Your Blogster Drives America's Cupper

It’s like no sailing I’d ever done before, sailing aboard America II last week, one of Dennis Connor’s “12 meter” yachts built in the 1980s. Obviously, it’s fast, long, low, can be wet and powerful. Less obvious: It’s also extremely sensitive to tiny changes in steering from one of the two wheels and just a blast to sail. I was sailing with Michael Fortenbaugh, head of the Manhattan Sailing Club and School in New York Harbor as part of the first Classic Sailboat Race around the bay in front of the Statue of Liberty.

It was awesome in speed (we topped 9 knots in modest winds), leaving vintage schooners in the dust. A couple of brand new, custom 76-footers (Wild Horses and White Horses), flying spinnakers, actually beat us across the finish line, but we didn’t really care. Just sailing an an America’s Cup boat is its own reward!

Down below on this America’s Cupper, there’s literally nothing at all. Nothing: No head, no seats, no stove, no bulkheads, no windows, no floor. And it's dark down there. There's nothing, just ribs and ugly industrial stuff. There aren’t even steps to drop down into this “aluminum hell hole” filled with sailbags and loose extra gear. You hop down onto a pipe step, of sorts, to gain access to this private hell. Spending any time down here would be both claustrophobic and irrational.

Most exciting, when you sail these boats, EVERYONE IS YOUR FRIEND: Even those oblivious Staten Island ferry captains, water taxi drivers and other mega yachts. All try to come alongside to wave and go ooh-ah. Photo-op! Kodak Moment! These sailboats sail impressively, with their massive sails and sleek lines. There’s no mistaking their uniqueness. No thinking they might be private yachts. These beasts are a whole different thing.

The enormous “barrel winches” seem like overkill - - giant drums linked to one- or two-man grinding stations, that operate with a smoothness reserved for only the finest mechanisms. Pulling in and easing out the sheets takes some planning and thought, since it involves EVERYONE. You just don’t want to get any of your clothing or fingers into any of these devices. Picture extreme pain, lopped out appendages, lots of blood and screaming….

Right at the dock we identified “safety zones” where you could sit and be relatively safe, away from these massively powerful lines and fittings. For example, the vang on this particular boat is attached to a semi-circular track, onto which a car travels to its own tune. Getting a hand, foot or clothing trapped under this car could prove immediately debilitating!

I hovered around the little pit next to the mast where the halyards end up in little net bags, though I also steered and handled most every other job, now and then. All the while, your heart pumps, your smile lingers, you stand taller and feel like king of the hill and everything else in view.

There actually are THREE of these America II “Challenger” yachts (a.k.a., Stars & Stripes): US-42, US-44 and US-46. This final one was the one that Dennis Connor raced in the Challenger series, then he switched to US-55 and won the Cup in Fremantle, against Australia, in 1987. (Some of the exact history here is imprecise. Further research is necessary before quoting me.) The other two America II’s still sail and are birthed in Greenwich, CT, US-42, and in Maui, Hawaii, US-44, where the public also may also take thrilling sails.

The decks are abrasive non-skid, so it’s pretty easy to get scraped knees if you kneel down. The lifelines don’t continue all the way to the bow, so the last 15 feet or so you’re on your own, balancing on an increasingly narrow, pitching deck if you choose to “go forward,” stand by the headstay,and see around the giant genoa. These boats shout practicality and functionality, not creature comfort, sort of like a stock car versus a regular car you or I might drive on public streets.

Raising the main first involves removing the sail cover, a major operation - - you literally have to climb up onto the boom, well above eye level (no I didn’t volunteer for this), to unzip the thing. Falling off the boom at the dock would get your day off to a lousy start, and maybe involve a trip to the local hospital. Again, most every operation involves group discussion and participation to avoid breaking or tearing sails and ruining expensive gear – not to forget bruising or breaking parts of your body. Carrying the genoa from below and unfolding it involves at least three strong people. The fabric feels like it could repel bullets.

The boat’s forward momentum is impressive. Its turning radius and sensitivity to minor changes just amazing. (You wouldn’t think that one person moving from one side to the other would make that big a different. Change in the boat’s sailing characteristics were actually dramatic, if you did so, though unless everyone hiked out, there wasn’t much difference in healing. The sails are that powerful. It took all hands on the rail to make modest healing corrections.)

Upwind, we literally could steer right at a mark, even if it were directly upwind. The boat could easily “coast” around it with its momentum. Coming about, you could sit a few moments head-to-wind while sails are adjusted (pulled in mostly) before heading out onto the new tack. Doing this in most other boats would mean sitting helplessly in irons the no-sail zone.

The masthead fly (Windex) is way, way up there, mostly superfluous, since the winds up there could prove to be somewhat different that what you were feeling on your face. The gigantic, flat main did show some artificial luff or backwinding, caused by the huge genoa, but it was easily removed with sail adjustments. We didn’t crank on most of the minor sail controls (outhaul, Cunningham, etc.) in this relatively easy race, since we definitely did NOT want to break anything, draining the maintenance budget.

All in all, it was a revealing, humbling sail. Sailing one of the proposed 90-footers in 2009's mastch race is most unimaginable. It’s going to be beyond human experience, at least those of the typical sailor. These guys will have to be tough, focused, STRONG, BRUISERS. Best of luck - - you heard it here first!