“Take your daughter out sailing,” she said. “Make some memories”...
The wind was blowing out of the south/southwest, and according to my cell phone weather program, was going at eleven or twelve miles per hour. That’s a pretty strong wind for an experienced crew, and Julia was far from experienced. But looking at the flag at the end of the dock wafting in the breeze, it was probably half that. The valley in which Lake Emily sits plays havoc with the rules when it comes to weather patterns. Looks can sometimes be deceiving.
“Okay. Julia, let’s go.”
Becky helped me raise the sails and rig up Serenity, our Catalina 14.2. Life jackets on, centerboard and rudder at half (the water at the dock is shallow). The roller furler line was cleated off on the foredeck. We’d run on the main alone for departure. The jenny was only coming out if the ‘crew’ was up to the task of handling it. But I noticed that Becky had pulled the bungee off the foresail anyway just in case. The wind was about sixty degrees off the port bow, and the mainsheet hung loosely so the main wasn’t catching any wind.
The docking lines cast off, I pulled the mainsheet in by an arm’s length, and the sail caught enough wind to start moving forward. As we cleared the end of the dock and hit the deeper water I released the clamp on the centerboard, and gave the shock cord a tug to fully deploy the board. Then I spun the wingnut on the rudder a quarter turn, pushed the rudder all the way down, and then tightened it back.
I pulled in the main another couple feet just to pull the sail off the spreaders. I wasn’t ready for speed yet, and I still had to go through crew orientation. “Okay, Julia the first thing…” My voice trailed off.
Julia was leaning over the port rail, dragging her arms in the water. I was ready for some teaching, but the student had other ideas. “Make some memories”, echoed in my head. I shrugged it off, and decided we could limp along on one sail for the time being.
As we approached the middle of the lake, the wind ripples darkened the water, and the waves whipped up to little whitecaps. I looked south, and could see the wind creating a fan of streaks across the water. The wind wasn’t so light after all. In the middle, the southerly wind was getting up a good head of steam as it raced down the valley and between the two points. The sail was still spilling a lot more wind than necessary, so I pulled it in more until the leeward telltales started to show up. The boat shot forward on a beautiful reach. The weight of the wind on the sail caused us to lean to starboard. I shifted from the seat onto the outer rail and tucked my feet under the hiking straps to even her out.
Like most of the Catalina designs, the main sail is relatively small compared to the profile of the boat, so balancing the one sail by hiking out was pretty simple. I had single-handed her in the past on the one sail. That day was pretty windy, but at the midpoint of the lake it was obvious the wind was a good deal stronger today. I was actually glad Julia was hanging over the side. But since I was already hiking out the possibility existed that I could flip over the side, leaving her alone, so I needed to talk to her.
“Hey Julia, do you remember what you do if I fall overboard and you’re alone on the boat?”
“No.”
“First thing, you come back here and grab the tiller.”
“What’s the tiller?”
“The rudder stick.”
“Okay.”
“Then you turn the boat so she’s facing into the wind.”
She looked at me for a minute, calculating, then pointed south. “That way?”
I nodded. “Very good. It will be just like this.” I pushed the tiller away, and Serenity turned dutifully into the strong headwind. “You’ll have to keep playing with the rudder to keep her like this. She’ll fight you if you lose focus.”
Julia nodded emphatically. “And you’ll swim back.”
“You got it.” I grinned at her.
I pulled the tiller back, and the boat hung in the wind for a few seconds, unwilling to move. Irons, I thought. It’s tough (some would say nearly impossible) to get out of irons with only the one sail. But after only a few seconds, the nose swung around enough for the sail to start working again. And we were off once more.
The whitecaps slapped the hull of the boat, sending up a spray that almost exclusively caught Julia in the face. “I’m getting wet!” she groused.
“I’m not. Thanks for catching that spray.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I thought you liked getting wet.”
“Yeah, swimming. This is just. Cold.”
“Sorry”, I grinned, “I’d let you have my shirt, but you’d only get it wet.”
