Tom Allen is standing precariously on the bow of his Lighting in the middle of Miami’s Biscayne Bay. He has both hands on a spare piece of line that he’s wrapped around the tip of a bent spreader. Right about now, he’s hoping his Sperry Top-Siders have as much grip as advertised, as he is about to throw his weight backward in an attempt to straighten the stubborn piece of aluminum. After a few jerks of the line, the spreader straightens out nearly back to its original shape. Checking it will be another thing to add to Allen’s list when he gets off the water.

With the repair complete, Allen barely catches his breath before a competitor sails by in search of a toolbox. Allen’s includes everything short of a circular saw. He graciously passes it off. After the first race, yet another team sails by. They point to a large hole near the stern and ask Allen if it’s safe to continue racing. With no structural damage, they continue to race. In this breeze, taking on a little extra water doesn’t hurt.

Once racing is over and the fleet’s celebratory dinner begins, Allen is nowhere to be seen. He’s still in the parking lot putting the final touches on his repair. Most attendees are in cocktail attire but Allen is sporting a respirator and Tyvec suit. This is the second hole he’s repaired this week, and he’s determined for the team to make the starting line again tomorrow.

“He is so willing to put the class on his back, he can never do enough for you,” says Bill Faude, who balances Lightning sailing with his marketing duties at Harken. “There’s no arrogance in him whatsoever, and he’s always happy to help. If he didn’t do what he is willing to do, we wouldn’t go sailing.”

Once racing is over and the fleet’s celebratory dinner begins, Allen is nowhere to be seen. He’s still in the parking lot putting the final touches on his repair. Most attendees are in cocktail attire but Allen is sporting a respirator and Tyvec suit. This is the second hole he’s repaired this week, and he’s determined for the team to make the starting line again tomorrow.

“He is so willing to put the class on his back, he can never do enough for you,” says Bill Faude, who balances Lightning sailing with his marketing duties at Harken. “There’s no arrogance in him whatsoever, and he’s always happy to help. If he didn’t do what he is willing to do, we wouldn’t go sailing.”

“We teach them what is important about this class, not just that it’s an ugly square 19-foot flower box pounding the chop,” says Faude. “It’s a tribe and we welcome them. We hug them, we house them, we help them put their boat together, we pay for them to come to events.” Allen comes from a long lineage of Lightning sailors himself. His grandfather, then his mother and father were Lightning sailors. Tom Allen Senior was a renowned competitor and founder of Allen Boatworks and passed his love for the class to his son.

Allen’s own boat, No. 9, is a testament to that legacy. The original number nine was built by his father, then traded back to the shop when Allen was 14 years old. His father thought it would be good for Allen to learn how to take care of a wooden boat. Even as a youngster, Allen enjoyed having something unique to preserve. One night long ago, No. 9 was stolen from the backyard of Allen Boatworks by kids, allegedly on a mission to sink the boat. They launched it and threw boulders at it, until beating it into an irreparable state.

Ten years later, long after No. 9 was retired, the class changed its rules requiring sail numbers match hull numbers. Allen knew exactly what number his new boat would carry.

“I continued to use it because it was one of the early boats my father built out of wood,” he says. “I grew up sailing it, but also because I don’t like having to change numbers when I sell stuff. Now everybody knows me and they can find me easily.”

This is typical of Allen’s character: as a guy who makes himself readily available to anyone in the class when assistance is required. “He’s carved this alternative path from his father,” says Faude. “His father was a competitor first, but when you buy a boat from Tommy you get a fast boat and his nurturing spirit for the class.“

Everyone in Miami has benefitted from the Allen’s knowledge or experience one way or another Each morning before racing, his crew gets a head start rigging his boat while he races around helping competitors fix things or adjust their tune. It’s well-known that Allen usually forgets to invoice for his work. While the Lightning class may be his livelihood, it’s also his legacy.

“My grandfather and mother were great sailors but my father, who lived down the beach, no one in his family sailed,” says Allen, explaining the family’s roots in the class. “His father was a doctor, and a golfer, and he wanted my father to be a golfer. But he didn’t want to be a golfer, he was OK to hang around and play on the links and caddy for others but he wanted to go sailing, he saw all the boats out there and decided that was for him. He wanted that for a long time.”

Allen has school papers from when he was six years old, when he was learning to write cursive, and the penmanship is prophetic. “I wrote, ‘‘I want to be a boat builder.’”

After the Buffalo [New York] Canoe Club’s fleet of Knarrs were destroyed in a fire, the Lightning was introduced and Tom Allen Senior secured his place in the fleet. Allen Senior dominated the class, and eventually built himself a boat, despite having no formal knowledge of wood working. His first boat was fast, he won many races, and others soon took notice. Before long, Allen boat-works was born.

Allen Junior grew up around the shop, spending his summers working for his father and honing his own skills in the Lightning. “When I was a young kid, I didn’t learn to sail with my father because he had the pick of whoever he wanted to sail with. My mother was excellent, even my sister Jane, the eldest. I crewed for him a couple of times, but it wasn’t until I went out and learned to sail with someone else that I became good enough that I could crew for him.”

After earning his degree at Michigan State, Allen Junior joined his father in business but with a new philosophy of engineering boats to last so they could be passed along, designing not just for the initial owner, but for the second or the third owner as well.

When he was a kid, he says, he used to read all the magazines and he was struck by an advertisement for a Melges-built E Scow. The ad, he says, touted, “new and improved stiffness, a boat that will last for four years.”

“Back in the day, an E scow was 12 to 14 thousand dollars and a Lightning was six thousand. I was like, what do you mean, you have to replace it in 4 years?

“I was stunned,” he says. “That was the change for me.”

Today he acknowledges his business is selling boats and repairing boats. Most of the guys in a small one-design fleet, their business is the fleet,” he says. “The class does much better, if you have a longer lasting boat that you don’t have to replace.”

When it comes down to it, Allen’s focus is at the heart of the class. Everything he does contributes to its longevity and health of its tribe. “The Lightning class is really good at it,” he says. “It’s not just helping people, it’s saying we care about you, we care you are having a good time. You really have to get people in young, so they will continue sailing. I don’t care if it’s a Lightning or something else, at least expose them to it.”

He’s witnessed numerous other classes die before their time. Once people stop buying new boats, he says, the class implodes.

However, as long as Allen Boat Co. exists, the Lightnings will certainly continue to see success. From straightening out an aluminum shroud to building new hulls, Tom Allen’s footing in the Lighting is sure.

The post The Lightning Rod appeared first on Sailing World.

Since compiling my annual Jobson Junior All-Star lists since 2001, I’ve been combing through results of hundreds of junior championship regattas and speaking with parents, coaches and young sailors about their astounding performances. The All-Stars from that first class are now in their 30s, and many who followed have gone on to become collegiate champions, world champions, America’s Cup sailors, Olympic medalists, and Rolex yachtsmen and yachtswomen of the year. A few names you should recognize include Andrew Campbell, Paige and Zach Railey, Briana Provancha, Caleb Paine, Charlie Buckingham, Clay Johnson, Stephanie Roble and Molly Carapiet. As I have with my All-Star finalists in the past, I’ve discovered a common thread with this year’s class: They each have a strong desire to excel, appreciate the support of their parents, and work closely with coaches to improve their skills.

