It’s early April on Miami’s Biscayne Bay, with an 18-knot easterly, gnarly chop and ribbons of sargassum seaweed—tough fare for racing any boat. We’re at the 2023 Don Q Snipe Regatta, heading uphill and racing against competitors with decades of experience in the class, as well as a slew of young hotshots and some first-­timers—40 teams in all. It’s baptism by fire, my first real experience racing a Snipe. And like many who jump into the boat for the first time, I’m being served heaps of humble pie. About the only time my crew, Danielle Wiletsky, and I see the top of the fleet is when we cross paths on opposite legs of the course.

The upside is that we have a ringside seat to their techniques. At one point, we watch as the eventual regatta-winning team of Ernesto Rodriguez and Kathleen Tocke round the weather mark. He hands her the tiller extension and mainsheet, slides back to clear weeds off the rudder, then takes over again. Blink and we’ll miss it.

“It’s something we’ve practiced,” Rodriguez tells me afterward.

Then it’s back to the business of riding waves, Tocke at times with her face almost at the headstay when going down waves, then rapidly sliding aft as the ride nears its end. It’s the product of years of muscle memory, and Tocke and Rodriguez are clearly in sync. Tocke, who first sailed the Snipe in 2008, says they don’t talk much on their boat. “Occasionally, he’ll tell me to hike harder,” she adds, “not because I’m not, but more as encouragement.”

Soon they’re a speck on the horizon as we plod our way upwind to the mark.

We’re not alone at the humble-pie buffet. Here at the Don Q, scores of top-notch sailors, ex-collegiate and otherwise, come with high expectations only to leave with egos battered and bruised by class veterans, many old enough to be their parents. Rodriguez has been at this for more than two decades. Plus, he regularly trains with the likes of Hall of Famer Augie Diaz, who has been in the class for 56 years and won more Snipe championships than space allows here, and Peter Commette, 36 years in the class, a former Olympian, a Laser world champion, and keeper of his share of big-time Snipe titles as well. “They taught me a lot,” Rodriguez says. “I’m still part of that group, and we always go back and forth with information, sharing a lot about tuning and ways to best sail the boat.”

The Don Q was started by class icon Gonzalo Diaz in 1966 and named after its rum sponsor. It’s been held every year since, even during the pandemic. As boats set up at the host Coconut Grove Sailing Club, with the overflow at the US Sailing Center to the north, it’s impossible not to notice the number of 30-somethings—not only as crew, but also skippers.

At a gathering at a recent Snipe event, Augie Diaz asked, “How many here are under 30?” Over half raised their hands.

So, how is it that a 1931 design is still going strong? With its 380-pound hull, unstylishly high boom, and an off-wind setup requiring a whisker pole, it’s a quirky boat that doesn’t align with modern metrics for success. Cue the Snipe class promotional video and enter Gonzalo Diaz, affectionately known as “Old Man.” Born in 1930, his Snipe career began in Havana at age 15. He left Cuba in 1965, settled in Miami, joined the Coconut Grove Sailing Club, and began working his magic in the local Snipe fleet.

“He was the kind of fleet-builder who spent a lot of his private time helping people get into Snipes,” says his son, Augie. About 30 years ago, he started a rent-to-own program. “He’d get a boat and pretty much let a prospective owner say how much they wanted to rent the boat for. The rental fee went toward the boat’s purchase. If it took them five years to pay the boat off, that was fine with him. If it took 10 years, that was fine too.” Augie admits that it’s tough to tell just how many boats his father ran through this program, but he ­estimates it’s well over 30.

“It’s a great way to promote the boat,” says Alex Pline, of Annapolis, “because those renting boats have skin in the game. The longer they rent the boat, the more they have invested in it and the less likely they are to give that all up.”

There are rumors about a Miami-area warehouse full of an ­unsubstantiated number of Snipes—usually in the double digits—and it’s clear who the supplier is.

Pline’s fleet adopted a version of the Old Man’s program in 2021. His wife, Lisa, says: “I love stealing good ideas. We’re on our third boat and our fourth person, who just got busy with other stuff. But we were able to turn that boat over pretty quickly.”

Rodriguez, also from Cuba, was a Laser sailor who met Old Man shortly after arriving in the States. “He gave me a boat to use for free and helped me out in a bunch of ways, including getting me in ­regattas when I couldn’t afford it.”

Greg Saldana, another Old Man recruit, had never sailed a Snipe but showed enough interest to catch Diaz’s attention. “We met at the US Sailing Center when there were just trailers and a bunch of boats. Here comes this little guy in a van. He gets out, and he’s carrying a briefcase, pen and a piece of paper, ready for me to sign. I said, ‘Wait a minute. Before I sign, can we first go sailing?’ He really didn’t want to because it was really hot out, but we went. We didn’t even get out of the channel when he said, ‘You’re going to do fine. Let’s go back.’ And I signed.”

