Master and commander

Today was a glorious day. Why, you ask? I got to skipper my first sailboat this afternoon. I just seemed to have outdone myself this time. I've gone from 6-man crewing on a 29-foot bullet to... commanding the one-man crew, namely me, of the aquatic mega spear that is a Sunfish. I know, it's quite an accomplishment... please, please hold the phone calls. It's not every day that you get to participate in the local Bluewater Bay small boat race series # 2. What, you haven't heard of it? I'm surprised. It's kind of like the America's Cup, you know... in the sense that there are boats in the water and you don't wanna be in last place. I'll get back to that 'last place' comment in a little bit.

The pre-race activities commenced with a little drive to my skipper's house, so I could pick up his Sunfish. After prepping the boats and hitching his Megabyte onto his truck, we dilly dallied over to my car to hitch up my boat's trailer. We had to be in the water in about 20 minutes and the marina is 8 minutes away... no worries. We dropped the trailer on the ball and... , nothing. Oops, I have a 2" ball (so to speak) and his hitch is 1 3/4". No worries, like a good skipper, he has a backup plan. He grabs a right-sized ball and brings it back to my truck. A few minutes later, we are still spraying WD-40 on my nut (so to speak) and banging away with the hammer. It seems that having never removed the ball hitch in the lifetime of my vehicle has caused the bolt to rust-weld itself into the vehicle.... as in, the truck and the ball are now one.

$hit. (note: this would not be the last cuss word uttered today). Well, hey you gotta smile... it's an old car, lots of things don't really work anymore on Bessie (horn, cruise control, ABS, 4-wheel drive, remote, muffler, dome lights, fog lights, AC, sub, HITCH... just to name a few). Well, two boats and one truck means... two trips. At twice the speed limit. After swapping up and hitching my boat to his truck I got in my car so I could pickup some supplies and meet him at the dock. He probably broke various international laws racing to the marina with the trailer flying around behind his car, because by the time I got to the ramp he almost had the dang boat in the water for me. Well he takes off in a jiffy to grab his boat and leaves me in command of my own boat. It doesn't bother me that the circumstances have denied me the time to ask my skipper some of the more important questions about sailing a small boat... you know, how do you right a boat if you tip the mast ino the water, etc. It probably didn't dawn on me to worry too much at this point because, hey, I've been crewing for almost a year now on a big boat, it's not like I'm gonna tip this little thing into the water or anything! I set off with a gentle tailwind, finally a master of the seas.

20 minutes later, my boat is upside down in the water. I am treading water next to it. The wind is still blowing. Great day for sailing, just not with the tip of the mast 10 feet under you. Because I don't really know what I'm doing (ok now I admit it), in my infinite wisdom I grab the rudder clamp and start swimming with the boat in tow on three fingers, towards the sand bar. I've pulled people through the water, how hard can a 14-foot vessel be?

30 minutes later, I have given up and climbed on top of the boat (top? bottom?) After a brief moment of rest and recovery (and laughing) my skin starts to burn. Water proof sunscreen isn't really waterproof anymore after thrashing around trying to pull a 14-foot anvil through the ocean by yourself. I jump back into Bluewater Bay and start pulling on the boat again... not really to get it anywhere, just so I have something to do. Some dolphins actually show up and chill out about 3 feet away from me. Have I mentioned how much I love Florida? Wonder what the conversation would be like if they could talk? 'Hey what are you guys up to?' 'Just hanging out, eating some fish... going on a stroll... probably kill some sharks and then go back to my pad and have some crazy dolphin sex.' 'Oh cool, well you guys have fun then.' 'Peace out human. Watch out for them sharks. Good luck getting the tip of your mast out of the sea bottom.

Sunovabitch, my mast is stuck into the bottom of the bay. I can tell because when I push on the hull and kick the whole boat starts rocking and I can see the deck underneath the waves. There goes my sunscreen floating away. See ya. Well, like a good master and commander, I stay with the boat, and eventually I get the situation resolved with the help of two other racers. We get the mast tip out of the mud, through some miracle, and 5 minutes later I am sailing away towards the start line, with the wettest sails in the fleet.

The race itself was great. I spent all my warmup practice time sitting on the bottom of my boat talking to some dolphins, so needless to say, the race itself was a learning experience. There were 4 races total. Each one I got progressively better (measured by the decreasing number of times the boat threw me off and tried to bury the mast into the ocean). I've had smoother rides on mechanical bulls. On the last race, I fell off before I even crossed the start line. Of course, I told the crew on the admin boat that I was simply giving everyone else a complimentary head start. Alas, if there were trophies given out for last place finishers... I would have 4 beautiful shiny trophies sitting next to me as I type this.

I learned some important life lessons today. I would love to go over them all, but the most important one is this. Swearing at your sail will NOT make your boat go faster in any situation, ever. I was in many 'situations' today. If there were an encyclopedia of sailing 'situations', I probably wouldn't have to read it. But I had the time of my life. As I sit here and nurse the bruises on my head from the boom hitting me every time it came across, I realize that in the style of Tom Edison, I learned about a gazillion ways not to sail a boat. And knowing is half the battle. America's Cup here I come...