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Mackinaw 101.
Ever wonder how sausage was made? Me neither. If I sat down and thought about it I probably would no longer enjoy one of my favorite breakfast side dishes. Recently I had the pleasure to be a crewmember on board one of the yachts racing from Port Huron to Mackinaw. Much like the sausage, sailboat racing is awesome to the casual participant, but there’s another side of the story for those who actually grind and hoist their way to Mackinaw every year. Welcome to Mackinaw 101!

First of all, in order to be invited onto a boat you better be a great sailor. Only the best sailors are chosen to grind, trim, and pilot these silent, majestic boats to the straits. If you are chosen, you are then treated to only the finest of accommodations and comforts of home. For example, my boat, “The Comfortably Numb”, allowed me to bring one bag that could weigh up to 10 pounds. This bag includes shoes, rain gear, and life jacket…Wait, these things alone weigh 10lbs. So much for toothpaste, deodorant, or a change of clothes. Think I am kidding? Most captains have a scale on the dock and will eject any non-essentials on the spot.

Once sailing, you soon forget about the creature comforts and ease into the actual act of sailing. This sport is awesome, if there is wind. When there is no wind, I guess I consider it to be “floating”. For the first 9 hours of this race we were stuck in the “floating” mode. The only problem with floating is that there is no breeze to cool you off from the 95-degree heat. It is during this time the black flies start to emerge. From where, I don’t know, but they want a piece of you, and they take it, over and over. The easy solution to both problems would be to jump into the cool water, but don’t forget we are in a race.

So there you sit, staring at the cool water, just inches from your toes that are hanging off the side of the rail. Did I mention, we sat on that rail for three days? There are no cushions, just hard fiberglass, and deck rigging that you have to position between the cheeks of your buttocks. Finally, the sun starts to set and you realize, even with all of the sun block you used, that your skin is burnt and you smell like a water buffalo. Sorry, no showers, water is heavy and is dumped before you leave the dock, and remember, we left the deodorant. At least the sun is going down and it is time to eat.

On our boat we were lucky, many boats pass a dish and you eat from the same bowl as the guy next to you. You will probably have to pass the spoon as well. Some boats only bring power bars, and cereal for every meal. After your gourmet meal it is time for your sleep shift. Mine came at 2:00am. This was good because I got a chance to cool down in the night air that had dropped to a balmy 65 degrees. The flip side was I that I went into the cabin to roll my bunkmate out of bed and recoiled from the smell of the day’s sweatfest. I then became the lucky recipient of a warm bunk containing someone else’s perspiration, sunscreen and drool. I told you, only the best of accommodations. Some people avoid this situation by simply sleeping hung over the rail. I didn’t particularly care to spend any more time with the rigging in my butt, so I opted for the bed of sweat. It reminded me of a bad episode of fear factor.

Night sailing seems to be everyone’s favorite. At night the speed of travel generally increases and so does the danger factor. The decks become slippery with condensation and bow spray. Sail changes have to be done in pitch dark. Well, maybe not pitch dark. If you hold a flashlight in your mouth wile pulling down the 50 ft. spinnakers your vision increases by a few candlepower. The problem is, the flashlight generally gets knocked askew while trying to stuff the huge sheet into a two-foot deck hole. I suppose you could straighten the light back out but if you let go of the sail with one hand, the wind will grab it and snatch it back to sea.

Deck ropes are a familiar culprit during the wee hours of the night. They often like to wrap themselves around your ankle and with any mislaid step you are bound to go over the edge. Many boats make you clip into a harness so you will not go overboard at night. Good idea I guess, but as I watched, I could not help but think that if you were on the low side of the boat you would be dashed repeatedly against the side of the boat by the force of the enormous 9 knot waves. I think I would rather simply fall overboard than to be beaten unmercifully for the five minutes that it would take to drag me back on board. On the other hand, if I went overboard, how would the boat see me? Ever been in the middle of lake Huron at night with cloud cover. Goodbye sweet prince! Even if you were to be rescued the process would take up to an hour to take place. At that point its back to the beating, because the rest of the crew would surely give you one for putting them an hour behind. Remember, this is a race.

Finally, dawn crests, and the sun rises in a beautiful spectrum of colors. As you awake from your two hour shift of sleep and come on deck you see the sight. Sunsets and sunrises are the reward for endurance and hard work. You sit in amazement soaking in the whole scene and begin to reflect on the race, your role in the race, your role on the earth, your family…then you are jolted by a loud voice commanding “ Time to change the spinnaker and its right back to work. After all there is two more days of this to come.

For some reason I can’t explain, this was one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life. If given the opportunity I would do the whole thing again… and maybe add a few more miles to the race. I did not really want the race to end.

Special Thanks to Mark Miller, Captain/Owner of the “Comfortably Numb” boat for letting me become a member of the crew. By the way, we WON the race! For more details on the crew and boat go to Numbsailing.com.