Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
a lot of slack to balloon out rather than sheet in tightly even when beating to windward and
to fall off the wind a bit, not to point as high as you would in heavier winds.
Experience will also have a wise sailor looking around him, especially near land, to see
why there is light wind. Sometimes we would find ourselves ghosting along near the shore
and yet, not a mile or two away, another sailboat would be out performing us dramatically!
We were usually too close to a hillside that created a wind shadow, but sailing near a steep
cliff, on the other hand, produces a dangerous Venturi effect, where the wind can come
screaming down the cliff and out across the water at twice the speed of the actual wind.
The lessons piled on, and every time Judi and I would go sailing we would learn something
new. I learned very quickly to tie a line on the end of all anchors aboard! I threw one over-
board gleefully one wintery day near a pretty shoreline where we had decided to lay anchor
for lunch. There was a loud splash as the anchor hit the calm, grey water, then dead silence.
I had thrown a lovely, new Fisherman anchor into the water without even checking if the
bitter end had been tied on (it is quite apparent while they call this the bitter end). I gallantly
tried for over an hour wading back and forth in the freezing, waist-high, winter water, my
feet squelching through the thick, pitch-black clay on the bottom, and never found a hint of
an anchor, fisherman or otherwise. I returned crestfallen, humbler, and wiser. Judi laughed
and handed me a plate of something hot and delicious. She was always doing something
to make me adore her, and, after a while, I too saw the funny side of losing a brand new,
expensive anchor!
Jude and I had rowed out to Déjà vu one spring Saturday afternoon and were preparing
to spend the remainder of the weekend on-board doing little chores and maybe sailing on
Sunday. I had left something in the car and started rowing back to shore for it. As you may
no doubt be aware, the wonderfully simple art of rowing a boat puts your back to the front
and you have to constantly turn around to see where you are headed.
So far, so good. I had mastered the art of rowing pretty well, I thought, and as I neared
Manten's Marina where the car was parked, I had to row across his concrete slipway to
approach the car park. Looking back to navigate, I noticed the usual club drinkers out on
the raised deck in the sun overlooking the lake. I was now rowing swiftly along below in
full view of the raucous drinkers. Seeing their interest in me and all things nautically well
executed, I am not ashamed to say that I was young and foolish enough to think I could put
on a little demonstration of seamanship on just how to land a dinghy in one graceful move.
My speed through the water increased as I manfully sculled through the calm, green water,
deftly curling up the oars just slightly so that they glided flatly across the water top like
a skipping stone. I couldn't help noticing a few young ladies taking a keen interest in my
naked, straining shoulders and recently tanned arms, nor the even keener looks of the men
folk that happened to know the water's edge a little better than my silly self.
