Let’s get one thing clear right off the bat: Sailing is a sport. No, it’s not like rugby, say, or competitive foosball. But still. The Olympics and America’s Cup all say it’s a sport. You wouldn’t want to make the America’s Cup angry, would you?
Our sport even comes with a rulebook. Chapman Piloting and Seamanship is one of those books you measure by weight rather than pages. First published during World War I, it contains everything you ever wanted to know about boating but were afraid to ask.
Now, to be honest, sailing in the Olympics and America’s Cup is a lot different than the sailing my wife and I do in the Santa Barbara Channel.
One: My delusions of grandeur notwithstanding, we don’t have multi-million-dollar budgets and highly trained crews that do nothing but eat, sleep, and sail. For some reason, I can’t seem to convince my wife that doing nothing but eating, sleeping, and sailing would be a good thing. That, and our “crew” consists of me, my wife, and Zoe the dog. And to be honest (don’t tell the dog I said this), Zoe makes a better masthead than a sailor. So that leaves just the two of us.
Two: Competitive racing boats are graceful, highly engineered works of art that glide through the water like a mermaid’s kiss. Second Star, on the other hand, is a fat-bottomed girl that blazes along at the speed of a koala bear. Unless the wind is blowing just under hurricane strength*. Then she screams along at the speed of a koala bear chasing eucalyptus leaves.
She is, however, solid, dry, and roomy.
Now, if you’re still not sold on the physicality of our sport, I want you to think about Second Star’s 500-square-foot jib, and just how much tension is placed on the lines in a fresh breeze. In the old days, you lined up a bunch of guys and shouted “heave!” Nowadays, we have winches (no, not wenches).
Winching the jib sheets tight is a pretty good upper body workout in itself. Now winch them tight every time we tack, add high winds and heavy seas into the mix, and you’ve got yourself a nice exercise routine.
If working the winch (get your mind out of the gutter) is the cardio of sailing, weighing anchor is literally the heavy lifting. The anchor itself isn’t all that bad—it weighs about 30 pounds. The 20 feet of chain, on the other hand, weighs a whole lot more. Forget the gym. Pull an anchor and chain up from 30 or 40 feet of water and you’re in for a better workout, and the scenery beats the heck out of all those sweaty guys pumping in front of the mirror.
And speaking of the scenery: While sailing is a perfect example of the phrase, “It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey,” we’re lucky enough to live in an area that has one of the most spectacular sailing destinations: the Santa Barbara Channel Islands.
The Channel Islands have been called the Galapagos of North America, and for good reason. The waters around the islands are a National Marine Sanctuary teeming with life. You won’t spend a single day out there without seeing something—sea lions, dolphins, whales, and the like, depending on the season.
Even if the closest you’ll ever come to sailing is drinking rum while watching Pirates of the Caribbean, do yourself a favor and catch one of the island excursion boats that depart Santa Barbara or Ventura.
If you see the old sailboat with the not-quite-white sails and the black lab barking at the mermaids, that’s us.
*Because she just said half a dozen rosaries: No, Mom, we do not take the boat out in near-hurricane-force winds. Because my dad is shaking his head and muttering “wimp”: Sorry Dad, we do not take the boat out in near-hurricane force winds.
Intern Nicholas Walter hopes to one day take another vessel as a prize. Encourage him at intern@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Dec 18-25, 2008.