Daysailing

On Sunday we rented a Soling (26’ open cockpit racing boat) and went sailing on the lake for a few hours. Even in the late afternoon the heat stopped our breath still in our dry throats, yet the water was beautiful. It was also choked with motor boats and sailing vessels of various shapes and sizes. Of these the jet skis were the worst. We had planned to sail into the middle of Mallets Bay, heave-to and then jump overboard for a swim. Instead we had imaginary races with the other boats, following those that seemed fastest, trying to learn about sail trim by trimming our sails just as theirs were and then sometimes even slightly better.

My daughter, who has quite a vocabulary for a two-year-old, practiced her sailing terminology, “sheeeets, haaalyard, staaarboard, rudderrr…” I couldn’t help but be proud.

My friend Abigail was visiting from New York. She served as crew. My wife watched kept close watch on the baby and was mostly quiet. She was thinking about a future on boats, and a present which lately has been consumed by boats. I believe that overall she was happy with what she saw in her mind’s eye.

We returned to port close-hauled, drinking in the wind on our faces— this was a welcomed change.

Our mooring approach was flawless, which was a major event for me (even if we had forgotten to attach a pick-up buoy). The obvious trick was communicating with my crew well of two (three counting the baby) well in advance of our approach… this and visualizing an escape route in the event that I overshot the mooring, which didn’t happen. Abigail leaned over the bow and deftly grabbed the mooring pennant. We were still flaking the mainsail when the courtesy launch arrived.

The next day my wife came home and demanded that I should drive to the waterfront to see a sailboat which had recently picked up a mooring. I went to see the boat; it was nearly dark when I arrived. I called to the silhouettes of two kayakers in the harbor and a man paddled over to where I was standing on the dock. "Would you mind paddling over to that one boat moored over there to tell me what the name of the vessel is." "No problem" the man replied. He paddled over with the speed that belied his utter comfort with his craft. “Baby Blue” he called out from across the quiet water. "Thank you" I replied. His partner was beside him now, and they paddled onward into the darkness, following the shoreline. I still need to do some research, but I am fairly certain s/v Baby Blue is friendship sloop; cutter rigged, large cockpit, nice boat.

Since starting this blog, I’ve received a number of emails, the gist of some say “give it up man. You’re crazy.” The large majority say, “Keep true to your dream. Anything’s possible. I know, I did it.” or "I can relate, I'm building a boat in the yard out back." I am struck by the heartfeltness of all of the responses I have received so far.

The issue usually is not “can it be done?” but “how can it be done?” I think I will follow the advice of those who have done, rather than those who say it cannot be done, since advice borne from experience is usually the more instructive of the two.