ILLUSTRATION Natasha Law WWW.BOATINTERNATIONAL.COM
OWNERS’ CLUBhe noontime sun beats down through my
big floppy hat and I bask in its warmth. On
either end of the beach the jagged green
Pitons of St Lucia rise from the water in all
their majesty. I’m halfway through a flufy novel, but I
turn it page-down on my stomach. My eyelids slide
blissfully closed, then I hear: “Hey, let’s rent a sailboat.”
My husband, Chapman, has many talents, but sitting
still is not one of them. I open one eye and peer at him
from under my sunglasses. “Are you nuts?” But he’s
already on his feet. I point an emphatic finger at his
empty lounge chair. “Nuh-uh. You lie back down.”
Even as the words leave my lips, I know it’s a lost
cause. He gives me his most
mischievous smile and strides
toward a Hobie Cat beached on the
sand like a whale skeleton. Damn,
there goes my nap.
As we push the boat off the
beach, a resort employee asks
Chapman if he knows how to sail.
“Why not? I can drive anything,” he
quips. True, he’s had an illustrious
career as a professional race car
driver. Plus, he grew up in Louisiana
racing across Lake Pontchartrain in the fastest
watercraft he could find. So although I’ve never heard
him talk about sailing I step aboard without trepidation
and settle onto the trampoline, ready for a quiet sail.
After our initial push into shallow water we glide to a
stop. And as I watch him fiddle ineptly with lines and
sails, I feel a sudden twinge of doubt. But then he adjusts
the rudder and the boat angles out to sea. With a loud
rippling crack the sails fill with air and we’re of.
The farther from land we get, the more speed we pick
up. Out past the shelter of the mountain-capped beach,
the wind is ripping. Faster and faster we go, as Chapman
tries tacking. We lurch upward onto a single hull and Ihold on for dear life. I don’t know much about sailing,
but this can’t be right. Chapman adjusts the rudder and
the boat turns and drops back down. In a blur, the boom
whips toward me and I duck in the nick of time. It slams
to a stop just past my shoulder and I giggle at the thrill.
But then I straighten and realize – I’m now alone.
I scan the waves and sure enough, there he is. Buoyed
by a life jacket, he bobs along in the waves, getting
smaller by the instant as the boat glides forward. “Drop
the sail!” he yells, but the wind whips his words toward
shore. “The what?” I yell back. Every second he’s getting
farther away. He shouts something else and gestures
wildly. “Do what?” I shriek. I try to stand, but the boat
wobbles. I look up and the sails swell with wind.
The gravity of my situation sinks in: I have no idea
how to stop this thing! In an instant I calculate the
distance to shore: less than a mile, I think... I’m a strong
swimmer... I can make it! I pull my life jacket straps tight
and leap overboard. As I hit the water, I hear a long, low
yell from across the waves, “Noooooo!”
There is a very important diference between driving
and sailing. Most people can drive a motorboat; it’s
intuitive. But sailing? Sailing takes a unique set of skills.
So the next time you hear “Let’s rent a sailboat!” from a
novice sailor in the lounge chair next to you, stand your
ground. Keep your eyes shut tight and savor every
second of that delicious vacation nap you so deserve.BWe lurch upward
onto a single hull
and I hold on for
dear life. I don’t
know much about
sailing but this
can’t be rightT
Just because you can drive,
it doesn’t mean you can sail- so just make sure you can
swim, advises Kristin Ducote
Darling
on Deck