Volta River Regatta
Aſter receiving a Fulbright Fellowship to teach at the University of Ghana, I imag- ined a lot of things, but I never thought I’d find myself sailing in Africa. Not long aſter arriving in Accra, I discovered the Ghana Sailing Club on the Volta River, which winds its way for nearly a thousand miles from Burkina Faso along the dusty red dirt of sub-Saharan Africa. Te sail- ing club, populated by European ex-pats, is situated at the mouth of the river, two hours from the capital. David Carreras, an affable Spaniard, is the helpful com- modore. Soon, we headed to Ada Foah, the
waterfront village. Te trip itself was out of National Geographic: women carrying large loads atop their heads, and the mar- ket stalls displaying dried fish, hooves, heads, herbs, exotic fruits, giant yams piled like cordwood, and everywhere hawkers vying for our attention. The sailing club has four sleeping
cabanas and a covered patio area with tables and chairs overlooking the water, and two cannons add to the nautical ambiance. There’s a large kitchen and a small bar. Thirty catamarans line the perimeter of the property, and there are also Lasers and kayaks. Some boats are privately owned, and others are available to members for a fee. Francis has worked at the club for
many years, and I have never had some- one else prep my boat, but that’s how things work here. We tell Francis when we want to sail, and his assistants set the rig. When we return, they put everything away. How quickly one becomes spoiled from the pampering. My 14-year-old son, Parker, and I
hop into the awaiting Lasers and sail off to see who is faster. Puffy white clouds hover above in the bright blue; there’s a brisk beam wind, and as we head to the mouth of the river, we rise and fall on the incoming ocean swell. I hear Parker’s euphoric whoop as he hikes out. We circumnavigate an island, and head back
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to the club, so Lora can take a turn. She and I sail in tandem, enjoying the exotic shoreside scenery of primitive villages. A perfect day. A month later is the club’s big event,
a two-day regatta 20 miles upriver to Sogakope where we will spend the night before racing back. There is only one glitch; we have no experience on cata- marans. Lora worries about capsizing, but Parker and I are eager. I assume we’ll finish last, so my start strategy is to stay out of everyone’s way. While others put on harnesses, which
look like big black diapers, we slather on sunscreen. Tere are 15 Hobie 16s in the race, and when the gun goes bang, we are third from last. 15 minutes later, some- one capsizes, and Lora’s worries increase, but I think, “Now there are four boats behind us.” Ten we slowly pass the boat ahead, and an hour later, aſter removing grass from our rudders, we catch another catamaran. We finish, respectably, in the middle of the fleet. At the finish, the club’s staff waits to
haul out our hulls and take down the sails. Te Sogakope Beach Resort welcomes us ashore with chilled coconuts complete with the little pink umbrella. The cute bungalows have tall thatched roofs, and the AC feels good against the tropical humidity. Te ten or so kids that are part of the regatta, are soon splashing in the pool, while the adults shower and change into dry clothes. After dinner, the real games begin,
consisting of a combination of contor- tions involving three big beer bottles. While holding on to two bottles, and
keeping your feet in place, see how far out you can place the third bottle. Tis strains the abdomen, and it helps if you can do multiple pushups. Men go first, then children, then ladies, followed by those who are too drunk to care if they fall flat on floor. Aſter that, someone produces a deck of cards, while others toddle off to their pillows. Aſter breakfast, we wait for wind. Tis
time, we have a better start and mostly hold our place. The wind is light but slowly increases in strength. With the tail of the mainsheet, I fashion an ad hoc harness and hike hard as our hulls reach exhilarating speed. Parker handles the hiking stick expertly, keeping the cat in the groove. What fun, skimming along in double-digit speeds! A small crowd waits at the finish line
on Subhi’s Island where I learn that the regatta is part of other events—a dugout canoe race for locals. Since the first- place-prize is an outboard, there is much motivation. We cheer on the crews as they paddle to exhaustion. Te spectators include business and government leaders, ambassadors and diplomats. Amid the friendly competition, we
make new friends, learn some sailing tricks, and enjoy the wind, water, and sun. As we drive home, Parker snoozes in the back seat; we’re tired, but content. Africa is a wonderful experience, and sailing in the Volta River Regatta has been a highlight.
Paul Guajardo, PhD, is currently a Ful- bright Scholar at the University of Ghana in Accra •SCA•
SMALL CRAFT ADVISOR
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