The list goes on, and although Old Man passed away in early March 2023, Augie carries on his father’s legacy. “He had a love for the class that was infectious. I don’t know how many people I’ve brought into the class,” he says, “but I’ll always be behind the number my father brought in. I keep trying to catch up to him. I don’t keep count. I’m just going to keep doing what’s good for the class.”

There are rumors about a Miami-area warehouse full of an ­unsubstantiated number of Snipes—usually in the double digits—and it’s clear who the supplier is. As my crew observed, “It seems almost every boat here was either owned by Augie or is being ­borrowed from him for this event.”

That includes us. We quickly get a taste of another component of the Snipe’s continued success as Pline comes over while we are setting up the boat. He helps us get the rig base settings correct, and Andrew Pimental, the US Snipe builder who is right next to us in the parking area, jumps in as well.

“Everyone’s always helping each other,” says Charlie Bess, who crewed with Enrique Quintero to take second in the Don Q. “It doesn’t matter if it’s someone’s first time in the class or someone who’s been around for decades. You can ask them anything.”

The assistance doesn’t end in the boat park. Just after the start of the first race, our hiking stick universal breaks, and as we are approaching the club dock, two people rush to see what had happened. It’s Saldana and his crew, Grace Fang. “We got out to the end of the channel and decided we didn’t want to deal with those conditions,” Fang tells us. They quickly offer up the tiller and hiking stick from their boat, and we make it out for the second race. With a no-throw-out series, it was a tough way to start a regatta, but the hospitality put it all into perspective.

Later that evening, I was about to deal with our universal repair when I find our original tiller and hiking stick back in our boat, repaired and ready for the next day, no doubt the work of Saldana and Fang. We discover later that Saldana was Old Man’s regular crew and close friend for many years. Saldana and Fang are not here just for the racing either.

“We couldn’t attend the memorial for Old Man,” Fang says, “but we thought just being here for this event would be a good way to honor him. I think there are others here for the same reason.”

On the water, top Snipe sailor Jato Ocariz serves as the fleet coach, coming alongside boats between races to offer advice. On the second day, with the wind now around 15 but still a strong chop, he has us sail upwind so he can check our setup. “Put two more turns on your shrouds and move your jib leads back,” he says. And just like that, we are able to point better and log our best finish, just about midfleet.

One of the class’s most successful endeavors is recruiting younger sailors. Bess is a self-confessed poster child for the effort. “When I was 15, Augie sent me an email, along with around 10 other juniors in our program. He got us a boat, provided coaching and helped us out. That’s how I got into the class,” Bess says. Now she’s the Miami Snipe fleet captain and on the class’s “next gen” committee, which focuses on attracting 30-somethings. “The idea behind it is that a lot of people do junior sailing, then college sailing, graduate and discover they have no place to go. We try to make the point that we are that next step.”

What is it about the Snipe that appeals to that demographic? For starters, there’s a practical component. Commette says: “Over the last 20 years, people have won Snipe world championships in boats that were 10 to 15 years old. I just sold a 1998 boat I wasn’t racing anymore. It’s one of the best boats I’ve ever sailed, and it could win a world championship easy. That’s the great thing about the Snipe. You can get an old boat and be competitive. You can get a used Jibe Tech or Persson for $5K, put some time into it, a couple of hundred dollars to update lines and things, and win a Worlds with it. That’s what makes it so fantastic for young kids.”

The boat is also a technical step up from junior and college sailing boats, but not so much that it’s intimidating. The spreaders can be adjusted to accommodate a range of crew weights, the mast can be moved fore and aft at deck level with a lever or block-and-tackle system, and there are the usual jib and main controls. Class veterans Carol Cronin and crew Kim Couranz are at the lighter end of the weight spectrum, which, according to Diaz, is optimally around 315 to 320 pounds, making it well within reach for mixed-gender teams and smaller teams. “There are enough controls that you can customize the boat to how heavy you are and how tall you are,” Cronin says. “Like the Star, the bendy mast keeps the boat exciting to sail. It takes a little more technique, but it also means you can tune the mast to fit a wider variety of weights.” Despite a breezy first two days, Cronin and Couranz finish ninth overall.

Then there’s the class motto: “Serious sailing, serious fun.” That appeals to the younger crowd. “I’ve always thought it sounds a little cheesy,” Bess says, but it’s entirely accurate. Taylor Schuermann, who crews for Diaz, says: “There’s a tremendous amount of enthusiasm, now more than ever, from that group. We have a WhatsApp group, and on Monday and Tuesday people are already asking, ‘Who’s going out this weekend?’ People are chomping at the bit to practice, sail together, and really put in that effort. Then when you show up to a regatta, no matter how long you’ve been in the class, it feels like a family reunion.”

