Oh black water, keep on rollin’…

July 22, 2011

Sailing is like cycling in the sense that one climbs a mountain for the pleasure of the steep descent down the other side. The work that goes into a sailboat to prepare for a sail is rewarded by a windy day and the chance to heel the boat over so far its sails and sheets are nearly dragging in the water. And like on a road bike, there is a fine line between exhilarating and terrifying: I’m peddling like I’m in the Tour de France peloton at 43mph, and hitting the breaks at 44.

To say that it was gusty today would be a bit of an understatement. Black water spotted the lake like a dirty Dalmatian—gusts of wind broken up only by even stronger gusts. I was running with a beam reach, my preferred point of sail, and the best for heeling the boat over, but especially today, I had my limit of what was fun, which quickly became frightening. Though I’d like to lose 15lbs, my weight was barely enough to keep the boat upright (any and all bodies are invited to come up and add some weight to my boat, just give me a call!). With one hand on the genoa sheet and the other on the tiller, I hiked out as far as I could to hold my course. It was like doing yoga to save my life. Two hours of that every day and I’ll have my six-pack in no time.

After about a half an hour of this, with the Lev-O-Gage pointing well north of 30 degrees over, a strong gust putting me near 40 degrees, and speeding toward the eastern shore and a dock full of boats, I actually said out loud, “I want to go home.” I quickly prepared to come about, and without so much as a wave to the man in the red bathing suit standing in his backyard wondering if I was going to run straight into his ski boat, I pushed the tiller out in front of me as far as it would go, switched sides and hauled the headsail across. In no time I was back with the wind, standing up, my feet braced to the opposite bench, hiking out over the side. Anyone sitting on the low side would have had their shoulder in the water. I was nearly five feet above the surface. As long as the wind is steady this is a fairly strong position, but like on a road bike, it’s best not to look down. Keep your eyes straight ahead, always on the lookout for that tell-tale sign of black water.

Over the last few days I’ve been perfecting my technique of coming in and out with just the mail sail—I was so pleased with myself that yesterday I was thinking about registering for a patent. Today was another story however that began and ended with a particularly ornery gust that had parked itself right in front of our house. With fifty meters to go, I reefed the genoa and grabbed my paddle with a hook at the end of it (I always keep it handy, at an arms reach just inside the cabin), convenient for grabbing the top ring on the buoy. I steered the boat a few degrees to the port side, and just before reaching the buoy I have a sharp turn to the right. Too sharp unfortunately because I completely missed the buoy. I went around again and this time was able to hook the buoy with my paddle, but I wasn’t able to dump my speed in time. I was forced to choose between dropping the paddle or being pulled out of the boat. I dropped the paddle.

My paddle was floating off alone like a message in a bottle destined for a foreign shore. I liked that paddle a lot though and didn’t want to lose it. So I made another circle, coming at it into the wind, and was able to reach over and grab it. I briefly considered sailing the boat up to the sand bar, jumping in the water and swimming it the few feet back to the buoy. Instead I sailed myself back toward the middle of the lake, far enough out that I could let the boat drift for a few minutes while taking down the main sail. Once I had it tied up and out of the way, I unreefed the genoa and tried for the buoy one more time. The benefit of coming in with the headsail lies in the roller reefing: just before I’m about to reach the buoy, I can reef the sail in an instant with just the pull of one tiny line, dumping my speed, and making it possible to not only grab the buoy, but hold onto it. It worked.

I rewarded myself for a good sail but dropping my PDF and diving off the bow into the cool water. The Doobie Brothers said it right: “Oh black water, keep on rollin’!”

 

Filed under: Michigan,Sailing,USA

Tags: cycling, lake, Lake Charlevoix, one way ticket, one way tkt, onewayticket, onewaytkt, sailing, Sports, tips, water