Last Wednesday I went sailing in my Laser. It was as perfect an afternoon's sailing as one could possibly imagine. Ideal weather. Just me and my little boat scooting around Upper Narragansett Bay on an early summer afternoon. Antolin, the sailing potter, summed up the feeling of a day like that much better than I could in his recent post Solace.
I have several sources of precious solace but none better than the solace found on the water, out there where nothing is but the sea, you and the vessel you burden. Yeah, the grand cathedral of creation receiving one more hungry soul. Her face changes all the time but mother ocean is always there for us. Her winds a whisper or a scream, her watery skin calm or agitated, her, always present in all her unabated glory. In her I find solace. Tiller in hand, I ride her surface. Feeling the wave under my vessel, the winds in the sail, the perennial motion of her substance. Absorbed in this environment solace presents itself. I lose myself in the moment, however long the moment lasts.
Something is missing...
Captain JP has the answer. Sailors you have been misled.
Why should we put up with despondently drifting in the calm? Why should we take hours to get anywhere? Why do we have to bother with things called "tacks" and "gybes"?
I want to blast around at 20 knots. I want to go places fast. I want to create a huge wake. I want to hear the roar of the engines. I want to go power-boating.
Today my son called us for Mother's Day. He suggested that he and his wife would come and visit us next weekend.
"No, no, no," I said, "We will come and stay with you. I want a ride on your power boat."
And that's the plan.
Next weekend, Tillerman goes over to the dark side.