Cowbell clatter - the worst wake-up of all

By JULIE MIDDLETON

A silver shroud has been spread over the boom, casting shade on the boat's occupants.

Slouching on folded sails, the black-capped figures wave languidly as they pass our catamaran.

But it's not just Team New Zealand's crew who are catching a siesta, sheltering from the sapping, stinging sun.

It's nearly the 1.15pm start time on the America's Cup course when the race marshal's boat raises the orange flag - postponement until at least 3pm.

There is wind, but it's fluttering ineffectually around the course.

And so are we. Indolence is spreading like a sea fog; the boredom of waiting for breeze is something telly coverage doesn't warn about.

From a high perch on the catamaran carting journalists and various sponsors, it's obvious many others in the accompanying confusion of yachts, fizzboats and seriously flash launches are settling in for a long wait.

Spectator boats - someone reckons there are about 1000 - bob aimlessly, just metres from each other. Champagne glasses are refilled, bikini-clad bodies sprawl on pristine white decks, and young guys jump into the gently swelling sea from the highest points they can find.

Boats are lashed together, sociably. A passing trimaran is hosting a karaoke party, and someone is singing Tom Jones. I notice that Vodafone has put the phrase "Go Team NZ!" on my phone screen - and, presumably, everyone else's. Wonder if the Swiss team - or "Skiwis" as some are calling them - appreciate it.

I also wonder how the boys in black - who had left base at 10am to be towed to the course - will be able to rouse themselves from the shade under the shroud.

Our skipper suggests everyone on the boat who isn't half-sleep adopt a "sailor's superstition" and whistle for 20 seconds to bring up the wind. Our attempt is dozily half-hearted.

Alinghi has a better idea - both Swiss boats hoist their sails and warm up in view of the race marshal's boat. Come dance, they seem to be saying.

"Keep spectator boats off the course!" grumps the marshal over every boat's radio.

I've also had a sun-warmed doze by the time the wind picks up, two and a half hours later.

An America's Cup virgin, I'm expecting graceful sails, the flap of canvas and the hiss of our wake. But accompanying the racers over the line is the stink of spectator boats' diesel - and a headache-inducing noise that rivals Queen St on Friday night.

Eight roaring helicopters hang over the boats like mosquitoes; live television commentary blares through the boat.

Squinting into shiny waves, it's hard to estimate how close Team New Zealand and Alinghi are, let alone who's in front.

The boat has two televisions with live coverage and Virtual Spectator, the internet-based race monitor with its aerial views and idiot-proof statistics.

Despite the duel taking place nearby, the telly coverage proves easier to follow - but ultimately more painful.

The flotilla heads home to the keen clank of cowbells.

nzherald.co.nz/americascup

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