Nevertheless, the buccaneers of Wall Street and the Silicon Alley cats are eagerly descending from steep glass towers to navigate an armada of sailboats through the sly currents and steady southwesterly breezes off Manhattan island.
In 1980, after college, I joined the crew of a sailboat partway through a circumnavigation of the globe.
Our best afternoon was spent on a two-masted sailboat hired through Las Perlas Sailing, which is run by a French couple.
In one montage, Ana and Christian are on a proud, pristine sailboat, slicing through glassy waters, an American flag rippling in the breeze, the mountains of the Pacific Northwest towering behind them.
Look one way, and seabirds and sailboats streak through sunsets worthy of a watercolor.
Through April 27 Hans Schabus, a Viennese Conceptualist, built a little sailboat and navigated it through the labyrinthine subterranean sewers of Vienna.
When the sailboat completed its pass through the moonlight, I headed for the parking lot.
At last year's Venice Biennale, a brass band on a little sailboat – the SS Hangover – drifted through the canals and played its dirge for five months.
At precisely 6 p.m., as it does each Columbus Day, an announcement hailing the end of the country's largest in-the-water sailboat show was bellowed through the public-address system.
It took three-and-a-half years to design and build the massive but sleek-lined vessel, said to be the largest sailboat able to pass through the Panama Canal.
Maurice, a spry 88, who races his 24-foot sailboat in Sarasota, Fla., researches hot investments by paging through Value Line and trade publications such as Photon and Power.
