The following article was co-written by Erica Lichty and Angela Hewitson.
Bang! We’d wondered aloud whether there would really be a cannon shot when a boat crossed the line first—and there it was, punctuating a reunion of sorts. An unexpected crew aboard a borrowed boat with battered sails, hooting and hollering as we became the first boat in the fleet to cross the line in the third race of the day.
Sloop Tavern Yacht Club hosts two Women at the Helm races each year. The rule that gives the series its name is simple: a female-identifying or nonbinary person must helm the boat from one minute before the starting sequence through the finish. While the first event is a distance race, this second installment brought us together for buoy racing on Shilshole Bay on September 12.
Our roster would be better drawn as a Venn diagram than written as a list. We came aboard with deep résumés across the saltwater world: maritime education and advocacy, boatbuilding, licensed vessel operations, oceanographic engineering, yacht brokerage, and then some. A few of us had crossed paths through SEASTR+, Sea Potential, and Northwest Maritime—experiences that fortified our shared commitment to creating greater access to spaces like Women at the Helm.
But purpose didn’t diminish our desire to stretch our sea legs and have some rip-roaring fun. Between races, friends scattered across the water recognized us by our individual cackles carrying over the bay. The truest overlap among us wasn’t professional. With some five years of friendship, we had held one another up through the parts of life that happen between the roles we play publicly: grief, heartbreak, illness, love, change, and new beginnings. We knew how each person moved through the world and, aboard that J/80, we methodically learned how to move together.
Our boat, Road Trip, was generously loaned to us by a colleague at Washington State Ferries. Molly Howe captained from the helm while trimming the main; Amy Larsen handled jib and spinnaker trim; Angela Hewitson worked the pit; Erica Lichty held down the bow; and Nalani O’Brien pulled the strings for some offside trim support at the perfect time. Our mission was simple: have fun, be safe, and gain racing experience. Our skill levels ranged from highly experienced to flying a kite for the very first time. With only a handful of hours sailing together beforehand, we focused on smart starts, clear communication, and smooth transitions.
Debriefs later in the day were in agreement: conditions were nothing short of tricky, north and south winds battled for dominance, and strong currents made it a genuinely challenging day for light-air tactics. Races one and two were a slow build, as we found our feet and gave ourselves and our somewhat-battered boat plenty of grace.
In the latter half of the day, much of the fleet became lodged in a convergence zone, boats pointing in seemingly every direction in search of wind. During the third race, the class ahead of us chose to sail upwind. From our own little pocket, we made an executive decision: fly the kite and run downwind. It worked. Like, really worked.
Road Trip found her speed and began slipping through the classes that had started before us. We held our breath as we rounded the first mark. By the time we passed the committee boat, we could finally settle into our glee. That one decision and our trust in one another had carried us all the way in.
Who doesn’t love an underdog story? We were a ramshackle mostly-novice racing team with great energy, imperfect sails, and a shared hunger for some much-needed quality time on the water. We may have walked away third in our class, but when that cannon fired, we felt like heroes all the way home.
Whether you are a young person taking the wheel for the first time or someone older still exploring the edges of your own possibilities, Women at the Helm is for you. Being on and around the water should be for all of us. But an invitation alone does not create belonging. Maritime spaces carry relationships, traditions, and unwritten rules that can make entering them intimidating, especially when it seems everyone else has been sailing together for years.
So here is our ask of those with time and experience under their belts: don’t wait for someone new to prove they belong. At the skippers’ meeting, on the dock, in the forums, or after the race, ask, “What’s your story?” Then stay long enough to hear the answer. Explain the thing everyone else seems to know. Make an introduction. Offer a berth. Put a line in someone’s hands and, when the moment is right, trust them with the wheel.
Access is not simply permission to watch from the edges. It is making room for people to learn, lead, make mistakes, experience joy, and form the relationships that bring them back to the water. Sometimes, it might even mean loaning five women a well-loved J/80 and watching what happens.
Full results at styc.org
