Intoxicating True Adventures continued

Friday, June 8^th

Still sulking. Sulked through dinner and halfway through the musical entertainment. Excellent New Orleans Jazz band supplemented by two singing ladies in one and a half costumes. Liberal applications of anti-sulk medication begins to have effect. Photographs to prove efficacy of anti-sulk medication.

Medication provides sufficient lift to all concerned. Some seek further lift by repairing to the Nautibar. Rumours abound, some photos, much gossip. Others repair to yacht club veranda to bay at moon. Or would have bayed at moon had moon been visible through rain clouds. Caterwauling continues until Ernst and committee’s ears bleed and we are packed off home.

I think that was the night some people came home later than others. Some people went to sleep without scotch. And one little nauti-barfly danced all the way home.

Saturday, June 9^th

Still raining. Quel surprise. Fog and no wind leaves fleet packed onto verandah waiting (and praying) for abandonment. Some experienced abandonment the previous evening. Long, long wait. Musical interlude with Amici Sportivi – calculated to drive fleet off the deck and onto boats. Weather does not cooperate. Discover moss growing on derrière.

Around 1:00pm the “Wettfahrtleiter” blows off the racing and ends the regatta and my pain. Sudden rush of activity as crews dash to dismantle in the rain.  Kind people hang wet sails for cranky Canadians in faint hope they will dry before being packed off home.

Weather clears temporarily for post-regatta bratwurst. No cheese. Sudden realization that regatta is over (thank God) and we will soon say goodbye to our European friends (oh No!). Urgent need for anti-sulk medication. Further liberal applications alleviates pain of parting. Drunken singing in German taken in loud doses.

Once again, the Canadians are ushered from the premises by tired committee. Evidently we had fun, but we ran out of film.

Epilogue

I had an epiphany in Kreuzlingen. I’d had it “up to here” with Shark sailing and whiny Canadian Shark sailors. I was ready to quit before I set out for Europe and seven days of cold and rain didn’t do much to improve my mood. So what happened? I realized that it isn’t about the sailing. It’s about the people. That’s why I used to sail. But lately, I’d realized that Shark sailing was becoming a nine-to-five job. Go racing, go home. No camaraderie. No fun.

Most people who sailed at Trillium this year, or Gold Cup last year won’t be able to tell you how the out-of-town sailors enjoyed their visits because most of the local sailors were long gone by sundown. That’s the rule, not the exception. Out-of-town sailors must have thick skins, because if it were you, wouldn’t you get the idea you weren’t welcome?

That’s what’s different in Europe. They’re glad you came. They’ll party with you, help you fix your boat, hang your wet sails and stay up way past their bedtime while you serenade a lamppost. Lack of a common language doesn’t appear to be an impediment to friendship. There’s always someone who can translate.

I challenge you to make an effort to get to know the people who either travel to your regattas or host the ones you travel to. What’s the worst that can happen? You get less sleep and have a way better time. And make new friends.