Catitude
It seemed like a good idea at the time. I missed racing, so when I found out that a Prindle 19 was up for sale, I was thrilled. This was a race boat that I could afford! So what if I had never raced a beach-cat? I’d raced a variety of sailboats - I could learn.
Next, I needed a racing partner. I hadn’t known Louri Lynn for long, but we got along well and I knew she sailed … I thought she might be interested. When I asked her if she wanted to race with me, she enthusiastically said, “Yes!”
Prindle-handling lessons came with the boat – the first was rigging the boat, and we practiced every evening. By the second night, we had drawn a happy-hour audience. This “peanut gallery” included a couple of beach-cat sailors who offered helpful advice – occasionally.
Before our first practice, Louri Lynn mentioned that she didn’t know how to sail. I was speechless while she explained that she had been on a beach-cat … once. Thinking back, I realized that I hadn’t asked if she knew how to sail, only if she wanted to race. She was eager and we were compatible … Teaming up seemed like a good idea at the time.
Our first sail went well, even though I almost capsized the boat. We had beautiful weather during our practice sails; Louri Lynn and I quickly gained the confidence we needed to sail on our own.
Gusty wind did not dampen our excitement the morning of our first team-only practice. After we rigged the boat, I walked down to the beach to take a look at the bay.
Louri Lynn joined me, “Are you figuring out how we’ll dodge the moored boats and get to open water?”
“No,” I replied. “I’m wondering if we’ll be able to get off the beach.”
She laughed … then realized I wasn’t kidding. Conditions were rough, but we were eager and the boat was rigged, so we decided to go for it. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
We rolled Catitude down the beach and tried to drag her through the surf. Refusing help, we said that if we couldn’t launch Catitude ourselves, we had no business sailing her …prophetic words, as it turned out.
After 30 minutes of struggling with 400 pounds of boat, we were whipped. We dragged Catitude above the surf and staggered into the club for a break. Five minutes later, a squall hit. We couldn’t see Catitude even though she was barely fifty feet away.
“Maybe we should forget sailing today,” Louri Lynn suggested.
“Good idea,” I replied. We had been so determined to get out on our own that we had ignored the deteriorating weather. Luckily, we’d gotten away with being stupid. One lesson learned – several more to go.
The conditions that day set a precedent for all the beach-cat sailing that Louri Lynn and I would do. Whenever we practiced, the weather ranged from miserable to horrible. We became skilled at survival sailing while making all sorts of mistakes – some of which were scary.
On the morning of our first race we were unconcerned about moderately lousy conditions. As we sailed, Catitude’s helm felt increasingly sluggish; we could barely tack. The problem – whatever it was – worsened, so we headed in. It was difficult to pull Catitude above the surf line – she was really heavy! Once beached, water poured out of the hull’s drain holes. Catitude had been sinking! Lesson two – make a launch checklist … Item one: “Insert plugs!!”
Undaunted, we practiced in awful weather; when Louri Lynn trapped out, waves would slam her across the boat. A sail to BVI, normally an easy reach, turned into an exhausting three-hour slog to weather. We read books and picked the brains of experienced beach-cat sailors. Ours was a mighty ambition – to compete in the Rolex Regatta. We had three months to prepare.
Each person brings a different ambition to a race team. My goal was to survive the 3-day Rolex with minimal injuries. Louri Lynn’s goal was to avoid coming in DFL. Although we were not ready for a major regatta, the weather was deteriorating, and I was coming down with the flu, we entered the Rolex. It seemed like a good idea …
Day 1: We took forever to sail to the race course, so started way behind our class. When we finally returned to the yacht club, the only people left on the beach were our family and friends. Their welcome made us feel like heroes, even though they were cheering because we were still alive, not because we had raced particularly well.
Day 2: Our survival-sailing experience enabled us to stay upright through dense rain and gusting wind, though we had helm trouble. All seemed well … then Catitude lurched violently during a gybe. Regaining my balance, I turned see what happened – Louri Lynn was gone! Her trapeze line had broken, dumping her overboard. Once she was back onboard, we discovered that our steering system was badly damaged; we could not continue racing.
Day 3: Catitude never left the beach; I was too sick to sail. For us, the regatta was over. We hadn’t been injured, and Catitude had not been irreparably damaged. At the Rolex awards banquet, we learned that we placed ahead of a beach-cat team that had partied all weekend instead of racing – Catitude was not DFL. We had achieved our team goals!
I’d like to report that we improved and went on to race for the next several years - but I can’t. Three months after Rolex, I stepped in a hole and wrecked my ankle. Three years after surgery, I finally faced reality … I was never again going to race Catitude.
I hated to give her up, but I couldn’t bear to watch her rot in dry-dock. Regretfully, I put the word out – Catitude was for sale. She was purchased by two women from St. John who, with Morgan Avery’s expertise, turned her into a power cat. The boat now sports navy blue hulls and is quite jaunty looking.
I am pleased that my former boat is out on the water and being enjoyed, but I miss racing her. All of the beach-cat sailors, most of whom were experienced racers, had welcomed and supported our fledgling team. The camaraderie of that group, on and off the race course, was second to none. Racing a beach-cat with Louri Lynn had been a great idea.
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