Stephen Baker, 13, of Coconut Grove, Florida, was the first to cross my radar thanks to recommendations from professional sailors Steve ­Benjamin and Mike Toppa. This superstar Optimist sailor is only in the eighth grade at Ransom Everglades School and has been sailing for only four years. Baker won the 35th Lake Garda Optimist Meeting in April 2017 against 770 boats, and at the Optimist World Championship in Thailand, in July, he finished fourth of 281 boats.

“I wish I had been a bit more aggressive on the first days,” says Baker, who also defended his Optimist North American title in Canada. And if that isn’t enough to impress, he won the 2017 U.S. Optimist Nationals, topping 307 competitors.

When not sailing, he plays golf and is on a club swimming team. “Golf and sailing both test my patience and focus,” he says. “You have to take one race at a time, like one hole at a time. ­Swimming prepares me physically and mentally for the long hours on the water.”

Chase Carraway, 17, of Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina, started sailing Optimists at the age of 6 and now races a Laser Radial. In 2017, Carraway won the Radial Laser Nationals and the Cressy Trophy (Interscholastic Sailing Association Singlehanded Championship) and placed fifth at the U.S. Youth Champs in the Radial. When Carraway is not racing with the Cape Fear sailing team, he travels to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, to practice on many weekends. Carraway hopes to be accepted to Hobart and William Smith Colleges to join its sailing team before considering an Olympic campaign after college.

When asked if he ever had an embarrassing moment in sailing, he recalls an incident at an Optimist regatta several years ago, one he’d perhaps soon rather forget. “We were being towed through a sewage spill on Long Island Sound,” he says, “and somehow I capsized when the coach let go of my tow rope. I was in my drysuit, but I still needed to be completely cleaned up.”

Carmen and Emma Cowles, 17, Larchmont, New York, are twin sisters who race for the Mamaroneck High School sailing team. They both started sailing at the age of 9 in ­Optimists. Today they race the International 420, ­Interclubs and ­occasionally Flying Juniors. Emma and Carmen both spend time as skipper and crew. They won the 2016 ­International 420 Nationals at the Orange Bowl and placed third at the ­International 420 North Americans. Both sailors are ­considering graduating to either the International 470 or 49erFX in the near future. They credit their Optimist coach, Pepe Bettini and, more recently, their coach Steve Keen for rapid improvements in recent years. While it’s yet to be determined whether they’ll attend the same college, they do share a common desire to attend a school that is highly competitive academically and with a strong varsity sailing program.

“Sailing has given me the opportunity to learn critical life lessons such as dealing with stress, performing under pressure and learning to be successful,” says Emma. Carmen adds, “Being confident with who and where you are as a sailor is crucial to becoming a successful athlete.” Studious as well, they recently read Wind Strategy by David Houghton and Fiona Campbell, and the book gave them a better understanding of wind.

Cameron Feves, 17, of Long Beach, California, started sailing as a 1-year-old, riding along with his father on the family Olson 30 in Southern California. Four years later, Feves was skippering a Lido 14. This past summer, along with his teammates Tristan Richmond and Brock Paquin, Feves won the Sears Cup in Flying Scots on Barnegat Bay, New Jersey. The trio won five of 10 races. In addition to racing FJs, 420s and Lasers, Feves enjoys the J/22 and plans to race with his Sears Cup crew in the J/22 World Championships in Annapolis in 2018. He has also raced Nacra 15s and 17s with Nico Martin.

Feves gleans sailing information from the online resource portal of the Southern California Youth Yacht Racing Association every day. “I find it to be my biggest resource for organizing my time,” says Feves, who placed third in the Laser Midwinters West and seventh in the U.S. Sailing Singlehanded Championship for the O’Day Trophy. He is currently the captain of the Long Beach Polytechnic High School sailing team and plans to race in college.

Maddie Hawkins, 15, of Annapolis, Maryland, races out of the Annapolis YC and is a member of the Severn School sailing team. As a sophomore, Hawkins hasn’t yet focused on a specific college, but she plans to join a good sailing team after high school. In their first year of racing together, Hawkins and her regular crew, Kimmie Leonard, 17, also of Annapolis, won the 2017 Chubb U.S. Junior Championship for the Bemis Trophy in the Club 420, the Club 420 North Americans and the U.S. Sailing Junior Women’s Championship. Leonard, who is considering attending the Naval Academy, or perhaps St. Mary’s College of Maryland or the College of Charleston, credits Naval Academy sailing coach, Dillon Paiva, for helping to improve their skills.

“Last summer, Dillon saw how much potential Maddie and I had before we could even realize it ourselves,” says ­Leonard. “He helped us with the technical aspects as well as the ­mental part. Dillon was our biggest fan — besides our ­parents, of course.”

Hawkins intends to race International 420s in 2018, and admits that she he doesn’t have much spare time for other sports. She does, however, proudly claim to have performed in her school’s winter musical.

Jamie Paul, 16, of Fairfield, Connecticut, is like the other All-Stars on our list this year in that he started his sailing career in the Optimist. Today, he races both International and Club 420s, Flying Juniors and Lasers. In 2017, Paul won the U.S. Junior Championship for the Smythe Trophy in Lasers. While he finds the Laser to be physically demanding and the I420 to be technically complex, it’s team racing that gets his competitive juices flowing. “What I love most about high school sailing is team racing,” says Paul. “I was lucky to represent the United States in team racing regattas in Berlin and Venice. For me and my teammates, it was the highlight of our sailing careers, and I look forward to more team racing in college.”

During the winter offseason Paul transitions to skiing, a sport with which he sees parallels. “They both require constant effort and focus. On both racecourses, I work every second to be the fastest I can be. In skiing, like sailing, you need to be fast and go the least distance possible around gates, like having a high VMG.”

In college, he says, he’s aiming to be All American and All Academic, saying, “I do not know where sailing will take me, but I plan on making it a lifetime sport.”

His most memorable sailing moment was at an Optimist regatta in Mar del Plata, Argentina. “A submarine surfaced by the top mark, drifted down into it and pulled the mark away,” he says. “The fleet was shocked, and racing was canceled for the day.”

The post Jobson Juniors: The Magnificent 8 appeared first on Sailing World.

On October 16, 1992, Mike Plant left New York Harbor on board Coyote bound for Les Sables d’Olonne, France, with plans of a fourth solo circumnavigation, the Vendée Globe. Plant radioed a passing cargo ship a few days later to pass on information that Coyote’s electronics were down. It was the last time he would be heard from. Weeks later, the 60-foot ­Coyote was found 500 miles north of the Azores inverted and missing its keel.

Plant’s story is one of perseverance and grit. After seeing a film about circumnavigation, Plant quit his construction job to race singlehanded around the world. His career was driven by his thirst for adventure. In 1987, Plant won his class in the BOC Challenge, the first of two in which he would compete. In 1989, he was on the start line again, this time at the Globe ­Challenge, which, unlike the BOC, was a nonstop race. Plant was the quintessential great American yachtsman; he was the only sailor of his kind competing in the same arena — much less on the same level — as the French ocean racers.

