INCHOATE THOUGHTS
Hi,
Now that the seven 70 ft sloops
in the Volvo Ocean Race have moved on, I should note
the impression on me that they left behind. Jane, Leo, and I went down to
Boston Harbor to see the first boats come in on April 26. The race village on
Fan Pier was hopping, so we went to the nearby Institute of Contemporary Art
for the great view from its upper level. No boats had arrived by the time it
was due to close, so we dashed two piers down, to the World Trade Center. We
turned the corner of the building at the far end at precisely the right moment
to see Ericsson 4 flying up the inner
harbor, a flotilla of small boats all around her, a fire boat pumping
celebratory fountains aloft. Her great height of sail made her a truly amazing
sight, like the future bearing down on us, a vessel from another planet. The
next two boats, Ericsson 3 and Telefonica Blue, were just minutes
astern, extraordinary after a passage of over fifteen days from Rio de Janeiro.
There is no more extreme
sporting event than this round the world race in ten legs from Alicante to St.
Petersburg, via Cape Town, Cochin, Singapore, Qingdao, Rio, Boston, Galway,
Gothenburg, and Stockholm. Boston was the only stop in North America, and the
opportunity of a lifetime to see the world’s most daring ocean racers and their
crews, one of them—Puma—being the
hometown team. On May 9, the boats took part in in-port races, earning points
that accrued to their totals. The races took place in Broad Sound, just north
of Boston Harbor. Leo and I went out in a motor boat to watch. The breeze was
never much more than 10 knots, but these vessels are spectacular even when
sailing in a light wind. Fog descended before the second race, so they loomed
out of the gloom like floating specters. At one point all you could see of them
was the top of their masts above the fog layer. Telefonica Blue won both races, the fog cleared, and we headed back
to port.
I was out on Strider, a 30 ft sloop, with Chris
Dubois of the Courageous Sailing Center, and Cameron McNeill, when on
May 16 the fleet left for Galway. I felt privileged to be sailing on the same
water as these sleek creatures, as they screamed down the inner harbor in a
stiff breeze, close-hauled. They took a turn of the inner harbor so that we,
the passengers and crews of the other hundred boats on the water, and the
thousands watching from shore could see them race for more than a few minutes.
Visibility diminished as they passed Castle Island for the first time towards
the windward mark. Just after the first boats made it, we heard a single long
blast on a ship’s horn. A freighter, the Nor’
Easter, was heading in. She delayed Delta
Lloyd’s turn, and threatened to disrupt the whole race, but the fleet kept
going, made the leeward mark, and headed out to sea. We followed far behind,
the wind rising. We put in a reef near Deer Isle. By then we had long since
lost sight of the Volvo Ocean Race boats whose next stop would be Galway. I
shall never sail in anything like them, but their presence in Boston was truly
inspiring.
Ever,
Ivan