“Ha ha.”
Lake Emily is shaped like a giant hourglass, with two points jutting out from the middle of the western and eastern shores. As we crossed to the far western side of the lake, the southerly wind was screened by the western point, so our next maneuver would be much easier.
“Okay Julia, do you remember how we turn.”
“Come about?”
“Yup. I say ‘Prepare to come about’, you say ‘ready’, I say ‘hard alee, and we turn. When the boom comes across the middle, you switch sides. Remember to keep you head down!”
“Don’t worry, the boom won’t hit me.”
“Don’t underestimate the danger, kiddo. You know why they call it a boom?”
“Because that’s the sound it makes when it hits your head.”
“You got it. So head down, right?”
“Yes.”
“Prepare to come about…”
The turn went fine. So did the next turn back on the eastern side in front of the dock. Becky was sitting out on the porch swing, watching from shore like a silent guardian. The only concern was the wind whipping across the midpoint of the lake. It really was quite strong as we’d cross it. Even with both of us hiked out if the wind gusted more than our weight could counter, I’d be forced let the main out a bit, and then have to fight her not to round up into the wind. One sail is easier to handle, but the boat is designed to be balanced with both of them.
“Hey Julia, remember last year when you steered, and I worked both sails? How would you like to do that again?”
“No thanks.”
Oh well.
As we sailed, the spray on the leeward side would form a puddle on the seat, so every time we’d come about, there was a nice puddle to sit in on the other side.
“Now my pants are wet,” Julia complained.
“Could be worse.”
“How?”
“You could be in the lake. Then they’d be really wet.”
“But then I’d be warmer. The water’s really warm.” Suddenly her face lit up. “Hey, I could jump overboard, and you could rescue me!”
I looked at the streaks of wind across the water. “Let’s not. I could only get the boat to you. You’d have to pull yourself back aboard.”
She stuck out her lower lip. “Fine,” she pouted.
With each crossing of the lake, I was working us southward. I had an idea that if I could make it to the southern half of the lake, the wind would have had less time to get worked up, and the sailing would be easier. At the very least, we could avoid the ‘ski-jump’ effect the two points had on the wind. The points make sailing on our lake interesting because at any given moment, you could be blasted by wind from three different directions. But there was another effect in the southern part of the lake I didn’t count on. I call it the ‘bowl effect’, where the wind whips down the western shore until it curves toward the western point. This has the effect of creating a headwind out of the west at the same time you’re getting a wind across the port side. It’s really only a problem if you get too close to shore. Unfortunately on our first tack into the southern half, we were a little too close.
So this is how it began. We sailed into the southern bowl with a strong wind off the port side driving us forward. But the further west we went, and the closer we got to shore, the stronger the headwind until we all but stopped moving forward altogether. “Prepare to come about.” “Ready.” “Hard alee…”. I pushed the tiller and the boat VERY sluggishly moved into the wind. And hung.
Without any forward momentum, we didn’t have enough speed to power through the turn. We got stuck half way. A classic case of getting in irons.
So, remember my earlier lesson of what to do if I fall overboard? Basically, put the boat in irons, and wait for me to get to you.
Here’s the flaw in that plan: It’s a sailboat.
She drafts only a couple inches and sits high and light on the water. The hull profile itself doesn’t have a lot of surface area, but to a twelve mile an hour wind, it’s a lot more than say…a person in the water. So my theory is bullshit. If I fell overboard, and she put it into the wind, the bow profile, and even the luffing sail would still be catching a lot of wind, and sliding over the water a LOT faster than the swimmer could go.
So back to irons.
We theoretically should have been stalled in the wind trying to figure out how to break out of irons. But we weren’t sitting still. We were sliding backwards. Toward the shore.
I know of two ways to get out of irons. The first is to do something called “backwinding the sail” which consists of grabbing the boom and pulling (or pushing) it until the wind can catch it and push you back into a sailing position. The only thing that stopped me was the speed that the wind was going, and how quickly it would shift the balance of the boat if I guessed wrong. (Note: This was a mistake.) I was getting a little spooked by the proximity to the shore.