Thomas Simmons was 10 years old at the time his uncle was declared missing and ­presumed dead, but his legacy resonated with him into adulthood. “He’s always been at the forefront of my mind because he’s a guy who lived his life and followed his dreams,” says ­Simmons.

Like his uncle, Simmons found inspiration to seek an adventure — albeit one less dangerous. Three years ago, leaving his secure finance job, Simmons pursued his true passion, that of documentation. “I took a dead left turn to do this. I was working in corporate finance for a number of years, and I was itching to do something creative and something that inspired me to jump out of bed in the morning,” says Simmons. Now, almost 25 years later, the stories intersect with the debut of Simmons’ first film, Coyote.

On a rainy July night in Newport, Rhode Island, friends and family packed into the ­International Yacht Restoration School to see an exclusive screening of the film — many of the same faces were present at his memorial. The weather, says Simmons, was a sign that “Mike Plant was sending us a message because it rained like that at his memorial; he loved that weather in the Southern Ocean.”

Simmons tells Plant’s story with honesty, bearing Plant’s past in the drug trade, which led to his imprisonment in Portugal. Part of what makes Plant such an enigma is that he did not follow the typical career path of a yachtsman. He had to ­overcome a nefarious past in order to achieve at the ­highest level in his sport. Simmons portrays his uncle candidly, a rough and tough ­character with a love for sailing and ­outstanding ­perseverance. “Making the film amplified my perception of who Mike was and what he represented to so many, especially those close to his path. One of the reasons I have always been drawn to Mike’s path revolves around the fact that his life did not take a straight line to hero status. Amid some early adventures, Mike struggled to find his way and collided with ­trouble along the way.”

The film contains footage of those who knew Plant sitting for interviews, historical footage sourced from coverage of races, and modern footage from various filmmakers, including onboard reporters during the Volvo Ocean Race. The archival footage ­Simmons uncovered had a deep impact on him and his mission to make a documentary on Plant, and to do it right. He describes one audio clip, found on an old betacam tape, as being “a missile” to his belief system and instrumental in ­Simmons’ ability to trust his own journey to make the film.

The footage captures Mike and naval ­architect Rodger Martin on the docks in ­Newport, Rhode Island, in spring 1986, tinkering with Plant’s first ocean racer, Airco Distributor. Plant had just launched Airco and was a few months away from his first race around the world. Jason Davis is behind the camera and asks Plant a series of questions: “This is probably the toughest race on the planet. Why are you doing this?” A boyish, confident Plant smiles into the camera and replies. “I just have a gut feeling I’m going to be very good at this.”

The decision to use archival footage of his uncle for much of the movie forced him and his family to confront the loss of Plant once again. “It was really hard and we did have a lot of breakdowns, but the most amazing thing about our film process is that [Plant’s friends and family] were incredibly open with us. ­People gravitated toward him, despite the fact that Mike was super-private and sometimes not necessarily friendly when he was focused on his campaigns.” Plant’s family and friends always felt his life was worthy of a film.

Simmons hopes the film will move its ­viewers in a way Plant’s story did for him: “I think his story transcends sailing, because he never subscribed to the conventional path. If I can affect one person to chase their dreams, then this has been a success.” ■

The post Saltwater Cowboy appeared first on Sailing World.

At the third Windsurfer World Championship in 1976, with several hundred triangular sails swarming the bay in Berkeley, California, it was a 13-year-old scrawny kid with a mop of white-blonde hair named Robby Naish who whooped the fleet. He didn’t know then that the passion this surfboard with a sail ignited in him would drive him to the peak of wind-driven exploits, making Naish synonymous with windsurfing, kitesurfing and now windfoiling (windsurfing on hydrofoils). Though Naish won every windsurfing world title from his first until he graduated high school in 1981, racing was not his intended path. He saw the laid-back beach scene and exploring the sea with friends, sharing his stoke, as the lifestyle he wanted to promote.

Naish dominated the market with his neon-splashed windsurfing gear, and even though keeping a top world ranking as professional windsurfing became increasingly equipment sensitive, he pioneered the free-riding realm. The 1990s saw him usher in the kitesurfing generation, and in the 2000s, Naish’s latest is looking to regenerated the throngs of windsurfers from the 1970s and ’80s with windfoiling.

Now in his 50s and still pushing the limits of the sport and his body, Naish is looking squarely forward, sailing and surfing every day, and getting windsurfing in front of as many riders as possible. His lifework is far from complete, but the selection panel of the National Sailing Hall of Fame deemed him a worthy placeholder among sailing’s greats. We caught up with him by phone after he learned of his selection.

Big picture, you were a racer; has that always been a motivator for you?

It has really evolved for me. We had wooden booms. It was a very simple craft and a very unique fringe of sailing. I started windsurfing in 1974 and won my first worlds at 13. It launched my career. It was full-blown sailing. Olympic courses, tacking duels and I loved it. I thrived on outsmarting my competitors and going faster.

Windsurfing branched off in the 1980s and ’90s from traditional sailing to high performance, and there was a development boom in freestyle and slalom. Did that time excite you or were you starting to look for something else?

We developed ourselves out of the market with new gear every year. It needed to be blowing hard to go windsurfing, and you needed a ton of gear. Kitesurfing came along, and I was with that whole group in Maui and working with Don Montague. We were the first company developing and selling modern inflatable kites in 1999. I kept windsurfing, but I was really focused on kiting. Now the biggest mojo we have for our brand is hydrofoils.

You said you loved the racing in the early days, but you have really developed the sport with the Naish brand. Would you consider yourself an innovator?

I’m the polar opposite of someone like Don. He’s an innovator. He tinkers and finds people to create things he wants. I’m a sailor, a surfer, a rider. I do it for the visceral level, pushing my on-water experience. In the early days I loved one design. It was me against my competitors, and there were no excuses. When it got to the point where equipment mattered, the less I enjoyed. I adapted and that’s why I lasted.

I don’t want to sit in my garage and talk about my crap. I’d sail till my arms were dead. What I did was surround myself with innovators like Don. I’m good at riding and promoting.

You made a video recently where you were holding a GoPro in your hand and showing how to windfoil. It was sick! There was about 10 knots of wind, and you gave the entire ­tutorial in one take. Is it that easy or is it you?

I’m trying to get old windsurfers back. Those were the best times of our life in our 20s. Then you got a job, had kids, and there’s no time. Now the kids are older. But the average places people used to go to, it’s not quite windy enough to go windsurfing. Windfoiling is low performance really, easy to access, and simple.

I don’t want windsurfing to die. To go in light wind, you used to need a 9.5 sail with all the cambers and a $1,000 carbon mast. If you could windsurf everywhere again, people would do it. Flying around in 10 to 12 knots. Back and forth, and the sail resembles what we used in the 1970s, with no battens. I’m going the same speed in 10 knots as the top windsurfers. It’s a freaking blast. I want to bring it back to ­everyone everywhere.

National Sailing Hall of Fame inductees are often people who have either passed away or finished with their careers. All are incredible individuals. Do you feel like you fit into that group?

