In my typical HaveWind fashion, I had to do a ‘Twas the Night post to celebrate the holiday. (For fun, here are some super oldie ‘Twas the Nights from the HaveWind archives – you’re welcome! : ).
In blog time, Phillip and Ubi and I had just endured one of our most terrifying moments offshore (where Pam Wall’s wisdom was with us) making our way up the east coast back to New England for the summer. This moment—the centerpiece of my Christmas poem—was one of our favorite in the Long Island Sound before we made our way to Maine for the summer, which we cannot WAIT to share here. Phillip and I hadn’t really planned on being in Newport for the start of the iconic Newport to Bermuda race, but there we were, having landed yet again, simply by sailing when the weather allowed, in the center of all the fun! Hope you enjoy the holiday fun. Cheers followers and Merry Christmas!
June 2024:
‘Twas the night before the Newport to Bermuda race and all through Narragansett Bay, not a sailboat was stirring, not even a 40 J.
On Ubi, we’d hung our outfits for the race from her handrails with care, in hopes that a certain female ‘round-the-world solo sailor would soon be there.
Phillip and I were nestled snug up in the vberth, dreaming of super maxis sailing for all their worth!
The next morning we arose and donned our race day attire, eager to dinghy over to Fort Adams to see what all would transpire.
When out on the green there had sprung up such a clatter, so many sailors, fans, and admirers starting to chatter.
I saw old pilgrims marching and drumming with flags in tow, as well as children, adults, dogs, and picnic baskets packed full for the show.
Everyone was abuzz listening to the pre-race commentary, filling their arms with chairs, towels, cups, and anything else they could carry.
We met up with good cruising buddies: “Hey there Jeff and Irene!” And set up shop on the rock wall by the bay to take in the scene.
Boats with masts soaring above one-hundred feet, began to sweep by, dazzling us as they jockeyed among the fleet.
While we’ve seen Narragansett Bay filled with sailboats many, many times, the start of an iconic offshore race was something sublime.
Knowing every one of these impressive yachts—from extreme racers to cruisers—is setting off on a 636-nautical mile race, crowning some winners but no losers.
The boats invigorated us all with their strategic positioning visible from ashore, leaving us wondering what the conditions would be like for them once they got offshore.
As I took in the sunny June day, to my wandering eyes did appear, the person I was most excited to see here.
I lost control of my decorum, my humility, my manners, when I started screaming randomly at her.
“It’s Cole! It’s Brauer! I can’t believe she’s really here! She’s like every female sailor’s dream, she literally has no fear!”
“Stop shouting,” Phillip chided. “Let’s see if we can get near her booth, so you can meet her in person and not act so uncouth.”
As we approached the tent, I was astonished by the sight of her: a young, beautiful, athletic woman, all smiles and chipper.
If you didn’t know a thing about Cole and her incredible sailing feat, you would have approached her like a new friend meeting on the street.
She was so humble and friendly, taking time to greet each fan, that I wanted to shake each one and tell them: “You don’t understand!
Cole is the first American woman to sail single-handedly around the world, non-STOP all while being her true self: wearing fuzzy PJs, high heels (once), and colorful tank tops!”
Her eyes, how they twinkled. Her spirit and aura, so humble and merry. “Well, get in line then,” Phillip urged. “I wouldn’t tarry.”
Approaching, I was overwhelmed remembering Cole in her bulky wellies, flares thrusted out, crossing the finish line with pride from deep in her belly.
Yet, here she was right in front of me, a woman, sailor, daughter, friend, encouraging other women who face barriers to boldly transcend.
I wish I could say in her presence I had been elegant and smooth, but I was a bumbling, blithering fool, rigid and hardly able to move.
I did get to tell, Cole, though, that—to so many—she is such an inspiration, and she thanked me, smiled, and posed next to me without hesitation.
Then it was time for Cole to help start the race and blow the the first horn, and she shouted over the mic as if the act was something to which she was born:
“WE WISH YOU WELL SAILORS, MAY YOU KEEP UP A GOOD PACE. FAIR WINDS TO YOU ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD RACE!”
