Post by ibex on Apr 13, 2009 23:20:34 GMT -5
All,
So this week my buddy Mike and I are down in Orlando FL at a conference
for school, focused mostly around imaging, infrared sensors,
physics/mathy-stuff... You know that kind of gathering where everyone
dresses alike, shares the same profound lack of social skills, has long
abrupt pauses in conversation, has a really swish laptop, and is vitamin
D deficient.
Anyways, Mike and I had planned on taking Wednesday afternoon to bail
and go over to Cocoa Beach to windsurf, but upon checking the wind
forecast we realized that it was going to be side on-shore 18-24 today
versus offshore and 6-12 on Wednesday. The decision was reached not 90
minutes into the conference at the free wifi station, and the moment of
awkward truth came seconds later when our adviser sits down across from
us. Mike and I exchange a terrified and guilty looks at each other and
Mike spontaneously says to our adviser (*slightly* loudly in front of 15
complete strangers nearby) "so... ummmm. Shawn and I were planning on
going windsurfing later this week - (pause as Dave looks up from his
laptop) - but the wind isn't going to be very good then, and its going
to be great today"
Dave: (looking back down, a little incredulously, shaking his head and
smiling)
Mike: "and the talks on Wednesday sound WAY more interesting than the
ones this afternoon"
Me: "yeah, we didn't see anything interesting on the schedule today,
Wednesday looks more interesting"
Dave: "Well... you guys need to get out of this trip what you want"
Mike: (stands up and says) "I'm going to go put my contacts in"
Me: (I stand up and think "I'm going to go sit somewhere less awkward"
all the while thinking to myself "thank goodness I signed up for the
badge that says 'student' " and that I don't need to network with any of
these 15 strangers for a job
So 2 hrs later we are standing barefoot on a white sandy beach, smearing
on SPF 50, talking with Tino (surf shop owner) and getting set up with
gear.
It was hauling down at Cocoa Beach, gorgeous wind (around 20-ish) and
65-70 degree water. Wearing just swimtrunks, a rashguard and a PFD, I
carry my rig down to the water for my very first session on a
shortboard. Tino didn't seem very optimistic at my recounting of my
longboard skills... I mean Mike didn't get the "extra" 5 minute lecture
about not running his fins aground, if he sees too many catapults from
me he's going to take the shortboard back, and 'no' I could not move the
footstraps - but sent me out on a 145 nonetheless and a 5.5 sail.
Shuffling our feet (to avoid stepping on a stingray, as per his
instructions) we wade into the warm bathwater. Mike (on a 110 liter
board with a 6.5) offers a few last parting words of encouragement, and
after a false start, is quickly underway, ripping parallel to the
beach. With a "try to think of this as an opportunity to learn"
mentality, I glance over to see if Tino is watching (glad that I can't
find him) and I set up the board for a beachstart, which to my surprise
happens on only the second attempt.
At first, I have to say, there were some bad catapaults - upon
re-surfacing from each one I scan for Tino, and relieved not to see him,
I hop back on and try again. A shortboard is a really funny thing to
ride... this one is laterally more stable than my longboard, and has
THE most amazing sense of acceleration if pointed (whether intentionally
or not slightly downwind. We are talking like a truly scary(!)
amount of acceleration. BUT, and this is a key but, is that once on
plane, it literally feels like a feather under your feet. It takes such
a light touch of control input to initiate a turn, and every little bump
in the water becomes this playful little jump. After many times running
aground in the soft sand (because I couldn't stay upwind or on plane,
but still no sign of Tino coming to take my gear back) I finally have
the "ahah!" moment and realize that if you could *just* control this
thing and get a little bit upwind, it could be an amazing amount of fun.
I don't know what I have done to deserve it, and I wish the scientist
(and lower-case 'a') atheist in me could explain this away with
something other than divine intervention, but the session proceeded to
only get better and better. For no particular reason, my waterstarts
came together in a profound way in this afternoon, I think in almost 4
hours of sailing I only uphauled once. I got my first two (ever) gybes,
and almost landed a helitack (BIG ker-splash(!) when you biff one of
those just 25 feet from shore) with 5-6 other seasoned windsurfers
looking on with glee at an obvious neophyte getting his butt kicked.
The coup de grace though was that on a whim Mike and I decided to trade
boards.
