Enlightenment, By H. Michael

Janet Lee has accused me of teasing readers that may have found their way to my November 12th  post because I failed to explain how I became enlightened.  "But JL," I said "don't you enjoy a little foreplay prior to getting down to business?"  

"Yes, I do" she said "but I prefer to be stimulated with continuity, and without interruption." 

Once again her cunning intelligence left me speechless and with a lot more insight into that thing called love.  Here then is my enlightenment story.

It was a dirty December afternoon in 2003 when I stumbled into the youngest brother of my best friend at a local restaurant.  He mentioned  that, along with a friend, he had just purchased a really cool used twenty-four foot sailboat.  I was curios regarding his desire to own a sailboat because he is one of many I spent time cavorting with on the water.  His acquisition definitely tweaked my interest to the degree that when he offered to take me out sailing; I accepted.  We set up a time to meet the next day on an area lake where they kept their boat . 

I was not a sailor, but I trusted both of the owners of the little POS boat we were going to take out into the frothing waters of the lake.  Frothing?  Yep.  The wind was clocking at around 30 miles an hour and gusting to 35 or 40.  The grey, sunless sky provided limited light, and the low, fast moving clouds were threatening rain, or perhaps worse.   I would not have ventured out in a power boat in similar conditions, but to my uneducated sailing mind set the strong, gusting, cold, north wind just meant we would have a great sail.  My first warning should have been when one of the guys started taking hits from a flask about every ten minutes. 

"Hey Michael go up on the front of the boat and put this sail on that wire thing going up to the top of the mast.   Just make sure those little clip things are closed all the way and are in the right order.  Oh yea, and make sure that rope is attached to the first piece of hardware on the sail."

"Uh, okay" I said. 

My second warning should have been how spongy the deck felt when I went forward to hank on the jib, but I trusted my companions because they had been sailing on the old decaying boat before. 

"Do you guys know how to sail this thing?"

"Yea we took her out last week for the first time, but we didn't know we had to put the retractable keel down.  When the outboard ran out of gas and died we were pushed sideways into the back of the cove and Kevin had to jump out and keep us from hitting the shore.  He had to push the boat all the way around the cove, in waste deep water, back to the dock.  That was a really good learning experience."

"The water was so cold I lost feeling in my legs."  Kevin chimed.

After we got the boat set up to sail we headed out of the cove and into the main body of the lake.   At first we were traveling in the lee of the cove but once we rounded the corner and cleared the tree line the little outboard mounted on the stern began struggling to maintain forward momentum against the oncoming wind and waves. Occasionally a big wave would crash into the bow and throw a spray of ice cold water into the air toward our totally exposed bodies in the cockpit.  With the onslaught of every wave my host took another hit from his flask and offered it around. 

 

"No, none for me thanks." 

We had attached the halyard to the main sail back in the cove and now Bob said "Okay, it's time to pull the sail up the mast." Wrap this rope around the winch a couple of times and start pulling."

I did as I was told and the sail started inching up the mast.  Immediately upon being exposed to the wind, the sail began a disorderly complaint by dancing wildly side to side.  As the sail neared the top, Kevin added a handle to the winch and began to crank.   In no time the sail nestled tightly into place at the top.  As the sail gained height up the mast, the outboard increasingly struggled to keep the boat moving forward.  The little sailboat fought back bravely but labored under the attack from the waves hitting the bow.  She launched into her protest by bobbing up and down like a bronc at a rodeo.  I was beginning to understand.

Bob was at the tiller and asked if we were ready.  He should have said hold on cause the shit is about to hit the fan, but what did I know.  I was sitting on the starboard side of the cockpit and when Bob turned the boat to port, the wind immediately filled the sail, heeled the boat over about forty degrees, and buried the port toe rail three inches below the water.  I had to brace my feet on the bottom part of the port lazaret to keep from falling on top of Kevin and Bob.  The boat took off like a NHRA dragster, and my heart started pumping adrenaline as if turned on by a switch.  Eventually I took a turn on the tiller and even discovered I could maneuver the boat by pulling in on, or easing off of, the sheets. (I learned the terminology later.)  We incredibly sailed for about an hour until we were so cold and wet we couldn't take it any longer. 

I have heard it said that love will either set a man free, or make him a prisoner.  I'm not sure if that's true, but since that fateful day in December, love has become my alibi.  That day was a turning point in my life.  We were the only boat on the lake, and really had no business being there.  The extraordinarily bad conditions undoubtedly threw caution to all the sane people.  But, there we were, out on the lake.   Few people recognize important defining moments in there lives, but I knew in the short time we were on the water sailing that worn out, little sailboat that I would make sailing a long lasting part of my life.  I started to research sailing classes the next week and soon after started taking ASA sailing courses.