The calendar said that I was going frost bite racing on Sunday, but the weather prediction said that wasn't happening If I was going sailing that weekend, I had better go on Saturday and there was no other way around that,
After a quick house vacuuming job (thank goodness for living in a small house and having the boat out back), I suited up in my Michelin man costume and wandered down to the dock, As I stepped on board I quickly discovered that I was way overdressed for the ocassion and so peeled off a half a dozen layers, peeled off the mainsail cover, tied on the jib sheets, and slipped out for a quiet sail.
There was almost no one out in the Bay and most of the boats that were out there were motoring. After a qucik trip up towards the bridge, I swung back around and headed for home, but it was still early enough that I could not resist a loop through the harbor.
Out in the Bay, I sailed through a large flock of saltwater ducks who took flight as I passed through creating a sterophonic whistled tune without a melody;. With each stroke of each bird's wing and each bird's alofting, came a tiny bit of the high pitched harmony and stacato of webbed toes tapping water.
One the way into town, I passed through a start of some Solings out doing what Soings do. Synergy did a quick pirouiette to avoid the one boat that port-tacked the fleet. As we passed nearly cheek to cheek, he said, "I didn't expect to find you here." and all I could say was, "And I didn't expect to find you here either".
I had a nice sail through the harbor. Nothing new except for a dead empty mooring field.
The trip back home again would be memorable if i could remember more than the jibe into Whitehall Bay, and tacking in the skinny part of the channel into Mill Creek.
I decided that I had heard enough of the engine on the way iout and so decided to bring Synergy into the slip without using the engine. Synergy sits stern to in her slip. Getting her into the slip backwards requires dropping the sails well upwind of the slip, and then turning back towards the slip before losing steerage. On the way downwind she builds up speed and I aim her the bow at the middle of the slip. At the last minute when her bow can clear the far piling, the helm is thrown hard over. As the bow moves away from the slip, the stern swings in towards the piling. In a definitively "Do-or-become-Don-Quixote" moment, I spear the stern line with a boat hook, drag Synergy to a halt, reverse the wheel and pull her backwards into the slip. When it goes well it is a well choreographed parlor trick. It went well.
Its not often that you have a witness when you pull off that sort of bit of seamanship. But there was a fellow on the neighboring dock who called over with his approval. That beats the sound of one hand clapping and was the whip cream and strawberry on the parfait,