Altruistic sailors are creating a new stereotype

Rarely has disaster aid been delivered by means this classy. Sixteen charter yachts, most of them sailboats, the smallest of them 55 feet long, are leaving Newport, Rhode Island, in mid-November with tons of clothing for the people of the hurricane-ravaged island of Grenada.

The mission was organized by Karen Kelly Shea, who runs the Newport office of Nicholson Yachts. She put the word out, with the help of some newspaper and Internet coverage, that charter boats under her company’s management would deliver donated clothing to Grenada when they made their fall run to the Caribbean. The response, much of it from members of the sailing community, was so generous it filled all of the boats.

Most of the people who made donations, Karen said, “have a story about Grenada—they had honeymooned there or cruised there on their own yacht, had chartered there or were members of the Cruising Club of America who had taken part in the group’s cruise out of Grenada. One was a past owner of a yacht in the Moorings fleet who recently lost his wife and felt she would want her clothing to go to Grenada. So many touching stories showing such an amazing fondness for the island and her people.”

I can relate to that fondness, having spent many happy days sailing in Grenadian waters, anchoring in Grenada’s pretty harbors and exploring inland, in the high farmland where nutmeg dries in boxes by the roadside, and the rain forests where waterfalls crash into limpid pools. Hurricane Ivan made a direct hit on Grenada, and the island is in ruins—90 percent of its houses are reported to be destroyed or damaged.

The storm laid waste to still uncounted numbers of yachts moored or sitting on the hard in Grenada. The pleasure boat fleet at Grenada was larger than usual when Ivan came, because ironically many boats had sailed there to ride out the hurricane, which at one point was forecast to strike north at St. Vincent. None of the island’s harbors offered much of a refuge from the 150-mph wind and the surge of Caribbean water it pushed in front of it. I’ve seen photos of Prickly Bay that show sailboats by the score heaped on shore like oddly shaped pieces of driftwood. A picture of the area around the lagoon at St. Georges shows the food market where we often provisioned. A capsized catamaran, maybe 50 feet long, rests near its front door.

The boat losses, of course, are insignificant beside the human losses. Thirty-four Grenadians were killed. Many of those who survived are poor people made poorer by the bad luck of being in the way of one of the most powerful storms on record.

“We really feel a sense of duty to do all we can to help the people of one of the many beautiful islands that help make the charter industry possible,” Karen Kelly Shea said.

Sixteen pleasure boats stuffed with clothing may not have a big impact on the suffering of Grenada, but if this relief effort is a gesture, it’s a noble one, and we can be proud that it involves sailors.

I don’t know if the moldy stereotype of the yachtsman as a wealthy pleasure-seeker careless of the miseries of the less fortunate has any currency these days, but if it doesn’t, one reason is the emergence of sailing as a fund-raising force for good causes.

American sailors raise millions of dollars in charity regattas every year. The phenomenon is on most prominent display in the Leukemia Cup, started by the Eastport Yacht Club in Annapolis in 1993. Today the Leukemia Cup includes 45 regattas across the country that last year raised $2.6 million for research and treatment of cancers of the blood.

Some of the success of the Leukemia Cup can be traced to the promotional efforts of Gary Jobson, America’s only sailing TV star. In one of those ironies that leaves you wondering about the cosmic order of things, Gary was diagnosed with lymphoma, one of the diseases targeted by the fund-raising regattas, some eight years after he became Leukemia Cup national chairman. His inspiring battle with the disease now dramatizes his passionate advocacy for the cause.

On the water as well the Leukemia Cup is serious business. The regattas attract skilled competitors, sometimes including big name pros, who race not just to raise money, but to win. Competition is fierce.

That, however, is not a requisite for a fund-raising regatta. For proof, look no further than Louie’s Last Regatta, an event that is serious about raising money for sick children, but nothing else. This is made clear by the fact that the third place finisher gets a bigger trophy than the winner and a rule that protests be written on cocktail napkins from the sponsoring saloon. It is not stated, but is clearly understood, that if someone is actually clueless enough to submit such a protest, the race committee will carefully place it in a round file.

The founding premise of the event was that its appeal would extend beyond hard-core racers to folks who don’t want to ruin a nice day of sailing by worrying too much about winning, so committee boat officials are requested to forego their usual stoic demeanor and cheerfully answer questions shouted from passing boats, things like, “Where’s the starting line?”

Louie’s is held off Milwaukee, Wisconsin, though since it was named to SAILING’s list of the 10 Best Sailing Events last May, its fame has been spreading worldwide. Like a lot of great ideas, it was born in a barroom.

Five years ago, some sailors were shooting the breeze in the Milwaukee Ale House. One of them was Tim Kent, who was bemoaning the fact that even though Lake Michigan autumns brought robust sailing breezes, local racing ended in mid-September. Tim would get his fill of robust breezes and cold weather sailing three years later in the Southern Ocean on his Open 50 Everest Horizontal in the Around Alone Race. But that night he and the others at bar had nothing but warm feelings about the idea of an October fun race.

A member of the group whose niece was being treated for leukemia at Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin suggested making it a fund-raiser for the hospital. The bar manager joined the conversation and offered to have the Ale House sponsor it.

The first Louie’s Last Regatta drew a couple dozen boats and raised $910. Last year there were 72 boats, and $30,000 was raised. Unlike some charity regattas, all the money raised goes to the cause. All services, including those of the sponsoring tavern, are volunteered.

Louie’s not only makes sailing look good, it puts a positive spin on the consumption of fermented malt beverages. (Remember, this is Milwaukee.) Enjoyment of the Ale House’s signature brew, Louie's Demise Ale, is an essential feature of the event, starting with the skippers’ meeting and ending with the after-race party when the trophies—a quarter barrel of Louie’s Demise for the winner, three quarter barrels of Louie’s for third place—are presented and consumed.

All of the fun is a bonus. The race has a serious purpose, and everyone involved is encouraged to contribute to the hospital. At the same time, its easy-going approach to the rituals of yacht competition gives sailboat racing something it badly needs—a reminder not to take itself too seriously.

Did I say that yachtsman’s stereotype was moldy? Heck, anywhere near Louie’s Last Regatta it’s dead.