Time has past since I wrote about my first sailing adventures. Since I enjoyed it so much, I wanted to go on and take the advanced sailing classes, because you know, a basic course in anything is enough to get you in the door, or in this case on the dock. But in reality, all you really know enough to scratch your bum and say, um, "I don't remember..." especially if you don't do it again for months. While I get out on the boat with hubby, so I do get some experience, it's
But seriously, the more times different people try to teach you about the same subject in different ways it all converges into this conflagration of common sense. Like that giant ACME anvil falling on your head in a moment of clarity. After this week, I feel like the "mystery" has been taken out of sailing for me. Before it was some secret, Dead Poet's Society-bond-magic-cult that I was on the outside looking in on. Now, bring on that boom vang and back stay! Give me gusts at 15-20 knots! I'll put that spinnaker up no problem.
Now growing up, my dad had a fishing boat on the easter shore of Long Island, NY. It wasn't a sailboat, it was a fishing boat, but I think the experience of being out on the water stayed with me. I really loved it. I loved the smell of the salt, diesel fuel, and yes---smelly fish of the marina. I loved catching fish. Remind me and I'll post a picture of me, all of 40 pounds soaking wet, holding this huge fluke fish I caught that won a prize.
Can you imagine if I got myself a pole, rig, and fluke lure for the sailboat? We could anchor ourselves up off Winthrop or Gloucester and drop a line? I'd have the best of both worlds! Plus cold beer because I'm legal.
So would be the fish by the way. I'd never keep a shorter.