Season 1 redux - a retrospective

[ibex]

All,

To the many friendly and supportive voices of the RWS forums and greater sailing community, there has been a tremendously positive response to the trip reports I have posted with you guys and several requests for some of the early trip reports that encompass my first days learning to windsurf.

I humbly offer the following account of one person's journey with this beautiful, silent sport. A couple of the last emails are posted elsewhere, and are only included here for continuity.

All the best,

Shawn

[ibex]

I though I would share a beginner's tale of my day on the water.

Let me start by saying, that all of you beginners who might be getting started in this business need to learn to be skeptics when you approach this sport. In my opinion some of the things you hear experienced surfers talking about are a bit far fetched. For example, this whole idea of planing is completely overblown... I mean what fun is it to swiftly glide smoothly across the water at 15 kts when you could be riding the club's big O'brien board with a 4.5 m sail barging along at fewer than 5 mph. Set aside the fact that the board is large enough to technically require a Coast Guard liscence to operate, but you will really start to see its beauty on the water.

And that whole turning thing, let me tell you how *real* beginners turn. You'll hear about people doing tacks and jibes, you know the whole "bow and arrow" "feet in 'la plie' position" thing... well let me assure you there is none of that "ballet-stuff" for this cowpoke. Nope, we do it the old fashion way of getting to the end of a beam reach, dropping the whole bloody rig in the water, jumping in, swimming the board around, dislocating vertebrae L4 - L6 while uphauling the sail on the windward side of the board, and starting all over again. Thats how we roll around here.

The harness is another interesting accessory. While at first thought you might believe it is a mail-ordered contraption from the back of an 'alternative lifestyle' magazine; there is a rumor floating around that it somehow is helpful in applying power through the mast base but I have yet to see it happen. Thus far it has only served to send me crashing face first into the mast in the tiniest gust of wind and helping me look marginally cooler standing around on the beach talking to people walking their dogs.

Finally there is the beach start... now I'll admit that I am a product of the web2.0 generation and after spending more than a little time at work watching YouTube videos of how to beach start, I thought it would be a snap. I mean how hard can it be to stand in thigh deep water and step onto a long board? Take my word for it, its a lot like trying to Greco-Roman wrestle a greased unicorn while wearing roller skates. Nothing tears away the thin veneer of windsurfing credibility faster than repeatedly crashing and burning in water that isn't even deep enough to get your shirt wet, while concerned onlookers watch wear grimaced faces and just yards away families let their young children splash about.

Yep... another great day out on the water. Cheers!

Shawn

[ibex]

All,

It was a gorgeous day out on the water!! In the 2-3:30 window the average wind speed was around 18 and things were looking great out on the lake. Brian kindly unlocked the shed and the unwashed masses (read: those without gear) descended from the hills to the shed. I grabed the new 5.5 sail and the CAT board. After a few good runs across the lake, I had a 20 min episode where I was having a hard time uphauling in the gusts and 3' waves, getting dunked with every uphauling effort. After finally getting under way, there was this *magical* 40 seconds on a beam reach. I was SCREAMING along, planing across towards the west side of the lake, surfing down the faces of the waves, sail fully powered, temporal distortion took over and it felt like minutes on that beam reach.... it was gorgeous(!), a total "moment of grace".

That all ended in a massive faceplant. and more g.d. uphauling.

The conditions were really pushing the limits of what I could control, and so I headed back, traded down to a 4.7 sail and did a few more runs.

The one parting lesson is that with the air temp in high 60s and the water temp in the high 60s, if you are spending serious time in the water you are going to get cold. Even with a shorty wetsuit, I was getting pretty chilled during my series of failed starts and I know some others who spent time in the water today were seriously shivering when they got out of the water. Unless you are a righteous surfing master (who doesn't fall and can waterstart), you should be thinking really hard about wearing a wetsuit. For those that don't have one, you would be amazed at the number of them on Ebay. Mine cost a whopping $13 almost new.

Cheers!

Shawn

[ibex]

All,

It turned out being a sweet day out on the water this afternoon... After
a great amount of loathing and complaining about it raining for 2 straight
days, the rain broke around 1-2, the wind picked up between 13-15. I put
aside the work I should have been doing and followed Amanda and Sharon
down to the lake.

