It started with fewer than a dozen boats. A San Jose 21 crossed the finish line first, having circumnavigated Bowen Island.
That inaugural Round Bowen Race nearly three decades ago was so small that it ended with a potluck on the Union Steamship Company Marina’s lawn.
To get onto the Marbella the morning of June 9, we have to climb over another boat lashed to dock A.
Bladders empty and coffee cups full, with 40 minutes to go until the gun, we push off. The motor is running, joining the chorus of anticipatory putting, as the colourful fleet of yachts files out of Snug Cove.
We pass the 38-metre Kaori, one of two maxi yachts in the race, the dozen or so crew members in matching blue T-shirts. The single-person-crew, 11-metre Manana chuggs along beside us.
The forecast had been grey for days. We had expected a pelting cold rain but arrive to Sound waters to see the vestiges of clouds hugging the mountains and quickly disappearing in the sun.
With 20 minutes to go, our skipper cuts the engine, and the tense energy is audible.
Crews call out to one another, hoisting mainsails, checking tide tables, watching the clock, and watching not to collide with other boats.
A cabinless boat cuts out in front of us, as the race-legend crew of Topless make final preparations.
Ian Howie and Robert Armstrong get the same cabin every year. It’s one of the perks of being there since the beginning.
Topless’s owners were among the enthusiastic early members of the Bowen Yacht Club, back when they’d meet in fellow member Wolfgang Duntz’s front yard, and its signature race.
They remember the days of the potlucks on the lawn, “The wives would bring down mashed potatoes,” said Ian.
“I just got to be too big for that,” laughed Robert – islanders might know him better as Bob.
“I love it,” said Ian with a grin.
After a few races with the ragtag crew of local sailors, the Vancouver Area Racing Circuit added the Round Bowen to its annual itinerary. The race moved to the second weekend in June and grew.
“We had over two hundred boats at one point,” said Ian.
The boats all vaguely line up with a point on the shoreline, 141 boats – a fleet to rival the Spanish Armada – and are off. The crew of the Marbella are old hands at the sport, pulling at sheets, tugging at halliards.
I’m the landlubber onboard, with a camera in hand, determined to get at least one picture out of the day. My job is to stay out of the way. Sitting on the rail of the boat is mostly peaceful, until the skipper calls a tack.
My feet are supposed to stay behind the jib sheets (ropes that go parallel to the deck) as the boat turns, but I’m not far enough back and can feel the rope burning into my skin as it follows the sail fabric, whipping past knocking at my hair and glasses.
And so it begins, zigzagging along the coastline, trying to catch a good wind. Rounding Cape Roger Curtis, there’s a wardrobe change, and fleet dons their colourful spinnaker sails, to catch the downwind drafts.
We barrel down the east coast of the island at seven knots an hour, the tacks less frequent, but more violent.
After a few hours of suppressed seasickness and bruised rear ends (OK, just one), we tack across the finish line. The boat carves into the water and turns with little notice to the crew, to avoid other boats trying to complete the course.
Determining a winner for the round Bowen isn’t as clear cut as it was back in the 1980s. The first boat to cross the line at three hours and 18 minutes was Ha a’Koa of West Vancouver, skippered by Vic Bishop.
Including the handicap that all boats have, the first place went to Too Wicked skippered by Michael Clement. However, the first Bowen boat to pass through the giant-inflated buoys gets a trophy. And the prize went to Topless.