Well out of Tino's sight, I am standing 200 yards offshore on a sandbar
holding a very big sail, on a very little board watching Mike quickly
accelerate away. There is no way to describe the profound sense of
"this is not going to go well" going on in my sympathetic nervous system
at that moment. But since I wasn't going to swim the thing back without
fighting with it first, I take a deep breath and give it a go. It takes
like 5-6 tries just to beach start the thing, feeling like I was
participating in some preposterous - and clearly rigged - contest at the
county fair - you know one of those games of 'strength' or 'skill' that
are essentially impossible but serve to separate you from $5 in the
quest to win a teddy bear or something.
As soon as I manage to get underway, I brace for the incredible rush of
the board accelerating and feel like my body is strapped to some sort of
out of control missile, and my only two choices are to let go with my
back hand and let it sink under my bodyweight, or hold on and await the
Lord of the Rings-scale catapult that is sure to come (and does). The
salt-water stings the back of my throat and nose as I spit out the
unwelcome mouthful of seawater that results. Two more runs and I am
ready to get off *that * carnival ride and we swap back. Although... it
was a miraculous feeling to realize that the mystery of shortboarding
could be cracked, it really is just about careful balance and subtle
footwork (and a willingness to suffer a bit while figuring it all out).
I swore in that moment that when I got back home, my new 120L board was
coming out. I need to stop my excuses, if its blowing 15 or better, its
time to get the thing wet.
The best part of the day (aside from avoiding Tino's wrath) was just
realizing that the barriers that we all sense in our lives either are
probably non-existential or at most, are made of glass. Just lean hard
enough in any direction in your life, and you are going to fall through
into something new and interesting. Those things that seemed impossible
hours before (recall my not-so-triumphant TR from just 48 hrs ago)
really were possible. You just have to be willing to fall on your face
along the way, but if you really want something bad enough, its there to
be had.
Ok, time to go to bed... I think I am going to be able to survive the
bad coffee, painful networking, the general prevalence of polemic
comments, and handwaving.... but I made the mistake of checking the
forecast for tomorrow. The weather-gods say: Sunny 80 degrees, and
winds are on-shore at 20.
(I dare to entertain the question)
I wonder if Tino drinks Corona...?
Shawn
So this week my buddy Mike and I are down in Orlando FL at a conference
for school, focused mostly around imaging, infrared sensors,
physics/mathy-stuff... You know that kind of gathering where everyone
dresses alike, shares the same profound lack of social skills, has long
abrupt pauses in conversation, has a really swish laptop, and is vitamin
D deficient.
Anyways, Mike and I had planned on taking Wednesday afternoon to bail
and go over to Cocoa Beach to windsurf, but upon checking the wind
forecast we realized that it was going to be side on-shore 18-24 today
versus offshore and 6-12 on Wednesday. The decision was reached not 90
minutes into the conference at the free wifi station, and the moment of
awkward truth came seconds later when our adviser sits down across from
us. Mike and I exchange a terrified and guilty looks at each other and
Mike spontaneously says to our adviser (*slightly* loudly in front of 15
complete strangers nearby) "so... ummmm. Shawn and I were planning on
going windsurfing later this week - (pause as Dave looks up from his
laptop) - but the wind isn't going to be very good then, and its going
to be great today"
Dave: (looking back down, a little incredulously, shaking his head and
smiling)
Mike: "and the talks on Wednesday sound WAY more interesting than the
ones this afternoon"
Me: "yeah, we didn't see anything interesting on the schedule today,
Wednesday looks more interesting"
Dave: "Well... you guys need to get out of this trip what you want"
Mike: (stands up and says) "I'm going to go put my contacts in"
Me: (I stand up and think "I'm going to go sit somewhere less awkward"
all the while thinking to myself "thank goodness I signed up for thebadge that says 'student' " and that I don't need to network with any of
these 15 strangers for a job
So 2 hrs later we are standing barefoot on a white sandy beach, smearing
on SPF 50, talking with Tino (surf shop owner) and getting set up with
gear.
It was hauling down at Cocoa Beach, gorgeous wind (around 20-ish) and
65-70 degree water. Wearing just swimtrunks, a rashguard and a PFD, I
carry my rig down to the water for my very first session on a
shortboard. Tino didn't seem very optimistic at my recounting of my
longboard skills... I mean Mike didn't get the "extra" 5 minute lecture
about not running his fins aground, if he sees too many catapults from
me he's going to take the shortboard back, and 'no' I could not move the
footstraps - but sent me out on a 145 nonetheless and a 5.5 sail.
