The Regatta That Wasn't

Spring weather is always unpredictable. But it was a bad sign a week ago Sunday when the forecast was coming up "Thunderstorm" on the day of the Sailing Sisters' Regatta. Four international schools were scheduled to participate at both beginner and intermediate levels (we had one girl @ each level) and in one of two size boats: the small Optimist, a boat of a single sailer under 100 lbs., and the larger Splash boat designed for two sailors.

Our girls both were sailing in the Optimist (OP) class. And to their credit, they were both optimists on an otherwise foreboding day. With the threat of dark skies in the distance the Regatta went forward. The Splash division went first, followed by the beginners in the OPs and then the intermediate OPs. Because of the impending weather, the whole schedule was sped up, and each division who was to sail next launched early.

It was with some fear on my part that I watched my 50 lb 8 year old beginning sailor rig her sail and launch her tiny boat from the same marina that the best sailors from around the globe used two years ago during the Beijing games. She set her rudder, adjusted her sail and blew out of the marina into the bay.

The girls' classes had taken place exclusively within the confines of the marina. They had not entered into the nearby bay except for at the end of their final class. And on this increasingly windy, overcast day they were setting sail into unfamiliar, choppy waters.

Mr. Johnson and Bei Bei caught a ride on the press boat, a twin hull catamaran that went out into the bay to watch the regatta races more close up. I walked to the end of the pedestrian pier and squinted, trying to make out her #25 boat in the distance.

I stood on the pier and nonchalantly asked a couple of tourists with nice cameras and zoom lenses if they could spot my daughter amongst the miniature flotilla in the Fushan Bay. They obliged, and in return I posed with tourists from Heilongjiang province, men with cigarettes poised in their hands and stoic faces posing with the first Westerner they had stumbled upon (or rather who had stumbled upon them) along the pier. But as friendly and helpful as they were, none could spot my baby on the water. I shot Mr. Johnson one text message after another, but he couldn't make out the numbers either.

Finally, when the thunder began to clap they called all the racers in. It was then we realized that E. had bravely told her sailing coach she didn't think she was up for it. Waiting in formation for their race she was told to hang tight. Then as the tears came she set her resolve and told them she needed to go in. She climbed on the safety boat... a rig set up to patrol among the sailors and they towed #25 in.

They rescheduled the regatta for this weekend. The day dawned bright and beautiful, just the right amount of wind. No crazy, unsettled sea. But the girls had made up their minds this was not for them. Not this time. And if we forced them we realized perhaps never again.

Mr. Johnson went and sailed the high seas yesterday in a Flying Tiger with five or six other mates in their sailboat racing against other similar sized boats. It is his dream that sailing can become a pastime he and his girls can enjoy together here in the Sailing City. And it could soon became a reality. Both girls can loop the eight knot, and the reef knot. They can perch up on the side of a sailboat without wincing. But, perhaps most important to this 妈妈 (māmā), they are wise enough to know when to climb into the safety boat.

E. was prominently featured on the Regatta Banner

Setting Her Rudder

Sailing Out of the Calm Marina

Out in the Bay (shot from the Press Boat)