It’s a rare thing to be part of an all-female crew on a sailboat, and yet that’s where I found myself in the middle of Noyac Bay on Saturday. The Breakwater Yacht Club hosted its annual Sag Harbor Cup Regatta, and the five of us had never raced together as a team. In fact, we typically compete against one another on various boats with coed crews.
We sailed a J70, a 23-foot boat on which there is no “rail meat” for balance: Every crew member plays an active part in sailing the boat. In one sense gender shouldn’t be a factor; we came together as a crew to compete and revel in a day on the water. We believe it’s the first all-female crew in the regatta’s 42-year history.
The weather forecast kept us guessing. An early prediction of four knots of wind would mean a painfully slow race, if it was held at all. Midweek, the prediction of gusty winds with lightning and rain wasn’t promising either. As the day approached, we planned for light rain with the likelihood of high-S.P.F. sunscreen required in the afternoon.
Heading out to the race course in Noyac Bay in a humid spitting rain, we popped up the hoods of our foulie jackets and braced ourselves for a soggy day on the water. We discussed the possible race courses and conditions. Each crew member contributed her knowledge to our strategy. How best to avoid unfavorable tides running against us. How to play the shifts in the breeze. How to identify the course markers on the longer legs. And then there’s actually sailing the boat through the 15 nautical miles of the course.
The skies cleared as the start time approached, right on cue, and we were grateful for the improved visibility. The course first took us upwind and downwind through the shoals near Jessup’s Neck, which I love for the unspoiled and uninhabited natural beauty.
Typically in sailing there’s not a clear-cut right or wrong decision. Mother Nature creates wind holes and shifts that are constantly changing. Sometimes the best decision is not obvious until looking back to see how things panned out. It’s a physical and mental sport, with a leap of faith thrown in.
It can make for spirited discussions. Yet on the boat we calmly contributed ideas and observations before making decisions. I jokingly call sailboat racing “relaxation for type As” because the focus pushes out any stray thoughts about life left onshore. True to form, I forgot about any worries and didn’t even think to check my email as my phone was stowed in a dry bag below.
What made the race day remarkable was the way we acknowledged one another’s contributions and complemented one another. Smooth tack! Nice douse! Good call on the wind shift! We expressed a healthy balance not only of how we individually contributed to the team effort, but also what others brought to the equation.
Cordelia Boise had the gumption and skill to pull together the crew. Sinead FitzGibbon recently returned to sailing after a hiatus; she brings athleticism and positivity to everything she does. Joan Butler has never met a sailboat she didn’t want to race, and pays close attention to the skills required to do so. Cecilia Ward sported a purple bruise on her upper arm from a thrashing during a high-wind race earlier that week and was ready to do it all again. And me, a longtime racer who, because of years spent on the sidelines while recovering from a car vs. bike accident, feels grateful for every sail I get.
There are notable, accomplished female sailors we’re likely all familiar with. Cole Brauer (hailing from East Hampton) was the first American woman to sail nonstop and single-handed around the world. Dawn Riley helmed the first all-female crew in the America’s Cup. Tracy Edwards helmed Maiden with an all-female crew in the Whitbread Round the World race. In a local way, it’s energizing to add our own mark to local sailing history. It will feel truly remarkable when all-female crews are no longer noteworthy.
Crossing the finish line in Shelter Island’s Major’s Cove around 5 p.m. (after meeting on the docks at 10 a.m.) makes for a long day of concentration, yet our spirits were high. We finished fourth in our class just ahead of a boat that became our friendly rival, a Hinckley Bermuda 40. We had battled and traded leads on the last couple of legs.
It was a spirited way to cross the finish line, and we’re ready to do it all again.
Sarah Alford is a freelance writer who lives in Sag Harbor.