Shuffling our feet (to avoid stepping on a stingray, as per his
instructions) we wade into the warm bathwater. Mike (on a 110 liter
board with a 6.5) offers a few last parting words of encouragement, and
after a false start, is quickly underway, ripping parallel to the
beach. With a "try to think of this as an opportunity to learn"
mentality, I glance over to see if Tino is watching (glad that I can't
find him) and I set up the board for a beachstart, which to my surprise
happens on only the second attempt.
At first, I have to say, there were some bad catapaults - upon
re-surfacing from each one I scan for Tino, and relieved not to see him,
I hop back on and try again. A shortboard is a really funny thing to
ride... this one is laterally more stable than my longboard, and has
THE most amazing sense of acceleration if pointed (whether intentionally
or not
slightly downwind. We are talking like a truly scary(!)amount of acceleration. BUT, and this is a key but, is that once on
plane, it literally feels like a feather under your feet. It takes such
a light touch of control input to initiate a turn, and every little bump
in the water becomes this playful little jump. After many times running
aground in the soft sand (because I couldn't stay upwind or on plane,
but still no sign of Tino coming to take my gear back) I finally have
the "ahah!" moment and realize that if you could *just* control this
thing and get a little bit upwind, it could be an amazing amount of fun.
I don't know what I have done to deserve it, and I wish the scientist
(and lower-case 'a') atheist in me could explain this away with
something other than divine intervention, but the session proceeded to
only get better and better. For no particular reason, my waterstarts
came together in a profound way in this afternoon, I think in almost 4
hours of sailing I only uphauled once. I got my first two (ever) gybes,
and almost landed a helitack (BIG ker-splash(!) when you biff one of
those just 25 feet from shore) with 5-6 other seasoned windsurfers
looking on with glee at an obvious neophyte getting his butt kicked.
The coup de grace though was that on a whim Mike and I decided to trade
boards.
Well out of Tino's sight, I am standing 200 yards offshore on a sandbar
holding a very big sail, on a very little board watching Mike quickly
accelerate away. There is no way to describe the profound sense of
"this is not going to go well" going on in my sympathetic nervous system
at that moment. But since I wasn't going to swim the thing back without
fighting with it first, I take a deep breath and give it a go. It takes
like 5-6 tries just to beach start the thing, feeling like I was
participating in some preposterous - and clearly rigged - contest at the
county fair - you know one of those games of 'strength' or 'skill' that
are essentially impossible but serve to separate you from $5 in the
quest to win a teddy bear or something.
As soon as I manage to get underway, I brace for the incredible rush of
the board accelerating and feel like my body is strapped to some sort of
out of control missile, and my only two choices are to let go with my
back hand and let it sink under my bodyweight, or hold on and await the
Lord of the Rings-scale catapult that is sure to come (and does). The
salt-water stings the back of my throat and nose as I spit out the
unwelcome mouthful of seawater that results. Two more runs and I am
ready to get off *that * carnival ride and we swap back. Although... it
was a miraculous feeling to realize that the mystery of shortboarding
could be cracked, it really is just about careful balance and subtle
footwork (and a willingness to suffer a bit while figuring it all out).
I swore in that moment that when I got back home, my new 120L board was
coming out. I need to stop my excuses, if its blowing 15 or better, its
time to get the thing wet.
The best part of the day (aside from avoiding Tino's wrath) was just
realizing that the barriers that we all sense in our lives either are
probably non-existential or at most, are made of glass. Just lean hard
enough in any direction in your life, and you are going to fall through
into something new and interesting. Those things that seemed impossible
hours before (recall my not-so-triumphant TR from just 48 hrs ago)
really were possible. You just have to be willing to fall on your face
along the way, but if you really want something bad enough, its there to
be had.
Ok, time to go to bed... I think I am going to be able to survive the
bad coffee, painful networking, the general prevalence of polemic
comments, and handwaving.... but I made the mistake of checking the
forecast for tomorrow. The weather-gods say: Sunny 80 degrees, and
winds are on-shore at 20.
(I dare to entertain the question)
I wonder if Tino drinks Corona...?
Shawn