And like a reunion, there are always those moments when you remember who is absent. Fittingly, the regatta’s Saturday night Cuban dinner includes a celebration of Old Man’s life, with photos, videos and a lot of storytelling.

“It’s all about peer groups,” Lisa Pline says, “and keeping it fun and competitive.”

Carter Cameron got into the lease-to-own program in Annapolis, says Evan Hoffman, the current Snipe class secretary. “All of a sudden, he started inviting all of his friends and became sort of a lightning rod for the fleet. Now he’s in San Diego, working for Quantum, and he’s doing the same kind of thing there.”

There is a downside, however, to the youth recruiting scheme, Pline says. “Every time we bring a new kid into the class, I think, ‘Oh, great, another kid who’s going to kick my ass.’”

The class also hosts under-30 regattas. “We found that if you can get a younger person interested in a Snipe, they’ll get other people their own age interested as well,” Pline says. “The U30 events really help with that. The idea is that it’s a regatta for younger people—it’s the older generation, if you will, reaching out to younger sailors, loaning boats for the event, doing whatever we can to make it successful.”

Over the years, the Snipe has withstood a lot of competition from startup classes that have the mentality of keeping it simple and easy.

Over the years, the Snipe has withstood a lot of competition from startup classes that have the mentality of keeping it simple, easy, and all the things that would make it a Laser-like doublehanded boat. “But the problem is,” Commette says, “that’s a dumbed-down type of sailing. While the Laser has excelled for what it is, it doesn’t teach you how to do so many other things necessary to become a really good all-around sailor. With the Snipe, you learn so much more, which is why so many America’s Cup champions, so many Olympians, so many other world champions have had significant Snipe experience.”

“One of the things that’s always appealed to me,” Cronin says, “is that, if you look at Old Man and Augie, you realize, ‘I can keep doing this for a long time, if I stay fit and stay interested.’”

I can relate. As a late adopter to the Snipe myself—let’s just say a few years past my retirement—I now know firsthand from the Don Q that I’ve got a long way to go to get to the front of the Snipe fleet. Thankfully, I’m guided by Old Man’s legacy and the efforts of many others in the class. Keep at it, ask the right questions, and someday I might be within shouting distance of Rodriguez. I’m sure many of the new kids in the class hope for the same.

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Kathleen Tocke is curled up in the bottom of the Snipe, ­thinking she might die, fearful she might not. The supercrew had a bad reaction to seafood, and to say she is not at her best is to put it kindly. While Tocke rides out her problema estomacal during a fortunate postponement at the Snipe Western Hemispheres, her skipper Ernesto Rodriguez relaxes in the cockpit, hiking boots off, bare feet up, ghosting around the starting area. He has no doubt Tocke will rally when the time comes.

After an hour delay, the breeze fills, the AP comes down, and Tocke rises from her death bed. Soon enough, she’s hiking off her toes and executing roll tacks, roll jibes and pole sets with explosive power punctuated by her flying ponytail. The team posts a 1-2 for the day and moves up the leader board.

Regarding her super-human motivation, Tocke later chuckles, “I just hike harder so it will be over faster.”

Rodriguez has seen Tocke in similar circumstances in the past, which is why he was never concerned. With a laugh, he says, “I knew when the sequence started, she would transform into another beast.”

In the Snipe class, 2021 is the year of Rodriguez and Tocke. They’ve been on fire, winning the Snipe North Americans, the Snipe European Championship and the Snipe US Nationals. For good measure, Tocke won the Snipe US Women’s Nationals, ­crewing for skipper Rachel Bryer.

Coming from behind is one of Tocke’s favorite topics. “Our best races were those we climbed from the abyss. Ernesto doesn’t give up. No matter how much pain we’re in, we just keep going.”

For his part, Rodriguez agrees. Of all the wins of the past year, his favorite was the Europeans. “We were the only US team there,” he says. “We felt like we had a target on our backs.”

After an OCS on the second day of that championship, the team had to be more conservative on the starting line. They relied on their speed, tactics and teamwork to win the event, which Tocke notes comes easily. “We’re really good friends,” she says. “He’s like a brother who’s also a pain in the neck. We don’t talk in the boat. I can anticipate if he’s going to tack or not. We only talk when we really need to. That really helps so we can focus on our jobs ­without having too much going on.”

It’s no secret that Rodriguez is supremely fit. Snipe builder Andy Pimental, of Jibe Tech, recalls a situp contest at a regatta where Rodriguez put everyone to shame. Tocke, however, believes a lot of people overlook his critical acumen on the racecourse.

