Wow. What a day. When I woke up this morning, and stepped outside to load my
truck with a few things, I could never have imagined the day that lay ahead.
I arrived at the day sail area of Metro Beach Metropark at about 8:30 A.M.
John Bauldry and Gregg Kittinger were going to caravan from the Auburn Hills
area. John still had my boat double-stacked from the Toronto festivities of
last weekend. Driving an empty trailer over to Metro was a bit odd...but the
oddities would not end there...
As I started to set up the canopy at the day sail area, the weather was
changing literally by the minute. A bit of sunshine to the west, and dark
clouds to the east. The wind was blowing about 8 mph or so, but with the
goings on in the sky, anything was possible. Overall, I was pretty happy
with the venue...adequate grassy area to set-up and a little bit of beach to
launch from.
When Gregg and John arrived, the weather gaves us all of its faces...cloudy,
rainy, and eventually sunny. For a time there, John's recommendation of
packing it in, and trying again tomorrow, looked like the best option. We
partially set up our boats, having a hard time committing to the full
assembly. Greg's wife Rocio found th front seat of the Hummer the best
option...a bit reclined. The fun meter was running low.
Just then, two guys pulled up with a Hobie. I didn't recognize them by face,
nor did I recognize their names when we introduced ourselves. Hey, new
recruits! They explained that they only had a few hours to sail, and began
assembling their boat. With each passing minute, the wind began to increase.
By the time these guys had their boat together, it must have been blowing
22+.
They went right down to the launch, raised the sail, and took off like hell
across the lake. The had all the accessories on their 16 - mast bob and
anti-pitchpole devices on the front of the hulls. These guys had one thing
on their mind...sail it hard. White water rooster tails rose from their
sterns as they screamed across the lake! As we continued to set up our
boats, we kept looking for the commandos. The anti-pitchpole devices failed
about a half-mile out and sent them on a cartwheel.
When they came in about an hour later, their smiles were as big as bozo's.
Talking with them, this is their favorite condition - blowing like snot. If
the wind is not blowing tops of bikinis, these guys aren't interested. We
had a great time talking with them while they disassembled and we continued
to assemble. The conditions were edgy...to say the least.
Meanwhile, Jim and Jan Vander Jagt had arrived, as well as Ross and Crew. I
think the prayers for lighter winds, headed by the ladies in attendance,
began to pay off. The winds began to slow down to a more comfortable 15-20
mph as we neared completion of assembly. Andrew showed up alone with his 18,
and it was decided that he would sail with Gregg, and I would sail with John
on the Tiger. Rocio would continue her Hummer Hideout until the weather
cooperated.
Well, as we all finished our boats, the winds dropped substantially to about
5 mph. The sun came out, and so did the girls. Andrew was convinced, or
coerced, to sail his 18 solo. After all, that's a piece of cake in these
winds. As John and I climbed aboard the Tiger and set off, all John could do
is appologize. I had been looking forward to my first Tiger ride...this was
not starting out to be a memorable ride. "I can go this slow on my 16", I
commented. In reality, with the chute out, the Tiger would kick my butt, in
any wind condition. We were making good speed with what wind we had.
Well, as fast as the wind had left, it began to build back. Suddenly, the
sleeping Tiger awoke. Within minutes, I had the Tiger on the leash ( I was
on the trapeze). What a ride. You know the feeling you have when you think
your car rides nice, then you get into your friends brand new Cadillac CTS?
Suddenly, your car doesn't fell so good anymore...sluggish and rough riding.
Well, welcome to the world of the Tiger.
While Gregg and Rocio, Andrew, the Vander Jagt's, and Ross were tearing it
up, John and I were rippin' it up. At times, I couldn't hold the chute line
against the pull of the breeze. As the wind continued to build, our sled
became a luge. Driving downwind, chute up and flying a hull, I have never
felt anything like it. At times, we were double-trapped, stepping on each
others feet as we searched for the balance point. It's hard to balance when
your sailing on the edge.
At one point, blasting downwind, John in the trap, with me white knuckled,
holding the spinnaker sheet, we buried the leeward bow. John was sent on a
venture up the bow, tumbling along the hull, ass over cranium. I didn't let
the spinnaker out quickly enough, as I struggled to find something to stop
my forward momentum - the mast staring back at me. The hull popped up as
John pulled himself back on board, while at the same time, guiding us deeper
downwind.
