The Joy of Sailing

Last Saturday again presented the opportunity to go out for a sail. Since Mark and Erik were busy with “secret men’s business” (my birthday is this Thursday), I called Deb, a fellow Seattleite, to see if she would like to get out on the water. Being an adventurous soul, she agreed to come, and off we went our bikes over to the club.

Unfortunately, it soon became apparent that the day was more suited to kayaking than sailing. Nonetheless, since the wind usually tends to come up in the afternoon, we went ahead and rigged the boat, which is a considerable procedure since the boats are stored in lockers with masts down. Now, for someone who is not used to the ritual of stepping a mast, running halyards and sheets, the whole process must seem long, complicated and tedious even when it's not ninety degrees. Despite the heat, Deb was polite and patient enough not to comment, “Wow, this takes a lot of time! Can’t we just go sailing?” but like anyone new to sailing the thought must have crossed her mind. However, after a few reminders, a spinnaker pole loan, and a bit of rerigging, we got the boat got in line at the ramp, which is a bit of a story in itself.

When we were first looking at clubs, I had wondered if members could take boats out at any time, and in theory they can. However, in reality, several conditions make somewhat impractical to go out on non-racing days, the ramp being one of the most obvious. Not being a very good judge of slope, I can’t tell you the actual percentage of the grade, but I’m guessing it would be at least a solid “blue square” if not “black diamond” ski hill. It would be a challenge for most four-wheel drive vehicles, which is why people power is the preferred method of moving boats around. Note that people is plural, implying more than one, and for most of the boats, three or four individuals seemed necessary to safely get up and down the ramp. Most of the members are willing to help out if you ask, but it means launching and hauling out in the same general time frame as everyone else.

We survived the trip down the ramp and splashed our vessel in the churning brown flow of the Brisbane River. However, upon shoving off from the shore, we soon discovered another factor that would make sailing alone less than desirable, a ripping current and considerable possibility of getting stranded. Although the stretch of river by the club is approximately 30 miles from the ocean, it is still affected by tidal fluctuations, and when an ebb is combined with the normal outflow, the boats can drift toward downtown Brisbane in a hurry. When we put in there was no breeze and we rapidly slipped 10 feet sideways past the ramp and uncomfortably close to a neighboring dock. It was shallow so I hopped out to steady the boat only to learn that at low tide the bottom is that nasty, black, shoe-sucking type of mud. Redirecting to boat we pushed off again and with river silt and muck up half way up my calves we got going again. I thought Deb’s comment said it all: “Somehow, I never had imagined sailing involving mud.” neither had I.

I wish I could say that the wind came up after that and we had a great sail, but it was not to be. We drifted, catching occasional puffs and worked our way around one lap of the course before calling it quits. Oh, the joy of sailing!