“Ernesto can see wind other people don’t see,” she says. “It’s not just hiking around the racecourse. People hear his accent and they think, ‘Here’s this dude who goes to the gym.’ They have no idea the brain power inside that head.”

A lot of Rodriguez’s success in Snipes can be traced back to his Cuban upbringing, where he was a member of the national ­sailing team.

“In Cuba, we spent a lot of time sailing: five days a week, three hours a day for 10 years,” he says. “Being on the water that much at an early age, you develop a sense for what needs to be done, what is the maximum speed in the conditions. Those years in Cuba helped me, knowing I can get to another level, which translates to good results.”

There are a lot of different opinions with regard to which Snipe sails are best, which Snipe hulls are optimal, and what method is the ultimate to tune the unique 15-foot doublehander first built in 1931. There is no debate, however, with regard to the heart and soul of this class. Everyone agrees it’s National Sailing Hall of Famer Augie Diaz, who is known affectionately as “the Old Man.”

This old man, by the way, will sail circles around any unsuspecting whippersnapper in a Snipe.

Born in 1954, Diaz has a long list of accomplishments, ­including College Sailor of the Year, two-time Snipe World Champion, and 11-time Snipe US National Champion. He is the living, breathing embodiment of the Snipe class motto: “Serious sailing, serious fun.”

When asked why Rodriguez and Tocke sail so well, Diaz is ­animated and enthusiastic. “Oh my God, you must start with the fact that both are incredible athletes, strong and quick,” he says. “Then recognize they are both terrific sailors. Ernesto has a lot of time in the Laser, the purest form of racing. It’s mano a mano.”

Diaz has known Rodriguez since the younger sailor defected from Cuba in 1996. “Ernesto’s upbringing in Cuba, Laser sailing was very hard. Everyone in the Laser fleet worked against Ernesto, and because of that, he is very tough. Kathleen sailed with me for more than 10 years. Even though she won’t admit it, I taught her a few things. Kathleen was a figure skater. Figure skaters, ­gymnasts, those athletes do really well in the Snipe.”

While COVID-19 shut down a lot of major regattas in 2020, it created an opportunity for some Snipe sailors to train in Florida. Legendary Polish sailor Mateusz Kusznierewicz, who won a Finn Olympic gold medal and a Star World Championship, was staying at Diaz’s home in Miami when COVID-19 hit hard. Unable to leave the country, Kusznierewicz agreed to coach Rodriguez, Diaz and other Snipe sailors.

“We were going out in the afternoons, three, four, five times a week,” Diaz recalls.

In those tuning sessions, Rodriguez and Tocke laid a ­foundation for their performance in the year 2021. Rodriguez says Kusznierewicz did not give the team one magical piece of advice or a belt full of silver bullets. “It was a lot of small details that we went over,” Rodriguez says. “Small changes are the ones that make big differences for us.”

On the racecourse, Diaz wants to win just as much as anyone else, but he also wants the Snipe class to thrive. Countless sailors have entered the class through the Diaz borrow-a-boat program, including Rodriguez. “My father and I sponsored Ernesto in the Snipe class in 1997,” Diaz says. “We gave him a boat. He started sailing with us. My father and I are helping him get faster. And he gets faster and faster. And he’s beating us. But we still keep ­helping him.”

When asked how many Snipes he has loaned out over the decades, Diaz laughs and says, “Too many.” He notes: “I’ve gotten a lot out of the Snipe class. Even if I dedicated the rest of my life to giving back, I wouldn’t be able to give back enough.”

Getting young sailors into Snipes is one of the activities Diaz takes seriously. “I refer to them as red ants,” he says. “When you are on the racecourse, they are crawling all over you and they are biting you. It’s all these young guys kicking my butt. I love it. I love winning, but I like seeing the class do well even more than winning.”

While Rodriguez is quick on the racecourse, he is just as fast to offer advice to newcomers, especially those languishing in the middle of the fleet.

Building and sustaining the class may well be one of the most important things Tocke learned from her decade crewing for Diaz. The Snipe class opened a lot of doors in a lot of countries for Tocke, who points out that she did not grow up in a wealthy family. Rather, she grew up in a family that was head over heels in love with sailing. Because of that experience, she wants young people to have the same opportunities. She is quick to organize seminars, encourage newcomers, and host Snipe regattas for women.

Back on the course, the competition between the top teams is tight. No quarter is given. But unlike other classes where the exchanges can get chippy, there is a lot of respect. Rodriguez has a reputation for being a gentleman on and off the water.

