Surviving sailing around St. Croix in two days

ST. CROIX - This is not a story about the underdog overcoming adversity to defeat Goliath.

In the Around St. Croix Regatta over the weekend, I sailed along with my friends and co-owners in our 27-foot sloop, Cruzan Time. It was our four-member team's first time sailing the race, and for all our effort and lofty ambition, our inexperience and equipment shortages ultimately defined our results. While we did not place last in the 10 boats competing, we were not far off.

However, to be fair, it should be noted at the outset that we maintained no grand delusions about our chances. It was not a race in which we expected to win or necessarily even place well. We knew we were at a definite disadvantage going into the race. Our boat is outfitted more for comfortable cruising than it is for speed, whereas the winner, the 70-foot Hotel California Too, and a number of other boats, are outfitted to compete.

And while we were not the smallest boat to start the race, we were the smallest to finish - an accomplishment notable enough that we were willing to take it by the end. The smallest boat to start, Boogaloo, which had blown away the competition along the south shore as the only boat to use a spinnaker, decided not to complete the race Sunday.

The race was something we simply wanted to try - an experience we wanted to have. And sometimes just competing and pushing your limits is really the whole point.

It was a good excuse to try something new around St. Croix, where variety is fairly well limited to the east and west ends of Buck Island.

To that end, we accomplished what we had set out to do. We learned from mistakes, fine-tuned our handling of the sheets and came to understand some of the tricks involved in sailing certain areas off our home island. While we have put Cruzan Time to the test before in heavy enough conditions, we were pleased with how well she - and we - handled those conditions.

As anticipated, our normal group dynamics played out during the race. Our shirts all had "Crew" written on the back, but it would have been more accurate if all four had read "Captain." Everyone offered up countering ideas and, consequently, we were all over the place at times. So, while a democracy is nice in running countries, a dictatorship is needed in running boats.

This year, the regatta was set up as a pursuit race - assigning a handicap to each boat and sending them off slowest and smallest first. The larger, faster boats pursued all the other boats.

As the second boat in the fleet to start, we were the pursued.

It did not take long to understand that it is much more fun to be the one in pursuit than it is to be chased - especially if you have a competitive streak.

It is somewhat demoralizing and possibly inhumane to be the prey.

The first leg of the race began Saturday off Pull Point, just east of Green Cay, and took us around Point Udall, along St. Croix's southern shore, around Sandy Point and just north of the Frederiksted Pier. We anchored off Coconuts on the Beach on Saturday night.

On Sunday, the fight took us north along the west end of St. Croix, through the heavy swells off Hamm's Bluff, and finished with a long, upwind battle across the north shore all the way back to the start.

For our upwind sections, Carsten Breuer and I stayed in the cockpit and handled the lines and tacks, while Rachel Newman and Amanda Brilliante, served dutifully as rail meat in order to keep us at a more even keel. In hindsight, the latter may have actually been the more physically and emotionally exhausting task, since they were constantly climbing back and forth on a slippery deck and getting smacked with cold spray - especially as we dipped in an out of 10-foot swells that appeared as if they might swallow us off Hamm's Bluff.

Whatever the case, they had every right to express their displeasure and took full advantage of that right.

After a near flawless start to the race, we were feeling pretty good - and maybe even a little cocky.

That, however, did not last long. We quickly realized we were not able to point as high into the wind as many of the other boats. While a slightly smaller jib is nice for comfortable cruising, it meant we could not tack as close into the wind and toward our ultimate goal: Point Udall.

By the time we reached the point, Barbarian Yawl had already passed us and both Annick II and Serenity passed us as we all rounded - the latter two cutting impressively close to the waves pounding the reef, making for an incredible sight.

At the outset, we had all looked forward to the downwind section along the south shore - a welcome relief to the hard upwind heeled over heavily. But we soon realized we were at a disadvantage without a whiskerpole: a pole that runs between the jib and mast, preventing the jib from flying back and forth and allowing you to sail wing-on-wing, with the jib catching wind on one side and the mainsail catching wind on the other.

In the absence of a spinnaker, it is the most efficient way to sail downwind. And we were unable to really utilize that, instead having to jibe back and forth. We made great speed, but did so zig-zagging.

Boats flew by us, with a couple of boats passing us just before Sandy Point and only one left trailing us as we finished for the day.

That night, we gathered at Coconuts for a post-sail celebration, and in the process, got a bit of advice from a man who actually knows what he's talking about. Following his advice the next day, we stayed tight along the northern coast to avoid the huge swells.

We tacked in and out along the coast, hugging the massive cliffs.

And we seemed to be doing well. We were keeping up with most of the pack and staying competitive.

That is, until we got near Cane Bay and just about everyone all of a sudden pulled off into the haze hanging off Christiansted. By that point, we were the only boat close to land and it was not until later that we learned from another skipper the second piece of information we needed: that the current works heavily against your favor from Cane Bay up to Salt River.

By that point we were still neck-and-neck with Cheeky Monkey, and two other boats trailed us significantly. We stayed alongside Cheeky Monkey for a good hour or two until they took a long tack off St. Croix, which set them up beautifully for a long, final tack in to the finish line.

We, on the other hand, blundered hard. We misread our lines and had to tack multiple times to correct ourselves and cross the finish line - slowly and sloppily.

If our start on Saturday was us at our best, our finish on Sunday settled somewhere near the opposite end of the spectrum.

But we did finish. We were bruised and busted and hurt all over. We were not very happy with how we had ended the race, but we were happy that it had ended.

I don't think any of us harbor any grand ambitions to race sailboats, but we had a good time trying.

- Contact Daniel Shea at 714-9127 or email dshea@dailynews.vi.

Sign up for Text Alerts

Sign up for e-mail newsletters