This is more of a half truth, for me, because yesterday I most certainly could not see all obstacles in my way. I was singing a different tune. Here’s what happened:
It was a windy day and I was determined to have some fun windsurfing. The wind was trying to decide if it would blow from the west or the southwest. There was enough southwest in it to convince me to launch at my place. Pure west wind is not good where I live unless it’s super strong, even then it’s not the best.
It was a slow start as I sailed off my beach. Due to the wind direction I had to sail right in front of DisGraceland. To the best of my knowledge, Priscilla didn’t give me the finger (this time!). I didn’t look anyway, though she was outside dusting her deck or toiling away at something equally inane. As I sailed along I could see the wind building nicely though the gusts were pure west. Oh well, might as well see what I could do with it.
A strong west wind is enough to get me down the lake, though I need a strong northwest in order to sail straight down the lake. I decided that I would head for Big Cove. Originally I was considering driving to Big Cove and rigging my windsurfer there, but I love the idea of a surfari so I decided to go for it. The wind was certainly spirited in the early going. Generally I would catch a great gust and sail down the lake. When the gusts would settle down I would tack and then limp across the lake, setting myself up for more forward progress when the gusts arrived…and they did!
At one point about a mile down the lake I was going full tilt, powered and in the straps/harness. I could see a mooring ball ahead of me and I speculated that it belonged to the a resident boat of the Lobster Lane clan. The boat that is usually moored here is a 50 foot lobster fishing boat. Big boat. The mooring ball that I was trying to skirt around was not the mooring ball where the lobster boat normally moors, but was in close proximity.
Typically a mooring ball is anchored to a mooring block. That’s the way it works. Also typically there’s a mooring line, or leader, that goes from the mooring ball to whatever is tied to it. Based on my knowledge of moorings, I’d say that the norm for a mooring line is about 12 feet, at least on this lake. Taking into account the fact that larger vessels need longer mooring lines, I passes the mooring ball with greater distance.
I was watching the mooring ball like a hawk, looking for any sign of a mooring line. I couldn’t see one. I passed the mooring mall about twenty five feet away, going full speed. I passed it with no problem, continuing to make good upwind progress, then….
WHAM!
Down I went. Hard. There was a mooring line of at least an inch of thickness that was floating just under the water’s surface. Often these mooring lines will float on the surface or have a small float attached to the far end. Not this one. My fin caught the rope and I got stopped abruptly. Imagine securely tying a rope onto your foot and then running as fast as you can. When you run out of rope, you run out of luck. That’s what happened to me.
I was thrown forward. The board stopped but everything else kept going. The sail, boom, mast….and me. I smacked the water ungracefully. My prescription sunglasses, with two straps, flew off. My neck got tweaked generously. When I ‘came to’ the first thing I did was look for my glasses. It not easy looking for glasses when you need them to see in the first place. It’s akin to driving to you driving lesson, so you can learn how to drive. Thankfully I had a floating device attached to my glasses. I found them floating about fifteen feet away. Once retrieved I looked my board over for damage. Thankfully none.
A power boater who had seen my epic catapult came over to see if I was all right. I gave him the thumbs up, regrouped, then carried on to Big Cove. The wind was on and off for much of the trip to Big Cove but I was pleasantly surprised to find big wind once I got there. Environment Canada showed gusts to 48 km/h for that time of the day. I could believe it as I was well powered. I was using my 6.9 sail which assured that I could harvest as much wind as way possible.
The highlight of my Big Cove adventure was getting a really sweet jump behind the wake of a passing motor boat. It was one of my best jumps ever on the lake. Long, high and controlled. I felt good about that. There’s something very satisfying in using the wind to benefit from the wasted energy of a gas guzzling motorboat. Call me smug. I am.
Robert Grant joined me on the water at Big Cove. He was using a 5.4 sail which was more appropriate in the gusts. Though I wanted to stay n’ play, I decided that I had better head home while the wind was still good. I left Big Cove like a bullet fired from a rifle. It was epically fast as I headed home on a broad reach. Needless to say, the wind was up and down for the trip home. There is a big of a windless Bermuda Triangle zone between my place and Big Cove. I can’t explain it, it just seems to always be there. I factor it in to my calculations.
I did eventually make it home between prospering in gusts and floundering in lulls. When I walked back into the house the clock said 4:26 p.m. I set out at about 12:15 p.m. and I never touched land the entire time. The only thing I touched was that mooring line. Yikes. I thought I might be paralyzed this morning but I’m functioning at 50%. This is good because I normally function at 49% (physically) in the mornings. Mentally I’m 99% in the mornings, though no one would ever know as I’m always up by myself, typically furiously away to complete my morning blog for my devout readers (Wendy, Julian, Dad and perhaps one other).
Well, like a frayed mooring line, I’m at the end of my rope for this morning. Now I must steel myself for another marathon session….a Nielsen family party at our house! Hook in, and hang on!
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