First, a bit of a background, after a few months of sailing with the club
I have had the jones to get my own gear and develop this new-found hobby
(mid-life crisis according to my wife). After a few weeks of trolling
Ebay, craigslist, some online forums, and with great help from a buddy of
mine at school I am the proud new owner of a board (see attached photo).
The only downside of which, is the previous owner left the thing under his
dartboard and over the intervening years he and his drunken friends
managed to put a good 40-50 dart holes in it.

Undeterred in my knowledge that a little epoxy repair stick would fix
them, I proceeded to bring the board home from Syracuse to my wife's
dismay (it went something like "you paid HOW much money for a board with
HOLES in it(!)?") to my makeshift work area in the middle of our (small)
living room. A week later, and with the board looking like a pimply-faced
14 year old from my repair job I took the board to the lake for its maiden
voyage. Now this board isn't exactly a late-model watercraft, and it
looks it. Either Amanda or Sharon had a bit of a chuckle at the hot pink
fin and yellow foot straps when I pulled up; I guess thinking that the
80's were about to call any minute and ask for the board back or something.

With visions of something breaking on a setup that is older than 50% of
Cornell undergraduates, I pushed off from the shore, botching my first
beachstart with all the grace of said 14 year old, at a high school dance
chaperoned by his date's father... Things got better though and soon my
5.5 sail had me wisking across the dark water towards the misty opposite
shore with remarkable speed. The waves like giant angry pulses of cold
oil-black velvet were surging in whitecaps, but on plane they skimmed
under my board in cartoon-like reality as one would expect to experience
flying in some sort of dream. On the fastest runs, it felt like a powder
day on a snowboard, except everything was wetter and darker. I could feel
the edges of my longboard carving through the water on plane, rocking from
rail to rail as the water hissed out from under the tail. It felt good to
feel in control of the wind and the board; it felt almost like the entire
enterprise was going to somehow work out for the better...

Without a harness or lines my hands were cooked after 5 runs, but it was
fabulous to get out on the water. Thanks again to my buddy Mike for
helping me get set up with gear, to all the wonderful folks in the CWC for
their advice and encouragement, and lastly to my wife who puts up with my
never-ending antics.

Yup, my tenth (ever) day of windsurfing was pretty sweet.

Cheers!

[ibex]

All,

After much excitement in watching the S wind pick up today and discussions with Amanda and Sharon about going out and enjoying some of it, I decided I only had time for a trip to the ES or Myers. First I thought I would meet Sharon at Myers, then constrained by schedule, I thought about going to ES by myself. After consulting a few folks about what could be done safely on a S wind by myself I decided to head up to the ES.

With a 1/2 mile of water upwind of the marina, I planned to drop my centerboard and tack hard upwind and play in the SE end of the lake just upwind of the sailing club, in front of Stewart Park. That way if anything went wrong, I was still well upwind of my launch point. My plans of cruising on 15mph winds were dashed as when I got there it felt like 5mph, I figured I'd rig up anyways and sit and wait for more wind.

and I waited.


waited some more.


and still more...


and finally decided to launch in the 5mph wind anyways. After a nice 40 min of practicing gybes, heli-tacks and other stuff I can only do in no wind, I headed back to shore. Upon packing up I felt the breeze start to pick up, but I had to go... When I got back home I checked what RUSS had recorded and I turns out that I timed it right in the middle of the "3pm notch" in the sweet 15mph wind we have had all day...

www.cayugalake.cornell.edu/weather.php

I guess Suan et al are going to have fun down there tonight. Cheers!

Shawn

[ibex]

All,

A trip report... as a tale in three parts.

Background: I commute to Rochester for school about 2-4 times per month and so I have the good fortune to drive by Cayuga, Seneca, Canandaigua, and Ontario lakes as well as a few other places in Rochester each time I go in. As I am now in my second week of owning enough equipment to get out on the water, I loaded my board for my trip to Rochester, hot pink fin sticking proudly up in the air like some strange sort of plastic squirrel tail on the roof of my car.

The trip: After much cavetching with my buddies Mike and Kenny (both fellow grad students in my program) about where/when there would be good wind in my 36 hour window of opportunity, they go out and get skunked on Ontario on Thursday while I stay at work (enjoying their graduate experience to the fullest no doubt ) and we decide to meet in C'daigua on my return trip to Ithaca on Friday. As a quick aside I want to offer mad props to Steve the owner of Canandaigua Sailboarding for doing open-heart surgery on my Regan-era mast base, and extend the offer that if anyone ever needs some gear/parts/etc from the shop, I am happy to swing by there anytime I am going through...