“I think that friendships can be very competitive on the water,” he says. “But it is important to not breach the rules. I would never jeopardize my friendship with Augie over one race or one regatta, or one world championship. Our relationship off the water is more important to me than on the water. I cannot take credit for my behavior. I learned that from Augie. I was not brought up that way in Cuba. I’m glad that he is in my life. He is a good example for me and a lot of people in the class.”

Tocke and Rodriguez are, of course, both students of the game. One of the many reasons they have excelled this year is because the other sailors in the Snipe class have shared information with them and pushed them hard. They have had an amazing year, but they did not win all of their regattas. At the Western Hemispheres, Diaz and crew Barbara Brotons emerged victorious, as the Old Man should, with Rodriguez and Tocke right there cheering them on.

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For more than 30 years, the Snipe—a hard-chine 15-footer almost a century old—has been my teacher. I first stepped into one as a newbie 20-something, as a crew for the most demanding skipper I’ve ever sailed with. That unlikely “blind date” led to countless friendships, fitness, failures and, of course, fun.

Snipe sailing takes me all over the country and around the world—and brings me right back home to Rhode Island’s Narragansett Bay, where Kim Couranz and I won the Snipe Women’s Worlds in 2018. I’ve rigged boats in a shivery, rain-soaked Danish boat park; surfed ocean waves in Japan, where swells seemed to swallow boats and rigs whole. I’ve drifted around a Massachusetts lake so small that I could overhear an international sailor wonder aloud where the races would be conducted. If variety is the spice of life, the Snipe is the cayenne pepper of one-design sailing.

What draws me to this quirky one-design is the challenge to improve—the continuum of learning and personal growth that eventually took me all the way to the Olympics. Usually, sailors become lifers in whatever class they grow up sailing. Even though racing dominated my teen summers and college years, I didn’t have my first Snipe sighting until age 25. Wandering the docks during a springtime visit to Annapolis, Maryland, I spotted a pair of Snipes out practicing. The boom seemed so ridiculously high that I didn’t quite believe it when my tour guide explained that the Snipe was one of the most competitive classes around. Really? That funny little boat?

One month later, I received that first crewing invitation. After several years away from competitive sailing, I certainly wasn’t thinking about the next 30 years, or how much this odd craft could teach me; I was just hoping I wouldn’t completely embarrass myself. As soon as I hung up the phone, I researched it.

No spinnaker? How could this be any fun?

Five days later, Ed Adams and I won the 1990 Chesapeake Olympic Classes Regatta. I was hooked. Snipe sailing, Adams told me on the long drive home, was where college sailors go to die—because it provides a similar tactical and social vibe. Yet, even as a newbie crew, I’d already tasted the additional overlay of technical challenge. I was hungry—no, famished—to learn more. “I gotta regatta,” I remember telling myself and my friends as I signed on to crew for as many weekends as possible. Snipes migrated to Florida in the winter, I discovered, unaware that learning the intricacies of Miami’s Biscayne Bay would eventually help me win the 2004 Olympic Trials in the Yngling. Regattas became my primary source of friendships, education and enjoyment—all centered on an easy road-trip package that was built and rigged right up the road from my home base.

Showing up for my first regatta as Adams’ crew gave me instant credibility and leapfrogged me right to the head of the class—where crewing slots are hard to come by. I went to my first world championship in Brazil with Andrew Pimental, owner of Jibetech, a Snipe class builder, who taught me that a laid-back style works as long as you hike harder and catch more waves than the competition. Two years of “cross-training” with Henry Filter showed me the total dedication of an Olympic campaign. Sailmakers Greg Fisher and George Szabo taught me how to tune (on and off the water), and proved once and for all that boatspeed kills—especially when we don’t take ourselves too seriously. And even though I met my husband through other sailing, he was welcomed into the Snipe family, until knee surgery forced him to give up dinghies.

I had my first taste at the helm when Pimental offered me his boat for a women’s national championship. Though it’s now a stand-alone event instead of a prelude to the Senior Nationals, this weekend of fun is still a fantastic entry point for any female—skipper, crew or undecided—who wants to dip a toe into the class. Steering, it turns out, is actually the easier job in the Snipe, partly because there’s a whole lot more room in the back half of the cockpit.

The 1998 Snipe Women’s Worlds, my first international test of helming skills, confirmed that I loved the gut-churning stress of skippering—and also revealed how much more I had to learn. Back in the front of the boat that winter, I peppered Szabo with questions—and also developed a little more attitude, since I now appreciated just how crucial a Snipe crew really is.

In 2001, my Snipe ­experience gave me just enough confidence to start an Olympic Yngling campaign. For teammates, I drew from the top of the Snipe roster. Early on, my team was known for a signature “Snipe look” upwind, as we turned our mainsail inside out to depower. Over time, of course, we refined our rig ­settings. Combined with that ­ever-present hunger to improve, I can confidently state that Snipe sailing helped me build a team that eventually won two races at the 2004 Games.