It’s cool. I’m old enough now that there’s some nostalgia. I think I’m still looking forward. I’m still a highly paid pro athlete. I’m doing a Red Bull movie project with a massive production budget right now. But I’m 54. Look at how much time has gone by. This is pretty cool what I’ve done, but I’m not looking in the rear mirror to say “look how cool I was.” This is stamping something on my earlier career, recognized by the sailing world. I’m proud of it.

You mentioned that windsurfing participation has been in decline for the past 20 years. Do you believe that a windsurfer in the National Sailing Hall of Fame might help the sport?

Not previously, but it could right now. It’s good timing with windfoiling. It’s good for me personally. A little younger and this recognition would be a little premature.

You’re still charging pretty hard, like superman. What are your limits right now?

I broke my pelvis a year ago kiting. And I just broke my foot. It bugs me a bit. The most important thing for me is keeping stoked and riding. I’ve never gotten bored of any of my sports. The first few years of kiting, I windsurfed less. I phased out of the professional windsurfing. Then, in 2008, I transitioned to SUP. It was a whole new sport. I maintain all three sports (surf, kite, windsurf). I never want to let my abilities wain because I’m an old kooky guy.

The first thing I did after my injury was start light-wind windfoiling. I was the perfect stunt dummy. I became my own guinea pig. I think this new genre of sailing will be more appealing. It’s not so technical, pure and simple. I got my girlfriend out in five minutes, foiling in both directions. I’m excited about it and how easy guys and girls pick it up, riding through the air with no pressure on the sail. Now with everyone jumping on the bandwagon, I see foils getting too high performance. Keep it simple. Don’t complicate it and it’s a blast.

The post On Board with Robby Naish appeared first on Sailing World.

Wearing a short-brimmed captain’s hat and dressed in khaki, Meade Gougeon looks like he just stepped off the deck of a navy ship—not with the tentativeness of a midshipman, but the confidence of an officer—moving with an agility and pace that belie his 75 years. Perhaps it’s the cycling or the swimming; maybe it’s his training program. He has a reclining chair at home and another in the office at his boat shop. He’ll catch 30 to 40 minutes of sleep in one or the other, maybe twice a day. OK, I know what you’re thinking, but there’s more to the story. He also sleeps only five hours a night and maintains this regime year-round. The reason? The Florida Everglades Challenge, a grueling 300-mile race that takes competitors over the open waters of the Gulf and through parts of the Everglades National Park.

“There are some guys who go for three days and don’t sleep a wink, but I think that’s reckless,” says Meade. “When you get over-fatigued, that’s when you start making mistakes.”

Hence Meade’s “catnap” program. When he needs to recharge, he heaves to, anchors, or sets a sea anchor. A half-hour later, he’s back in the game. The paddling chair in his boat reclines, so he fully simulates race mode when sound asleep at the boat shop or at home. “I can nod off for 30 to 40 minutes, wake up, and feel great. I’ve got that down pretty pat.”

The race, which is both paddled and sailed, can take as long as eight days to complete—if you’re one of the 40 percent of starters who actually finish. Meade has entered four times, but been one of the fortunate 40 percent just once—in 2011, racing with his brother, Jan. They finished sixth out of around 80 boats.

But what has really put Meade and, more specifically, the Gougeon name on the map is his line of epoxies and epoxy-related products. Sold as West System, Gougeon adhesion and coating products have revolutionized boatbuilding and repair for professionals as well as amateurs. Like his nontraditional training approach to the Everglades Challenge, Gougeon products were born out of a willingness to break with tradition.

Raised on Saginaw Bay, Mich., just after World War II, Meade and his two brothers, Joel and Jan, got into boatbuilding early on. “At the beginning of the summer, we’d get hammers and nails and buy some pitch and make scows or whatever else we could build,” recalls Meade.

From there, they enrolled in a technical high school. “We had a whole range of courses, so by the time we were 17, we knew how things were made.” Then followed an engineering degree for Joel, business school for Meade, and building apprenticeships for Jan, all of which sent the three on a trajectory that would soon establish them as one of the most known names in boatbuilding.

In the 1960s, Meade was working as a sales engineer for U.S. Graphite in Erie, Pa., and campaigning his trimaran, Victor T, in the C-Class multihull fleet, an untraditional move in a fleet composed almost entirely of catamarans. It was especially lethal in light winds. “It was giving the C guys fits,” Meade recalls. “I couldn’t go to weather with the other guys, but it decimated them downwind.”

His work caught the attention of Dave Hubbard, who designed a string of successful catamarans, a number of which eventually defended the Little America’s Cup. Hubbard recalls, “At the time my brother and I had designed a D-shaped wing mast for Alliance, a catamaran we were building for Van Allen Clarke. We asked Meade because he worked very well in wood; he was a real craftsman.” Meade stayed at Hubbard’s house for a few weeks and built the wing. Alliance was retired a few years later, and Meade’s D-mast went into storage in a barn in Vermont. “Just this past summer, we were clearing things out and finally cut it up and got rid of it,” says Hubbard. “We thought of Meade. He was such a nice, gentle, easy-going guy.” Meade’s experience working with Hubbard dramatically expanded Meade’s circle of contacts. “As I look back on my career, that was a key, having met all the people in the multihull movement on the East Coast,” says Meade.

In 1969, Meade teamed up with brother Jan to form Gougeon Brothers, Inc., where they kept the lights on by building DN iceboats while also working on a 35-foot trimaran, Adagio. His brother, Joel, had just returned from Vietnam and had $10,000 he was planning to spend on a new house, but Meade and Jan convinced him to instead buy into their company. “His wife wasn’t too happy about it at the time, but she changed her mind later on,” remembers Meade.

Apart from the formation of their new company, 1969 proved a pivotal year for the three brothers on the technological front. “We were buying epoxy from the same company that was selling it to pattern-makers,” says Meade. “It was a thicker, pasty stuff which worked fine as a glue, but there was no knowledge or understanding of it as a coating.”

Coating, or sealing, keeps wood from absorbing moisture, and the problem was maintaining the physical properties of both bonding and sealing. Herbert Dow, at Dow Chemical’s world headquarters, located just 17 miles west of the Gougeon brothers’ shop, got wind of what they were doing and paid them a visit. Meade recalls, “One of their guys asked, ‘How much do you know about chemistry?’ and I said, ‘Well, I took a chemistry course once.’ He said, ‘Here are the ingredients I suggest you look at, here’s where you can purchase them, and this is where you start with the ratios.’ So, I became a bench chemist. The adhesive part was easy, but the coating was a real challenge. Before long, we had a resin that could both bond and seal as the boat was being built.”

In 1970, Adagio was launched. A radical step in boat construction, she had been built using epoxy as a sealer as well as an adhesive and incorporated very few fasteners. Still competing, it weighs 2,300 pounds and has a PHRF rating of minus 63. Except for some broken battens, Adagio went through a blast of almost 70 mph unscathed in the 2002 Chicago-Mackinac Race. According to Meade, it’s the perfect long-term test bed for the longevity of wood/epoxy structures.

Next came a keelboat for a customer in Detroit, one that Meade admits “was halfway fast, but let’s just say we were not as up to speed in the keelboat world as we were in the multihull world.” Then it was back to DNs and C-class trimarans. At that point, the WEST System, as a name, still didn’t exist. “Local guys were stopping in to see what we were up to and wanted to buy the stuff. So we’d weigh it and put it in Mason jars.” That eventually gave way to pumps, which would more precisely meter the necessary ratio of resin to hardener and make it much more accessible for the general public.