The day: So C'daigua on a S day is magical, much like Seneca, but with a sandy bottom (fewer zebra mussels), free parking, and clear blue water, but today it is whipping 15-17 out of the W. For some strange reason the small parking lot has like 4 cars in it, all with grey haired grandmotherly-types reading what appear to be trashy novels with Fabio on the cover whist Kenny and I are trying to change our clothes with the "towel around the waist method" in this small (and exceptionally windy place). My conspiracy theory is that they are on a stakeout for strapping young bucks who tend to show up at this park on sunny/windy days and take their clothes off but I digress.

Out to the water we go him with a 4.8 me with a 5.5, both on longboards, and it is just RIPPING fast. After the requisite number of botched runs, wetter-than-they-should-be tacks, and inhalation of lake water we start to get the vibe of the wind. It is really picking up and Kenny and I find ourselves on this great beam reach, screaming due S down the center of the lake. In Deliverance-like "dueling banjos" style we sail perfectly parallel not 50 feet apart, each of us surging 10 ft ahead of the other, then dropping back, the other surging slightly ahead, etc. This went on for what felt like 5-6 minutes, this perfectly matched impromptu race down the lake. When we realize we should start thinking seriously about turning around and getting back, the wind shifts to NW and we painfully tack for 30 minutes to regain our lost ground back to the N shore.

Back at the shore Mike arrives and starts moaning about how there isn't enough wind for his tastes... (i.e. wind snobbery) forget that the greatest distance either Kenny or I had ever traveled on a board just happened seconds before, but he remained unconvinced. So I remind him of what he taught me as the first rule of windsurfing and that is "you never leave wind to go find wind" i.e. if its blowing at all, get rigged and get your butt in the water wherever you happen to be, even if you think it might be better elsewhere. At this he yields and we three enjoy several more runs near the N shore. Finally realizing that I told my wife I would be home by 5, I head for shore.

Mike pulls in and when i tell him I am taking off, he says "you really should take a try on my (shortboard) before you go." I concede and at this point he starts walking from the knee-waist deep water towards the chest deep stuff asking if I know how to waterstart. A little nervous, I respond with an "ummm I can beach start although that's about it... I'll try though..." and with the feeling that this is going to be a *very* unproductive 20 minutes ahead of me, followed by a very unhappy life partner when I get home late. Mike proceeds with a quick demo, then brings his (huge! 8.5m) sail back into position to waterstart, expertly flying it 20 inches off the water he calls me over to duck under it and take the boom from him.

I imagine the movie Star Wars and when Luke "tries" to use the force, and Yoda scolds "do or do not, there is no try..." then this morphs into the vision of a soggy Yoda in some dog-sized wetsuit hovering over the water pointing a stick at me saying "THERE IS NO TRY(!)." With Mike's careful coaching, on about the 4th or 5th attempt I almost get pulled out of the water, and by try number 10 I very nearly pull one off. At this point I am seriously late, thank Mike for his (and Yoda's) help and have learned that waterstarts aren't *completely* out of reach, once someone shows you the mechanics.

I run back to my car, de-rig, change in public (yep, the AARP vote was *still* there, same windy improvised towel-kilt makes an appearance) and scurry home in record time. If I wasn't already late, I would have been tempted to stop at Seneca, in observance of rule number one.

Cheers!

Shawn

[ibex]

All,

After violating rule number one (turning down Sharon's offer to go surfing yesterday b/c the forecast looked better today) I put myself in grave jeopardy of getting skunked by the wind gods. Besides I know Amanda and Sharon (and others) are stuck at work today and it is my moral duty to try and get some vicarious sailing in for them today.

So this morning I slaved away on a report for my advisor, stoping every 3 minutes to hit refresh on the weather forecast for today. Although NOAA downgraded the 15mph they had been predicting to 10mph, I was not disuaded and as soon as I hit the send button on my report, I was packing my stuff in the car to head down to the ES. Ofer happened to arrive at the same time I did, but with only a few minutes that he could sail, he was contemplating if he should head out at all in the 10mph breeze.

From my quiver of free/almost free beater sails, I pull one of the gems, a 6.5 Gaastra that is in very good condition (MUCH nicer than my hot pink 6.0 "mouse wee wee-ed sail" but that is a story for another time...) and rig up. At this point I carry my rig to the water and push off in the NNW wind, and notice one of the pink (20 yr old barely hanging in there) neoprene footstrap covers is ripped and barely hanging on. I pull it off, stuff it in my PFD pocket and climb back on the board and head for the opposite shore in the *barely* planing breeze.

