Half way down the road, we’re almost home. The short races up the Inside Passage are done and now the most heavily weighted ocean legs are being contested. As I write this, our guys are sailing a 138 nautical mile race, half way down the western side of Vancouver Island. They should arrive here in Ucluelet some time tomorrow.
Darlene and I have been sending them off every day for a week, moving operations to the next port, and then attending awards ceremonies to help collect our flags.
Such is the life of a sailing domestique.
Our friends and companions are contesting a ten stage race, composed of legs ranging from 22 to 138 nautical miles. Their, our, boat is a 30 foot yacht built by a local sailing legend, Eric Jesperson.
Their job is attempting to outwit their rivals on the water. Our job is to make their job easier. Their tools are sails, sheets, guile and tenacity. Ours are food, beer, comfort and fellowship.
Planning is a large part of our job. We sometimes need to send the crew to sea with six meals which are hot, nourishing, and tailored to the “whims” of individual crew members. Our job was made easier this year by the families of the racers who sent along main courses, deserts and favorite tidbits. We’re including their food in the regular menu and everyone is enjoying the variety.
We wrack our brains to find interesting ways to present food for the boat which can be held in one hand while trimming a sheet with the other. Rudy is a sailing and catering veteran and his ideas and recipes are invaluable. We sometimes prepare meals in port and that’s when everyone can sit down together and enjoy the rare sun we’re having this year.
Most other boats have similar support vehicles and we often meet them in the marinas or on the road. Some folks like to caravan between ports. We like to think of ourselves as a likeable group and I think we’re generally appreciated by our boat crews. Darlene and I get continuous praise for our efforts from our crew who, to a man, has pitched in to help with the chores and the preparation of our food.
A few of the boats are “going it alone” for one reason or another. That’s bound to be difficult even for a larger boat like Anam Cara, whose shore support evaporated because of health problems. The skipper of Anam Cara has already asked me what our schedule is like in two years when the next VanIsle will be run.
Tonight our awards ceremony is at the Ucluelet Community Center hall. Someone is serving a charity dinner with live entertainment for all the race participants. Traditionally, one of the more poetic racers writes a themed story which includes the names of all the boats in the race. She reads the story, and a helper says the names of the boats, for emphasis, as they appear in the story. It’s a wonderful skit. Darlene and I were unintentionally part of the entertainment, last visit, when the music moved us to dance to a couple of songs.
We would have to say we’re enjoying ourselves. We enjoy taking care of our friends and seeing the spectacular scenery on Vancouver Island. We have to go to wild places we would never have known about and wouldn’t visit if we did. Once there, we’re wrapped in the rustic beauty of the place and the people who live there.
We’ve been blessed with sunny and warm weather this year. That makes our job simpler because things can be aired and dried, and we don’t have to plan for it raining. The only down-side of this dry weather is the dust on our 120 mile trek to Winter Harbour on logging roads. But this too can be managed and is no more inconvenient than the rain.
Submitted for your enjoyment and edification by,
Michael Clemens
