Hey dewey dewey,
Come along with me,
As we go down,
to the deep blue sea.
Take my hand,
And wear a very warm coat,
because I'm taking you,
on a sailing broat.
That's a poem by Captain Roy Dringus, performed by Dr. Steve Brule on his show Check it Out with Dr. Steve Brule, episode all about broats!
A week ago, I was standing in front of the Ehler's General Store in Cornucopia, Wisconsin, after finishing my lake fish street taco, just chatting with El Cap and the locals. We were talking about July and what we were all up to, and I found myself saying, "oh, I am headed back to Des Moines next week to get ready for this week long bike ride."
And later, "oh, yeah, I didn't come to the Corny fireworks because I was doing Bayfield Race Week."
And this gal, a friend of El Cap, looks at me with more than a touch of incredulity and says, "wow, are you having fun or what?"
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| Sunrise over the Apostle Islands |
[Disclaimer: this was going to be one blog entry, but then it got weirdly long and self-indulgent and autobiographical, so feel free to bail out here. There will probably be a few of these sailing stories blogs in the next few weeks.]
I have always loved boats, and the sea, and sea stories. Nautical stuff. The first time I saw the ocean was in Florida, while visiting my grandma. (The Deb had unwittingly taken me and my two younger siblings to the nude beach where I also so a man walking down the beach in a ball cap and sneakers and nothing else. Honestly, you are not going to wear pants but you are going to lace up sneakers? Deb said, "just look at the ocean kids.") It was love at first sight. The power. The mystery. The massive open space. Sirens call. I answer.
Of course, I loved a lot of things as a nerdy, chubby kid growing up in Iowa. Books. Horses. Oh boy, was I into horses. And backpacking. I remember my first big hiking trip in Colorado. I nearly convinced the Dale to go on an overnight hiking trip across the Continental Divide. And bikes. I went to Girl Scout bike camp. I always like boats. I just didn't have much access to them.
I tried. My Uncle Ray always had a kick-ass power boat, which I couldn't wait to take out every time we visited him in Joliet. Later he traded boats for RVs (not as fun). In college, I acquired a huge, unregistered aluminum canoe that I managed to strap to the top of my parents Dodge Dynasty to paddle around Easter Lake.
Whenever there was an opportunity to go on a boat, I took it. I had a marvelous day on the Upper Mississippi with a boat captain from Lansing, Iowa, who took me into all the back channels and hidden lagoons of Iowa's driftless region. He was certified to drive any boat, from a dingy all the way to an aircraft carrier. ("They'll get out of the way. I learned that driving the Saratoga.:)
But it was never enough, and the problem was access. If you don't own a boat, then you need to pay for the boat, or have friends with a boat. (They say the two happiest days of a sailor's life are the day he buys a boat and the day he sells his boat. I'll say, I was pretty happen when Pochy and LB bought a boat, and pretty crushed when they sold it. Why, why did I get them into bikes?!?!). And if you do own a boat, well that comes with a whole host of other concerns. Transporting the boat, licensing the boat, maintaining the boat: you know.
But the tectonic plates of my life shifted, just a little, when my best friend's (Lexi) parents bought a home in Lake City, Minnesota. Lake City (the birthplace of water skiing) is not technically on a lake (this is also true for Lake City, Iowa which has no lake, we'll be riding through next week). Lake City is on a stretch of the Mississippi River where the channel widens to about four miles across, bordered by Red Wing in the north and Wabasha in the south. Between the bluffs and valleys of the driftless region, Lake City has enough room and enough wind for sailing. And Jamie and Diana bought a sail boat. I had friends with a boat.
In those early years, my friends and I would descend on Lake City, tents and beer in tow and we would spend a weekend lolling in Diana's garden, listening to Jamie play guitar, terrorizing the local bars, and going out for afternoons of sailing when we could. Though it seemed we were often plagued by lack of wind, or major storm, or my friend needing to "take a nap" with her boyfriend in the v-berth....we certainly didn't get out as much as I would have liked, but I loved it.
I didn't know what I was doing, but I loved it.
And, then, I met El Cap. The funny thing is, the first time I met El Cap was actually after RAGBY 2013. You'll remember RAGBY '13 as the "ragbrai where we had Ranger Dave! and Masinga rode her first day and the original Lizard Party and Steven was on preggo-watch Deathcon 3, and the Spazmatics." Well, the day after that, my DSM friends invited me out for brunch at Mullet's. It was one of those weird chilly days in July, and my friend Jessie (Lexi's little sister) was in town, and she was dating this dude, who I had heard a lot of stories about: Captain P.
El Cap came into our lives and our circle of friends through Jamie (Lexi and Jessie's day). After Jamie moved to Lake City, and bought a boat, he also put an addition on his house. He met El Cap, who was born and raised in Lake City, through the alchemy of boats and building and beers. Despite their 30-odd year age difference, they became best friends. Jessie and El Cap dated for a bit, and she brought him to Des Moines for the weekend and he came to brunch. I noticed him, well, not at all.
Well maybe a little bit. Hunky boat captain and carpenter? Hello.
But, I was in a relationship. He was in a relationship with my dear friend. I was exhausted. But, he did make a cameo in the blog on January 9, 2014.
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| Just a hunk Captain. |
And just like that, my access to boats started improving. And, so I set a goal: I would like to be not completely useless on a sail boat.
Enter Dick Leaders.
In the summer of 2015, I decided to take a class called, "Intro to Sailing," through Des Moines Community Education and the Saylorville Yacht Club (yep, it is a thing). The class would be on a Monday night at Gray's Lake. It would include a few hours of "classroom" experience and then a few hours practicing on the Hobie Cats with some coaching. The other benefit of the class was that for the rest of the week, the students could use the Hobie Cats anytime they wanted to practice. At $50 it was a steal.
My instructor was a short, stout, serious gentleman named Dick Leaders. The first thing he told us was that if we showed up with open toed shoes for a ride on his boat (a Hunter 40), we'd be kicked off. "You want to lose a toe?!" The class was a combination of drill Sargent-like barking and good natured-dad-ribbing. After the class was over, he and I were walking to the parking lot and he said, "well, you weren't as bad as I thought you'd be."
Hook. Line. Sinker.
Unfortunately for me, there was NO wind the rest of that week. I went out on the boats as much as my schedule would allow, and I convinced a few friends to come along with me, but there was no breeze. I am pretty sure I had to make Goldie help me paddle in, Hawaiian-style because otherwise we'd be spending the night in the middle of the lake. I had learned a lot about sailing, but I had and have a long way to go.
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| The Good Ship Dick |
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| Shore Whoring for El Cap at Bayfield Race Week |
These were all wonderful experiences, and I was learning and gaining experience, but the problem with sailing with El Cap, is that he is such a wonderful, experienced, and capable sailor, that I never have to do anything. Sometimes he lets me do things, but it is never required. I wasn't really improving. And, so I thought about what both Dick Leaders and El Cap had told me: if you really want to learn how to sail, you need to race.
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| He does it all. |
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| Birthday on a boat! |