Reaching RUSS I attempt to tack and I trip on ANOTHER pink footstrap that is rotten and hanging off my board (why is all my pink stuff falling apart all of a sudden??). At this point with my pocket full from the first pink strap and another one in my hand, I contemplate what to do with the thing? I don't want to toss it, but how am I going to carry it? Then it strikes me to stuff it inside my PFD like sticking money inside one's brassiere(!). In a strange yet exhilerating moment of gender confusion, I tuck my prize safely away and head back towards the ES.

At this point the wind is getting gusty, but heavier at times. I could see whitecaps up N towards Myers, but kept waiting... and waiting for for the wind to get there. I think to myself, where is that d**n wind? I can see it, but it just isn't picking up...? Its lot like going to the Chapter House on a busy night and trying to order a beer while stuck in line behind several attractive ladies. Just when you think you have caught the bartender's eye he gets distracted, you realise that you are just going to have to wait a little longer. You try to catch his eye again, distraction strikes once more, and you wait... and wait still more. Finally you strike up a conversation with one of them and ask them nicely if they will order for you b/c you haven't got a prayer of being served in less than the time it would take to grow some hops and barley and make the stuff yourself. But I digress... anyways, I can see the wind, but it isn't there yet.

At 2:20 the wind gods take pity on me and its time for my long-awaited "drink". The wind opens up with full whitecaps all around me and I am hauling the mail for the next 40 minutes on plane, until it slackens off and at 3:30 I decide its time to head out. I de-rig, toss my stuff in the car, and as I hurriedly unzip my PFD I hear something drop to my feet. Reaching down I pick up the chunk of pink foam, I toss it in the trunk and the whole way home I contemplate the notion of storing a Cliff Bar or something more useful in my newly found man-PFD-wetsuit-cleavage.

Cheers!

Shawn

PS anybody know where I can buy some more hot pink footstraps? I don't want to mess with my board's mojo one bit.

[ibex]

All,

After a day full of meetings at school (composite usefulness factor was barely above negative range) I was completely jonesing for some sailing this afternoon after work. Having arranged with Geoff and Amanda to meet at Clute park in Watkins Glen on the return trip from Rochester if the wind was good, Geoff and I both rolled in around 4pm, deemed it worthwhile, and rigged up.

Now a piece of background that is in order, is that I had told my wife that I would be home "some time after 6." Which at the time I thought was clever on my part, b/c if the wind was up I'd surf with Geoff and Amanda, and if not I brought my camera and intended to do some shooting down by the lake with all the nice fall foliage we have going on right now. I should have thought more carefully about this detail, as it seems in her mind this equated to the interval between 6:00pm and 6:08pm, certainly no later than 6:30. Anyways...

The wind was huffing straight out of the north and was in the 12-17 range, with whitecaps as far as the eye could see to the N. I rig up my 6.5, climb quickly into my wetsuit in the biting 52 degree air and hit the water with Geoff not far behind. After precisely 100yds of sailing (thats 3 beach-non-starts, a 2 non-tacks, and 4+ minutes of swimming for the statistically-inclined) later my sail goes suddenly slack, like the downhaul rope had broken or something. I look down and everything is in place, but when I check out the top of the sail my mast is proudly sticking 6" out the top of the luff sleeve b/c the keeper strap had slipped in its buckle. (insert cursing) Thankfully it was still sailable, and I shlep back to the closest point on shore, burn up 15 more minutes of daylight looking for a G.D. stick big enough to wrap around for re-downhauling, re-rig and finally get back out on the water.

Now having been the beneficiary of hours of kind and patient tutilege on tacking, at Dewey from Amanda and Sharon, one might expect that I would have, ohhh I don't know... *some* modicum of success with the technique(?). Lets just say the following 1/2 hr was pretty rough. It went something like:

- uphaul
- get started, hook in and get moving
- get violently catapulted by gust 15 seconds later
- get back up
- uphaul
- try tacking
- get blown/waved-over
- repeat

The good news is that even the primitive male brain can learn to respond quickly things like catapults, and you actually start to realize that you are massively overpowered and your a** is very soon going to be at the altitude you head is normally at. Not that there is much you can do about it, except hold on to the boom for dear life and live out your childhood dreams of being able to fly like Superman, sans bedsheet-cape and the ability to land gracefully.

