May 21st City Front Racing

My hands were raw even as I took them out of my gloves. I had the short story of Jack London's small boat sailing in mind (http://www.jacklondons.net/smallboating.html) as I took stock of myself upon our return to Alameda. A low shiver had started to set in and I was grateful to be in the shelter of the marina as we, Tom, Javier and myself started to sort our belongings and roll sails.

My feet were wet and the pants under my foulies damp to my knees. Arms, wet to the elbows as my sweater, which had peeked out from under the wrists of my jacket had wicked moisture that far. I was by no means miserable, exhausted?...yes, absolutely and relieved in a survivors way to have my footing once again.

My second time crewing on Meliki and I have yet to feel that I haven't made a hash of the day. I have a list in my head though on how to work through my duties better which is a relief as it would suck to be clueless. We had a very calm ride out the estuary and I should have prepped the jib then as once on the Bay with building wind made things crazy when we got to it. Just to make things more dramatic, I lost the jib halyard and watched it swing back past the main sail with grim depression. Fortunately, Javier managed to snag it and passed it back to me where I was holding the hanked on jib to the deck.

The day was full of near disasters, potential screw ups and after the first, my sense was, "glad this happens to the experts too". This first nearly happened moment was a trip into a marina / harbor mouth to remove the engine and stow it below. We sailed up past one of the first Americas Cup winner boats and I was unclamping the motor, my focus entirely on this, when the boat slewed in near one of the docks and an incoming motor yacht was blowing its horn. I had maintained my grip on the unclamped motor through this, I would have been crushed to have lost my grip and seen the motor go into the murk. Catastrophe one... a narrow miss.

The jib halyard, that was the second for me, but not the last. There were a whole series of my not succeeding with the whisker pole. The jaw gates would be closed, I'd swear, and then the end would pop off the jib, or I'd be monkeying with it and Javier would get hit in the head with the other end. Fiasco is my only was of describing it. But, I never lost the pole and I'll have it solved next time.

Enough browbeating though. The racing was a reset on my ideas of what is wise and achievable in sailing . An incoming tide and lots of wind showed what PHYSICAL sailing is all about. I haven't been so sore after an activity in a long time. Short tacking up the City Front, looming sea walls and driving in near the beaches. Constant spray and the odd deck washing wave. I have developed an even greater appreciation of the boat and what it can do. The queasiness in my stomach was not motion sickness, but nerves at what I would have told anyone who might listen that this kind of sailing was insane and never have I been more thankful of my life preserver.

It was freakin awesome.