Me and My Boat: Trial by Fire

The previous weekend, while we discussed the upcoming revitalization of my boat, Tim had invited me on a cruise during a race, a yacht race.  That was an eye opening experience.

Tim called me up a day or two after he initially looked at my boat and asked if I wanted to go sailing in a yacht race.  What the hell, I’m game.  I met Tim at the yacht club on the scheduled day and was prepared to go.  It was funny because, while the Guy in charge of the race was explaining the rules and circumstances Tim had left to dink around with his boat.  The guy was speaking Greek to me, but I figured Tim would be able to figure it out.  Fortunately, Tim asked some questions upon his return to clarify what he had missed, and then we were off.  The next thing I know we were on his boat, a 23 foot sailboat and heading out into the harbor.  Oh, one thing I forgot to mention, the weather was a bit off and the lake was really rough, with eight to ten foot swells.  This was to be trial by fire type of situation.

My sailing education thus began.  I admit that I have learned virtually everything I know about sailing from Tim and he is fond of pointing that out.  He also includes, that I still don’t know everything he knows about sailing, which is true enough.  I have come to think of Tim as a friend, and more then that, a mentor.  I have even refer to him as such. 

That day on Lake Superior would be my first true sailing experience.  Fortunately for me, Tim was well versed and an “old salt” when it came to the art.  I gather from talking to him, that he has been sailing since he was a lad.  Oh, I should mention, he’s a repatriated Brit, and I’m unsure how long he’s been in the states.  He’s also, and I’ve told him this, “one of the most obnoxious mother fuckers I’ve ever met”.  To which he grinned and said he’d take that as a complement.

So, envision being out on rough seas on a relatively small sailboat, the wind pretty strong.  Here’s this guy in a t-shirt with a scruffy beard, the master of the vessel.  He hands you a beer and tells you to grab the tiller.  He then gets up moves forward and adjust something.  “Keep it straight”, he yells from the bow follow shortly there after by, “what the fuck are you doing!?”  Soon, I find myself in the midst of massive waves being thrown back and forth around the cockpit of the boat, with a slew of foul language being hurtled in my general direction.  I could do nothing right and was being incessantly verbally abused.  A school girl would have broken down in tears, but I was actually having a good time. 

I inquired if it might be prudent to put on life preservers due to the high seas?  To which Tim admonished me, telling me that he would tell me when we needed life preservers.  Shortly there after, his boat healed so far over that the water almost spilled into the cockpit and both Tim and I were literally standing on the opposite bulkhead.  I looked at Tim and told him I thought he was nuts.  I then grabbed another beer and braced myself for the long haul. 

I happened to take in the surroundings during that voyage.  I had never seen Marquette from the water; it was beautiful.  I felt a feeling of elation being out there in the churning waters of Lake Superior.  More then that I got something I hadn’t had in a long time, an adrenalin rush.  It might have been that cruise that really turned me on to sailing.  Either that or I would have gone back and sold the boat.  Because truthfully, being out in those conditions was insane and dangerous.  Tim even admits that and fortunately came to his senses and sailed us back into the harbor and the safety of the breakwater.  His mast actually was on the verge of snapping, and is still in need of repair from that little adventure.  Tim’s biggest complaint is that he didn’t finish the race, and misjudged which sail he should have started with, otherwise we would have taken best in class.  All I’ll say on the matter is it was a very intense indoctrination to the sport of sailing.