Then came morning and a three-year tradition, this being the third Seawind rendezvous at the Isthmus. The big race. All the way around the corner to the other side of the island. From the Isthmus to the Isthmus, 14 miles and you end up almost where you started.
Silly? Well, that’s the beauty, isn’t it? What isn’t silly about sailboat racing, except the pleasure of the game? Steve declared, “I’m a cruiser, but I want to be the first cruiser there.”
Our fearless tigers aboard Paradise Express had glimmerings of glory. Frankly, we were magnificent. We battled through to our five minutes in front, but Sea Ya’s five minutes (okay, maybe more) in the lead happened to coincide with crossing the finish line. What a stupid place to put a finish line. Then, amid furling sails and throwing out lines to the raft, the “stress” washed away and the looniness kicked in and the bantering soared. I’ll tell you again, because it’s worth saying again, 26 miles across the sea could have been any cruising hole anywhere.