The other way out of irons is to deploy the second sail. The genoa would catch the wind easily and pull us into the turn. Only one small problem: Julia can’t man the jibsheets yet. “Okay Julia. Switch seats with me. You need to take the tiller, and hold her straight!”
“Okay.”
We switched. I uncleated the roller furler and pulled the second sail out. It dutifully caught the wind, turned us out of irons and sent us back onto a reach. Unfortunately, still driving west. Julia fought to keep us straight. Pull. Push. Pull. Overcorrecting like crazy. I was trying to tell her where to hold the tiller, and lost track of the sails. Too many things at once. I should have furled the jenny back up. I should have let all the sails loose. I shouldn’t have put the novice on the tiller. All that sail area did what sails do best. And the boat started to lay down.
Julia says I only said one thing. “Ah crap.”
“Julia! When you hit the water, swim clear of the sails!”
I had only one other thought. I wanted the boat laying down for as short a time as possible. If I could get over the high side of the boat, I could stand on the centerboard and keep her from turtling. So there I was, feet planted at the base of the centerboard, standing high over the wreckage of the boat. Looking in dismay at both sails, still locked in place as Julia swam clear.
“Stay close to the boat, kiddo. Grab on to the rudder and stay with us.”
The wind continued to push us over the surface of the water like a giant seaweed mat. Before I knew it, we were sliding into the last cove before hitting the western point. I didn’t like this at all. Choked with weeds, littered with boulders, and black muck for a bottom. The top six feet of the mast was angled into the water, dragging slower than the hull. Soon we were facing nose into the wind again.
Still standing on the centerboard, I reached over and grabbed the port rail and leaned back. The mast started to clear the water, then I saw why it was dragging. It must have had thirty pounds of seaweed wrapped around the mast. “Julia, I need you to swim around to the top of the mast and clear off all the seaweed.”
She dutifully obeyed. When the mat of weed was free, I leaned again. The mast popped out of the water. Serenity was laying on her side as the mainsail shed enough water to pull out of the lake.
“Stay clear, Julia. I’m going to flip her back up.”
I stood further out on the centerboard, and pulled on the rail. The boat popped back upright with her weed-covered sails high and proud, I was depositied in the water. My elation lasted only a moment before the the bowl effect hit the sails again, and the mast continued its rotation straight toward me. The hull rotated overhead. I positioned myself so I would be inside the footwell if it turtled and so avoided the crashing mast and sail. As soon as the sails hit the water, she stopped, this time laying on her port side.
I knew it was going to freak Julia out when it looked like the boat had just crashed down on top of me.
“DAD!” she screamed.
“I’m okay Julia. I’m going to have to undo the sails so that doesn’t happen again. Can you get hold of the centerboard and sort of hang on it to keep the mast out of the water?”
“I’ll try”, I heard her say. “No. I can’t reach it.”
Suddenly my feet glanced off a boulder. Then another hit my ankle. “We’re hitting the shallow water. I can stand on the rocks.”
I wedged my feet against a rock and pushed with all my might to stop the boat from sliding with the wind any further. We were twenty feet from shore in about four feet of water, littered with boulders.
I uncleated the main halyard and started pulling the sail down the track in the mast. It took a lot more effort than it normally would with gravity pulling it down. Julia would never have been able to do it.
The genoa was also fully deployed. One of the jibsheets was wrapped around the hull, holding it there. I also couldn’t get through the tangle of sail and lines to get to the roller furler.
“Julia, swim around to the bow. See if you can furl the jib!”
“How do I do that?”
“See the string dangling down from the furler drum? Pull it.”
Julia grabbed the string and literally hung on it. The furler wouldn’t turn. I could see the string was wrapped around the outside of the drum.
“It’s tangled, can you unwrap it?”
“Yes.” Then after a minutes she exclaimed, “Where the heck is Mom? She should have seen us by now.”
