On the port (tick) tack with a Cornish Hen
“Joel has decided to spend the winter in California instead of New York, so he’s clearly a wise man. And we do have a nearby ocean. But there was that time in the Florida Keys:”
Flashback
The President of our small software company, wanting the 4 person management team to ‘bond’, was promoting an Outward Bound excursion.
“A long week camping in the Tundra of Northern Canada would bring us closer,” Peter said.
In the ensuing, icy, silence, I spoke up. “I’m not sure that hibernation would foster bonding.”
“Ah,” Peter responded. “What about sailing a boat from Maine to Greenland?”
“In February?” I asked. “Are you out of your mind?” I thought.
“There is a glacier in..”
“Not a good idea,” I interjected. “Unless you plan to bond us to the ice while we fossilize,” I thought, noting that the other members of the team were, eh, frozen, into silence.
“Well, what do you suggest, Dan?” Peter snarled.
“How about snorkeling in the Florida Keys?” I suggested.
‘That’s a great idea!” Carl said, leading the stampede of acceptance.
It turned out that the snorkeling morphed into ‘sailing’ a wallowing, heavy barge around an island in the Keys. The highlight was the final leg of the trip south, a flight taken on the last commercial DC-3 operated by a scheduled airline (Air Sunshine).
“I understood philosophically how it is possible to move in a direction against the wind,” I thought as we assembled on the ‘boat’, “but it will be good to experience it in action.”
There were, alas, no such experiences. But I confirmed my conjecture that it would be impossible to sail without any wind. And, because there was no wind, the instructor said that we’d have to use the motor. ‘Thank God!” I thought before he handed me a paddle. “I’m the motor?”
At one point, we had to actually get out of the boat and push it through waist-deep water to get past a coral reef before the tide went out. When the wind finally picked up, we were in between three low bridges and had to remove the (heavy) mast each time to pass by. When the boat was ‘under sail’, it cut through the water with the svelte elegance of a corroded bowling ball.
To top off the trip, we didn’t even take the DC-3 back to Miami. We took a bus.
End Flashback
“We’ve got wind here,” I thought as I chased my hat down State Street. I had enthusiastically agreed to join Joel in sailing lessons. Unaware of what I’d gotten into, I picked up the instruction manual. Nazy found me late that night, slumped over my desk, mumbling about goosenecks, battens, leechs, halyards and boom vangs.
“When you’re sailing upwind, pointed at an angle starboard,” I mumbled, “you’re on a port tack. But if you’re downwind, pointed at an angle starboard, then you’re on the starboard tack. But if another boat is coming toward you under..”
“Dan!” Nazy called. “Forget about upwind and downwind. You need to wind down. Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“There are certain things, my dear, that any gentleman should know how to do. Sailing a boat is one of them.”
“And the others?”
“Well, it’s like changing a diaper, tying a bow tie or carving a turkey.”
“You’re not good at any of those things.”
“I can almost carve a Cornish Hen.” I replied.
“You can’t even carve a hamburger,” Nazy claimed.
“I can if I use my teeth,” I responded. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this sailing idea,” I thought as I nodded off.
Aware that I’d never memorize all the terminology in time for the first lesson, I addressed my anxiety in a very mature way. I bought equipment - sailing gloves and boat shoes.
The day of the first lesson dawned cold. And, as Joel and I drove toward the harbor, I discovered that Joel had not only studied, he had, in fact, sailed before.
“But it was just on a smooth lake, Dan. Nothing like the ocean.”
“But you know how..”
“It was many years ago,” Joel consoled.
“Isn’t sailing like riding a bicycle? You don’t forget.”
“And then there was that time my friend let me take a 50 foot catamaran into the ocean.”
“I’m going to look like a novice nitwit,” I thought.
I had more qualms when our instructor, Captain Jason, appeared bedecked with tattoos of Mickey Mouse. But, when we got out, things went remarkably well. This boat, a 24 foot, J-24, was nimble, responsive and fun. The weather was perfect. We sailed on a close haul, a beam reach and a run - which I’m writing simply to remind myself that I learned some nautical terms.
After we successfully returned the boat to the dock, Captain Jason showed us how to tie some knots before sending us on our way. Next Wednesday, we’ll go out again. The end objective is to get a license/certification so that we can do sail solo. Or…
“Not exactly solo,” I thought. “I want to impress my wife.”
In addition to sailing, Nazy and I enjoyed playing with Jamsheed, the grand(est)son. His motor and verbal skills continue to improve at a exceptionally rapid clip. That doesn’t mean it’s especially easy:
We were at the zoo. I had the baby, the stroller, the ‘equipment bag’ (containing diaper, snacks, wet wipes, new clothes, three turtle doves and a partridge), a small model car and a sippy cup. The grand(est) son wouldn’t ride in the stroller. He wanted to push it. But he wouldn’t push if the supplies were in the stroller. And, he wouldn’t let me help steer the stroller. And we wouldn’t let me carry him. He wanted to run off-piste. He was, in fact, running circles around me until he spotted a line of ants going up and down a cement wall. It watched them longer than he watched the elephant eating. Then, he took off again. I got a bit exasperated.
“I cannot handle this, Tiger!” I exclaimed. “It is just too much. Can you just let me put the supplies in the stroller? And then YOU and ME can push it together? CAN YOU DO THAT?”
“Okay.” He said. Cheerfully.
Nazy joined me at the zoo a little later.
And, in music class, Alexandra, the teacher, had a colorful parachute (I’m not making this up), that young Jamsheed really liked playing with. He also like the drums, but thought that standing on them was more fun than playing them.
Tiger on the Parachute (Alexandra, the music teacher)