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Fat Guy In A Little Coat, Fat Guy In A Little Coat….
That’s how it feels when I get into my wet suit for the first time each season. This year was no different as I prepared for a huge Long Pond session by donning said wetsuit in the comfort of my living room before heading out. It didn’t go well! Pulling my arms on I slipped and gave myself a fat lip with my fist and before I got out of the house I was sweating bullets! No problem as I drove to the pond with the A/C cranked up even though it was 64 degrees out.
It’s amazing how sick minds think alike. Arriving at the pond, Art was already there with his hands in the air holding his windmeter; “Ahh, I don’t know it’s gusting up into the 40’s!”. Well one thing about arriving to the water with your suit already on is that you’re pretty much committed. But within minutes the winds abated as if we willed it so, and we both put up 4.2’s!
Thus began the sailing season for two old-timers and survival sailing commenced! The water was really high and there was no beach as we stepped off the embankment right into the water. This was nice because it allowed sailing into the east corner without grounding out. It was quite gusty and I found the winds testing the full range of my 4.2, at times fully luffed and hanging on for dear life and others times painfully trying to get on plane. My gybe rate was only 50% but that’s not a problem for its a great opportunity to catch your breath and collect any body parts that threaten to fall off! At one point I launched off a huge wave and successfully caught some nice hang time, higher and higher, and the bonus was, I didn’t crash. However the next time I wasn’t so lucky and blew-up, swearing its was time to cut that shit out, realizing the winds capacity to launch any gear not held onto out of swimming range!
Popping up on plane in a gust, I found myself heading right into an ominous looking gust center with lots of white water vapor and as I plowed into its periphery I chose to bail to avoid a potential tomahawk and I swear as the smoke passed overhead it smelled of ozone! The vaporized water, the white smoke had taken on a different smell….maybe it was the smell of fear, maybe the smell of pond water just coming off its winter thaw. Anyway it was different and with gust differentials ranging wildly and another impromptu kiss of the sail where I kneed my boom so hard it cut my good leg right through the techno-butter neoprene, I called it a session. Shortly after that, Art comes in all smiles, he had been sailing on the same sail size and was satisfied with an epic first sesh of the season although he stated a tamer one would have suited his needs just fine. lol
Over in the corner the kite guys were hurriedly trying to get into the water, I stopped by to feel the buzz and as J-man was racing off to the brambles and weeds and water below, he says; “Got a session beer?” I said “No!” to my surprise; he stops, puts his stuff down, goes back to his van and pops open a couple All Day IPA’s! Chuggs it and races off into the fray! Now that what I call a good dead and good day!
Back at home, Kim greets me as I stroll in, still in my wetsuit with a couple quarts of water trapped in the legs, “Go Sailing? Dinners in the fridge!”
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Awesome report Scott! Everybody’s wind alert was likely going off yesterday, glad you and Art got to the scene at the same time. I love reading this stuff…so often the buzz from the session still shows through when people post.
How about that Jason toasting your session before his!!??
Thanks for taking the time to share the stoke here.
Wd
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