Top Photo: A beach on Anegada
Bottom Photo: Tom Tallman on Jost Van Dyke
Apparently, sailing over 7,000 nautical miles in less than a year wasn’t enough for Bruce. To cap off an adventure-filled year, he invited our buddy, Tom Tallman, to join him for 10 days of sailing in the British Virgin Islands. Tom is the Captain of the Seattle Fireboat and loves sailing almost as much as Bruce. Since all those miles more than satisfied my tacking and jibing appetite, I flew home to get out of the way.

The guys spent 10 days sailing, swimming and diving, then topped it off with even more sailing. Tom, who’d never been to the tropics before, picked up quickly on the nuances of navigating through coral-strewn waters, where the depth sounder takes a back seat to navigating by the color of the water. Brown means bad; green means good to go; blue is best.

The first day they sailed north to Anegada, an absolutely flat island stuck in a time warp, lying 18 miles north of all the other Virgin Islands. It is the only all-coral atoll in the B.V.I., 13 miles long with only 200 full-time residents. As Bruce and Tom sailed toward it, they stopped two miles from shore, in only 35 feet of crystal-clear water, to dive in and explore what lay offshore of this infrequently visited island. Under them was a Technicolor show of coral, fish and assorted bizarre creatures. Bruce told Tom to periodically spin around and check what might be sneaking up on him in the water … you never know when a curious shark or barracuda might be looking for fast food.

Their days of sailing took them to Peter Island and Jost Van Dyke; Norman, Ginger and Salt Islands; and in and out of Tortola and Virgin Gorda. They even spent one day bashing out into the Caribbean Sea, just because it was there.

As if all that wasn’t enough, at the end of the guys’ “Great Adventure,” Bruce dropped Tom off at Beef Island for a flight home and headed to Jost Van Dyke for the 33rd annual Wooden Boat Regatta at Foxy’s and a few more days of ... sailing! Foxy Callwood, Tortola’s most famous entrepreneur, built and opened his Tamarind Bar right on the beach over three decades ago, where it still sits today, surrounded by his other business ventures that have sprouted up around it. His wife Tessa has a great shop of T-shirts, treasures and Foxy’s Firewater Rum. The Tamarind Bar now includes a popular restaurant, a bodacious beach barbeque and a first-world micro-brewery. Foxy’s hosts holiday celebrations throughout the year, including their Old Year’s Eve party, which is so well attended some call it the Times Square of the B.V.I.

Bruce dropped Woodwind’s hook in Great Harbor the day before the race and spent the afternoon scrubbing the bottom for that extra bit of speed. Racing Woody after the hellacious year she endured didn’t make much sense to me — the boat is down to her second string of sails, the staysail is missing entirely and the running rigging is stretched and worn. But Bruce, who breathed life into this boat one plank at a time, knew better.

When he went ashore to register for the two-day event, the racing committee placed our 34-foot boat in the 40- to 50-foot class because of the bow sprit and flying jib booms that protrude from Woodwind’s bow. Saturday morning the trade winds were whispering, so the committee announced two starts: the first for single-handed, wooden boats and the second for classic plastic, fiberglass boats at least 30 years old. The second class was added because, well, there just aren’t that many wooden boats around these days.

Bruce used the starting techniques he learned at the Antigua Classic Race, placing Woodwind on the line a bit early and luffing in place, waiting for the starting gun. Seven other boats were on the line, most carrying at least one “observer” for tactical advice and emergencies only. Bruce was all alone. The boats sailed a mellow course around Sandy Cay and Great Thatch Island, then back to Great Harbor for the finish. On shore the numbers were crunched for finishing times, handicaps, etc., placing Woodwind in the middle of the pack. Bruce then used the other Antigua “racing trick,” letting the other captains and crew drink all the rum during the post-race party, while he went back to the ship to play his steel pan and sleep.

The Sunday skippers’ meeting was at 8 a.m., a tad early for the revelers. Ten wooden boats would compete with one another, including Taurus , the original Virgin Islands Cowhorn Schooner; Hanora, a beautiful 38-foot Ingrid design; a Tancook Whaler; and an assortment of other gaffers and woodies. Bruce had a great start, put all sails up, tweaked them and the rig, then sat back, watching the GPS to see what steering adjustments would give Woodwind the best speed. At the first mark he was gaining on a 50-foot Marconi yawl and passed inside of it behind Sandy Cay. The entire race, the crew from Yacht Shots BVI was whipping around the course, snapping away at the action.

From sailing with Tom, Bruce knew the depths between Great Thatch and the west end of Tortola, allowing him to cut close to shore before the four-mile reach back to Foxy’s. Along the way he passed a 55-foot boat, finishing ahead of it by three lengths. After crossing the finish line, he blew the horn, dropped the sails and never put them up again. The anchor went down and Bruce went ashore. At the awards ceremony, Woodwind was officially announced as the class winner! Like the little engine that could, Woody sailed the best she’s ever sailed. Ever. People were asking, “How’d you get her to sail so well?” Bruce responded, “Six-thousand miles of working upwind taught me something.”

The booty Woodwind earned included a Mt. Gay Hat, $50 bar tab at Foxy’s, Leatherman’s Tool, $100 certificate for The Wood Shop and, best of all, Woodwind holds the perpetual winner’s trophy for the next year! Unfortunately, when Bruce snapped a photo of the scoreboard announcing the big win, the camera that accompanied us on all those wet miles recorded it but seconds later the screen turned into a psychedelic mess. It, too, was done for the year.

Knowing it just couldn’t get any better, Bruce motored the next day to Virgin Gorda, where Woodwind was lifted out of the water, transferred to a truck, then snuggled into her hurricane season spot. One year and one week after leaving our home port of Gig Harbor, Washington, Bruce walked toward the ferry, taking one last look at Woody until the fall. What a boat. What a year.

Jan