lessons at sea racing an old boat

Sometimes on the road one gets stuck. I call it my 'desperate poet' syndrome where I'll go in to my cave, write, draw, ponder, edit while isolating myself from people as I gather my thoughts and come back to myself. This happens occasionally especially after intense cultural shifts and physically or emotionally draining experiences. Being pro-active and meeting like minded souls has been the best remedy and nothing could be more active and uniting than racing Bounty; a beautiful classic yacht. A wonderful way to get unstuck.

Holding on during stormy weather.
Apparently sailing is said to be ‘precious teaching’ and certainly was quite an intense lesson the weekend I found myself racing in Antigua on a 19^th Century old dining table named 'Bounty' at the Classics Yacht Regatta.

The lovely French skipper, Florian (known as ‘Flo’) arrived in Antigua with a rather battered Bounty looking for some loving and a crew that might brave the intense storms that had brewed as all the old classic ships came rolling in to the Old English Harbour of the Caribbean.

Going with the Flo
One evening I came to my little shack on the island to find an email from a friend inviting me to have ‘the best day of my life… unless you get seasick’. All I knew was that there was an old boat involved and I may need some foul weather gear. Indeed I also needed some courage as I found myself pulling lines and getting a face full of seawater, slipping my backside down very wet heeled deck and finding my hand in a winch for the first and last time in my life (a winch is something you really don’t want to put your hand in). Life suddenly was flying through me as the crew flew old Bounty through the lashings of rain and over giant swells. My morning coffee revisited my taste buds a couple of times but nothing a few deep breaths and a couple of laughs wasn’t going to settle. Thankfully it did settle and a special vegetarian roti from ‘Roti Sue’ soon had my mind back in the game.

Teamworks dreamwork
There was something magical about that boat. The crew. There’s much to be said about ‘the crew’. Everyone was present. Everyone was there. We raced of course but we laughed much more; frolicking and not taking anything (besides survival) too seriously. There was an intuitive nature about how we worked the boat. Funnily enough we came 3^rd place and I found myself meeting some incredible people with hearts of gold; the various travelers and sailors at sea being romanced and united by an old boat. There was something spiritual about it of course. The ocean breathes spirit and there’s nothing more incredibly energizing than feeling the adrenalin of those extremities at sea. The magic and the fragility of life. That day I raced, four boats lost their rigging, my friend Imo broke her ribs and another few sailors busted bones. It was an extreme day and those that followed were equally exhilarating.

I am so grateful to the gorgeous soul, Phil, who got me out and living one of the rarest and most precious experiences of life; racing Bounty.  An incredible time. Bountiful one might say.

I really believe there’s a lot to be said for ‘going with the Flo’ and allowing spontaneity to take the heart on an adventure or two while sharing the experience with the cool people you meet along the way.

Bounty, I was well and truly romanced.