Meade Gougeon passed away on August 27, 2017, at the age of 78. I pioneer into his final year, Gougeon won his division in the windy 2017 Everglades Challenge. An excellent tribute from reporter Andrew Dodson, from Gougeon’s home town Bay City News is at here

In 1971, the WEST System as a product was established, and Meade started pedaling it in small ads in the back of boating magazines that touted epoxy resin as a way to “solve the problems that wood has as an engineering material,” offering the WEST manual for $1. “Wooden Boat magazine wouldn’t take my ad,” Meade recalls. “They thought I was putting wood down as an engineering material and that I was being cocky about having a solution.” Today, Meade estimates that about 95 percent of the boats featured in Wooden Boat are built using epoxy.

1975 was another watershed year with their construction of Golden Daisy, a Ron Holland-designed 2-tonner that successfully defended the Canada’s Cup. “That opened up the whole thing,” says Meade. But, it came with unexpected consequences. “All of a sudden, the world discovered there was another way to build boats with epoxy, and we became the gurus who knew all about it. The phone was ringing off the hook. We were hearing more and more about disasters happening with our product. Ninety percent were doing just fine, but if you have 10 percent who aren’t happy, you can’t survive in any area.”

The solution? “In 1978, I said, ‘Joel, you run the place; Jan, you build the boats. I’m out of here.’ I locked myself in a trailer for six months and wrote the boatbuilding book. I had to. I couldn’t focus on anything else, from morning to night, day after day after day. That was absolutely the most mentally difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life. When I got that done, I couldn’t write a letter; I couldn’t write anything for several months.” That book, “The Gougeon Brothers on Boat Construction,” has become the bible for boatbuilders around the world. The first edition was 320 pages, and the initial press run of 7,500 copies sold out in six months. In its expanded fifth edition, the book still sells 6,000 to 7,000 yearly.

In line with his modest nature, Meade’s name was not on the earlier editions. “It was the Gougeon brothers. I wrote it, but Joel and Jan contributed. I didn’t need the accolades. I could care less. All I wanted to do was get it done. I didn’t want to be in the spotlight. Years later, when we went to a major revision—it’s now 400 pages—there was a universal agreement: Meade, you’re the guy who wrote this book. You’ve got to have your name on it.” He reluctantly agreed.

In the 1980s, the brothers supplemented their boatbuilding and epoxy company by building wind turbine blades. At that point, American-built windmills were using two blades. “We had the lightest-weight, strongest blades, never had a failure, and built around 4,600 of them,” says Meade. “But that wasn’t good enough because what you bolted them through with just wasn’t working very well.” Part of the problem was the speed of the two blades. “It was getting up close to the speed of sound, and nobody wanted that noise in their backyard,” says Meade. Then, the Danes entered the market with three-blade technology, which reduced the speed by 50 percent, and in 1987, the bottom fell out of the American industry. “We were right in it up to our eyeballs, thinking this is going to be the deal, and we were going to help save the world with wind energy, and it turned out to be a $3.5 million lesson in risk management. But we survived.”

The whole project came with some costs. Joel had left the business in 1984 for a career in politics. Jan started having health issues and went into semi-retirement, spending his days tinkering in the boat shop and leaving Meade to take care of the day-to-day issues. In 2001, Meade suffered a mild heart attack, and he, too, retired to the boat shop. “I like to say Jan and I successed our way back to the boat shop. I spent about 25 years in the office, running the place. After the heart attack, I had to get off the treadmill.”

Together again in the shop, Meade and Jan launched into a number of projects, including the radical 40-foot trimaran Strings. Like some of their earlier trimaran designs, such as the Gougeon 32, this boat was self-rescuing, and Meade credits his brother for coming up with their ingenious system for righting trimarans. “Jan, who had not gone to college at all, was actually the best out of all of us, really diving into engineering issues and coming up with solutions,” says Meade. “He had a very intuitive nature.”

Like Meade, Jan’s passions were multihulls and iceboats, and Jan was successful in both realms, winning four DN world championships and three singlehanded Port Huron to Mackinac races. He died in late 2012.

What has kept Meade going in the boat business for almost six decades? “If we were just building one type of boat, I think it would get pretty boring, but all of a sudden I discover sailing canoes, and I lay awake nights thinking about how I’m going to build a good sailing canoe. With iceboats, after a while, it just drove us nuts. We were building 50 parts of this piece and 50 parts of that piece, and turning out three a day. It wasn’t nearly as much fun as just taking on a project, such as Golden Daisy. Everything was new, and you had to have your thinking cap on all the time; it was a challenge, and you looked forward to coming to work. And, I think that’s still the challenge. We’re challenged by problem solving. Maybe we’re like our ancestors. The happiest guys were the successful tool builders, the ones who made everything easier, better. You feel good about it when you think of an idea and wonder why you didn’t think of that 12 years ago.”

It’s a Friday morning in July, the tall ships are visiting Bay City, Mich., and the employees have been given the day off to take it all in. The original shop, where the trimarans and Golden Daisy were built, and where the formulation of WEST epoxy was first mixed, is across a narrow street from the Gougeon factory, on the banks of the Saginaw River, which flows into Lake Huron. Meade’s finishing breakfast and getting ready for the rest of the day. Earlier, he paddled down the river to see the tall ships. “You can’t get any closer on the water than 300 feet from any of the ships,” says Meade. “They think you might have a bomb or something. So, I got here at 7 a.m. and paddled my ass down there. People were just waking up on the boats, and I got up close. On my way back, here comes the whole flotilla of Coast Guard boats. I waved and yelled, ‘Hi guys! How’re you doin’?” No doubt the reclining-chair training has paid off. Perhaps more training will soon be in order.

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The National Sailing Hall of Fame (NSHOF) today announced the eight people who will make up its 2017 class of inductees:

Bill Bentsen (Winnetka, Ill./Lake Geneva, Wisc.), a two-time Olympic medalist – bronze in 1964 and gold in 1972 – who has created an indelible legacy for the sport through his contributions as a racing rules and race administration expert; 5.5 World Champion Ray Hunt (Duxbury, Mass.), the innately talented yacht designer of both sail and power vessels; boatbuilder Clark Mills (Clearwater, Fla.), best-known as the designer of the wildly popular Optimist dinghy used by children under age 16; windsurfing superstar Robby Naish (Haiku, Hawaii), who won his first world championship title at age 13 and went on to build a multi-million dollar watersports business; two-time Tornado Olympic Silver Medalist Randy Smyth (Ft. Walton Beach, Fla.), whose expertise as a catamaran sailor led to, among other things, work on major motion pictures; and noted America’s Cup sailor Tom Whidden (Essex, Conn.), the industry giant who recently celebrated 30 years with global brand North Sails. Two additional Inductees are being recognized with the NSHOF Lifetime Achievement Award: avid sailor Bill Martin (Ann Arbor, Mich.), whose leadership roles in business and sailing – including the Presidency of the U.S. Olympic Committee – led to a noteworthy 10 years as Athletic Director at the University of Michigan, and Corny Shields (New Rochelle, N.Y.), winner of the inaugural Mallory Cup which earned him national recognition on the cover of Time magazine in 1953, who conceived the Shields one-design in 1964 and founded the I.O.D. class.