And of course, all that Yngling training helped me win a few Snipe regattas too. In 2002, when the annual DonQ Regatta in Miami coincided with a rare empty weekend, I teamed up with Pimental for what was supposed to be just a fun three days of sailing. It was, but we also won—once I convinced him to step up to the left more than he thought necessary. After so many training days on Biscayne Bay, I knew that’s where a dying northerly would fade last.

After an Olympic regatta, many sailors take time away from the sport to readjust goals, detox or focus on something else. I dived right back into Snipe sailing, gratefully applying everything I’d learned to competing with others who also lived a 9-to-5 life between regattas. Though I now identified as a skipper, I stepped back into the crewing position for a few select regattas; two Snipe Nationals and a world championship with Szabo, and a Masters Nationals with Peter Commette. Crewing is a fantastic way to learn—though it doesn’t replace making my own mistakes.

In 2010, I was finally able to buy my own Snipe. I also recruited a dependable, smart and entertaining teammate in Kim Couranz. I first gained respect for her brainy wit while comparing Snipe skipper notes, and later learned what a great keelboat teammate she is, but signing on as my Snipe teammate was a brave step; our combined weight was—and still is—30 pounds too light. Ignoring the naysayers, we charged the longtail of the Snipe’s learning curve.

Couranz and I have spent the past decade developing our own toolbox of Snipe speed tricks. Our competitors have patiently answered endless questions, even when we finish ahead of them, and we’ve refined our tuning and sail shape to match our personal strengths, though we are still searching for a setting that makes it possible to hang with the big boys in 12 to 18 knots. At the 2019 Snipe Worlds in Brazil, we achieved an important international milestone; I overheard a South American skipper refer to us as “Carol and Kim” rather than “the girls,” even though we were, as usual, the only all-female team at that 80-boat biennial regatta.

We’ve also realized that spontaneous laughter sometimes works as a weapon (“Are they laughing at me?”), and it is always the best cure for a bad race. Snipe sailing is both a ­priority and a part-time endeavor, slotted between jobs, husbands, houses—even other sports. For Couranz, an aerobic monster, a 50-mile running race is a fun adventure. Which reminds me of another benefit: Sailing a Snipe as a light team is an excellent fitness motivator. Thinking about how miserable I will be on the third beat at the next windy regatta is the incentive I need to push through a third set of reps in the gym, or gasp out one more aerobic interval—which, in turn, ­provides lifelong health benefits.

Thirty years ago, I blind-dated my way into a new family that has inspired so much personal growth—as a sailor of course, but also as a friend and wife and human. From 20-something to 50-something, from young and dumb to older and a bit wiser, I’ve climbed a huge learning curve without ever leaving the Snipe nest. The challenge to improve continues at every single regatta, and I’m still peppering my competitors (both young and old) with questions. With this quirky doublehanded dinghy, the learning never gets old.

The post A World of Snipe appeared first on Sailing World.

At the 2019 Snipe Worlds in Ilhabela, Brazil, I’d heard a lot about the Brazilian sailor with the nickname “Gigante.” Given the crew is usually the smaller of a Snipe team, and with a name like that, I’d always assumed he was the bigger of the two when I saw them together. Two months later, however, as we walk side by side across the parking lot of the Nassau Yacht Club in the Bahamas, we’re practically eye to eye. It’s Brazilian sarcasm, he tells me, with an engaging grin. “I’ve always been small, since I was a child. So, it’s a kind of joke.”

Henrique “Gigante” Haddad, the relatively unknown 32-year-old Snipe World champion, groomed in the rich South American one-design sailing scene, is one of several rookies in the Bahamas attempting to make a name for himself among the elite of the once-Olympic Star Class. He’s an invited guest at the annual Star Sailors League Finals, and on the day we meet for a late-afternoon coffee, he’s not only survived the qualifying races, but he’s soared into the top 10. Admittedly, he’s not much of a Star sailor, but over the past few days, he’s proved himself plenty capable of competing with the other invited skippers, as well as the legitimate giants of the Star class. For the regatta, the diminutive skipper teamed up with crew and countryman Henry Boening. Where Haddad lacks street cred in the Star, Boening is highly decorated. “Magilla,” as he’s known, has twice finished second in the SSL Finals, as well as the 2019 Star World Championship.

The Star Sailors League Finals is an invitation-only regatta, contested in Star boats. Its stated goal is far more inclusive than the choice of boat might suggest: to celebrate the champions, or the “stars,” of sailing and also to “­create those of tomorrow.” That’s how the tomorrow guys like Haddad get their invites. The League Finals are four days of racing on Montagu Bay, where 23 teams are winnowed to 10. On the last race day, three knockout races determined the final four, and after that, it’s a one‑race‑wins-it-all shootout.

