The yachting industry draws crew from all corners of the globe, but mostly from the Tri-nations trio. Be it Fort Lauderdale, the Caribbean or the Med (apparently) there is no shortage of Aussies, Kiwi's and Saffas. Despite us Afronauts having to jump through flaming hoops just to be granted entry abroad, the lure of the American dollar is just too attractive to pass up. Even the infamous Green Mamba that we carry in our back pockets isn't enough to keep us out. The Australians are drawn to to the watersports vibe that the yachting industry offers, and the Kiwi's, well I presume they will leap at any opportunity to get out of that country of theirs. Can you blame them?
Despite the equal presence of this tri-fector, it is the Aussies who have somehow granted themselves an entire day abroad to recognize whatever contribution they claim to make to the world. Thus, Australia Day. 24 hours that the Caribbean yachting community is forced to endure paying homage to Aus lifestyle. Naturally this takes the form of drinking, and not a whole lot else, (admittedly it does take place in St Maarten where drinking is the national sport). Everyone dresses up what they perceive to be Australian attire, so naturally we looked ridiculous.
It is a day devoted to competition between the crews of all the yachts. As we had adopted the proud stigma of "unemployed" we were taken under the wing of one of the boats- Blue Moon. The competition was broken down into three parts: Raft building, boat races and finally a boot-camp style team relay. The crew of Blue Moon had become seasoned veterans in this game. A predominantly South African crew possessing just enough Aussies (two) to find loopholes in the competition rules, Blue Moon was a force to be reckoned with. With the addition of us jobless wonderers, we were unstoppable.
The raft-building was a one horse-race. With our Aussies sniffing out a discrepancy in the rule book, (a skill developed from ancestral Aboriginal trackers) our raft was powered by a 1200 horsepower jet ski- instead of the tried-and-tested paddles. We cloaked this in a vale of palm trees and ropes. It proved unnecessary though, since the only other team with a respectable craft ended up sinking theirs in the marina on the way to the start line. The competition had gone down without a fight.
The second section, boat races was stitched up before it began. With half the team consisting of boheameth veterans from Blue Moon out to prove a point, and 2 jobless squatters that has been on a binge since arrival on the island bringing up the rear of the team, we were never in much doubt. It did get close towards the end, when we had bend the regulations to our advantage in true Australian style. With the bitter taste defeat as well as of Beck's Premium in their mouths, our competitors had to look to round 3 to restore some pride.
The final chapter was a grueling relay of each team's completing 3 laps of the putrid dock. With an intimidating array of obstacle in the way, it was not for the faint-hearted. It required stamina as well as big match temperament, something that Australian's have never possessed much of. Our strategy was to rotate our team for each of the heats, (another tact made legal only by the fact that we were honouring the Australian way of life). As disgruntled competitors tried to regain some pride from their defeat in the drinking, they predictably ended up gasping for breath and clinging to the pillars to keep from drowning- as our fresh new team swept them aside.
The result was that as a bunch of Saffa's we had come, we had conquered, and we had left with all the booze (by jet-raft). Our only hiccup came during our victory lap/escape from fuming Aussies, when we were pulled over by the coast guard. The charge was overloading an illegal craft packed with alcohol and driven by an intoxicated 1st mate. We won that tussle one too.
'09/'10 Champions: Blue Moon (and co).
NB Tip- If you can't beat 'em, cheat.
