Gerty’s 1st Race

Racers, start your engines. No, no that’s not right. Racers line up your sailboat, which doubles as your house, with the little orange buoy floating in the water, at exactly 11:07AM. That’s your start time. Whatever you do, don’t start your engine!

Francesco and Yuka, our power couple in the truest sense of the word, winched the jib twenty or so times, before we even left the harbor, in order to tack and jibe us to the line on time.

Then the VHF radio crackled out, “Gerty!” twenty-nine seconds early, just as Diane, our timekeeper, said it would, and we were off! Tim, our most legit racer, was at the helm. Francesco and Yuka mastered the jib. Michael was trimming the main and I was cheering, taking pictures, and trying to make sure no one got hurt. That’s how The Nelson’s Pursuit Parade started.

The team kept Gerty close-hauled to the first mark in 15-25 knots of East-North-East wind. Everyone marveled at how smooth the ride was and Michael and I shared a twinge of pride. Our girl, a virgin racer, was doing great! We rounded the first mark and let the sails out for a broad reach to the second mark. We hadn’t pulled away from the pack and the tension of sailing so close to the other boats was invigorating.

We jibed at the second mark, switched to a starboard tack, and trimmed like mad. Two boats appeared to be gaining, but then fell back as Francesco took the helm and Gerty hit her downwind stride, surfing on the waves at 10 knots. Go Gerty Go!

Michael took the helm and made a hairpin turn around the third mark that must’ve sent a chill to the boats in hot pursuit because they retreated. It was time to beat upwind. Francesco moved to the main, while Tim and Yuka managed the jib. I was jumping between the traveler and the jib. We all hung on tight as the wind gusted and Gerty heeled to thirty degrees. Hats were flying off. Heck, it felt like my hair was flying off! The other boats hugged the wind angle tighter than Gerty could. Decision time.

We came about and opted for one long port tack because Gerty has a stay sail that can slow the jib from sliding through a narrow slot during tacks. The excitement of the race diminished as we sailed away from our competitors. Despair and panic set in. (Okay, that’s a total exaggeration, but I’m trying to tell a riveting story, so bear with me.) There was talk of reefing, but Gerty was well balanced at the helm and Michael knew that there would be too much power forward if we reduced the main, so we sailed on. Wait for it. Wait. Wait. Now!

We came about to a starboard tack and before we knew it, we were locked in between three boats and heading towards a stone cliff. Diane was at the helm, handling the pressure like a champ. The racer to port tacked out of our way, but we wanted to turn to starboard. Finally, the racer to starboard gave way and we were free to turn.

We came about to a port tack and now we were in the thick of it. We were heading back to the first mark and two boats were closing in on us, an impressive Nansuch and a sloop named Hooey Lou.

I gasped in fear as we rounded the first mark again and the other boats came dangerously close to Gerty. Then I exhaled shrieks and shouts as we approached the finish. We all cheered ourselves, as well as the other boats, that were close enough now to wave and reciprocate our hysterical joy.

On the other side of the red buoy that signaled the finish line, it started to rain. Miniscule drops seemed to ease the adrenaline from our bodies as we descended from our race-high to a place in the anchorage where an oversized bottle of prosecco awaited us.

I just knew that our combined knowledge of motorcycle riding, Japanese, gynecology, geology, Italian, fishing, tap dancing, ice hockey, kiteboarding, architecture, pediatric medicine, cooking, yoga, parenting, grandparenting, sailing, writing, and of course, racing of the heart would earn us the win. Thank you team and thank you to Antigua Yacht Club for sponsoring this event. It was an overwhelming pleasure to participate and to help benefit St. Johns Hospice.