Received: by zonker.hpl.hp.com (1.37.109.8/15.5+ECS 3.3+HPL1.1) id AA28334; Mon, 25 Sep 1995 02:06:49 -0700 Date: Mon, 25 Sep 1995 02:06:49 -0700 From: Ken Poulton <poulton@zonker.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis> Return-Path: <poulton@zonker.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis> Message-Id: <9509250906.AA28334@zonker.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis> To: wind_talk@zonker.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis Subject: Sunday on the Davenport
============== Sun 25 Sep 95 - Davenport - 6.0/257 (187#)
I unexpectedly found myself with the Sunday afternoon free (or at
least, paid for, in the non-cash economy of spousal childcare points).
I was expecting to go work the 7.0 Lemon Lime Monster Sail at Coyote,
but Michael suggested Davenport, "It's blowing 23 out there!."
This sounded nice to me - I've never sailed in the surf before
and people had been saying all summer how nice and gentle it had been.
I thought he knew I had never sailed in the surf before. I was
wrong.
We buzzed over to Santa Cruz, and up Highway One to Davenport Landing.
This seemed like a pretty nice, if small, place to sail, but the wind
was surely less than the 21 mph now being reported from Waddell. The
regulars seemed to be bummed and were mostly bagging it (one reported
nothing better at Waddell). But we were here to sail, so sail we would.
We chose big sails and small boards (6.0/257 for me, 5.4/8'6 for
Michael), figuring that we would want the more maneuverable boards
regardless of the sail size required. Partway through rigging, it
occurred to me that the buoy reports had shown 8 foot swell. That was
bigger than most of the summer, wasn't it? I thought so, but a
well-formed 8 foot swell sounded pretty nice, actually. Or so I
thought.
About when we were ready to go out, one regular, eyeing our camber-heavy
slalom sails, offered us some Words of Wisdom: "These are pretty bad
conditions if you're not really good in surf. Waddell is a lot safer."
It sounded like good advice, but we're pretty good (bay) sailors, right?
Anyway, we were already rigged, so we merely nodded sagely and then
proceeded into the water. There was a hole in the break near the middle
of the beach, so getting out was not so much of a shorebreak challenge
as a swim-out-to-the-wind challenge.
At first, all seemed well. Sailing the 6.0 on my small board felt
a bit weird, but it was definitely the right combination for the day.
This made me feel more confident, and we edged upwind to the point
break. One warning sign - I was blowing a lot more jibes than
I generally do on that board.
After about an hour and a half of forays closer and closer to the point,
we were getting tired and we noticed that we were the only ones still
sailing. What did the regulars know that we didn't? "Three more runs
at the break," proposed Michael, and I agreed. The first one was
exciting - we both came in farther than usual, briefly rode down the
face of a 10 foot swell, made our jibes and made it over what suddenly
seemed like a wall of water coming in. On the second run, we had to
dodge kelp patches - and Michael dropped his jibe. The next wave of the
set came as Michael was pushing his sail around, but it didn't break.
The one after that was bigger. I could see Michael trying to fly his
sail as he disappeared behind the cresting wave... and suddenly he came
*through* the crest of the wave, sail still in waterstart position. He
waterstarted pretty quickly after that, and we went out for another
pass.
Last wave of the day. We came in towards another 10 footer, but we were
behind it. Michael got over onto the front, but as I reached the top,
the wind seemed to falter. I didn't want to chase the wave way in
beyond my fledgling wavesailing skills, so I jibed right on top. Or
tried to. In a moment I was in the water, and my sail was on the wrong
side of the board. I could feel, more than see, the horizons press in
around me as I sank into the trough, trying to get my sail around. The
next wave was just as big... so it didn't break either. As it turned
out, I had chickened out ("prudently retreated") well before the break
zone for this set. I hit "stop" and eject" on the life flashing before
my eyes (it was Luigi's life anyway, darn it) and we sailed in to the
beach without further mishap.
All told, a very nice day.
Ken Poulton
poulton@opus.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis
"A man can be destroyed, but not defeated."
-- Earnest Hemingway, "The Old Man and the Sea"
[ Ed note: the author has taken a few liberties with the order of events. ]
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