Voyage of the RedHood
Tromsø, Wednesday June 16, 3:30PM
Pictures added Tuesday, June 22, 5:00PM

'She's called the RedHat,' shouted Thor-Magne from the bow of the boat.

'Or, no, what do you call this?' he asked, motioning towards his jacket. A hood? 'Yes, the RedHood. It's a character in a Norwegian folk story. She goes into the woods to visit her grandmother,' and you all know the rest of the story.

'OK, pull!' Thor-Magne shouted through the wind and the rain, and I gave the rope I was holding a mighty heave. The frontsail flapped furiously and filled with wind, and I quickly fastened the rope in place.

The race was only thirty minutes old, but already it was clear that something was going terribly right. Captain Thor-Magne had an insight at the starting line that set him apart from the other fifteen captains: by veering right and heading out towards the open water, we had caught a wind that the others were missing. A quick glance down at the read-out indicated that our speed had broken seven knots - a great achievement for a vessel of our size!

Our Captain stepped down from the bow and returned to where the rest of his motley crew were standing. First, there were the experienced ones: his two young sons - Tom-Arne and Stian - who knew their way around the boat. Then there were the two newbies: Linda, a soon-to-be sailor from the south of Norway; and little ol' me, assisting in the navigation of a sailing ship for the first time.

But our moment of proud reflection on the new top speed was brief - it was time to get back to work! First Officer Tom-Arne steered and helped his father direct the rest of the crew. And Linda and I pulled and fastened ropes, listening intently for the Captain's next request.

Tom-Arne suddenly observed that the frontsail had become caught on the railing at the side of the ship, and he mentioned it to his father who was hard at work on the mainsail.

'Robert,' Thor-Magne asked, 'Could you go up there and fix it?'

I must have looked nervous. He added, gently, 'Only if you want to, of course.'

I'd seen both of them venture out onto the bow before and so I knew it was possible. I nodded, mustered up my courage, and decided I'd make it so. Hopping up on the rain-soaked bow, I clung to the mainsail and stumbled towards the front.

I grabbed on to the frontsail just as my right foot gave way, and I found myself hanging on for dear life. It was such a movie moment, but this time around I wasn't filming! After what happened to the last camera, I certainly wasn't bringing the Zoom800 out in the rain onto the bow of the boat. I regained my balance, lifted the sail back over the railing, and glanced back to see the rest of the crew giving me a thumbs-up. I staggered back towards them and got back to work.

The sky was grey and the rain was pelting down, but in the thrill of the race I hardly noticed. We raced on for almost another hour until the rain let up and the skies cleared.

We looked around to see that the RedHood and her crew were way ahead of every vessel in our class. Indeed, we were in the middle of the boats from the faster class! Thor-Magne's strategy had paid off in spades, and we were on our way to victory.

Or so it seemed until the wind died.

Here we were, in the middle of the really fast ships, with the bridge, the docks and the finish line in plain sight, the skies clearing and the wind giving out on us. But this, Thor-Magne assured us, is what sailing is all about, and we should wait it out. So I pulled out my camera and took some great shots of our crew, the vessels around us, and the competition that we were blowing away.

See the little boats way off in the distance in this next shot? They're our competition.

We hoisted up a great sail, and the captain offered me the opportunity to adjust the tension on the ropes to ensure that it remained full of wind. We coasted towards the finish just behind the boats of the faster class, clocking in at just over two hours and ten minutes.

Of the seven races he had participated in this year, it was the second at which Thor-Magne and his crew took home the gold. He was kind enough to give me our prize as a souveneir: a smart navy-blue shirt that says (in Norsk, of course) 'Tromsø Regata Winner, 1999.'

From left to right: Tom-Arne, Stian, Thor-Magne, Linda and Guybrush Threepwood.

After tusen takk to Thor-Magne and his sons, we all parted ways. Thor-Magne left for Trondheim this morning to complete the installation of a truck simulator for AutoSim. His expertise with technology extends far beyond boats, and he is responsible for designing and implementing the physical components of AutoSim's simulators.

But I now know another side of Thor-Magne: the wise and charismatic captain who sails with his family in the fjords of Tromsø.