First Solo Sail

July 18, 2011

It is a luxury for most people to quit their job and spend a summer on the lake reading, writing, painting and of course, honing their sailing skills. Indeed, I count myself among those people—but that is exactly what I’m doing this summer.

It was a calm afternoon when I arrived at my family’s cottage on Lake Charlevoix in Northern Michigan.  Without any wind to tempt me towards the water, I spent the time unpacking and setting up my workspace. The next morning was equally calm, and so after fixing a hearty Sunday breakfast, I sat myself down in front of the computer, anxious to start crossing things off my To Do list.

It wasn’t long before the American flags which line the shore up and down the lake were showing a brisk breeze, drawing my gaze away from the computer and out the windows toward the little Victoria 18 tied to a buoy just beyond the drop-off. Within minutes, I was out the door with my bathing suit on and my mobile phone in a zip-lock bag. I hopped into the water and zipped up my new PFD (personal flotation device) which I normally wouldn’t wear sailing with friends or family, but alone on the boat and no one in the house but the cat, I deemed it prudent to put on.

I swam out to the boat, dumped the zip-lock bag in the cockpit and ever so ungracefully hauled myself in (while making a mental note to leave the ladder on the deck in the future). After a moment to get my bearings and plan my attack, I quickly got to work, opening up the cabin to pull out the cushions, freeing the sheets, uncovering the main sail and tiller, and placing my ice water bottle in its holder (it was, after all, over 90 degrees). I decided it would be best to get away with just the main sail and when everything else was set, I unhooked the top bow line from the buoy and tied it neatly in its place before attaching the main halyard to the sail and raising it up. At this point I was committed, and hastily unhooked the bow line from the buoy and jumped to the back of the boat to get a hold of the tiller. The boat swung around and I was instantly under sail. It took only a few moments before I realized there was more wind than I had planned on for my first solo sail—with only the main up, I was heeling over so far the boom was nearly in the water. I leaned back over the edge as a counter-weight, frantically trying to un-cleet the main sheet to dump a bit of wind. For the first time in my life, I was truly thankful for the 4ft keel and 500lbs of lead in the bottom of the boat. Normally I like to heel over as far as I can, but with only my weight in the boat, it was a lot easier than usual—and a lot scarier.

Sailing back and forth in front of the house, I gradually got the hang of it. I was thankful that I was the only sailboat out on the lake, for even though there were plenty of ski boats and jet skis, as a sail boat, I always had the right-of-way, forcing everyone else to go around me. Every so often before I got too far away from the house, I practiced my “come abouts” which were far more successful than my jibes. As my confidence grew, I held the main sheet tighter, letting the boat heel farther and farther over, always on the lookout for patches of black water (a sign that the wind is significantly stronger). Even though we installed roller-reefing this summer making it easy for one person to raise both sails and control the boat, I never did raise the genoa sail. With only the main, I was moving a good clip, with all the speed and control of the boat that I needed.

Finally it was time to head back to port—I was equally nervous about coming in with too much wind, and getting stuck out in the middle of the lake when the wind suddenly died. I entertained the idea of lowering the main and coming in with only the genoa, but while I debated the options in my head, I speedily closed distance with the buoy. I was lucky in that, on my current tack, I was heading directly into the wind, making it possible to simply hold the main sail in place over my head, letting it catch wind as it could, serving to both slow me down, and give me just enough speed to get where I needed to go. With only about 20m to go, I loosened the main sheet and scampered toward the bow, freeing the bow line and leaning over the edge to grab the top ring of the buoy. I clipped the line on, and breathed a sigh of relief while simultaneously feeling the adrenaline of triumph (our neighbors, who were out on their deck watching the whole thing and apparently cheering for me, later congratulated me on a job-well-done). I have to say, it was a thing of beauty.

Striving for every move to be as deliberate as my father’s would be, I carefully put the boat away for the night, stowing the cushions, tying up the sails and securing the sheets, placing the ladder on the deck before the securing the cabin. I placed my zip-lock bag on a bench in the cockpit where I could reach it before jumping into the cool water. Still wearing my PFD, I floated on my back in peaceful solitude, only the clear blue sky in my sights.

Filed under: Michigan,Sailing,USA

Tags: Genoa sail, keel, Lake Charlevoix, one way ticket, one way tkt, onewayticket, onewaytkt, sailboat, sailing, Victoria 18