheet trimmer and eagle-eyed mark man could somehow spot the mark long before my old eyes could see it.

Mikaya's crew

I'm here ready to tell you that Einstein had it right because time definitely slows down when you are driving down at 7+ knots on a close reach in the middle of a pack of boats, watching your wake creaming off the bow and headed for the finish, knowing that you just might be in the money this time.

The race finished in Hopetown, but this time I couldn't go to the party as I had left my boat back in Marsh Harbor.  I hopped the 5:00 ferry to get back to my boat and my dog, but the crew of MIKAYA called me on the radio when they got back from the party where the race results had been announced.

And once again, time seemed to hang.  How did we do?

The voice crackled through the static across the miles we had sailed today.

We took first place in our class.

Time.  Relativity.  Writing.

There's one last race, but I won't make it, much as I would love to.  The book beckons.  As a sailing writer, it's always about finding the balance between living the experiences that go into the books and finding the time to set them down.  Tomorrow is a writing day.

Fair winds!

Christine

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