writing
We’re finally home. Well, sort of. We made it to Charleston, South Carolina, and a
sunny and breezy 80 degrees has us feeling pretty good about the choice we made
to relocate to this beautiful, charming, year-round sailing town.
Weirdly enough, this is now the SECOND lap on our Road Trip and we’re violating
one of the cardinal rules I used to live by when I hit the road – never roll over the
same piece of asphalt twice. I’m OK with it though, because this IS going to be
our new home, and we’re here to cover the biggest week of the year for
Charleston’s sailing scene, Race Week. Back in February, we escaped Detroit
and headed South with Chucktown as our first stop – to visit Mer’s beautiful nieces
and some good friends and to drop off a wayward I-14 and a pile of winter clothes
that we hoped we’d never need again. We then rolled to SoCal, then Mexico, then
SoCal again before working our way up the entire US Pacific coast, sailing and
partying with Anarchists, both old friends and new, before working our way back
eastward. We said hello and goodbye to the Rockies too quickly, but at least we
shared a night and morning hanging on a friend’s porch in Aspen staring at the monstrous Mount Sopris while wearing T-shirts and shorts.
We drove directly to Michigan from there, and every mile we made good toward the Motor City saw a drop in temperature and an increase in wind. It was like cities could talk, and Detroit was telling us “WE DON’T WANT YOU BACK. GO SOMEWHERE ELSE.” That evil state gave us the ultimate insult just as we crossed the border from Indiana. We saw the “Welcome to Michigan” sign on I-94 at around 7:00 PM, and as it came into view the whiteout started. I started laughing and then I couldn’t control it – hysterically cracking up, tears streaming down my face as I tried to keep the car on the road despite 4 feet of visibility. The sign should have said, “Welcome to HELL” and the next five hours of night driving through blinding snow was something that I could have gone without. I did learn that a 40-knot tailwind will increase an SUV’s fuel economy by approximately 4 miles per gallon, so I can’t say the drive was entirely without positives.
Our short stop in Detroit wasn’t all bad either, despite constant snow and sub-zero temperatures. Seeing family, catching up with friends, and a couple of good parties with Bayview sailors is always a prescription for fun, but the smile on my face was massive when we left on Monday with a heading of 170 degrees. Even the dog avoided the sleep of the dead that he usually adopts when we hit the interstate – he kept looking around like he knew something good was coming.
I’d turned down a lot of good rides in Charleston, because I’m serious about trying to make a living covering sailing events, and there’s just no way to write good reports if you’re racing hard. We weren’t serious (or smart) enough to have a deal lined up to cover the event, though. As you may have realized from reading these little pieces, I don’t like to plan things too far in advance – in fact, I seem allergic to planning. To some, this is another way of saying “I’m a lazy sack of shit” but whatever the rationalization, it seems to work for me. That’s why I wasn’t surprised when Meaghan Van Liew, Organizer of Charleston Race Week, called me up an hour after we drove into town, to tell me that she’d lost her Press Officer and to find out if I was available to take out a boat and write the official Press Releases each day. After a short meeting in the cool little office of the South Carolina Maritime Foundation, I had a job, at least for the week. A little more work by my lovely Mer and the equally beautiful Anna from Ocean Sailing Academy, and we had a full program set up to include On The Water coverage in the SA forums for all three days as well as a full-scale SA/OSA party at Salty Mike’s planned for Saturday night.
We spent today meeting dozens of Anarchists on the docks at Charleston Harbor Resort, and now we’re headed back to start the drinking, and once again, I’m counting my blessings. I somehow get to go and watch my friends sail on my new home waters, and I get paid to write about it. I’ll be cruising around in one of the big Whalers with my girl, and Sister Clean is even coming down to join the fun, and even though I’m not racing, I don’t see how I can bitch about it. I’m sure I will though.
In the meantime, be sure to catch our LIVE COVERAGE on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The Melges class is big and burly, and there are plenty of good one-design classes to watch, as well as some fun PHRF matchups in all the classes – everything from a Capri 25 (seriously!) to a TP52. There are Anarchists or lurkers on probably three-quarters of the boats, and everyone’s here to have a good time.
This report wouldn’t be possible without the awesome folks at Ocean Sailing Academy and at Leonhardt Vineyards, who know that SA is where sailors go when they’re supposed to be working. I expect to sample some of the Leonhardt wines tomorrow and will let you know how they are. Keep an eye on Ned Goss, owner of OSA, to see how good the school’s founder and instructors really are. (pressure, ned!)
Equally important is the fact that this entire event and any money it produces all go to benefit the Spirit of South Carolina, a brand-spankin’ new schooner that was built to teach sailing to youths across the state. She’s a gorgeous boat, but does that mean that the entry fees are tax deductible?
