Saint Barths Bucket

Anyone who has flown into the French Caribbean island of Saint Barths—also Saint-Barthélémy or Saint-Barth, but never pronounce the h—will tell you it can be a hair-raising experience. Planes approaching the runway appear to be on a collision course with the hillside above the island’s capital, Gustavia. Then, at the last second, they have a rethink, vault the hill and touch down on the short landing strip on the other side. Hard braking is then needed to prevent the plane from hurtling beyond the runway into the blue waters of Saint Jean Bay. Mishaps are rare, but a popular pastime for locals and visitors alike is to watch for the occasional blooper and from time to time they are rewarded (see this video).

So here’s a tip: go to Saint Barths by boat, using the ferry service from the nearby Franco-Dutch island of Saint Martin/Sint Maarten where the airport runway is reassuringly long and wide. Even better, sail to Saint Barths in a yacht, timing your visit for the March weekend when this jewel in France’s Caribbean crown hosts the annual three-day sailing regatta of super yachts known as the Saint Barths Bucket. Legend has it that the actual Bucket—the trophy awarded to the winning boat—was once a spittoon in a waterfront bar in Marseille. We can’t confirm this French connection, but we can affirm that the Saint Barths Bucket—a sister version of the super yacht regatta held each year off Newport, Rhode Island—is one of the most exciting and spectacular events on the global yachting calendar.

It’s also pretty exclusive. To participate you will first need to shrug off the remains of the recession (and any guilty feelings about conspicuous consumption) and get yourself a super or mega-yacht, defined for the purposes of the Bucket as a sailing vessel measuring at least 100 feet at the waterline. Or thereabouts—if they like the cut of your jib the organizers may turn a Nelsonian blind eye to a ship that falls short.

The rule of thumb when it comes to super yacht ownership is that they cost around $1 million per meter to build and many millions annually to crew, insure and maintain. So you have to be fairly well off to buy a boat that qualifies for the regatta. And then you have to be invited to participate in the extravaganza. Boating billionaires have been known to show up in Saint Barths and assume they will automatically be allowed to race. Wrong. You cannot crash the Bucket. This year only 39 boats got the coveted invitation, leaving a good many hopes dashed and egos bruised. Among the usual suspects missing from this year’s regatta were the world’s largest single-masted sloop, the 257-foot Mirabella V, and Maltese Falcon, the 289-foot modern clipper whose owner until recently was venture capitalist Tom Perkins, famous for flying signal flags on his boat proclaiming the message: “Rarely does one have the privilege to witness vulgar ostentation displayed on such a scale.”

Once you’ve been invited to sail in the Bucket don’t assume you have become a permanent member of this select club. The race was first organized in 1995 by a small group of like-minded big boat owners, including publishing magnate Nelson Doubleday Jr., who wanted to hang out in the sun somewhere away from the North American winter and have some fun racing and drinking. The first Bucket started with obligatory daiquiris on shore, followed by a Le Mans-style dash to the boats to begin racing. But winning was never the raison d’être and still isn’t. Anyone who forgets this basic rule and tries too hard to win risks not being invited back. In particularly egregious cases the owner of a boat deemed to have been sailed too aggressively may be disqualified—or “excused from racing” to use the Bucket euphemism—on the spot. It’s a sanction only ever used once, but nobody’s saying who got it.

Although Bucket boat owners are among the most competitive people on the planet, few are prepared to risk the opprobrium of their peers by behaving on the water as they might on dry land. “It’s a great atmosphere,” says super-yacht architect and Bucket veteran Ron Holland, who designed many of the boats competing in this year’s regatta. “The Bucket has changed down the years, and grown from the early days when there was just a handful of boats. But there’s a big effort to keep the ethos the same.”

This laid-back approach to the business of winning, however, cannot hide the fact that racing a super yacht is a serious and sometimes risky venture. Thanks to modern technology such as electric winches and other labor-saving devices, boats no longer need the muscle power of hundreds of crewmen that was required to work the super yachts of yesteryear, like the Shamrock series of boats owned by Sir Thomas Lipton, whose gallant but fruitless efforts to win the Americas Cup made the English knight (and his eponymous tea) a household name in America.

But the boats that gather in Saint Barths for the Bucket are, if anything, faster and more powerful than their predecessors, harnessing the energy of the prevailing north-easterly trade winds to drive them through the waves at speeds of 20 knots or more—faster than most motor-driven floating gin palaces. That means they have to be sailed with skill and caution, not only to safeguard those on board but also to protect precious investments. “The traditional rules of sailing assume that sailboats can turn or stop quickly,” explains ship broker Hank Halsted, managing director and organizer of the Bucket races. “But those rules were written for smaller boats, unlike some of our participating boats, which weigh over 500 tons. Bucket boats can’t turn on a dime.”

So, unlike most sailing races in which boats start off at the same time and compete alongside each other, the Bucket boats race sequentially—so called pursuit racing—to reduce the risk of the costly collisions that can happen when boats seek to dominate the same patch of sea. Using a complex handicapping formula called the velocity prediction program, which takes into account the size and likely speed of the boats in the prevailing weather conditions, the super yachts cross the starting line one after the other, giving a head start to the slowest. (The complex system admittedly allows for some skulduggery on the part of the racing committee, whose members regularly proclaim their willingness to be bribed with good champagne.)