The skipper felt as though he had hurt his wing, and we headed toward shore,
thinking this would be a good time for lunch. Well, the injury healed
quickly because John called for a tack and we headed back out. The wind had
subsided as we were heading for shore, but a glance over the shoulder
convinced John that there was reason to go back out.
The wind filled in and were flying. This time however, the filling in didn't
stop...until it was overflowing. We maid a jibe for home and went in under
spinnaker. In no time, we were headed for shore. We sniffed the spin and
came in under jib. We were still cookin'. John rounded us up into the wind
and I jumped in to hold the boat into the wind, 100 feet from the launch.
John furled the jib and we fought the Tiger all the way to the shore, until
we could cage the beast.
Gregg and Rocio came in right behind us and rounded up into the breeze. We
all helped beach his 20 and returned to help Andrew, who had done a hell of
a job sailing his 18 solo in these conditions. Its all he could do, in every
point of sail, to keep a hull down. We lifted his boat and carried it up to
the grassy area. As we turned back to the water, we all had the same
thought. The Vander Jagt's and Ross were still out there, and the conditions
were not getting any better.
Some windsurfers said that it was blowing at 27 with gusts in the mid-30's
when we came in. There were whitecaps everywhere and the sound of the sails
on the shore was deafening. Ross and crew made a jibe and came in from the
south, sails full. As he approached the launch site at Mach 10, he thought
he was going to turn his 16 on a dime, right into the wind. Unfortunately,
the shallow waters had kicked up his rudders, leaving them nearly useless.
As we stood waist deep in the water, hoping to catch him as he headed up, we
could only watch. John yelled, "the rocks, look out". Ross fought his
tiller, like that alligator wrestler from Australia. His port hull missed
the rock seawall by a foot, the bottom of his hulls glancing across the
submerged rocks below. A foot from an accordian hull design. Let alone what
would have happened to them, going from full throttle, to zero, in a second.
They continued back out into the lake, their unauthorized fly-by
accomplished. When they came back in on their second approach, one of the
newest arrivals to Fleet 276, Ken Brewer, made a diving catch of the
starboard bow. It was impressive! Ken had come down for a late afternoon
sail and lunch. Little did he know that he would be the human wire on the
makeshift Hobie hullcraftcarrier! Awesome.
Well, that left the Vander Jagt's. They were south of the launch are and Jim
was doing everything he could to try to get his craft, and spouse, back to
shore. He managed to get it onto a starboard tack and came down the coast.
He cut in toward the launch area, leaving him on a broad reach, with enough
speed that, if he had desired, he could have driven the craft up the launch
area, across the parking lot, and eventually onto I-94 East.
He managed to cut it back and Ken made the ultimate sacrifice again. The guy
could place first if they ever have a Hobie Rodeo. We got Jim's boat up with
the others and began to disassemble - with dark skies approaching, we
ignored our hunger pains, and set out to break down the boats. Once
disassembled, we moved our chairs, the grill, and all the food behind some
trees and tall vegetation. At least here, the food would stay on your plate!
We ate like pigs. Burgers and dogs, cooked by John, followed the salsa
provided by Rocio (hot and outstanding (the salsa Gregg, I'm not making a
move on your wife)). Ross brought some watermelon that we dripped down our
chins, and Andrew pushed the envelope with cold shrimp and dip. The Vander
Jagt's brough some carrott cake that was superb, and Ken "Rodeo" Brewer
rounded off the meal with potatoe salad.
We talked Hobies and sailing while we filled our stomachs. Washing it down
with a cold Labatt Blue - "social". The final touches were put on
disassembly and trailer loading. I helped "Rodeo" go over his 16 - he has
yet to sail it since recently buying it. We went over the boat and found it
fit for the water. With a few more items, he'll be good to go. He will be
ready for the Gull Island Getaway in two weeks...will you?
The key to the whole day was people helping other people. Helping crew
boats, helping set up and tear down boats. Helping each other onto shore.
That is the key aspect of a Hobie fleet - helping other sailors to enjoy the
sport of sailing. Whether here, or in the Keys. O.K., why the bold keys?
Well, the day finished with John not being able to find his. In this fleet,
everything is fair game. O - key, dough key?
By the way, he found them.