Tybee 500 Coverage from Gale's Shore Crew

Latest Tybee 500 News - Saturday May 17, 2003 - Day 8
Fernandina Beach to Tybee Island

Celebration

Nothing succeeds like success—The last day of the Tybee 500 is just a blur. It was the longest day spent floating on the water for the sailors... and of standing on the sand for the shore crew—and everyone was afraid to leave their posts, just in case. So we all had the appearance of uncertain refugees looking to the south, waiting for a boat to stop by to take us somewhere. And even though the Tybee race did not intend to have an overnight run, this leg was nearly that.

By the time we arrived at Tybee Island the light wind that we saw at the start, just a little over 100 miles (in a straight line) south of here, had picked up to about a 15-knot breeze. We realized that the teams would be beating into it, and wondered if it would get worse, if their course would converge with one of those severe thunderstorms roaming the area, and what affect all this might have on them, the boats, and their finish times.

After we got to the beach in the late afternoon, we started hearing a few horror stories. Team Sunnucks, the ones who'd come the farthest to participate in the Tybee 500, have had a run of bad luck. These outstanding sailors live in England and their shore crew arrived from Australia to help them with this race. Yesterday, they were unable to finish the leg when they hit a manta ray that tore a huge hole in one of their hulls. They made it to shore, by luck and by pluck, and happened to meet some kind strangers who were there for some surf fishing. The fishing buddies were quite surprised with what they got instead. The good-natured Brits were grateful to have their needs met and for this opportunity to make some new American friends.

Today, one boat, Team Fully Involved, had gone ashore at Jekyll Island with a broken rudder. Another, Windy Hill, did the same on Cumberland Island to wait out some weather. Both, unfortunately, decided to quit the race for one reason or another.

Visibility was not that good, the surf was lively with the wind coming from that direction, and the moist breeze hitting our skin was chilly. We'd been in sweaty-hot-weather mode for the past eight days, but tonight we'd need to grab those jackets that we could hardly remember that we'd packed…when? It seemed like ages ago. And where were they?

We wait and keep our fingers crossed, talk in small groups among ourselves, watch the sail-surfers working the waves and doing tricks, and joke around. There's a layer of mist, and storm cells are threatening toward the north. Luckily the south looks pretty good. The race officials activate the giant strobe that stands as a sentinel for the sailors in low light conditions.

At 8 p.m., Chuck Bargeron, the race organizer, blows an air horn to call a meeting. He says, "It's still a race, but strategy's gone out the window." The husband and wife racers of Team Lowen call their shore manager from their boat using their cell phone. He's standing among us and we all gather round. They give him an update and everyone hopes for clues to their own teams' fates. Through a badly broken cell connection, he says, they report that they're sailing close-hauled with several other boats in their vicinity about 15 miles away, as light fades fast.

We go have a bite to eat at the nearby beachfront restaurant called The Grill, and order shrimp sandwiches for the sailors, since the kitchen will be closed by the time they get in. At about 9:15, we're just heading to the beach to continue the vigil in darkness when we hear the commotion that a boat is coming in. We race there to see that Team Tybee is just getting to the finish. It's truly a bizarre scene with the noise of the wind and the sails, people shouting, cheers, total darkness broken only by the weird yellow blink of the tall strobe. At 9:25 another boat, Key Sailing with Rod Waterhouse (who is a several-time Worrell champion) and respected sailor Kirk Newkirk, comes in. It's 20 minutes before the next boat arrives.

People are strung out along the beach south of the two flags that mark the finish. As a sail is spotted in the darkness, someone calls out. But it isn't until the boat gets even closer that we actually know who it is. When logos are finally visible and recognized, a name is called out.

Next we were hearing: "It's (Team) Alexander's!!" 28 seconds later, "(Team) Tommy Bahama!"

These are the favorites. No surprises here. Total darkness, but no dark horses.

I decide that it may be a while until the next boat, so I punch in the numbers on my cell phone for my voice mail to kill time. Just as I get my connection, I hear a shout just to the south of me. "Boat coming!" And seconds later, "It's Carl Roberts!"

Wow. Fifth place. I can't believe it. I quickly press the button to disconnect and stuff the phone into my pocket, smiling broadly and running toward the now-familiar sail belonging to Jim Stone with its big distinctive black and yellow splotch at the top.

At the boat, people are helping from all angles to get the boat in and out of the way, since no one knows how soon the next one will arrive. Someone from the race committee hands a nice warm Styrofoam cup filled with clam chowder into each sailor's hands and congratulates them.

The sailors are in good shape and have done very well. It's interesting that last Sunday was Carl's first time sailing since last August, and just a couple of months ago in March was Gale's first experience in sailing a catamaran. And they only had about fifteen minutes of practice together last weekend. Did I mention that Gale had never in her life sailed an Inter 20 before? Oh, and that Carl and Gale had never even met before last Friday? Does it matter that Carl is a 49-year old father of four and Gale is a 47-year old mother of three teenage boys?

So how much better might they have done if they'd actually trained together, and if they hadn't had those two days of bad luck? On the other hand, what if they had wrecked the boat when taking that shortcut today by going over the rock jetty at St. Mary's inlet, which they told us all about after they got in? That was a close race with some close calls.

It's past 2:30 a.m. when the last boat, the 25th, arrives. It's over.

The next morning things come alive slowly and we all feel comfortably numb. Awards are given. Team Antieau Art's total time for 500 grueling miles is 53 hours, 45 minutes, and 37 seconds, making them 7th overall!

Also at the award ceremony an announcement is made that talk of a connecting race of another 500 miles is official and will be in place for next year. Names are drawn for miscellaneous prizes, and one crew member of Team Chesapeake, on choosing a shirt, turns to whoop toward the crowd, "Great! I needed a clean shirt… bad!"

First sails, then masts are down and resting horizontally on top of the boats. Boats are strapped down to trailers and sprayed down with fresh water. Vans and trucks are ready to be taken back to San Diego, Connecticut, Kansas, Michigan, Massachusetts.

Carl just smiles under his bushy white mustache, as usual, unfazed about driving solo nearly 1000 grueling miles by Interstate after driving himself 500 grueling miles by water. Gale has to catch a plane this evening, and Bill and David are eager to get back to Brunswick. They will drop me off at Jekyll Island where my boat, Strider, is waiting patiently. As soon as we can, my husband and I will navigate north again, into Chesapeake waters, for the summer.

Gale will be busy with other projects that are designed to give her the skills necessary for her goal of Around Alone in 2006. So while Carl is eager to test himself again in this catamaran challenge along the East Coast in 2004, Gale probably will not be concerned with the next Tybee 500 and the new race that will extend north from it another 500 miles. She will more likely be involved with yet another legendary style of racing called La Solitaire du Figaro in France. Adding more expenses to her already-stressed credit card, she'll be traveling over there to La Rochelle in a couple of months so that she can make connections and scout it out.

And if her success in the Tybee is any indication, she'll do quite well in the Figaro next year.

--Diana Prentice

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