The members of the class of 2017 join 57 previously-recognized individuals as the National Sailing Hall of Fame continues to fulfill its mission by drawing attention and recognition to Americans who have made outstanding contributions to the sport of sailing.

“From the way the sport is run to its portrayal on the silver screen, this group of inductees has influenced the broad spectrum of today’s watersport’s enthusiast,” said Gary Jobson, President of the NSHOF. “In proudly recognizing the legacy of these contributors, by preserving and sharing their stories, the NSHOF is helping to inspire – and challenge – the next generation.”

Following a two-month period this spring during which sailors from all corners of the country nominated their choice for induction, a selection committee – made up of representatives from US Sailing, the sailing media, the sailing industry, community sailing, a maritime museum, a previous inductee, and the NSHOF Board – reviewed a wide range of nominations.

Inductees are American citizens, 45 years of age or older, who have made significant impact on the growth and development of the sport in the U.S. in the categories of Sailing, Technical/Design and Contributor (coach, administrator, sailing media). Nominations of non-citizens were also considered if they influenced the sport in the U.S., and posthumous nominations were also accepted. The undertaking to recognize Americans who have made outstanding contributions to the sport of sailing is central to the mission of the NSHOF which was formed in 2005 and has completed phase one of its plan to establish a permanent facility on the historic waterfront of Annapolis, Maryland.

The Lifetime Achievement Award inducts an American citizen, 55 years of age or older, who has had consistent involvement in sailing for a majority of his or her life and had success in the sport while also becoming successful and achieving noteworthy stature in a non-sailing career.

The 2017 class will be formally celebrated on Sunday, September 24, 2017, with an Induction Ceremony hosted at the world-renowned New York Yacht Club’s Harbour Court Station in Newport, Rhode Island. The Induction Weekend has become notable as a reunion of sailing’s Who’s Who with attendance already confirmed by these previous Inductees: Betsy Alison, Malin Burnham, Steve Colgate, Dave Curtis, JJ Fetter, Meade Gougeon, Peter Harken, Gary Jobson, Bruce Kirby, Bob Johnstone, Rob Johnstone, Timmy Larr, Buddy Melges, Ted Turner and Dave Ullman.

The invitation only event is sponsored by Rolex Watch U.S.A. Additional support is provided by Greenvale Vineyards, Mount Gay Rum, Newport Shipyard, Sea Gear, Vanquish Boats, Volvo Penta and WX/Bread & Butter Wines. The NSHOF will dedicate the 2017 Induction to Sail Newport, Rhode Island’s Public Sailing Center.

For more on the Inductees, please visit: www.halloffamers.nshof.org

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Who is Daniela Moroz?

The 15-year-old world champion from the foiling kiteboard world has captured one of the highest awards in American sailing: Rolex Yachtswoman of the Year. Her accolades outnumber her years, so what makes this California girl tick?

She’s Competitive
Winning the Hydrofoil Pro Tour title was a goal from her first days of ­kiting. “I come from a competitive family,” she says. “I focus on what I want to do, and I do it.” She’ll arrive a few days early at an event to suss out the venue and socialize, but once the competition starts, she says, it’s all about the racing.

She’s Not Sponsored Yet
Moroz’s family and the St. Francis ­Sailing Foundation fund her travel and expenses, though she does get discounts on equipment. “Now that I have a world title, I’m working on getting some more financial help,” she says. “It’d make things much easier. I could do so many more events.”

She Started Early
Both her parents are avid ­windsurfers, and Moroz sailed her first race before she was born: the San Francisco ­Classic, on a windsurfer, while her mother was pregnant.

She’s A Media Maven
Shooting video and photos are Moroz’s hobby. “I try to show what I’m doing on my trips and how cool the events are,” she says. “It’s me walking around with my GoPro. It’s a cool way to capture the sport — it’s so visually appealing, why not share it?”

She’s Here To Stay
While sailing disciplines for the 2020 Olympics haven’t been announced, Moroz is stoked at the possibility for kiting’s inclusion, calling it the pinnacle of the sport’s potential. “I would totally want to go,” she says. If that doesn’t ­happen, the 2018 Youth Olympic Games will include kiting, and Moroz hopes for “at least a couple more world titles.”

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Thomas Coville (FRA) and his 31m maxi trimaran Sodebo Ultim’ has successfully broken the solo round the world record

Unique seamanship skills, prodigious tenacity and exceptional luck defined Thomas Coville’s 49-day around-the-world solo record — breaking Francis Joyon’s record set in 2008 — came down to the 110-foot trimaran, Sodebo. “I didn’t really beat the record — the boat did,” says Coville.

Indeed, Sodebo is, at the very least, one of the fastest multihulls on the planet, with Francis Joyon’s IDEC and François Gabart’s Banque Populaire also on the roster.

The 115-foot mast has 3,050 square feet of mainsail and 2,230 square feet of total sail area. Voluminous hulls and foil design allow the boat to maintain 30-knot averages in 15 to 22 knots of wind. Coville’s average speed over the 28,400-mile passage was 24 knots, with intermittent speeds blasts of 40-plus knots.

Sodebo’s speed potential helped Coville stay out of trouble numerous times. On such a big boat, if you don’t do the tough maneuvers at certain times, then there will be breakages or worse,” Coville says. “You have to be fast enough to stay ahead of the fronts and strong gales.”

Coville leveraged ­Sodebo’s design with favorable conditions, especially when he navigated deeper than Joyon toward iceberg-laden zones in the low latitudes. His team’s excellent choice of routes allowed him to benefit from 35-knot average windspeeds, first at 90-degree angles, before shifting to an optimal 120-degrees. Thanks to exceptional conditions, Coville sailed Sodebo across the Indian Ocean in eight and a half days.

Coville’s mission also came with mental baggage. This was his fifth record attempt, and his rough slog included securing sponsorships to keep his dream alive for more than 15 years. Along the way, he completed the circumnavigation twice but remained just a few days shy of breaking the record each time.

The journey was touch and go at times, particularly while passing Cape Horn.

“After Cape Horn, it was almost a handicap to have such a big boat because of the physical difficulty in the maneuvers you have to make,” Coville says. “I was really close to giving up. It was really hard to manage such a large boat in the South Atlantic.”

Sodebo is a lot for a full crew to handle and represents a nearly insane workload for a single-handed sailor, who must subsist on intermittent 20-minute naps. A forced jibe or miscalculated tack in gale-force winds and 30-foot waves are more than enough to doom such a giant ship.

“If you are not awake when you need to react quickly, then you are going to capsize,” Coville says. “It definitely makes for nervous sleep. I would be a liar to say that I was able to fall asleep each time when I wanted to.”

Every maneuver requires intense physical effort. A jibe on Sodebo takes 20 minutes to complete and 20 minutes to recover from. The sustained effort is like running for 20 minutes at 80

percent of your maximum speed. “I actually did the same number of maneuvers as part of a crew before on Groupama, but it takes more time alone, and it is certainly a lot more difficult,” says Coville.

