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Some of the best gifts come in small packages. So it was when my sister-in-law asked me and my husband if we would race her Herreshoff 12½ in the Annapolis Yacht Club’s Wednesday night series. Sidelined while recovering from back surgery, she couldn’t bear to see her beloved boat beached as well.
It was an intriguing offer, one you might say we couldn’t refuse. We had long admired the classy lines of this cheeky little sloop that Cindy had, for many years, sailed the wheels off of in the AYC series. We never got into the predictably Byzantine controversies surrounding the boat and its class (simply called H Class) including debates over rigs (Marconi or gaff-rigged), hull provenance (fiberglass versus wood), etc. When a boat has been in continuous production for 110 years—110 years—you can expect some kerfuffles.
All we cared about was the chance to spend time sailing this design, which Nathanael Herreshoff drew in 1914 to a brief from one Robert W. Emmons II and several of his friends. They asked the Wizard of Bristol—he of the likes of America’s Cup defender Columbia and countless other majestic and ultimately historic yachts—for a small boat suitable for children to manage even in the feisty breezes of Buzzards Bay (hence her first nickname, the Buzzards Bay Boy’s Boat). The goal also was a boat in which kids could “become familiar with the characteristics of the type of larger sailboats to which they might graduate later on,” according to the H Class Association website.
“It is unlikely that in 1914 or 1915 the genius of Nathanael G. Herreshoff or the inspiration of Mr. Emmons could have foretold the unique popularity and longevity of the design we have now seen for more than 100 years,” the website continues. “She is still considered to be one of the finest, if not the finest, small sailing yacht designs ever created. And as it turned out, the boat was perfect for all ages in the family, not just the kids.”
She really is a little big boat, with a full keel and a displacement of 1,500 pounds plus 735 pounds of ballast helping provide a profound stability we ran into on our first race day when the jib halyard block broke before the start. No problem, Johnny said, we’ll just sail over to a dock where we can get high enough to careen her a bit to reach the spar and replace it. Hah! Not a shot. We were DNS that day.
At 16 feet LOA, the 12½ refers to her waterline length of 12 feet, 6 inches, which sounds really tiny, yet her flared topsides and fine entry mean she can handle a chop (Buzzards Bay, remember), she rarely gets on her ear, and even if splashed now and then, you feel totally secure in her roomy cockpit.
You also feel like you’re in a Winslow Homer painting. The first time we sailed her, I found myself channeling Gatsby and Daisy. It would not go amiss, I thought, to include sloe gin fizzes in the gear bag.
That DNS, though, gets to the other reason we couldn’t refuse Cindy’s offer. It’s been many moons, two kids, a couple of houses, several jobs, six dogs, and several thousands of cruising miles since we’ve been on the racecourse together. What better way to ease back into it than this forgiving little boat which, in spite of its size or perhaps because of it, inspires a certain genteel intensity in those who sail her. Or intense gentility. Sometimes it’s not clear which.
But last night at the start, I looked over as five of us crossed the line together in a row, those jaunty bows glimmering in the late-day light, and I thought how remarkable it is that more than a century later, this little big boat can still be teaching us how to sail fast and well, and with joy.
Keep on sailing,
Wendy
wclarke@aimmedia.com
August/September 20247
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