Are We a Dying Breed?

“What does everybody think? Are we a dying breed?” It was in the 22nd hour of the Smith Island Race, which had been a drifty, damp and cold affair. We were leading the remaining fleet and spirits were actually pretty high, if a little drained.

Dan Falk posed the question in a way only Dan can, in his resonant, confident tone. Even though the conversation didn’t go into the philosophical direction it could have, it certainly got everybody thinking. Well, it got me thinking.

Keelboat racing has certainly faded in North America in recent years, in some places like the Pacific Northwest more than others. The many reasons have been discussed ad nauseam; expense, a time-pressed culture that doesn’t allow for this time-consuming sport, handicapping issues, et. al.

But I don’t think Dan’s question was about keelboat racing in general. I think it was about the whole overnight/long distance question. The “fleet” we were leading consisted of seven boats. It was only a fleet of 21 to start with, a far cry from the dozens (hundreds) that used to do this race back in the 80s. The short and cruising courses had another 25 starters but with the time limits they were assured of at least being home for a late dinner.

No, the question was, was the breed of sailor who’d stay out all night in the cold, hanging on in a race for up to 30 hours, dying. On the face of it, the answer would seem yes. The skippers and crews of the two TP52s and R/P 55 pulled the plug on the race in the afternoon, though even with a few breaths of air the time limit would not be a problem for them. There are tough, skilled and very competitive crews on all those boats, but they made the understandable choice to head home.

I’m sure they slept better than we did and got a whole lot more chores than we did as well. But there wasn’t one among Grace‘s crew that regretted staying out there. We all traded emails affirming that the next day. Even one crew who couldn’t make it chimed in on the thread wishing he’d been there. We were first to finish, and third overall on corrected time. While it would have been great to win on corrected time, the competition wasn’t at issue.

It’s something other than competition that kept us going and made us happy looking back. Sure, it’s the camaraderie, the use and honing of skills, the being out there in nature. Yada yada. But for me there’s something more to it than that, and it came clear to me because it’s been a while since I’ve raced overnight. For me it was the chance to do a mini restart. Life ashore is full of routines, challenges and expectations. Life at sea, especially with relative strangers, is full of changing and challenging conditions (without anybody but Neptune to blame), new conversations, physicality – even if it is an oppressive cold like the other night.

You come out of it reset. Tired, cold, sore, probably behind on the to-do list, but reset to face life ashore with a new set of eyes. Chances are there are some new jokes rolling around your head, even if you can’t tell some of them ashore.

This region used to be a mecca of overnight racing. It was at a time when the navigation, boatspeed and even attire weren’t nearly as good as they are today. I never got to enjoy the Around the Sounds and Great Equalizers, but they sound like they were lots of fun. There were hundreds of boats out there, even in humble little 25-footers that were of dubious construction with crews with minimal experience. Have we changed that much?

I submit we have not. I think sailors have just forgotten about the joys and challenges of overnight racing. I believe they’ve been told too often about the discomforts and not enough about the camaraderie. I believe the racing culture has taken a temporary course toward competition and comfort rather than adventure and camaraderie.

There are plenty of long distance races that are not only thriving, but are bursting at the seams. The Mackinac races in the Midwest, ARC on the Atlantic, Fastnet, Sydney Hobart and many others are hitting the limits. In Europe there’s an abundance of overnight racing. In our area, Swiftsure has been losing ground but it’s still strong, and it could flare up at any time to the fleet sizes of the 1980s. Then there’s the R2AK, set to start in about a month. Now, that’s discomfort that dwarfs a Smith Island Race on 40-footer, but now in it’s fourth year it’s come to full maturity with no signs of slowing down.

So, if you shake your head at those of us who stumble in, cold and really really hungry some morning, think again. The best part of racing might not be the competition, or getting home to a warm bed. The best part might be eating lasagna on deck in a drizzle while listening to that joke that would never be told on shore. You return to the dock as a person reset – which is just as important now as it ever was.

No, we’re not a dying breed. I’m pretty sure we’re just in hibernation.

Kurt Hoehne

Kurt grew up racing and cruising in the Midwest, and has raced Lasers since the late 1970s. Currently he is a broker at Swiftsure Yachts. He has been Assistant Editor at Sailing Magazine and a short stint as Editor of Northwest Yachting. Through Meadow Point Publishing he handles various marketing duties for smaller local companies. He currently is partners on a C&C 36 which he cruises throughout the Northwest. He’s married to the amazing Abby and is father to Ian and Gabe.