Destination: St. Maarten

Dan Leeth photos

 PHILIPSBURG, St. Maarten -- Captains wanting to shanghai a crew would probably look past our motley bunch.

 Two dozen of us, clad in shorts and swimwear, stand on a pier. We're the usual Caribbean cross-section of urban escapees -- young and old, male and female, cruisers and condo commandos. One common bond links us: We all paid to be sheet jockeys on some of the swiftest boats ever sailed.

 "In a few minutes, you'll be racing two America's Cup yachts," announces Grant, the day's coordinator. "They're the real thing, and you'll be the crew."

 The group cheers, although we have no idea what we're getting ourselves into. We're about to take part in the 12 Metre Challenge, a junior America's Cup competition held daily off the island of St. Maarten. Like celebrated U.S. skipper Dennis Conner, we will compete for a cup. But ours are made of plastic and filled with rum punch.

 "We've got five boats from the 1987 America's Cup competition," Grant tells us. "We will sail two today. One is Canada II. The folks up north spent something in the vicinity of $32.7 million on their unsuccessful challenge. The other is Stars & Stripes, the actual boat Dennis Conner used to beat those pesky Australians."

 Grant picks two captains who, like kids on a sandlot, choose teams. They look for strong arms and wind-jamming experience. Most of us have neither. The last time I was on water, I navigated an air mattress through a swimming pool.

 Called "greyhounds of the sea," the boats are lean and sleek. Made of aluminum, they stretch 21 metres long, weigh 31 metric tons, and their single masts point eight storeys skyward. Built for racing, there isn't even a toilet onboard.

 Each of us is assigned a job. Those who are challenged physically or inclined toward sloth become timekeepers, navigators or monarchs of the cooler. The rest of us will squeeze Bengay tubes tonight.

 "We are going to need grinders and grindettes," says Grant, assigning some victims to crank the winches.

 "Now, we need a few people to handle the backstays. These wires stop the mast from falling over, so we want relatively sober and intelligent individuals back there."

 In spite of that, I'm selected for the task. I take one side near the stern while Matthew, a college-age lad, mans the other. Maintaining the lines are Sherry and Jennifer, two bikini-clad women who serve as "winch wenches."

 Ernie, the skipper, introduces his three assistants. While he plots strategy and steers the boat, they handle the technical tasks. The guys explain safety requirements and show us how to perform our jobs. A few minutes later, we hoist sails.

 "Our race course is in the shape of a triangle," explains Zalan, the first mate. "There is a single red flag at the top, which is our windward mark. Two red flags at the base form the starting gate. We will begin heading upwind on the first of five legs."

 An official on the "committee boat" will signal the start of the race. He raises a white flag to launch the six-minute countdown. Ernie begins manoeuvres he hopes will put us at the line on time and ahead of Canada II. The two competitors move back and forth, jockeying for position.

 "Count off the seconds!" Ernie shouts.

 "Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven ..."

 Canada II slips in beside us.

 "They're trying to force us away from the flag line," Ernie complains.

 "... Three, two, one."

 The race begins. Sails fill and the boat leans. Up front, someone cuts loose with a cowboy "Yeeee-haaa!"

 Canada II slides into an early lead. At the stern of the red and white vessel, its Maple Leaf flag flutters from, of course, a hockey stick.

 Angling with the wind, we tack to and fro. With every change of direction, Ernie calls out commands.

 "Primary grinders, give me some medium first gear."

 Like pedalling a bicycle with their arms, the folks up front frantically whirl the winches. Hats and hair go flying. Direction shifts. The boat tips, its gunwales scraping the water. Empty cans slide across the cockpit. We brace feet and clench anything solid to keep from following.

 "Tighten the backstay," Ernie commands.

 That's the cue for me to perform my relatively sober and intelligent task. Grabbing a handle, I reel in the line that tethers the main mast. When it reaches a predetermined mark, I reholster the handle. Like all jobs on board, it's seconds of exertion followed by minutes of indolence.

 The boat charges forward. Its bow, plowing through the waves, sends spray flying. In seeming slow motion, the saltwater deluge hangs momentarily in the air, then crashes down in a drenching shower. Everyone grins. This is racing.

 We follow Canada II around the flag and begin jibing our way back. Moving with the breeze, the boat sails swiftly. An air of quiet relaxation gives us time to admire the view.

 Reaching the gate, we turn and start back. Stars & Stripes slowly gains on Canada II. By the start of the final upwind run, the Canadian hockey stick skates squarely into our sights. A tacking duel begins.

 Canada II fires the first salvo by trying to steal our wind.

 With speed dependent on air pushing canvas, an upwind boat can put its leeward competitor at a disadvantage.

 In a game of chicken of the sea, the skippers run their yachts on an apparent collision course. Honouring the rules, Canada II makes a last-minute turn. We run side by side, then diverge, choosing opposite tacks toward the finish.

 Canada II pulls ahead as both boats streak toward the finish. It's close, but today the Molson drinkers win.

 Our cooler queen hands out another round of drinks as we glide toward port. We moor Stars & Stripes and I join others on deck waiting for the launch. One guy seems to still tingle with knee-knocking excitement.

 "It's not that," he says through gritted teeth. "I just shouldn't have had beer when there's no bathroom on board."

 

 The 12 Metre Challenge: Up to four races are held daily, with starting times determined by demand. During the slow summer season, races may only be offered when cruise ships visit port. The cost is US$60-70. Offices are at Bobby's Marina on the west side of Philipsburg, capital of Dutch St. Maarten.

 Visiting St. Maarten: St. Maarten/Martin has some of the best beaches in the Caribbean. Most of those on the Dutch side are comfortably conservative. French-side beaches tend to be tastefully topless, or less.

 Getting there: Canadian Airlines (1-800-426-7000) and Air Canada (925-2311) offer service through U.S. partners.

 Accommodations: Resort hotel rooms for two typically start at about US$100-135 during the low season, US$200 or more per night from mid-December through March.

 More information: Contact the Dutch St. Maarten tourist office at 1-800-786-2278, or www.st-maarten.com on the Web.

www.summer holiday.info
www.winter holiday.us