After much of this and Geoff thoughtfully checking in on me (several times) to make sure I was okay... I mean doesn't everybody spend this much time swimming when they are out "windsurfing?" I *finally* manage to get a couple tacks after focusing on my technique and life is looking up a little. At this point I realize that there is a third sail on the water and Amanda has joined us for some runs and the three of us enjoy the remaining daylight up until 6:20 or so. We haul our junk out of the water and realizing the time I fling my stuff down and still wearing my PFD, harness, wetsuit, gloves, etc frantically dig in the "high-entropy state" that is my car trunk (read: I can't find anything in that mess) for my cell phone.

I flip it open and see the "4 missed calls". Hmmm.

Instantly I get the "this isn't going to be good" feeling in my stomach and call home in the most chipper tone of voice I could muster, freezing and sopping wet in the falling darkness, still an hour or more from getting home. In case you were wondering, it was not good. Having forgotten my towel (for my usual towel-kilt changing method) I scan around momentarily and in my haste I contemplate simply dropping-trou to change in the near-darkness of the parking lot as everyone else is busy with their gear 40yds away (and the bathrooms are like WAY on the other side of the park); my better judgement prevails as I race to the bathrooms, change, race back, hurriedly wish everyone well and dash back to Ithaca.

Discussion over dinner-part II (for those that weren't there for dinner-proper) focused on communication and other things that a more considerate husband might think about other than, say, which size sail to rig up when the wind is N at 15...

In the end at 11pm I sit here and am grateful to have such a wonderful and tolerant life partner. Beyond the preceding (and astonishingly common sort of) tale she continues to be endlessly loving and supporting of my antics; no further proof of which is needed beyond the 12 foot surf board that is allowed to sit in the living room as I type.

Have a great night everyone!

Shawn

[ibex]

All,

It was a fantastic day out on the water at Seneca Lake park (in the Lake
Trout Capital of the World), the scene of good wind, good folks and lots
of fun.

The day started with an "alpine start" (this is what we call them in the
climbing world) and a drive to Geneva in the dawn light to try and catch
the (forecasted) 10-ish MPH winds before it started to blow high-teens
with gusts in the high 20's. The early start ended up not being strictly
necessary, but was a good exercise in self-discipline. Rigging our sails
in the 47 degree air Amanda and I discussed even just hanging out on the
beach to wait for it to warm up some more.

In a preemptive move, I filled a couple of big water bottles with hot
water before leaving home and took a moment to "pre-pee" my wetsuit with a
liter of warm water before hitting the water. It is a pretty strange
sensory experience to be trapped inside a big rubber
straight-jacket/wetsuit, a neoprene hood covering your head (so you can't
hear anything) and pouring the hot water down your check, feeling it
trickle all over your torso, forming rivulets across your arms and back,
and finally finding its way to your booties. It was however shear bliss
as I entered the 50-ish degree lake; my only regret being that I didn't
pour in another liter.

Now a point of humble admission is in order...

In my sub-10 week windsurfing career, one thing that always baffled me is
how the h*ll some people always seemed to effortlessly carry their rigged
board/sail down to the water, deftly pick it up with the sail flying
effortlessly, hop on and sail away. My version of this had heretofore
resembled the collision of wills one might see in the front row of an
McCain-Palin rally held at Ithaca College, not pretty, and not very
productive. So after asking Amanda (the embarrassing question of) why
this looks so easy for some people, she enlightened me on the finer points
of carrying and flying the sail while standing still in the water. So let
me extend the offer to any and all newbs to provide a hands-on demo if
they are interested, the difference it makes to have someone show you this
is simply startling...

After a few runs on the water (and the arrival of Sharon and Geoff) the
wind really started to pick up and the runs were getting increasingly
powerful. As a bit of background, my board (built in the Republic of West
Germany, when such a thing still existed) had some uber-crusty and dead
neoprene footstrap covers. Upon their demise while sailing one day (see
trip report approx 4 weeks ago) I had a hankering to replace them with
something... I don't know... "unique." Not wanting to mess with the mojo
of my Van Halen-era board, I decided to go out on a limb and try making my
own footstrap covers (see attached photo). In the interest of full
disclosure, I must admit that I never had the nerve to actually get going
fast enough so that I could even *try* to get my feet under them, but that
is a separate issue. They were the answer to a question of aesthetics
more than anything.

