It is a brisk, wet early October morning on Lake Washington in Seattle. People dressed in heavy rain jackets walk from their cars to the dock at Sail Sand Point in Magnuson Park, a former naval base that is now a sprawling sports complex.
Inside the open doors of an old warehouse is the dry storage for the UBC collegiate sailing team. A sail lies on the floor. Neil Roberts and Karl Jensen, both engineering students, are debating about which number to apply to the new sail.
Another member of the team walks in. “We’ve got to be on the water in ten minutes,” says Becky Power, a fourth-year student in integrated sciences.
A crisp number eight is stamped onto the sail as the team rushes down the dock to get out on the water. The fresh sails fly into the air as other members scramble to set the rudder and tiller together. The team is ready to set out into the drizzling bay for a day of racing at the University of Washington’s Cascadia Cup.
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The UBC collegiate sailing team started in 2009 after students from the AMS Sailing Club joined the Inter-Collegiate Sailing Association (ICSA), a governing body that includes teams from across the United States and Canada.
“We were talking one day, and Queen’s [University] has quite a developed [team] and we were talking about how we all considered going because of that,” says Power.
“We decided that [a team] would be an excellent addition to the school because a lot of sailors get deterred from coming to UBC because there is no collegiate program, and then they will go out east to McGill or Queen’s. We kind of want to keep other sailors here and get more people involved on the West Coast.”
The AMS Sailing Club provides UBC’s team with access to boats, equipment and training facilities. The team recently bought new sails—a small advantage, as sails lose their effectiveness over time.
College sailing competitions, called regattas, require teams of two to sail small boats of the same model, most commonly the 13-foot Flying Junior. The skipper “drives” the boat, controlling the main sail and the steering, while the other sailor is responsible for the weight distribution of the delicately balanced bats. They’re also responsible for the jib, a smaller sail on the front of the boat.
Host schools provide all of the boats and basic equipment, although most schools bring their own sails, rudders and tillers. These simple boats level the playing field and keep the cost of regattas down.
Compared to the other schools at this regatta, UBC is an amateur club. UBC holds open practices twice a week during the school year, and many of the team members practice only once a week and don’t consistently practice with the same teammate. Only two of the teams—Power and Byron Roehrl, and Jensen and Roberts—have sailed together before.
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After rigging the boat, the teams push out onto the lake. A lackadaisical four-knot breeze ripples across the surface and the boats slide through the water quietly. The start line bobs about half a kilometre offshore, stretching 100 metres to another buoy. The committee boat, a 16-foot dinghy, sits on one end, setting the course and managing the start.
Sailing races start on a sequence, with the aim being to cross the start line exactly as the countdown reaches zero. A quick start is key to a good race, but toeing the line, often crowded by more than 20 other boats, is a complicated dance. Boats that push the limit are penalized by having to come back around and repeat the start.
UBC comes slow out of the gate, with boats 4 and 8 placing 15th and 18th out of 23 boats in the first race. Scoring is calculated by adding up how well a team places over several races; each division completed eight races over the weekend. The winner is determined by the lowest cumulative team score at the end of the regatta. The boats sail two races and then switch sailors; if the B division doesn’t sail a series, the A division’s races are discounted.
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The rain permeates everything. My camera bag is soaked by the second race and I’m suddenly glad I paid for weatherproofing.
The wind, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as consistent. After two races (and just enough time for the B division to sail to the line) it drops to a whisper. Half an hour later, rippling water lures the teams back onto the course.
“Some people say [sailing] is 60 per cent athletic and 40 per cent mental, so it’s a large component of sailing. The environment is a huge factor in sailing. You have to be extremely adaptable,” says Power. “Sitting onshore, you have to keep an open mind and you can’t get frustrated because when you get frustrated you’re just not going to do well.”
The wind picks up consistently through the afternoon. The wind has sailors hauling themselves out of the boat to hike out, flattening the boats against the stiff breeze.
Sailors train in and out of the water. Sitting halfway out of a small skiff for hours requires more than just patience—it demands a gym membership.