Meanwhile back on the porch swing, Becky had looked up from the reel she was restringing and did a quick scan for the boat. She was staring into the reflection of the sunset on the water. Unfortunately, the cove we were in was dead-center in that reflection. She had lost sight of us, but knew that wasn’t unusual when the boat was in the southern half of the lake. She just assumed we were out of sight behind the point on the eastern shore. But her mommy-sense was tingling. They have five minutes to come back into view. Then I worry. She kept staring into the sunset. Was that a fishing boat? A big green hull. Leaning against the shore? No. It was too far off the shore. And what was that in front of it. A flash of red-white and CRAP! Becky leapt to her feet and ran up the stairs into the house. “THEY’RE DOWN! CHRISTINE, GET IN GRANDPA’S BOAT!” Fortunately, my in-laws had joined us at the cottage on 4th of July and we had both agreed to leave the boats up here until we could come back at the end of the month. So my father-in-law’s speedboat was tied up at the dock and ready to go.
As Becky and Christine unlashed the boat, my father ran down to join them. My mother pulled out the binoculars and started watching from the deck.
Back in the cove, I was losing my battle to get the sails down while simultaneously keeping the boat from blowing into or worse, around the point. The rocks were everywhere, which meant the centerboard would have to be retracted before we flipped her up again, or it would get wedged in the rocks. The main was down and the boom had pulled out of the track, but the jenny wasn’t budging. We were going to have to flip it up with the jib in place.
Julia let out a cry. “There they are! They’re coming.”
“Good.” I looked around us. There wasn’t much they could do. There were too many rocks and the water was too shallow. The speedboat closed the distance and slowed down. Becky was driving. My dad was looking on with a worried look on his face. Christine was counting heads.
“Don’t come any closer!” I shouted. “The rocks!”
Becky turned the boat away and put the throttle in neutral. “Dad, take the wheel.” She realized that Julia couldn’t help with what needed to be done, and meant to jump in to help us.
Christine sensed it too. “Mom, you need a life jacket!” (That’s my girl and her lifeguard training kicking in.)
Becky grabbed one of the horrible orange type-II jackets, pulled it over her head and leapt into the water.
Standing on a rock, I started stepping the mast up out of the water. The boat was back on its side. “Julia, I’m flipping her up again. Watch out!”
Becky was suddenly in the water next to me. “What can I do?”
“I’ll let you know in a second.” I heaved up on the mast and she started to teeter on her side. I jumped forward and grabbed the submerged lip of the port rail and lifted. Serenity’s mast pointed skyward again with the genoa flapping wildly in the wind. The boom was still attached by the boom-vang and hung over the side. I pulled it free from the rocks and lifted it up into the boat. The foot of the main sail was still secure in the boom track, and the head of the sail was still attached by the main halyard, so we weren’t going to lose it. The wind grabbed the jenny and started pulling. I wedged my foot again and grabbed the bowring. God, she wanted to sail again, and didn’t appreciate my holding her back. “Becky, do you think you can climb up there and secure the jib?”
“I’m on it.” She swam around to the side and tried to pull herself up.
“Try the back,” I said. “It’s easier in the back.”
Becky found a rock to brace against and leapt up onto the stern. She hung on the edge for a second, and then toppled in.
Julia swam up next to me. “What can I do?”
My first thought was to send her to the speedboat, but by this time my father was maneuvering the speedboat in a slow figure eight, keeping as close as he could while staying clear of the rocks. Like I said, the speedboat belongs to Becky’s father, and I wasn’t sure my father was aware of the way the throttle tended to stick when moving into neutral. I didn’t want to introduce a moving body anywhere near the moving prop.
“Julia, I’m going to need you to get in the sailboat too. Swim around to the back and wait for mom to help you.”
Becky crawled out under the wildly flapping genoa and tried to engage the furler. “Why won’t it work?”
“I don’t know. It was jammed.”
A fresh burst of wind grabbed the boat again and pulled me off the rock. I felt something stab into the big toe on my right foot. Ignoring the pain I pulled back and braced against the slippery rock again.
