Sink or Sail
By Aimee B.
I raced around, searching for my sail (as someone had misplaced it). The air was filled with warmth from the everlasting August sun, and also a singe of excitement and nerves. I looked under every boat in the yard and finally found my sail bag just when the skippers’ meeting was about to begin, my heart was racing.
It seems that in the summer, stress is eliminated from our vocabulary and from our minds. But on this particular day in august, stress was all I could think about. That day, I was sailing in my very first regatta against fifty two other kids who had been to many other races, and had been sailing for two more years than I had.
Earlier that morning, I woke up to the sound of my alarm and dreaded getting out of bed, not because I was nervous, but because it was six thirty in the morning and I hadn’t woken up that early since school ended. I quickly scarfed down some breakfast, threw on a bathing suit, and rushed out the door, pulling my parents by the heels so I would arrive at Stone Harbor Yacht Club on time.
Stone Harbor, a local yacht club only a short distance from my club Avalon Yacht Club, was holding the regatta, so the drive was only ten minutes. When I arrived, many of my friends were already there, which calmed me, and made my nerves transform into excitement. Although my nerves were comforted, I was still unsure of what the atmosphere would be like out on the water.
Once everyone finished rigging their boats, we went up to the top deck overlooking the bay and were shown the course we would be racing that day. Our instructors wished us good luck, and towed us out to the area in the northern most of the bay called The Great Sound where the races were taking place.
At sailing camp, we practiced racing quite often, but with thirty more kids than usual, it was a hectic jumble of people and boats everywhere I turned. I just focused my mind on getting a good start, having fun, and mainly taking in the moment. I heard the three-minute-to-start horns, and began wading through the water to the starting line. I realized in that moment that there was nothing to be afraid of. As I sat in my boat, listening to the mayhem of boats splashing through the water, kids talking and laughing, and the rudders slicing through the blue basin below me, it sounded like music. The sounds all fit together perfectly.
When the horns counted down the final seconds before the race begun signaling five, four, three, two, one, I knew it was time, I turned onto the perfect tack, and my first race had begun. The rest of the day, I was taking in the beautiful symphony created by the boats, and it was more exciting rather than nerve racking. When I finished the first race, I sailed over to the patrol boat near my friends. We were having a great time in between races while getting pointers from our instructors. I felt like we were a true team, and we were here to win.
I no longer lingered on my fears and had a jubilant time, also while defeating the other yacht clubs. When all was said and done, the man on the finish boat called my sail number, “20613, you’re over.” The five races were finished in what seemed to be the blink of an eye. The Avalon Yacht Club brought home a win with first, second, and fourth place. My first regatta turned out to be a success, and it all appeared surreal. As my parents drove me home, I looked out the window and let my face sit in the suns rays, closed my eyes, and thought of what a wonderful day that was.
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