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January 15, 2007

Foredeck Monkey

When I first started racing sailboats, I was assigned to the Sewer. The sewer was mine. All I did was clean up the Italian Feast of Sheets, and pack and repack sails…and get people shit. I was the Boy. I finally determined it was more efficient to launch, and takedown, the Spinnaker out of a huge laundry basket from abeam. It took me awhile to prove my point, but in the end, my method was adapted. I learned all about knots. Ask my Bitch. I also learned that the chute is usually launched from the bow for a reason. Bloopers, as well. They met me halfway.

Anyway, we’re in the middle of a leg, and there wasn’t much going on for me, so I popped myself a cold beverage. Bad move. My good friend, who also happened to be number one, said, “drop that fucking beer, the B-B-Q ain’t started yet…we’ve got boats to pass. Jump the fuck back Jack. Damn! I did as I was asked told, but I threw it at him instead of dropping it. I was lucky; he was too busy to beat my ass.

We passed ‘em all, and won that race.

My smart-ass attitude got me promoted. I was now called to foredeck monkey duty. Physically, I’m the right size (float like a butterfly, sting like a bee...is an understatement), so what could I say. I was ready. Maybe?

Now, let me say before I go any further, know this. These people, my friends, are fucking crazy ass balls to the wall, took this shit seriously. Very seriously. There were groupies waiting for us 'em, back on shore. They wanted to come in first win, if you know what I mean.

Working the foredeck, in a blow, is dangerous business. If you’re doing an “end-over-to-end” jibe of the spinnaker pole, and number one doesn’t turn the boat to coincide with the swap, you have a major problem. I’ve taken a spinnaker pole, powered by the force of nature, full force to the chest several times. I’m lucky I wasn’t killed. If it’d hit me in the head, I’d be dead.

I’ve never sailed without bleeding.

After a couple of years I moved to trimmer, and that was a lot of fun, but if you don’t have a capable foredeck man, you are screwed.

Racing a sailboat is all about teamwork.

I miss those days.

Bottom Line: I just plain like to go fast.

Posted by Yabu at January 15, 2007 12:36 PM | The Past

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Posted by: Teresa at January 16, 2007 04:27 PM