The first pool of coveted invitations goes to sailors at the top of a league-managed global-ranking list, which is updated weekly and includes more than 50,000 sailors from 36 classes and disciplines. The next group of invited skippers have either recently won a major event or hail from a developing country (or both), ensuring a range of experience. For this 2019 edition, Haddad is one of them. The other rookies are Oskari Muhonen, a Finn sailor from Finland; Jee-min Ha, a Laser Olympian from Korea; and Ricardo Fabini, a Snipe champion from Uruguay. All three are paired with a competitive Star crew from a different country. New boat, new teammate, sometimes ­drastically different native tongues…what could possibly go wrong? Star boats are notoriously difficult to sail, so the class veterans have a definite advantage—even though some of their Olympic medals and gold-star emblems were won before three of these 2019 ­newbies were born.

Haddad is a full-time sailor who represented Brazil at the Rio Olympics in the 470, finishing 23rd of 26 teams. The 470 is a boat he says is “like a drug,” one he genuinely enjoys racing, and while he hopes to compete in the 2020 Tokyo Olympics, a disappointing pre-Olympic result this past summer has led him into racing other boats. “What helped me is that I sailed a lot this year,” he tells me, his brown eyes locked on mine, his smile mixing matter-of-fact with a dose of humility.

In September 2019, he and his teammates finished 13th at the J/70 Worlds, and then shortly thereafter, with only a few weeks of practice, he won the Snipe Worlds. There were plenty of Snipe class legends there too, including Haddad’s Olympic coach, Alexandre Paradeda—the 2001 Snipe World champion—and his Olympic 470 teammate Bruno Bethlem, himself a two-time world champion Snipe skipper. Beating his tuning partners, who he likens to older brothers, was fulfilling, he says. “It means I learned a lot with them, and I have a lot of respect.”

Unlike the other SSL Final rookies, Haddad lives in a ­country rich with Star sailing royalty and traditions. Brazil is home to the supremely talented Grael family (Torben and Lars in the Star, Martine in the 49erFX), as well as the most successful Star crew in the world, Bruno Prada. Haddad says Prada was instrumental in getting him up to speed in the Star, but even after enlisting Boening, who sails out of the same yacht club in Rio de Janeiro, he didn’t think they should even bother to practice ahead of the event in the Bahamas. “Let’s go there and have fun,” he remembers telling Boening, “because I thought it was almost impossible to be ­competitive at my weight.”

For the record, he’s roughly 143 pounds wet.

“The 470 guys who come [to the SSL], they have a lot of ­difficulty,” he says, “but Bruno told me that the races would be inside [Montagu Bay], where it’s going to be shifty. Magilla said I could be competitive, so then I asked him, ‘OK, how many days you can spend with me?’ And he said, ‘About 20.’”

He had his first crack at the Star in November, only a month before the championship, he tells me. He pauses to sip his coffee, unaware that he’s crumbled my misconception that the Bahamian event was his first time in a Star boat. “I did two regattas at my club,” he says, “one with Magilla, and the other with Bruno.”

He reminds me that Rio de Janeiro’s 30-boat Star fleet is revered around the world. “Many guys enjoyed that I had this possibility, so they helped me a lot—sharing and helping me train, and giving me some tips about the boat. The Star fleet in Brazil, it is quite strong.”

Twenty days of practice in the boat is a drop in the bilge ­compared with the experience of Star sailing legends, but it was more than twice what the other three newbies managed—­combined. Without that practice, he says, his performance in Nassau would be “very bad, for sure.”

After three days of racing, however, he says he’s feeling really competitive and understands the boat. Haddad then credits his teammate for much of this new confidence. “Magilla, he has a really good feeling about the boat. He asks me: ‘How is the rudder? How is the pressure on the boat?’ So I tell him, and he is just ­working on that.”

Boening also explains what each change does to the boat. Haddad talks to him a bit about settings or mast rake, but in the end, Haddad has the last word: “I just tell him what I’m feeling.”

The Star is different from any other boat he’s sailed, but he refers to it as a big Snipe. “But [downwind in] a Snipe, when you put the bow up, the boat doesn’t go,” he says, while in the Star, “it helps to go up higher and then quite lower, and so on.” Initially, he also struggled to feel connected to the boat upwind because he had to lengthen his hiking straps so much to compensate for shorter legs.