“Sailing’s a sport you can get into no matter your level of fitness or general health, but in order to get to the top you’ve got to be on top of your game just like any other sport,” says Roberts. “If you look at top sailors, they’ll all be training on the water four or five days a week and in the gym six days a week.”
For some, the wind is giving them more trouble than a sore abdomen. Smaller and more inexperienced sailors suddenly find their boats upside down. As they flail to right themselves, frigid October water rushes into every crevice of their boat, shocking their senses and their pride.
“It’s frustrating when I let it capsize. I’ve never been afraid of capsizing because I’ve been around the water so much, it’s more, ‘Oh no, now I’ve lost my position in the race and I’m going to come last,’” says Power, who managed to keep her boat upright for the weekend. “But if you’re pushing it, it’s kind of inevitable.”
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Sailing may be competitive, but it’s not a varsity sport on the western seaboard. While top boats at regattas have competitive crews that have sailed together since kindergarten, local teams have people sailing in their first competition ever.
“It makes for a more challenging situation at times, because you have to expect the unexpected, flailing and capsizing and doing odd random manoeuvres that are moderately annoying or dangerous at times,” says Jensen.
UBC’s team has made outreach a key part of their mission. At this meet, they’ve brought new sailors to teach them how to race.
“Most people on our team have raced before, but there’s a couple of people who grew up in [recreational sailing] programs. You definitely need to know how to sail before you join our team, but we’re all for teaching and improving your knowledge of racing,” says Power.
With varying levels of experience and points not counting towards national rankings, this weekend’s regatta has a slightly more relaxed atmosphere.
“This was a small regional regatta,” says Power. “If you’re at the western championships you take things more seriously. [If] it’s like a local regatta, it’s not necessarily serious…It’s competitive yet fun; we like to let loose and have fun.”
Tickets to a Sam Roberts concert on Friday were purchased before the trip. When the team arrived on Friday, they headed to a frosh party at the University of Washington before leaving to see Roberts play at a local bar. The small bar is packed with Canadians who have come down to see him.
On Saturday, fresh off the water, the team wandered for several blocks before arriving at a keg party held at a University of Washington team member’s house.
As I wandered around the party taking photos and watching sailors from various teams banter back and forth, I could see a gradual osmosis of brotherhood developing. The sharing of drinks and stories was just another facet of sailing’s most fundamental requirement: the necessity of trust. And while most team sports create this, there is a certain amount of artifice in games created for stadiums and arenas.
But there is something pure in sailing, the necessity of two people trusting each other as they combat nature’s angst; howling winds and the cascading waves of frigid, icy water.
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The team arrives on a clear Sunday morning to a waterskier gracefully carving across a perfectly flat lake. Teams mingle, talking about sailing or school, while others sit in their car to catch up on homework.
“I’m kind of used to it. There’s a social aspect of sailing that occurs on no-wind days, so it’s kind of a natural part of sailing culture,” says Roberts. “It’s not ideal but there’s good things that come from it. A lot of my best friends I’ve made hanging out at regattas.”
Eventually a gentle puff of wind coaxes the teams out onto the water. It’s slow going and races are abandoned and restarted as the wind comes, shifts and goes. UBC’s boats are placing well enough; veteran team members Ryan Cutting and Jen Grierson take a big early lead by charging the entire fleet in the wrong direction on the start line, called port-tacking the fleet.
The racing ends in the early afternoon and presentations are made. Sailing teams rarely stay for trophies, as getting back home at a reasonable hour takes precedent over waiting for hardware. UBC places 11th and 12th out of 23 boats.
As for UBC’s sailing team, it’s growing despite undesirable winter conditions.
“It’s not really developed quite yet, but our goal is to become more like the Queen’s team,” says Power. “It’d be nice for us to eventually get to that level. Obviously the team is only a year old, so we’re still in the testing phase.
“I think that with UBC, it’s more to promote people to continue racing. It’s a little bit competitive—like, we didn’t win, but it’s not the Olympics.”
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