Article by Howard Rice
Somewhere just west of Cove Island light in northern Lake Huron the breeze had gone from wild and wooly to near zero. I was eighteen and on my first Port Huron to Mackinac race aboard Herb Mainwaring’s legendary race boat the Chance 30/30 Easterly. I was the kid on board, the rest were all rock star adult racing sailors. I was all about learning as only a green kid can, I was all ears all the time. I absorbed everything. I had been foredeck crew aboard Easterly for one straight bullet winning season after being plucked from the local youth Penguin fleet after my own little winning streak, much of it accomplished in frustrating light air.
I felt grateful, a bit out of place and dazzled to be aboard with famous racing sailors figuring my success racing Penguins had been due more to the ineptitude of the other sailors than on my beginner’s skill set yet here I was working foredeck. We were headed for the finish line and a class victory after a wild night when the breeze dropped to nothing. A few other boats were nearby parked in the early morning glass. On board we moved like cats on egg shells and then I heard the call from the cockpit, “Break out the Sweets, it’s time to find some breeze.” The “Sweet” was the horrible smelling Swisher Sweet cigar.
