Sail Boarding

 

I had been sail boarding with my friends in Lake Michigan with little success. Being male, we used our backs rather than our brains. We took turns wrestling the board while the rest of us considered the futility of our meaningless existence on the beach. In the 80’s Chicago winters were extreme enough to push me into the Caribbean. Going for two weeks meant I paid less in air fare. This also meant that the resort boards were unused over the weekend, when everyone else was in transit.

In fairness to my friends, Lake Michigan is choppier and less buoyant than the ocean. By now I knew to paddle out to deep water and fall off the board, rather than on the board. Standing on the board, holding the line connected to the boom where it joins the mast, I reckoned the wind direction and maneuvered the sail to the opposite side. I wasn’t going to let the sail push me off again. I gently lifted the sail slightly out of the water. The water fell out of the uplifted hollow mast. The mast and sail became light. I picked the sail up. Please don’t ask how long it took me to figure that out.

The sail was up. If I held the mast directly upright, it was easy to hold; all the force directs to the mast step where it joins the board. Any deviation put greater force on me. Holding myself against the mast and moving the boom, it was easy to gently direct the board in various directions. Being an American, I wanted to go faster. It dawned on me what the foot straps were for. I put my feet in the straps and hung on the boom. The board took off. I was speeding across the waves. I screamed with joy.

Even now, that one moment gives me comfort.