Nevertheless, he expects that much of what he is learning in Nassau during the League Finals will eventually help him in the 470—and with every other boat too. “It’s really incredible to feel the boat, the pressure, the settings. Many friends say that the Star is the best school because it has a huge main, and that’s true. It is unbelievable how you can feel the pressure and then talk about it, with running backstays in our hands. It’s not easy to keep going fast, but it’s easy to feel when the boat is overpowered or not powered enough.”

Before qualifying for the Finals’ finals, Haddad is confident that he and Boening can remain in the top 10. “Each day I’m feeling better,” he admits. “I hope that tomorrow may be better…that it’s going to be easy.” He smiles to indicate this is more sarcasm.

Easy? Not a chance. Better? Yes. Much better. The young Brazilian skipper and his crew win the first race of the day and finish fifth in the 10-boat quarterfinals. They’re the only newbies to advance to the next round. The breeze drops for the one-race ­semifinals, the lightest conditions of the week, and after struggling with acceleration off the starting line, they finish last—cementing seventh overall. But the top-six teams, collectively, have won a total of nine Olympic medals and 14 world championships. The four finalists all have gold stars on their mainsails, indicating a previous Star world victory.

What is it like sailing against such a legendary lineup? Haddad says he doesn’t think about who he is racing against—at least not while he’s on the water. “Obviously, I ask Magilla where is some guy, but more to know about the course,” he says. “I don’t think, Who is this guy that’s next to us? I’m sailing, just like it was a nice night.”

Ashore, with all the sailors staying at the same hotel, it’s a ­different story. “When we have a breakfast together, or gather after sailing, we realize who we are sailing against,” Haddad says, his gaze wandering across the yacht club’s pool deck. The other teams have already returned to the hotel. “It’s really interesting to have ­breakfast with Hamish Pepper, also Mateusz and the others.”

When asked if he knew many of the legends before arriving here, he shakes his head. “Only the match-racing guys: Taylor Canfield, also Torvar Mirsky and Ian Williams. Oh, and Fabini, from the Snipe. The other guys—no, I didn’t.”

And then, brown eyes locking on me once again, he names an absent Star legend. “To be here with these kind of guys, for me it’s really interesting because my father is one of the best friends of Torben Grael.” Haddad’s father covered the two Olympic Games (1996 and 2004) as a journalist, when Grael won his two Star gold medals. “This is my memory from when I started sailing: It was just after the gold medal of Torben and Marcelo, and my father had just come back from the Olympic Games. So I grew up watching them. To be here, fighting with these guys in the Star class 20 years after, is something that for sure I never expected. Because of my weight, I couldn’t imagine one day to be sailing in Star.”

And though he’s already shattered my misconceptions about his rookie status, something he says makes me certain that Haddad will live up to his nickname in the coming years. “I really enjoy sailing,” he says, eyes twinkling and grin stretching even wider than usual. “I pass almost 24 hours thinking about it, how to make things better and how to make the boat go fast. These days here are helping me a lot. And I’m sure that tomorrow, I’m going to feel even more comfortable than I am today.”

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Vince960

For the past few years, professional videographer and veteran Snipe sailor Vincent Casalaina (Sail No. 30569) has been working on a documentary about the class called “Serious Sailing, Serious Fun.” The final film will be 45-minutes long and feature footage of top racers like 2012 world champion Alexandre Tinoco and U.S. women’s champion Carol Cronin. Casalaina has put in tons of work bringing the project as far as it’s come, but in order to reach his funding goal of $7,500, he’s asking sailors to pitch in however they can.

“I’m narrowing in on finishing the doc this summer, through the use of various crowd-sourcing tools,” says Casalaina, who has set up donation boxes at Kickstarter and with the International Snipe Class. “On Kickstarter, you don’t get charged until the project reaches its funding goal, so pledge what you can and help me reach my goal.

“The documentary showcases the Snipe Class, but really speaks about all those people who compete in one-design dinghies,” he continues. “As best I know, this is the only professional documentary that has been done on a one-design dinghy class in the recent past. Several were attempted around the Star class centenary, but none of them succeeded in getting seed funding, let alone completion money.”

So far, the project has raised almost $1,000 on Kickstarter and has pledges of $2,000 to SCIRA. To get an idea of the effort Casalaina has already invested in the project, check out this 6-minute trailer.

Casalaina also recently produced the following video at the Snipe class’ 2012 Las Vegas Regatta in San Diego, Calif.

To donate to the “Serious Sailing, Serious Fun” project on Kickstarter, click here. Or, contribute through the International Snipe Class by sending a donation to:

SCIRA
2812 Canon St.
San Diego, CA 92106

In additoin, Casalaina has entered the International Movie Trailer Festival , another crowd-source funding avenue. The trailer with the most votes at the close of the contest in March receives $5,000 and a distribution deal.

The post Serious About His Snipe Documentary appeared first on Sailing World.