Anyways, as this seemed like it was a day for pushing boundaries, I
thought "why not just try sticking my feet under the straps on the next
run?" Now any beginner who has experienced the challenge of planing,
using the harness, etc will usually have developed enough behavioral
conditioning (i.e. painful endings) to know that this sort of risk taking
is best left off the table. For no particularly clear reason, I manage
get up the nerve to stuff my back foot under the straps, and nothing bad
happens.

Hmmm.

"I wonder what happens when you stick your front foot under the front
strap?" After a few botched attempts, my front foot slides under the
front strap.

Again, nothing bad happens.

The board is standing up on end a little more and is now twitchier
(extremely responsive to heel/toe pressure) but otherwise all is well in
faux-fur-footstrap-land. After a couple more runs at this (omit the
simple things like tacking that I again demonstrated my extremely limited
competence with) I haul into the shore completely spent. With a sick
feeling in my stomach, I just lay down in the grass and ponder the sacred
cow that I had previously feared and had now just slain, and started to
feel pretty good about making this small but important step.

This feeling didn't last though, as the afternoon's runs demonstrated the
painful limits of my hubris and I got completely pushed downwind in the
growing wind and 4 foot swells, while trying to celebrate my new found
"skill" (if you can call it that). The worst part of which is trying to
uphaul the sail while being tossed by cold steel-colored waves that
obliterate your view of the horizon when you are in their trough. It is
hard to describe it, but the feelings of being small and alone are
paramount when all you can see is a few birds flying in the overcast sky
as you hang on to your rig in what seems like a vast empty ocean, with
every cold wave sending a gushing torrent down the neck of your wetsuit.
The sick feeling in your stomach makes your mind not behave rationally and
you almost wish for a Coast Guard helicopter to fly over and pluck you
from the water, so as to save you from facing the walls of water by
yourself. I keep trying to uphaul and numerous failed attempts later, I
finally make it back under way. On the long slow upwind tack back to the
car, I have plenty of time to ponder my feelings of fear in those wave
troughs.

It occurs to me that the real lesson is knowing that even if I got tossed
off my board again, I would find a way to uphaul, I would eventually get
out of that grey trough, I would eventually get sailing again, and
ultimately... I would succeed. In this exhausted moment of introspection
I came to realize that best part of facing down your personal demons,
isn't having the chance at "winning" per se, but tasting the quiet absence
of fear in knowing you have the ability to face the struggle again.

Have a great night everyone!

Shawn

PS Special thanks to Geoff, Sharon, and Amanda for all the help and
encouragement.

[ibex]

All,

So after flooding your inboxes with many a bountiful (and bloody lengthy!)
trip reports, I'll keep this brief. A beer at the Chapter House for the
first person who can guess (from the attached picture) what time window I
was at Seneca Lake Park today...?

Oh, and Rule Number Two of windsurfing is that you actually need wind to
windsurf.

Have a great night everybody!

(note to reader, graph shows 15-20 winds dying to zero for an hour, then back to 15)

[ibex]

All,

After 4 attempts at trying to get out on the water (and getting skunked by lack of wind) the last 3 attempts in a row (got in water once, didn't even get wet twice, drove to Geneva and back twice) this morning was my chance to try to chase the elusive prize that is the waterstart.

With the forcast for SW and WSW at 10-15, Amanda and I headed up to Seneca Lake Park and back to my former home of Geneva in the early morning light. Rigging was brisk in the 40 degree cold breeze, but the promise of good wind, and redemption from the multiple skunkings, made it almost feel giddy to get my gear out. Given that the day started with 8-10 mph winds (just shy of whitecaps) I rigged my 6.5, did my usual "pre-peeing" of my wetsuit with hot water and headed for the lake.

By the time I go in, the wind had swung nearly westerly and I took off perfectly parallel to the shoreline on a beam reach. Even 8-10 mph is enough wind to get a longboard up on plane and shortly I was in the harness lines and cruising along from the marina/channel outlet to the beach area and back again several times. A note of caution though, my hot pink fin took a pretty decent beating on the northbound reaches because it gets shallow very quickly and one of these days I am going to painfully understand the limits of what 20+ year old plastic can withstand. After a couple more runs, Amanda was out on the water as well, and I decide that (given my short timeframe for the day) its was time to try what I had come there for.

