The Escapees get ready to race

A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Mon 28 Mar 2011 19:42
It's the night before the first day of the BVI regatta. You'd probably expect that we'd spend the evening in quiet contemplation, perhaps swotting up on race tactics, double checking the course co-ordinates or perhaps running through some gentle exercise... Not a bit of it. I'm scoffing M&Ms back on Summer Song and dreaming about supper.
 
We'll be sailing Ian's 53-footer for glory against a fleet that includes many similar boats, and we've spent much of the day fine tuning our sailing technique. We've sailed around the island of Tortola over the last two days and had the gigantic main and genoa up in a hefty 27 knot gust of wind today. At one point, we got knocked so far over by a gust from the mountains that Alex's father slid clean across the foredeck and was only saved from a dousing in the drink by the guard wires. He sustained some nasty scratches to the arm and was just recovering when another accident saw me conking him (gently) on the head with the outboard motor. My poor father-in-law now no doubt fears that I'm going to try to finish him off tomorrow in the heat of the race.
 
Tortola really is a sailing paradise; the wind blows a fairly constant 15-20 knots, but the waters are well protected by the ring of outer islands, leaving a huge expanse of relatively flat sea to sail about in. The islands are volcanic and rise quite steeply out of the water, dotted with numerous little sandy beaches. and, wherever there's a beach, there seems to be a shack selling drinks and food. Last night we got stuck into an establishment that goes by the name of 'da Loose Mongoose'. Our skipper and host Ian remembered the place from a holiday six years ago, when there was live music from a fellow who played Jimi Hendrix guitar solos behind his head and with his teeth. Extraordinarily enough, the unmistakable riffs of Purple Haze broke out at about 11pm, when Ian realised with delight that it was the same guy playing. The only thing that appeared to have changed was that he had an adorable five-year old daughter who sang a series of salsa classics in a slightly falsetto tone.
 
Of the 17-strong group, we know five people, but there's a good astmosphere onboard. We're split between the racer, Los Escapados, and the catamaran, whose function is largely cocktail-based. Alex and I have lucked out with the best berth on the racer, taking up the entire saloon on a table that cleverly turns into a bed. Apart from Alexis and Rita, there's a very bubbly Spanish girl called Beatriz and some very sweet Belgian couples. There's a chap called Paul, at present skippering the cat, who once sailed a week-long race in an 18-foot Hobie Cat and was runner-up in the European championships.
 
Tonight we're back in Road Town, Tortola, ready for the off tomorrow. The racer urgently needed to have the hull scraped clean of barnacles and her name applied to the bow (she's brand new). Due to an unfortunate cock-up on the stencilling front, the stickers with the boat's name on read:
Los Escapadas
Glasgo, Scotland
 
Now, as students of the Spanish language and tapas fans will be aware, 'los' is the masculine definite article, but the noun 'escapadas' sports a feminine ending. This, then, is akin to calling the boat 'he's a woman'. Ian took it all in tremendously good spirits, seeming more amused than anything by the abbreviation of his native Glasgow. As he pointed out, it could be first time that a boat registered in the mythical Scottish town of Glasgo ever wins a sailing event. Maybe the error will bring us luck...
 
 
Ian in the world's largest yacht chartering centre: Tortola
 
Alex and her dad at the helm
 
Rita and Alexis
 
Beatriz
 
Pelicans were diving over swimmers' heads to get mouthfuls of whitebait
 
Los Escapados floating off Cane Garden Bay, where we had lunch