At one point, Coville had to complete 23 jibes in a day and a half near Cape Horn. “I had to open the gates between the icebergs and the high pressure areas. It was really tough to remain in that zone and to just keep going,” he says. “If I didn’t succeed, then it was game over. Sometimes, you just have to do it.”

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Farm in Warren, Rhode Island, is 92 acres of agricultural land, but it’s also a field of dreams. Thirty years ago, boatbuilding pioneer Steve Clark could have bought a medium-size home in an upscale community for what he paid for this spread, but he had less conventional aspirations. When it comes to new ideas, new possibilities and new ways of thinking, the ground here has proved to be fertile.

In a simple old barn, flanked by newer temporary structures, Steve and co-conspirators have upset the status quo many times before, especially with their C-class catamaran built for the Little America’s Cup. The boat was named Cogito, which is Latin for “I think.”

Thinking, followed by action, is what the Clark gene is all about.

Until 1996, Australia had a 10-year streak of winning the Little America’s Cup, and Steve was an underdog. He couldn’t outspend the Aussies, so he out-thought them and brought the cup home. Four other C-class catamarans have been dreamed up and built since Cogito’s victory. Steve’s most recent platform is Aethon, named after the eagle that tortured Prometheus in Greek mythology.

On a crisp fall day when the leaves at Point Farm are changing color and the light is long and low, Steve takes a break from his shop and sits down at a table to discuss his latest obsession.

On the picnic table is a mobile spinning in the breeze. Hand-built by Steve, the mobile is inverted in the shape of a U. Why? Steve grins. “I made it upside-down so it smiles,” he says.

Steve’s latest project is to bring foiling to the masses. He knows a thing or two about small boats. He started out as a bespoke boatbuilder, creating one to four boats per year. He couldn’t make a living at it, so he bought Vanguard with Chip Johns.

When Steve made the transition from custom builder to manufacturer, Peter Harken gave him some sage advice. “Any a—— can make one,” he said. “After you’ve built 100 that are the same, come talk to me.” At Vanguard, Steve went from four boats a year to four boats a day, and peaked production at 3,000 boats per year. As his workshop became a factory, he decided he needed his own space, so he erected a barn on his farm where he now creates one prototype boat at a time. It’s his own think tank.

Despite his high-tech weekend activities, Steve came to appreciate the simplicity of the Sunfish, one of Vanguard’s most successful offerings. “Look, it’s this scuzzy little thing, but everyone’s sailing it, and with a little bit of thought, the thing is in the Laser world of performance,” he says. “With the boom up high, it’s less hostile than a Laser, and two to four little kids can sail around in it. Then Dad comes home and lowers the boom and can reach across the bay at 10 knots and feel like he is Paul Elvstrøm.”

Steve’s son David, a tall, lean and mop-headed spitting image of his old man, joins the conversation. He is 24 years old, and when his dad goes off on a tangent, he tries to get him back to the point. Not happening. David Clark grew up in a place where instead of a large box of Legos, he had a boat barn full of possibilities. “Growing up in the workshop, I refer to it as the Johnny Quest lifestyle. I was enjoying exotic technology,” he says. “It was great. But I was immensely blasé about what was fun in sailing.”

That all changed when David sailed in a Moth in 2007. He got hooked on foiling and immediately started building a Moth of his own. After his first experience, he says, sailing became something completely different. “Foiling has added a Z-axis to the sport, and the flying could not be allowed to stop,” he explains.

While the Moth gave him immense satisfaction, David recognized its drawbacks: Everything about it was technical, from launching it to foiling, tacking, jibing and maintenance.

Steve characterizes the Moth and the new lower-tech Waszp as “cranky f—— little boats with a 12-inch waterline. They’re a constant war, from launch to landing — the emergency that starts at the dock.”

Like his father, David disregards the status quo. He believes the sailing industry has been talking about the Laser and the Windsurfer for 30 years now, and they are both “elderly technologies.” He suggests to his father that, as a former builder of the Laser, he should offer customers a Laser/coffin conversion kit because the people who sail them do so until they die.

David’s idea of inventing a boat that would bring foiling to the masses sounded good to his elder. After all, the design brief Steve created for himself at Vanguard when he worked on the Vector skiff was “I want kids to skip school to go sailing.” David’s first CAD drawing of the new boat was complicated, such that he could come about with the foil retracted inside the mast. His dad looked at it and suggested he put foils on something simple. Then he said: “Excuse me for a second while I blow your mind. What about a tunnel-­hulled catamaran, put the daggerboard just forward of the mast, and the whole system withdraws between the hulls?” David stopped for a second and thought: “Damn it, he’s right. I have to start from scratch. That is an inherently better idea.”

Before there was a finished boat, there was a name. “I dug my heels in here on the UFO name,” says David. “I got on a Moth and it changed my life entirely. I’d flown for the first time, and I loved the idea of a UFO sighting. It had a sense of fun and adventure to it. I thought having this little spaceship would completely change sailing, this sense of exploring, this sense of a new space that we haven’t encountered yet. That’s what foiling has done for me.” David went to work on the computer to design the UFO. His goal was to create a boat that was stable, easy to use and safe, and which would foil all the time and be “Sunfish simple.”

From a pricing point of view, he wanted the boat to cost less than $7,000.

From a practical point of view, “Sunfish simple” meant you could rig and launch the boat yourself, and if you wanted to stop on the water to eat a sandwich, you could do so without swimming.

When father and son work together in the barn, they do not discuss pro sports teams or politics. They banter about things like Gray’s paradox: Sir James Gray observed dolphins swimming at speeds of up to 20 knots; based on his calculations, however, the dolphins did not have the strength to accomplish the feat.

Gray’s paradox leads them to discuss how some sails are “magic.” One theory they discuss is how one sail may be faster than others because the vibration of the leech can reduce some boundary layer that might reduce drag. They spitball ideas back and forth, from sail design to hull form to foil details. They pick up parts in the shop, use the sailor’s universal hand language to describe a boat’s performance, and complete each other’s sentences.

After a limited amount of design review for the UFO, they took it to the next level. Conventional behavior is to create a design in CAD, build a proto­type, check it, and then build it. The Clarks believe in “sketching it out in real life.” Their prototype of the first UFO was a 20-day build.

They cannibalized David’s Moth project for the hulls. To hold the two hulls together, they used failed Laser Radial lower sections scavenged from Steve’s days at Vanguard. The centerline pod came off a mold for Aethon. The rig was a prototype from an International Canoe, spliced into a Laser lower section. There is a Sanford and Son caliber of pack-ratting on the farm, and small-boat parts are everywhere.

On the first test sail of the first UFO prototype (aka “the Probe”), David turned it up on a reach and the boat foiled immediately. Dad turned to his son and said: “You did it, Dave. Oh my god, you f—— beauty!”

Upon reflection, says David: “On my side of this, I am unspeakably proud to be my father’s son. Dad’s knowledge, creativity and will are kind of unparalleled. Cracking a unique problem like this, it’s important we have this level of adhesion between us.”