The wind speed was perfect, right at 12-14 mph and even though my bootie zippers kept slouching downward and gushing 50 degree water onto my cold feet, the rest of me was toasty in the incredible wetsuit that a still-anonymous friend of a friend generously set me up with. I hop off my board into the waist deep water, lower my boom as low as it will go, flip it over onto the tail of my board and wade, like a ship leaving port, outward bound for deeper water and the opportunity to see if I was going to be able face down this windsurfing milestone.

Starting with a few waist/chest-depth deep water beach starts, I feel like I am ready to try a real honest to goodness water start. Without really thinking about what would be the best way to approach this, I tack another 50yds offshore, depower the sail and jump into the water on the upwind side of the board, while holding onto the boom and luffing sail. The shock of the cold water hitting my face causes a gasp reflex and I take in a mouthful of lake water, as my entire body submerges beneath the waves. Even though my feet can feel the grasping of some weeds on the bottom, my feet never touch and the numbing cold tells me that I am fully committed to this attempt. Through no particular forethought on my part, but by some stroke of providence, my boom came to a rest on the tail of my longboard and is (mercifully) more or less balanced there while I spit out my icy mouthful.

Kicking with my cold stumps (read: feet), whose half-zipped booties refill with 50 degree water on every kick, I push the nose of the board downwind by pushing down the mast with my right hand, while my left hand clutches both the rear footstrap and boom as a pivot point for rotating the rig. The point (for anyone who hasn't done/tried a waterstart) is that there is this particular angle of attack that the sail needs (mast position relative to wind direction), where any slight raising of the boom will cause it to take a massive "bite" of air, and if everything is balanced and set up right, you get enough lift to partially raise your body from the water the rest of it supported by one foot that gets hooked on top of the board, which you bring via a sort of hooking motion under your butt. The first deep-water try at this ends up with the board rounding upwind and an unimpressive slumping back into the water.

After carefully repositioning the rig slightly more downwind (and getting pretty tired from the swimming) on my next attempt I get pulled from the water and amazingly find myself in a semi-crouch on top of my board, about to fall back in the water. With all the fortitude of a block of jello facing down a jackhammer, I manage to recover and am amazed to find myself on the successful side of my first real honest to goodness waterstart.

After another 45 minutes of effort I pull off another 2 and nearly get another 3 (thats 3.03 in my successful.sort_of_sucessful bookeeping system) and I am totally tired, hungry, and my dogs are frigid. After 20 min of rest, some tea, food and encouragement, I head back out, this time borrowing Amanda's rigged (5.3m) sail, given that the wind was now howling and the lake was full of whitecaps. I had a few more good runs (no more sucessful waterstarts though) and start to get a better feel for applying mast-base pressure while on plane. 15 minutes later I haul my exhausted self back onto shore and we start the process of de-rigging and we head homeward after a quick stop for some headache medicine (coffee).

In reflecting on this day, and what if anything it "means" in the context of my life and this journey to try and master a new sport, it occurs to me that I don't feel like a different (or really even "better") person, but again I feel this striking lack of fear towards these challenges that I used to be afraid of. Its hard to describe, I wasn't as elated as I thought I would be (maybe I was just too tired), but at the same time I tasted the quiet satisfaction of knowing that I had been able to put to practice the things (from gear to time and teaching) that so many people have generously shared with me.

Other than learning to be a better surfer and a better person, I don't know what is going to come next in my life, but I recognize that the paint is starting to dry on my first season of windsurfing. I realize that it is only through the unselfish things that my mentors have done for/given to me, that I am able to sit where I now am.

I think to myself that all I can offer them in return for their kindness, and hope... that is thanks enough; is to honor them by no longer remaining a beginner.

Have a great night everyone!

Shawn

[ibex]

All,

So yesterday my two friends from school (Mike and Kenny) were heading to C'daigua and in my moaning about how far of a drive to meet them there, my buddy Mike warned me to think carefully before heading out to Seneca (my default on a S day) because the wind was in the 30's with gusts in the 40s. He also told me he knew a couple of Rochester-hardmen where there as we spoke, and that these dudes were probably rigging like 3.8's or 4.2s or something barely larger than a t-shirt for a sail. Ultimately I decide to pass (on both C'daigua and Seneca), get some work done and head up there today when the winds were set to be a bit milder (low teens).

Its a long story, but I had a Dr's appt scheduled for early this am in C'daigua, and on my drive there at 7-something in the morning I get a call saying that my appt was cancelled (thanks for the advanced notice folks... anyways, I digress). Now being 2/3 of the way to Geneva, I figured the thing to do was just to proceed to Geneva, hang out in the library and get some work done until the afternoon when I was going to try meet up with Amanda and surf anyways.

