My first real memory of the classic 12 Metre Intrepid was way back in 1970, an America’s Cup summer during my teenage years in my hometown of Newport, Rhode Island. The sleek Twelve had won the Cup three years earlier with Emil “Bus” Mosbacher calling the shots. For this Cup defense, there was a new skipper at the helm, a bald Californian with a strong resemblance to Mr. Clean named Bill Ficker. He was easy to remember. One night, my dad came home and gave me one of the buttons that were pinned to the chests of Cup fans all over town. “Ficker is quicker,” it read.
So too was Intrepid. Conceived by Olin Stephens, the legendary naval architect who was at the height of his powers, the wooden Twelve (the last of its kind before aluminum became the class’s material of choice) was a revolutionary design. It was the first Cup boat with a separate keel and rudder, and a trim tab added for good measure. Those separate underbody appendages reduced the wetted surface, and less drag means a faster ride. Plus, a slight adjustment to that trim tab let the boat point to weather a bit higher when closehauled, another huge advantage. All that, along with Ficker’s prowess, made Intrepid rather unbeatable.
The Twelves continued to be the weapons of choice in Cup competition until 1987, and were at first replaced by the larger International America’s Cup Class boats. Today, the Cup is contested in spindly, wing-sailed catamarans that fly on foils, a far cry from the stately 12 Metres of yore. But in Newport, the Twelves retain a strong presence on Narragansett Bay. Fans can charter one or book a daysail from several outfits, including America’s Cup Charters (americascupcharters.com), which operates a fleet of them—including Intrepid.
When I received a call from a group of old college friends who were arriving in town following a reunion and wanted to go for a sail, I couldn’t think of a better alternative. I’ve actually sailed quite a few of the vintage Twelves over the years, but never Ficker’s steed. Secretly, I booked Intrepid as much for me as for my old pals.
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The weather simply couldn’t have been better: an early June day with the prevailing southwesterly pumping to more than 20 knots and whitecaps lashing the waters. Under skipper Mike Patterson’s easy command, his crack crew hoisted the reefed mainsail and we were underway.
The conditions were a bit too sporty to venture out into Rhode Island Sound, where the Cup was once contested, but Narragansett Bay was the perfect track, and we ranged all over it for the next several hours. Everyone got a turn at the wheel, and I relished a long stint hard on the breeze with the rail down, making more than 9 knots. At one point, Capt. Mike adjusted that famous trim tab a few degrees, and Intrepid roared to weather like a proverbial freight train.
Only a few of my friends were sailors, and I’m not sure they fully appreciated how magical this outing was. But one of them did.
Self-professed “shrink” Peter Davidson actually had a bit of his own history with a Twelve: Back in his youth, for a spell, he ran the beautiful 12 Metre Weatherly. I knew he was as excited as I was to sail Intrepid. When my turn was up, I waved him over. “You’ve got to get a taste of this upwind,” I said.
He took the wheel, sat down to leeward for a good look at the headsail trim, and drove Intrepid hard and well, with a huge grin on his face. “This is so great!” he hollered. “I could do this the rest of my life.” I knew exactly what he meant.
