Apr. 28, 2005. 01:00 AM
A sea change from the daily grind
Landlubbers can earn their salt as yacht crew
12-metre boats genuine America's Cup craft
LIZ FLEMING
SPECIAL TO THE STAR
GREat bay, ST. MAARTEN—The tanned, youngSouth African skipper looked me over and said: "You look like a primary grindette to me, so come here."
Heart aflutter and blushing girlishly (what woman could resist a flatterer like that) I hurried over to join his crew.
"Your arms are pretty skinny," he continued critically, "but you look like you can handle it."
"Oh, I can!" I breathed, having no idea what I'd just signed on for, but eager to please, no matter what.
A coin toss had determined that I would sail aboard the True North I, a genuine America's Cup 12-metre yacht bobbing in the ocean just off the coast of St. Maarten.
Not everyone had what it took to be a primary grindette. Other members of the tour group, comprising mainly cruise ship passengers, were being given jobs not nearly as important-sounding as mine. One woman's position was `bartender' and an older man was told he was `paparazzi.' In all, only four of us were chosen to be primary grindettes (or grinders, depending on gender) aboard the True North I.
The 12-metre Regatta is a three-hour introduction to the thrill of racing hugely expensive watercraft, under the careful supervision of a charming and well-trained staff of sailors. Although shore is always in sight, the sense of racing through the waves at top speed is a real adventure.
As we piled into the flat-bottomed ferry and roared out to where our yacht lay at anchor, our skipper explained how the race would go.
Each of the yachts holds between nine and 18 passengers and we had a full crew. All hands would be on deck throughout the race and everyone would be assigned a job, loosely divided into active and passive categories.
If you were up for a little exercise, you could choose a job that involved some yanking or cranking. If not, you could snap photos or simply serve as ballast.
When we arrived at the True North I and clambered aboard, I discovered the honour of being a primary grindette was not without its price. My job was to crank one of the two huge metal winches in the centre of the boat, while others regulated the ropes that moved the sails in and out of the wind. This was going to be a serious workout.
"You two will be partners," the skipper said, introducing me to my fellow winch wench, primary grindette Barbara, a sweet-faced older woman from South Carolina, whose arms were every bit as skinny as mine.
"Squat down in front of the winch, one of you on either side. Put your hands on the handles and keep cranking. We'll tell you whether you should go fast, or slow, or forward or backward. You just do as we say ... oh, and remember, never let go without telling your partner."
As I steeled myself for the race ahead and watched our rivals the Stars & Stripes 86, Stars & Stripes 87 and Canada II moving into position, I went over the skipper's instructions: "Keep cranking, do as we say and don't let go without telling your partner."
Got it. I'd be the best primary grindette ever.
The brainchild of former Oakville resident Dennis Connor, St. Maarten's 12-metre Yacht Challenge is the only place in the world where average landlubbers can experience the thrill of sailing a world-class racing vessel.
While most guests choose the three-hour race, Connor also offers three- and four-day team-building packages to corporate groups looking for unusual bonding experiences.
"Grindettes," shouted the skipper, "are you ready?"
A sudden blast from an air horn and we were off and cranking — and it was glorious.
Our sails filled and our hearts bursting with excitement, we began to gain on Stars & Stripes 86.
"C'mon now," yelled the skipper, "show them the disrespect they deserve."
We turned, waved and blew raspberries in their general direction. Soon, we began to pull close to Stars & Stripes 87 and the on-board mania mounted.
"Faster, grindettes, faster!" called the skipper. We cranked furiously.
That's when Barbara lost two things simultaneously — her grip and her memory of that most important instruction: "Never let go without telling your partner."
The handles slipped from Barbara's hands and hit me like a bolt of lightning — first on my thigh and then my upper arm. Although the blows knocked me flat for a moment and left eggplant-purple bruises that lasted a month, I barely felt them ... but I didn't let go. I was far too caught up in the action to be bothered by anything as trivial as being smacked by steel bars.
"Get back here, Barbara!" I howled. "They're gaining on us!"
In the end, the True North I was not victorious.
The Canada II proved to be too much, winning by considerably more than a nose. But it didn't matter. The day had been glorious and the experience unforgettable.
Liz Fleming is a St. Catharines-based freelance writer whose trip was subsidized by Signature Travel.
Topic: Re: Sailing (Read 3777 times)