After the Probe, Steve saw that he and David had something that foiled with a human being on it, but it needed to be refined. “We have a riff now, but we do not have a song yet,” he says. David would not be satisfied until the UFO foiled both upwind and downwind.

To refine the details, they built four more UFO prototypes, and each sits in the yard, the latest evolution in sailing resting against a stone wall that has not moved in hundreds of years. About the five prototypes, ­David says: “The two conditions for rapid evolution are rapid reproduction and rapid attrition. Things need to be made and things need to be killed.”

Just up the street, Zim Boats is now building the first production boat. In many ways, the Zim of today is a lot like the Vanguard of the past, where Steve worked. There are a lot of the same people on staff, including lead builder Greg Ormond, whom Steve taught to build boats when Greg was younger than David. Together, David and Greg built the first UFO with vinylester-infused fiberglass, a Soric core, and carbon fiber in the high-stress areas. Thus far, response to the UFO is positive. David reads an email he ­received from a prospective buyer at the Rush Creek YC in Rockwall, ­Texas, who wants to know how many boats he needs to purchase to get David to come give a clinic. The answer is three.

While David is happy to hear from a yacht club, his goal is to create ­demand from the general population. With a smile, he says: “I just showed a video of the UFO to the guy changing my oil, and he was totally into it and he doesn’t sail at all. He hasn’t touched a boat in his life.”

Steve and David Clark have created what they believe to be an affordable, safe, accessible boat that enables everyday people to fly, but they won’t be satisfied until the UFO lands to take the sport of sailing to new heights.

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I have a friend who says no goal can be achieved without first saying it aloud. We all find our source of motivation, and putting an agenda out into the public does get the ball rolling. Failure in full view is a bummer. With 2017 looming, I thought about what plans I could make — what I will do differently or better, what actions will have a positive impact on my sport of choice, and what I need to do to remain enthusiastic. A few topics came to mind.

The first comes from a quote attributed to Albert Einstein, Ben Franklin and Mark Twain (pretty good company, right?): “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” When issues impact participation, it’s time for change. Determine what is needed for the whole community to succeed, not just those who are the most vocal.

Another topic involves how our sport thrives. While there are institutions and associations that support our activity, everything is people-­driven. Stability in our sport improves when participants both give and take. And finally, while we may partake in a certain sector of the sport, which is important for both improvement and contribution, variety is good for staying enthused.

Words are nothing without action, however, so to ensure I’m doing my part to help the sport thrive, I present to you, dear reader, my agenda for 2017 and beyond. Ask yourself: What might I do?

Go Windsurfing More than 40 years ago, Hoyle and Diane Schweitzer introduced their board-and-sail contraption, and while in junior sailing classes with their children, I was consumed by the fun, the freedom and the lessons it offered. I can’t recall the last time I went windsurfing, so this year I will go to relive some of the past and enjoy some of the present. Hopefully, people will see me doing it. More people should be windsurfing. Creating interest can be that easy.

Have a Hobie Day My first job was for a boat dealership that sold Hobie Cats. I would race the demo boats in a summer beer-can series. I moved on after a few near-death Hobie 16 pitch-pole experiences, though I returned to win the US Sailing Championship of Champions in a Hobie 18. So I have some roots, shallow as they may be, and in my town there’s a rental outfit where I can lay down a credit card, pay $35 an hour, and push off the beach for some Hobie sailing. There are even a few stops along the shoreline for liquid replenishment, though the best part of the day may be the ease of returning the boat: just pull it up on the beach and walk away. No ownership blues.

Race Locally The core of our sport is local participation. While the spotlight often shines brightest on regional events and championships, there would be massive landslides in our sport if not for a sturdy base. Sustainability comes from local participation in casual events — the kind of events that welcome boats with comfortable furniture. My wife and I just bought an Alerion Express 28, which will be our platform to support low-key competition on San Diego Bay. I can already hear myself saying, “One hand for the boat, one hand for the beverage.”

Attend a PHRF Meeting I’m not sure if there’s a more maligned organization than PHRF. One is led to believe that each local board is filled with self-serving, misinformed, small-minded back-markers concerned only with their own rating. Truthfully, I’m not sure about all that, but I plan to be a visitor at my local fleet’s monthly meeting. PHRF is a vital gateway to our sport, providing boat owners with a simplified means to experience competition. It is hugely important that it functions fairly so it can encourage participation, and I’m eager to understand it better.

Be a Cheerleader I’ve heard many stories about individuals having a significant impact on their local fleet. They’re the motivators, on the phone getting people fired up to go sailing. They help out with logistics, refurbish old boats, or share sailing tips. They are the local cheerleaders, and every sailing area needs them. They enjoy the game, and they know the game is more enjoyable with active and enthusiastic participants. I look forward to being a rah-rah for the cruiser/racer clan, encouraging participation in a sector of the sport that has diminished in our heightened climate of serious competition.

Corinthian Competition Our sport is more competitive than ever, with boat owners investing significant time and money in winning championships. There are now many skilled sailors willing to share their expertise — but only for a fee. In certain classes and events that allow paid crew and coaches, this is how the game is played. However, this growth of professionalism must fit within the sport and not overtake it. Amateur sailors must still be the priority. I will call upon professionals to give back to the sport, and champion events that recognize the accomplishments of amateur teams.

Volunteer for the Race Committee If I think about how many races I’ve been in, versus how many I’ve helped run, the ratio is somewhere between meager and pathetic. The sport is lucky to have volunteers fully devoted to running races — it is their recreation. But I also hear how the volunteer numbers in some areas aren’t what they used to be. I have been a member of two clubs in my area, and this year I will raise my hand to help with the race committee and bring a few others along.

Kids and Keelboats There is a well-paved road for youth dinghy sailing. Participation is emphasized in institutional doublehanders, all leading toward high school and college competition. I hear people say that foiling is the future, and how the odds are getting longer to get kids into keelboats. I disagree. I say the more choices, the better the odds that more kids will stay in sailing. We will bring along kids in the Alerion and encourage others to do the same.

Beer-Can Racing Each harbor needs to sort out what it takes to motivate boat owners to participate in weekend events. A full weekend of windward/leeward racing excludes cruisers and casual racers. Simpler weekday beer-can races appeal to a broader group. Maybe weekend races need to adjust. Getting away from work in time for the beer-can races has been tough for me, typically, but I will overcome that challenge and go beer-can racing.

Intergenerational Events There are more kids sailing today than when I was young, but the youth of today are typically seen competing against their peers. While this trend succeeds as a social experiment, what it lacks are the lessons learned by competing against and with other age groups. It’s an asset in sailing when all ages and genders can compete together, and I plan to be on the starting line this summer for the Dutch Shoe Marathon. This iconic San Diego event in 8-foot Naples Sabots — boxy prams with leeboards — is popular with juniors but also open to adults. The point-to-point course travels over 7 miles through sections of San Diego Bay, where I will sail side by side with preteens. The shared experience is priceless.

At the 2016 induction ceremony for the National Sailing Hall of Fame, inductee Malin Burnham spoke of the importance of “community before self.” His message is that we all succeed when we look beyond our personal objectives. With my planned actions for 2017, I hope to do the same. By sharing them publicly, I will be motivated to follow through. Will you?

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