Choppy waters and grey skies add atmosphere as the boats set sail for Galway, writes EILEEN BATTERSBYin Boston
ONE BY one, seven 70-metre sail boats tack into the wind; they glide and hover, one minute looking serene and motionless, the next defiant, tense with purpose.
A number of smaller spectator and camera boats are also sharing the waters of Boston Harbor. But here in this historic setting where America made its first fledging bid in 1773 for independence from Britain, there is no mistaking the elite international crews competing for glory in the 10th Volvo Ocean Race 2008-2009.
On Saturday afternoon the Boston waterfront is busy with crowds gathered to see off the competitors on leg seven, the 2,500 mile journey across the North Atlantic to Ireland. The pre-race around the bay provides its own drama as conditions quickly shifted from sunshine to dense fog. The 2005-2006 Volvo Ocean Race winner, now sailing under a new name, Delta Lloyd, narrowly missed colliding with a Canadian oil tanker that appeared out of the mist.
The US coast guard made the tanker its priority. Motor power launches darted about after the race boats giving us a close up into the graceful, highly-efficient choreography of a world-class crew at work.
These sailors are international professional sportsmen, they’re also heroes and dreamers. The skippers have contrasting approaches to the task at hand. As they make their way down the boardwalk to their respective boat, the onlookers cheer as one.
Sailing at this level is a sophisticated game of chess played on the seas. Each man and his crew is introduced and asked for a few words, the popular Swede Magnus Olsson, veteran skipper of Ericsson 3, the all-Nordic team, sums it up, his schoolboy’s smile beaming from a gentle weather-beaten face; he is too busy to speak and is eager to get his boat out on the water.
One of man’s oldest skills, seamanship, is juxtaposed with all the glamour, intensity and commercialism of 21st century international sport.
The teams are composed of world-class sailors such as five-time Olympic medallist Torben Grael of Brazil, captain of the second Ericsson boat, Ericsson 4 and Finland’s Thomas Johanson, a 2000 gold medallist who crews on the Nordic team. The competitors are facing one of the harshest tests in sailing, the north Atlantic. Behind the smiles and waves, is the reality of the wind, possible icebergs and vicious weather that awaits them.
In the previous series, three years ago, a young Dutch bowman, Hans Horrevoets, died. Ireland’s Damian Foxhall, watch captain of Green Dragon, the Irish boat, points out that you seldom relax at sea, and you certainly don’t expect to on the Atlantic.
Irish spectators chant snatches of Galway Bay on cue, but the beat of U2’s Elevation takes over as the theme tune. An elegant Boston matron who looks as if she knows her Henry James turns to her daughter and says, “Of course, they would have to go Galway, it’s the perfect setting.”
The announcer introduces the Green Dragon team, led by Britain’s Ian Walker, double Olympic silver medallist. A group of Irish dancers perform on the boardwalk as the announcer remarks: “This is the team heading for home.”
Irish supporters are well aware of the achievement: not only has the Irish crew already brought its boat, the lightest in the race, three-quarters of the way around the world, it has done it on very little preparation and an economy budget. Two little boys wave their toy green dragons – cuddly versions of the mythical, fire-breathing beasts, not replicas of the Irish boat – while their father announces in what was once a Kildare accent that is now heavily infiltrated with Boston: “I always liked the idea of sailing.”
Most people do – it is a beautiful sport – but world-class ocean racing is incredibly demanding and dangerous. We are looking at heroes who may also be adventurers in search of the ultimate test.
The boats are magnificent; racing machines built for speed, not comfort, and capable of moving faster than anything man-made on the water with the exception of a submarine.
Ken Read, the skipper of Puma Ocean Racing, seems emotional. A native of Newport, Rhode Island, he studied at Harvard and Boston is his home port. He is a candid individual whose voice is not unlike that of tennis legend John McEnroe and whose verbal delivery is similar. It was Read who on hearing the iconic Magnus Olsson’s vague reply when asked how many times he had crossed the Atlantic, “Oh I don’t know, 30 or 40 times” expressed disbelief, shrieking ‘chalk dust’ like “how can you not know how many times you’ve crossed the Atlantic?”
The red Puma boat with its dramatic motif, of a large black cat poised to pounce on the sail, is eye-catching; the hull is designed in the shape of a running shoe.
“My mother sailed” says Damian Foxall, “so did my father.”
Turn back the clock 200 years and Foxall would have sailed with Darwin. His face lights up at the idea. “I would have loved that.”
Below deck on Green Dragon, the fittings are basic and a row of 11 spoons are clipped to the wall. Images of the seven dwarves spring to mind.
The bunks are canvas mesh, the surfaces are carbon. There are two computers, all the gear is stowed to one side. Once the boat is at sea, the same gear will be moved from side to side as the boat tacks. Pinned to the wall behind the computers, two good luck “We Love You Daddy” cards made by Ian Walker’s children. These Spartan boats become less a home than an entire world for the duration of each leg.
But all of these facts have been relegated to the behind-the-scene detail.
Choppy waters and the grey skies add to the atmosphere. The racing boats having mingled with ordinary vessels are now pulling away from us, Telefonica Blue, followed by Telefonica Black, Puma, Ericsson 4, Green Dragon, Ericsson 3, slip away, pursued by Delta Lloyd, still making up ground lost during the encounter with the tanker.
Suddenly, the fleet is gone, vanishing into the open sea. The first obstacle is the protected whaling corridor, a 100 sq mile stretch to be avoided, particularly now, in the breeding season.
Yesterday’s light winds kept the competing boats tightly bunched as they zig-zagged through the lobster pot lines off Nova Scotia. One of these cut through Green Dragon’s port daggerboard. Two crew are currently sailing while the others are involved in a complicated repair job that requires the switching of the remaining daggerboard.
But there a lot of sea between Nova Scotia and Galway. Bonfires will be lit on the Aran Islands as the boats come into view.
Few sights will be more dramatic than the emergence of the leading boat. Whether the 1812 Overture or Chariots of Fire happen to play on in your imagination, anyone who can – should aim at being in Galway when the Volvo Ocean Race fleet sails into a port poised for celebration.