After a few hrs of lousy email access (I know, what else is he going to complain about) and no good coffee (yep, that was bound to come up) I manage to get some work done and head down to Seneca Lake Park after lunch. I drove in and was greeted by a nice light 10-12ish breeze from the south, and at which point I decided to rig my 7.5. Until a week ago I didn't have a boom large enough to rig it, but Gary (from ROC) hooked me up with a boom of his, and I was stoked to try it out with this sail, and make the most out of a light wind day. Unfortunately my elation didn't last long, because I found that I had managed to crack one side of where the mast clamp attaches to the "rail", and decided that the better course of action was to not damage it further by trying to ride it when it was cracked (I am pretty sure I can cut off the cracked bit, drill a new hole and be back in business!).

So, 7.5 gets rolled back up, and 6.5 comes out. As an aside... After several days chasing my first waterstart, and getting zero sailing done, I managed to actually get really good at rigging my 6.5 (a nicely cambered Gaastra that Alan (also from ROC) set me up with) and have learned to focus on fine-tuning the downhaul tension as a way to really dial in/shape the depth and tension of the sailcloth. Well, as I go to put my U-joint back into the mast extension, I notice this good sized crack running across the base of my vintage (made in W Germany... like every other plastic piece of my gear). And the dawning realization of what this means slowly washes over me, as chilling as a 45 degree wave of water...

(insert profanity)

I am talking LOTS of profanity. My mind starts going into overdrive on what I am going to do here.

I call my buddy Kenny who has the same mast-base (old Fanatic with white plastic plug-style attachment) and give him the "hey... you weren't thinking of coming out to Seneca this afternoon where you?" (oh please God, say yes...) "Naw, we had a great day at C'daigua yesterday, why didn't you come up for it?" (mutter something about school and realize its a lost cause b/c he has plans for the afternoon, thank him and explore other options)

Hmmm...

I call Google 411 (if you haven't heard of it: www.google.com/goog411/ ) to try and call the shop in C'daigua, but its closed, and then I remember the owner saying he was going to be shutting down for the season around 7 Nov or something.

Sh*t.

(insert despair)

Now, granted it wasn't the *best* of wind, but it was like 65 degrees, sunny and probably the last "nice" day of the season I was going to get, and not only had I broken two pieces of critical gear, I managed to break one of the things I didn't have any spares of, and no way to fix.

(insert LOTS more despair)

So my friend Amanda shows up and we talk about it, and she's like "well, its already cracked, the wind is from the S, if I were you... I'd just stay close to shore and ride it until it breaks". Now this goes against every last piece of Boy Scout philosophy within me, but lacking any good options, it seems like the only thing left to do (as an aside, in climbing we have an analogous behavior we call it "retreating upward").

Anyways... I tied my mast extension to my mast base with a piece of cord (for when entropy took over and the "few" pieces became "many"), and set off for whatever adventure that some 1980's plastic had in store for me. I am glad I did though, because it ended up being a great day of sailing. I amazed myself by hitting 80-ish% of my tacks, and when I got blown into the drink, out in the middle of the lake, I stopped myself from just hopping back on the board and uphauling. No no... a bit of patient re-arranging, 20 seconds of butt-sailing, and I was back on plane with my first "I actually needed to use it" waterstart. Amanda was styling it too, with a bunch of waterstarts, and her first day in the footstraps!

This ensued a round of congratulations, and a comical "look how far we have come" debate on who had been surfing longer and was more advanced... like there is some sort of moral virtue among the clinically insane. It went something like: I took a single lesson 7 years ago and handn't touched a board until 3 months ago. She started with a few days last fall, and since June has been out as much as possible. In the end, I think I won the semantics side of the debate, she won the actual skill and proficiency side of it. You be the judge.

Overall it was a great day on the water and I will end my missive with this plead to the masses: if anyone has a spare mast base that can be modified/cannibalized to fix this one:

shawnhigbee.smugmug.com/photos/417146029_WagJb-M.jpg (crack is where the pen tip is)

Or has any pointers on where I can get this fixed, that would be IMMENSELY appreciated. I mean, I don't have what it takes to play with the Seneca Lake A-team on a 40mph day, but if I can get this thing fixed, I intend to push this season as far as I can go until I turn into a popsicle out there.

Have a great night everyone!

Shawn
Charter Member
Seneca Lake B-team