All the yachts then sail as fast as they can for the finishing line—the tortoises (grandes dames in Bucket parlance) striving to hold onto their leads, and the hares (or gazelles) racing to overtake the boats that have set off ahead of them. The first boat to finish is the day’s winner and the boat that places best over three days of racing wins the Bucket. The opening round is usually a straightforward counterclockwise race around Saint Barths. The next two days see the fleet competing on the Not So Wiggly course and in the Wrong Way Around the Island event.

This year the 15th edition of the Bucket was won by Danish-built J-Class replica Ranger (one of the gazelles), followed by 154-foot grande dame Andromeda La Dea and the succinctly named Gazelle P2 (the latter two both from Italy’s Perini Navi shipyard) coming in third. “Consistently sailed” Toto won the Escargot Cup—an empty can of snails presented to the annual slowpoke. In accordance with the stated goal of the Bucket, which is to “win the party”, a prize was apparently awarded for the boat crew responsible for the best après-sail bash. But competition was stiff in the drinks department, and it seems nobody can remember who won.

So much for the mega-rich on their mega-yachts. But how do you enjoy the Bucket if you don’t own your own super yacht and can’t wangle an invitation to join in on one? One way is to charter a local boat and sail out the short distance from Gustavia harbor to watch the yachts set out across the starting line—an unrivalled parade of sailing splendor with the blue Caribbean skies a backdrop to the colorful sails of the competing boats. A more adventurous ploy is to sail farther offshore to intercept the fleet as it nears the finish line—but keeping a wary distance. If the handicappers on the racing committee have done their job correctly, it is here that the fleet will come together as the fast late-starters begin overtaking the slower yachts and the boats will be bunched together—in the first race this year 30 of the 39 boats finished within 16 minutes of each other. Those with a keen sense of schadenfreude will often be rewarded with nautical embarrassments such as the sight of hapless crews shredding sails worth a king’s ransom, with the help of Mother Nature who is not cowed by boating billions. And if the sight of so many super yachts swooping across the ocean makes you blasé, you can always keep an eye open for those other behemoths that cruise the Caribbean at this time of the year—whales migrating from their southern breeding grounds to northern waters.

When the race is over, the yachts head back to the port of Gustavia (which gets its unlikely name from the island’s period as a Swedish colony “on loan” from France between 1784 and 1878) where you can stroll the quayside to get a closer look at the rich at play, and generally join in the party atmosphere that spills off the boats and onto the shore. Gustavia is a cool hangout with lively bars, some of the most expensive restaurants known to man and enough luxury shops to shame Rodeo Drive. But take heart: Saint Barths is also a so-called “free port”, meaning that the shops are essentially duty free. So what you lose on a dozen oysters you can make up for on a string of pearls.

But you can also forget pearls and oysters—and possibly even the towering super yachts—and just enjoy this tiny island (eight square miles, pop. 9,000) for what it is: a small piece of paradise with some of the Caribbean’s best beaches and protected waters. Rent a beach buggy and explore the small villages, discover the island’s own fusion of French, Caribbean and Creole cuisine (see notebook), or just hang out with the cool crowd.

And don’t forget the thrills and spills of the hair-raising Aéroport de St Jean. It’s a great example of what the French call égalité: plebs and celebs alike must run the risk of the airport like everyone else. Unless, of course, they arrive by sail.

 

SAINT BARTHS NOTEBOOK

The island is dotted with rental villas, some with spectacular views (and prices), others more affordable. See Saint Barts Blue website for a good selection. Area code is 590.

 

HOTELS

Luxury

Hôtel Guanahani & Spa Grand Cul de Sac, 05.90.27.66.60. website

Eden Rock Saint Jean, 05.90.29.79.99. website

Hôtel Carl Gustaf Rue des Normands, Gustavia, 05.90.29.79.00. website

 

Moderate

La Banane Lorient, 05.90.52.03.00. website

Le Manapany Anse des Cayes, 05.90 27.66.55. website

 

 

Good Value

Le Village Saint Jean Colline de Saint Jean, 05.90.27.61.39. website

Hôtel Christopher Pointe Milou, 05.90.27.63.63. website

 

 

RESTAURANTS

Expensive

Le Gaïac Hôtel Le Toiny, Anse de Toiny, 05.90.27.88.88. website

La Case de l’Isle Hôtel Isle de France, Flamands, 05.90.27.61.81. website

On the Rocks Hôtel Eden Rock, Saint Jean, 05.90.29.79.99. website

B4 (formerly Le Sapotillier) Rue du Centenaire, Gustavia, 05.90.52.45.31.

 

 

Less Expensive

La Bête à Z’ailes Rue du Centenaire, Gustavia, 05.90.29.74.09.

La Plage Hôtel Tom Beach, Saint Jean, 05.90.52.81.33.

Hostellerie des 3 Forces, Vitet, 05.90.27.61.25. website

Do Brazil Shell Beach, 05.90.29.06.66. website

The Hideaway Saint Jean, 05.90.27.63.62.

Le Piment Saint Jean, 05.90.27.53.88.

La Langouste Flamands, Baie des Anges, 05.90.27.63.61.

Restaurant des Pêcheurs Hôtel Le Sereno, Grand Cul de Sac, 05.90.29.83.00. website

Maya’s to Go, Saint Jean, 05.90.29.83.70.

 

Originally published in the July/August 2010 issue of France Today