"It's a frantic start scene, weaving through a melee of pros, amateurs , vacationing race rats and semi retired party sailors, looking for a gap on the line. Everyone is mostly jammed up at the starboard end against the committee boat, a classic, wooden, WW II German navy minesweeper. On the stern, Andy Morrell coolly sips a pina colada while counting down to the gun. HIHO race rules are short . Rule 1. No "over early"! Rule 2. Have fun! So, why sweat the start? Bear away, come about, and port tack the fleet into clean air. Uncool collisions are avoided and hopeful cries of " Starboard !!!~## **@@ " eventually fade away as our boards stream away to the first mark. Ah yes ! Rule 3. No Protests allowed.
Monserrat's volcano is going off 400 Kms down island. Stratospheric haze covers the entire Caribbean. Ken Winner's radical AVS hull, followed closely by a small group of hot racers disappears into a misty horizon after the second mark. Our support fleet of million dollar yachts, fancy charter boats, funky inter island launches and speedy inflatables are left way behind. Racing settles down to small groups of sailors duelling at high speed, trying not to become lost on the marathon course.
Mid race and fanging on a reach, I'm trying to cover 14 year old Nat from nearby St.John. His borrowed , ancient Hypertech is very quick. We're working together blocking passing moves from our main competition, an irate Danish engineer. Privately I figure the racing alliance works for both of us. As long as Nat helps "gas" the Dane, there's no need to dob him for wagging school. Up ahead, going fast and slightly out of reach is Elvis. Hopefully the racer from Curacao can find the next mark because we are following him.
Fallen Jerusalem, Dead Chest, West Dog, Sopers Hole, Spanish Town, Bitter End. HIHO's exotic way points and locations pass by invisibly as we speed through the haze. Fantasise about missing one of the top marks and you are off on an imaginary journey past Anegada reef to the Atlantic ocean, Sargasso sea and Bermuda triangle. The BVI's sure are far from home but race focus stays tight especially as the wind picks up. Overpowered on 8.5's we bear away, fins whining, hanging on with gap closed, almost dead down wind. Elvis spots the last mark and we chase, dodging turtles in Sir Francis Drakes channel.
HIHO race rule 4 is kinda self evident. Finish at the finish line! So, jibing around the last mark , we aim our boards at seven metre high, inflatable Barcardi Rum bottles swaying amongst palm trees on a distant beach. Totally buffed Puerto Rican models dressed in stiletto high heels, fluro mini's and bearing trays of rum shooters mark the finish. Andy has thought deeply about helping navigationally challenged racers and we are grateful.
Ken Winner spanks the fleet on his AVS board. The rest of us make it for lunch. We eat, snooze and then do it all again in the afternoon. Andy keeps us moving because there is another 80 Kms of races left . (By the way, Ken also wins the US Nationals the following week in St. Thomas, beating former World Champ Alex Aguerra and Olympic silver medalist Mike Gebhardt..... Not bad for a 42 year old HIHO racer!)
Night falls. From the cockpit of our charter boat , Polaris is visible low in the northern sky just above the palm trees. Further down the beach, near Foxy's bar a Soca band grooves, softly singing "I'm hot! hot! hot!" Silhouetted in moonlight, dinghies full of sailors head for the shore. Its time for serious night racing with the locals.
Later that evening , Elvis winds up in a Limbo dance off with "the Babe from Berlin" who won her trip to HIHO in a German radio contest. Wearing impossibly high platforms, camouflage pants and wicked nose jewellery, "the Babe " smokes Elvis and takes gold. She goes so low the band is able to drink rum from her belly button with a straw. Elvis cries foul but this is still HIHO. Rules 2 and 3 apply before dawn. "
published 1997 windsurf magazine