“You need to wrap it up. How about the sail ties? They’re in the front storage bag.”
Becky bent down and retrieved the ties, then walked straight into the flapping sail to give it a bear hug. “Ouch!”
She looped a tie around the highest point of the foresail she could reach, and started to wind the tie around the stay, bringing more and more of the sail under control.
The boat lurched again, pulling me off the rock. My toe hit the same spot again. Another stab of pain. “I’d appreciate it if you could wrap that a little faster.”
“It’s hitting me in the face!” She finished securing the sail, and then went to the back to pull Julia aboard. As Julia cleared the rail, Becky flopped backward onto the port rail, sitting down hard. “That’ll bruise!” she cried.
Sensing we were almost ready, Christine called out, “How can we get a line to you?”
I looked at how close we were to the tip of the point. There were still too many rocks for them to approach. “I don’t know. You can’t come any closer.”
Becky looked at the open water on the other side of the point. “What if we just let it go?”
She was right.
“Good idea,” I told her, then called out, “Dad! We’re going to let the wind carry us around the point. When we hit the deeper water you can get alongside us.”
My father nodded and motored off to the north.
I let go of the rock, and quickly worked around to the stern. I found another rock to push off and repeated Becky’s maneuver up over the transom, then flopped down on the seat trying to catch my breath. I was exhausted, and lay there for a minute trying to regain my composure while the wind pulled us around the point. Then I sat up and started pulling the main sail up into the boat.
Dad brought the speedboat about fifty feet in front of us and cut the motor. He and Christine had found a long line with a clip on the end, and were attaching it to the tow-cleat on the back of the boat. We were drifting a lot faster than they were, carried on top of the water while they plowed through it. In no time we caught up.
Becky crawled out on the nose, grabbed the working end of the line, and hooked the clip to the bow ring. Then, in a move I never saw coming, she crossed over to the other boat to take the wheel back for docking. Very nice. I may have been captain of the sailboat, and she deferred to everything I asked for when she joined us in the water. But she was the master of the power boat and wasted no time taking control of the situation there.
As we were towed back to shore, I set about clearing lines, and getting as much under control as I could. I inspected my throbbing toe. There were two bloody gashes about a half-inch long.
Julia saw it. “You’re bleeding!”
“It’s not that bad. Are you okay? Did you get hurt on the rocks?”
“No, just a few bruises.”
I looked deeper into her eyes. “Are you okay?”
I could see fear still lurked back there. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t know what to do.”
“You did fine. You didn’t cause this.”
“But I was steering.”
“Yes you were. But it was my fault. We shouldn’t have put out the second sail.”
A tear formed at the corner of her eye. And her lower lip quivered.
“Come here.” I said, putting my arms out. She crossed the boat and I hugged her close. I kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Julia. You did everything I could have asked you to do. And you kept your head. That’s the important thing.”
She clung to me and sobbed a little. “I love you too.”
I held her a little longer, grateful that she wasn’t hurt.
“Hey, Dad?”
“What?”
“My pants are wet.”
I burst out laughing. “Told you!”
She looked at the speedboat, a rope-length away. “You know what else? I think I’ve satisfied my need to get towed behind the boat today.”
I hugged her closer, once again marveling at how much alike we are.
We got to dock, and the two of us jumped in and walked Serenity around to the mooring. We secured the bow and stern lines, and then climbed up on the dock.
Becky finished tying up the speed boat and then saw my toe. “You need to take care of that.”
“In a minute.” I put my arm around Julia. “I’m proud of you. You should go take a shower, and wash that mud and seaweed off.”
“What about your toe?”
“I’ll go upstairs and let Grandma take a look at it. But first, tell me again. Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Go take that shower.”
Julia stopped at the doorway to the bathroom, and turned back. “You know what?”
I looked at her, saw the glint in her eye and grinned. “Yes, I do.”
And in unison we both said, “Mom DID say to go out and make a memory.”