Testimony
Why
is Racing so Exciting?
LES
CANADIENS SONT LÀ !
As
an ice sailor, it’s a good thing to feel comfortable with uncertainty. It’s
four o’clock on Thursday, registration closes in 24 hours and we’re not sure
if we’re driving to New Jersey, Maine or upper New York State.
We receive the official email at ten past four, the site for the 2003 DN
Gold Cup World Championship Regatta is Lake Champlain, off Plattsburgh, N.Y.
High fives break the silence in the room, as we’re only an hour’s
drive from the site. Quickly we book a room at the official hotel, there are 130
competitors plus the race control staff vying for those few available rooms.
We’re still in the living room, at home, and the racing has already begun.
It’s
now early Saturday morning, I wake up to the sound of the Weather Channel and
the odor in the room is unpleasant. Maybe three nervous guys shouldn’t attempt
sharing a small room. Qualifying is coming up and the pressure is on. After
months of tinkering with our boats, practicing, traveling to minor regattas and
plenty of trash talk, the big one is upon us. Since none of the members of our
Montreal Ice Boat Club are of world champion caliber expect for our commodore,
Andre Baby, the really important thing is to beat your training partners.
When
we arrive at the regatta site, the activity is frenetic. There are vans, boats,
equipment and tool boxes being moved about by competitors who’s eyes tell the
tale of anxious anticipation. As if we weren’t pumped up enough, the day
begins with a flag ceremony. However, as each participating nation’s flag is
raised in synch with their corresponding anthem, I notice something disturbing:
the flags are limp. And they would remain that way all day. All this energy will
have to be bottled up until tomorrow.
Sunday
morning, it’s windy in the room and that smell is back. The good news is that
it’s also windy outside and that air is New England fresh. As we sail out to
the race course, I hit a hole and my starboard skate sinks into the ice. In
spectacular fashion, my plank separates from the fuselage and the spar comes
piling down on me like a really bad joke. As I look over the damage, I swear in
French while tears fill the bottom of my goggles. No doubt, crying is no way for
a grown man to react but I can’t help it. The scene is set, beautiful ice as
far as the eye can see. Framing the starting area crowded with the best
iceboaters in the world are, in the east, the Green Mountains of Vermont, and to
the west, the Adirondacks. My day, however, seems over. At that moment, Claude,
a tinkerer extreme and cherished team member, comes over and with a few new
screws and wood chips from my damaged fuselage, we reattach the plank.
Unbelievably, this quick fix-up job works for the remainder of the regatta.
Since
the racing is split up into three fleets, this event is a double whammy! You get
to race and you get to watch racing. And being a spectator here is a gas. To say,
that ten boats approaching the leeward mark at the same time at 90 km/h is
spectacular, is a gross understatement.
Ice boat starts are done in LeMans style. When the start flag comes down,
racers sprint and push their boat to maximum speed then jump in and tighten the
main sheet. The most unbelievable thing about sailing on ice is ‘the main
sheet as throttle’ experience. Once you live it, you have to relive it. When
conditions are right, pulling the main sheet an inch gives an instant extra 20%
in speed. If you keep pulling in, you keep going faster. You eventually have to
let go at about hundred and twenty because at that speed the front skate has a
tendency to lift off the ice. When this happens, your face gets pale pronto…
the front skate is what steers you. Of course, when this experience is not
enough to tickle your senses, you can come to regattas like this one. To combine
that speed in heats with fifty or so other sailors. A fraternity of sorts,
I mean if you’re the kind of sick puppy who thinks sailboat racing in
fast forward, in the cold, is fun. You’re happy to meet other people who think
like you.
Over
the next two days, the intense fun never ceases as Karol Jablonski of Poland
takes his seventh world title. As our little machines rumble over the ice,
looking and feeling more like rockets than sailboats.
I overhear a kid say to his curious father whose come over to checkout
the scene: “This is better than the circus!”.
And I feel so grateful that I decided to run away with it.
2003
World Championship MIBC Team Results:
Gold:
André Baby, 11th
Silver:
J.F. Simard, 3rd
Silver:
Marc Gagnier, 11th
Silver:
Claude Morin, 21st
Bronze:
Malcolm McRae, 5th
Bronze:
Jacques Charbonneau, 8th
The
World Championship will return to North America in 2005. Are you in?
Marc
Gagnier