Sail And Hearty
Sydney Morning Herald
Monday January 10, 2000
Sydney suits swap the corporate grind for winches and sheets on the harbour at twilight.
One evening Steven Nagle left his office, caught the train across the Harbour Bridge and strolled down to Lavender Bay where his girlfriend was waiting with a bag of sailing gear. Thirty minutes later, with his suit and tie neatly folded in the bag, Nagle was on a yacht, slicing through the grey-green water of Sydney Harbour.
English-born Nagle, an actuary at accountancy firm Ernst & Young who became a permanent Australian resident a year ago, had already latched onto one of the traditions of Sydney corporate life - twilight sailing.
Virtually every day of the working week, but especially on Wednesdays, yacht clubs and sailing schools stage twilight races. It's become an institution for thousands of office workers, who fling down their personal organisers and Mont Blancs and make for the nearest bay for a spot of sailing. Some own their yachts, others sign on as crew at yacht clubs. Nagle rolls up to Sunsail, the sailing school which also describes itself as the corporate sailing specialist.
Nagle, who spent his Wednesday in the usual frenzied mixture of meetings, number-crunching, computer work and report writing, says he is delighted that, from Lavender Bay, he can't even see the Ernst & Young office tower.
"I do live that busy corporate life," he says. "We work as consultants for a huge number of clients so we get dragged into their corporate lives, too. They call us when they need help so there is always something interesting going. Often it's when things go wrong.
"I'm not sure why sailing is so relaxing - but it is, isn't it? Partly it's going around the harbour which is so beautiful. And it's very quiet as you sail along. Plus I like that idea of harnessing the wind. When you're concentrating on sailing the boat, you just have to stop thinking about other things. You know what it's like when you're busy at work - as soon as you have a moment off, your mind just goes straight back to work. But sailing is quite tricky so you really need to concentrate."
Wednesday evening at Sunsail looks a little like a weekend office outing. Everywhere you look, thirtysomethings are shucking off ties and pulling on boating shoes. The more adventurous groups take a six-pack of beer or even an Esky. Sunsail boasts that no experience is necessary for its twilight social sailing. All you have to do is sign a disclaimer saying you won't hold it responsible for anything going wrong, and you can climb on board.
It's an idyllic scene. Peaceful green parks bristling with agapanthus fringe the wharf. In the middle distance, the Harbour Bridge frames the Opera House. But while you can just hear the growling and honking of traffic on the bridge, the sound that really fills your ears is that of waves lapping on the pebbly beach.
Nagle and his girlfriend, Roz Elliott, a nurse, end up crewing a boat with an American couple, and skipper Andy. As they motor across the harbour to Farm Cove, Andy explains in simplified terms the ropes and winches they'll have to handle. Then he tells them not to panic if they fall in because the boat can keep turning on a sixpence to allow them to climb back on board. "But I'm just here to give you guys a good time," he assures them. After hoisting sails and a bit of practice at tacking this way and that, their boat lines up for the "race" which will pit them against seven other Sunsail boats, and take them zigzagging across the harbour, dodging ferries, Jet-cats and kayaks.
It's a perfect Sydney twilight: warm weather, a brisk breeze and a big sky daubed in gold and grey. Nagle, perched up near the boom with the breeze ruffling his sleek corporate hair, looks completely at peace with the world. But he is already checking his watch for the race start. Luckily for his competitive edge, he's going to win, even if he finds his turn at the tiller a challenge.
"This is surprisingly difficult. Seriously," he mutters, concentrating ferociously while striving to make the small adjustments dictated by Andy. Then there's the tense moment heading back under the bridge where a ferry looks like coming a little too close and he has to steer strictly for the left-hand pylon. But the boat and its wind-blown crew make it back to Sunsail home base in first place, ready to grab prime position at the post-sailing barbecue where the ravenous sailors gather to build their own hamburgers.
Nagle was inspired to start twilight sailing when riding his pushbike daily across the bridge to work, and looking down at the sailing boats.
"I thought, that looks tempting, that's the life ... and it's always good to take your mind off work straight afterwards," he says. "I have this fixation about filling in my evenings. Because if you don't do anything, if you just sit at home and watch television, then you have lost that chunk of your life. I think that you have as much time in your evenings as you have over the weekend, although I haven't actually sat down and figured that out exactly.
"But I didn't think about work once when I was out there this evening. Which is good."
And he heads for the hamburgers.
© 2000 Sydney Morning Herald
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