The picture had hung on the wall for as long as I could remember. I had no idea where it came from, but I spent hours looking at it while listening to the radio, in my favorite chair. Its most likely origin was a calendar at some point. Mother, the calendar art connoisseur.
It was a picture of an old, large sailing vessel. It may have been a merchant ship, or one carrying wayward passengers, but something about it and its huge billowing sails pulled at my heart strings. I would imagine myself standing on the deck, looking out over the raging waves and feel the saltwater and wind sting my face. Certainly, if there are such things as past lives, I was surely a pirate.
The opportunity came again. It had been missed the last time by an unsuspecting change of events. The Sunfish sail boat lessons at one of the public lakes. I was signed up, ready and so excited.
There were only three people in the class. All of us were probably somewhere within 10 years of age with each other. One had a bit of sailing experience, myself and the other lady had zero. We sat attentively and listened to our young instructors, who were in their early 20's. As they began to talk about sailing, being in irons, points of sail and all the different names for all the different parts of the boat, I began to think I had made a big mistake. How could we be expected to remember all those things. As a small wave of panic began to rise somewhere in the depths of my stomach, the other lady spoke up and admitted she had no idea what the instructor had just said. At least I was not completely alone.
After 30-45 minutes of verbal instruction, we were ready to hit the water. I gave a silent prayer of thanks for the life jacket.
We assembled our sails, attached the rudder and the dagger board and pointed our small crafts to the wind. Remembering to always keep hold of the tiller, we set out across the open water. The wind had diminished to nearly nothing, but it was just enough to give hands on meaning to what we had just been told.
There was one bit of information that I did know about taking this class because I had watched someone, a year ago, learn to sail. Each student was required to upright the sailboat in the middle of the lake. This is sort of like why people want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, why tip the ship if it is just fine and upright in the water to start with. I had prepared for this though, I had started lifting weights several weeks earlier and I felt like Hulk Hogan.
Tipping my sailboat over did not go quite as planned. I was to stand on the deck, grab the mast and fall backwards. It seemed simple enough, but the sail was on my side of the mast and when I leaned back to fall into the water, the sail slipped off the mast and I went in all by myself. When I bobbed back up like a freshly shot cork out of a champagne bottle, the young instructors, giggling in their kayaks, asked if I was OK. I assured them I was, even though both ears were completely full of water and they told me to go catch my boat. I was soon to discover that my leisurely breast stroke in the swimming pool was not a match for my drifting boat. It was necessary to use whatever strength I could muster to swim as fast as I could to catch it. I finally caught up with it and one of the instructors showed mercy on me and turned the sailboat over. I paddled around behind the boat, grabbed hold of the dagger board, put my feet against the bottom of the hull and set the boat upright in one fluid motion. The weight lifting had paid off!
Now, I had to get myself back in to the boat. Even though a Sunfish sailboat is not very wide, maybe 3-4 feet, they are sturdy in the water. The plan was to grab hold of the top of the deck, raise oneself out of the water and fall across the deck, commonly known as the "whale flop". My first attempt was in vain. I could almost get myself up, but it was not enough and I was exhausted. Finally the instructor came over and held one side of the boat. I tried again with no luck. They explained to me to try and get a hold of the edge of the cockpit. I tried again and was able to grab the nearest edge. With much encouragement from both instructors, I grasped and clawed my way around to the far edge of the cockpit. From that point I wallowed my useless flailing legs enough to get a knee on the deck and from there I sprawled across the boat. Both instructors were grinning like Cheshire cats and we agreed that I had just given new meaning to the "whale flop" term.
By this time, all my fear was gone. The wind began to pick up a little and suddenly, the Sunfish sailboat was moving across the water. One instructor called to me to pull in my sail and catch the wind. Catch the wind? I did as I was told, pulled the sail closer to me and then it happened. The sailboat began to pick up speed, the gentle waves lapping the bottom of the hull faster and faster. The boat and I had become one with water and air. It was the most awe inspiring experience I have ever encountered. Perhaps it even held a spiritual aspect... to catch the wind.
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