Sneaking a Peak at the Greatest Show on the Water

Scouting was the right word, not spying.

What, me spy?

The mission was to take a look at the yachts getting ready for the upcoming America’s Cup Class World Championships. The only problem is that guys snooping around in inflatable boats with powerful engines are usually perceived as spies by the racing syndicates.

“Don’t be surprised,” I was warned, “if we get roughed up a little.”

Roughed up?

“Bumped by the chase boats.”

At about this point, I was wondering if being bumped was any different than being rammed. Neither appealed to me. I never have trusted inflatables, and the thought of being punctured and sunk three miles off Point Loma caused a nervous twitch in my stomach.

I glanced around and found the life jackets, thinking I would soon by dangling in the Pacific with a shark trimming my toenails.

This notion was reinforced when we stopped near the Italian syndicate’s compound on the way to the ocean. A rent-a-cop with aviator sunglasses straight out of a Burt Reynolds movie sternly advised us that we were not invited. He continued to give us a glare he probably practices in the mirror at home while we had a cordial conversation with Italian crewmen on their inflatable.

Later, after forays at the Stars & Stripes, America-3 and New Zealand compounds, we headed for the sea and encountered Italy’s Il Moro under sail on its way out of San Diego Bay. It apparently makes no sense to tow these boats, because they get there faster on their own.

The rent-a-cop must have forgotten his rubber ducky, because he was nowhere in sight. We circled and shot pictures and barked at the seals dozing on the buoys.

One thing became very obvious as we cleared Point Loma. As secretive as these people seem to be, they cannot hide . . . not with sails flying from 100-foot masts.

Three of them were on the horizon directly west.

West we went.

New Zealand, Italy and Spain were on the water, playing with one another or working with one another or spying on one another. No one else was in sight, so no one else must have been out. You know who is out and where they are.

Boldly, we approached.

Maybe not that boldly.

I was watching the chase boats and tenders. I was wondering which one would run us over and deflate our inflatable. I felt as if I had “spy” written all over me. I may as well have been wearing a trench coat with a low-brimmed hat.

All three yachts were tacking south and the next thing I knew we were between Italy and New Zealand. As far as I was concerned, we may as well have been in a DMZ. Fortunately, these great sailing ships were not equipped with cannons.

However, I soon forgot about the chase boats and the specter of sinking. It struck me that these boats did not just happen to be side-by-side. They were racing, or at least simulating race conditions.

Soon, an orange mark appeared as a bobbing speck on the horizon. They were very seriously tacking toward that mark.

That was where we would be, sitting off that mark and watching them make the turn and set their spinnakers for the downwind run.

That was also where the chase boats would be.

That mark, I muttered, could be our tombstone.

So there we were, pulling in among the chase boats and tenders, waiting for the Italians and Kiwis and Spaniards to make the turn.

Our skipper waved at the chase boats and their skippers waved back.

You mean we had these great seats watching these great boats and we were actually welcome?

The Kiwis came through first, followed closely by the Italians and a bit later by the Spaniards. New Zealand and Italy popped their spinnakers, but the Spaniards, apparently getting the feel of their borrowed yacht, broke off and tagged along without changing sails.

This was being in the right place at the right time and getting a show we could not have anticipated.

And this was a taste of what we have been awaiting since Dennis Conner and Co. brought America’s Cup to San Diego with the victory in Fremantle in 1987.

This was sailors from all over the world getting ready to sail the same class boat. This was not a cat and an elephant, like the debacle of 1988.

It gets a little more serious in the next week, when the Pre-World Regatta begins Wednesday and the World Championships begin Saturday. No adventurers in inflatable boats will be allowed to duck in and out among the contenders, not when it’s for real and not for practice.

Even if we aren’t spies.