You can watch television, listen to radio, or click away with Virtual Spectator, all streaming live from the race course. From onboard cameras to helicopters, expert commentary to crew microphones, you can watch and hear every move. You can register for text messages to be sent to your mobile phone, or you can follow the event in the old-fashioned way and read the papers. Whichever you choose, following the America's Cup has never been easier.

Indeed, keeping tabs on the racing is now so easy and so thorough that surely it's no longer necessary to head out onto the water?

Try telling that to the 500 spectator craft who were out on the Gulf for what turned out to be the final race of the Louis Vuitton Cup. Even a conservative guess would put the number of spectators afloat at 5000, proof enough that there's nothing like being there to savour the real atmosphere. And atmosphere there certainly was.

For all the close quarters action on the race course and the expert commentary and analysis that follows, it's the 30 minutes before the start itself that provides the biggest buzz. Being part of the spectator fleet as the Cup boats limber up is what many will have come for.

As the teams tune up against their second boat, trimming, tweaking and confirming the numbers as they do so, these powerful machines often thread their way through the spectator fleet. Every crack of their sheets echoes like gunfire through the admiring armada. It's not until you've witnessed one of these 25m machines accelerating towards you as they bear away to slip through a gap in the fleet, that you realise both how quickly they're traveling and how much momentum is involved. As their rigs swoop past you can almost feel a vacuum that follows.

In their pre-race checks, both teams will perform timed runs into the line, while checking the breeze for strength and direction. As they gybe around at the ends of each run, their wake arcs out from the stern like a vapour trail. Their battens snap into action as the mainsail fills and the rig shudders as the load is transferred to the opposite side.

Aboard the boats, smiles and occasional waves from the crew place the teams in their natural context, at work and in the heat of the action.

And as the timer counts down, the tension mounts. During this period the spectator craft are closer to the action than they'll be for the rest of the race, but it's the charged atmosphere in these minutes before the start, that sets the scene for each and every spectator. A scene and a feeling that cannot be replaced or duplicated by any number of modern communication systems.

As the two boats enter the starting box for their pre-start manoeuvring, their dueling can lead them off towards the boundary of their starting area. Like a rugby match that boils over to the touch line before darting back to centre stage, one second they're there, the next and they've moved on, yet their presence can be felt long after the action has passed.

When the action gets close and the protest flags go up, shouts from each crew echo off the two walls of sail, while the whistles on the umpire boats add yet more spice to the mix.

More often than not, the starting gun cuts through the melee, silencing the crews and their boats as if pausing the action for a split second. Aboard the boats, speed is everything and for a split second there is an almost eerie silence as both boats seem to take a short breath before sprinting up the first beat.

The America's Cup course is three square miles in area with a wide zone around it where speed is strictly limited to five knots. Throwing the throttles forward and charging up to the weather mark is not an option for spectators in the way that it might be for other sailing events. Sprinting to the weather mark in time for the first mark rounding is about as practical as making a dash across the Silverstone F1 circuit to see Schumacher's first half way lap.

Those who've chosen to watch the action around the weather mark have positioned themselves three miles up the course well in advance of the race start.

As a contrast to the starting zone, spectating at the weather mark provides more of a fleeting glimpse of the race, but while thrill may be shorter, there's no question that it's more intense too. Like a speeding train as it thunders through a station, it's the few seconds of its approach that builds the excitement and anticipation. As the boats bowl along towards the weather mark, once again it is the groaning sound of sheets being cracked then eased that first draws your attention.

Bearing away around the mark and the rudder carves out an impressive wake, the mainsails eased in a heartbeat and the spinnaker flies to the masthead. Within seconds it's over. Silence, as the boats slide off down wind.

As Oracle fought for their lives in the final of the Louis Vuitton Cup, applause would ring out from the spectator boats each time the Americans rounded ahead. For the Swiss, cow bells became their team supporters’ celebration.

And then there's the finish.

In the final match of the series, as Alinghi and Oracle crossed the line within seconds of each other, the spectator flotilla descended on both boats. Horns, cheers, whistles and cow bells all contributed to the celebratory sound track, while the wakes of the fleet stirred the sea up into frenzy, a fine saltwater mist acting like dry ice at a rock concert.

And for those afloat, that's precisely what it felt like.

For 5,000 people out on the Gulf, you can have your TVs, your radios and your VS screens, many of them did too. But being there was everything.

Source: Matthew Sheahan