"Seduced Again"
Anyone who has sailed long
enough has had that experience of “Wow! This is what it’s all
about.” For some, including me, the experience includes an adrenaline
rush brought on by speed and power. Big boats sailors get it, dinghy sailors get
it, multi-hull sailors and sailboarders get it. I’ve had that experience
on all of those platforms. I recall the first time the speedo broke double
digits during a breezy downhill spinnaker run on the J-33. Of course, included
are the numerous times I was whooping with delight on the heavy air broad
reaches on my Laser. Or on the canoe, blasting to weather, hiking off the end
of the sliding seat. Surely, hitting twenty knots with the weather hull kissing
the tops of the waves on a NACRA 5.2. And definitely sailing a short board with
the hull seemingly in the air as much as it was in the water as I skipped
across the surface of Willoughby Bay. But all of those experiences happened
back in my younger days. It’s been almost twenty years since I’ve heard the
siren’s song. Six weeks ago she grabbed my attention with a whispered
“shussssssssssssh.”
The occasion was the classic
moth nationals in Elizabeth City. After we finished racing on Saturday, Bill
Beaver loaned me his foiler Bambi Gets High. Within five minutes,
without having to tack once, I was foiling. Actually it would have happened
sooner but the wind was in the 8-10 knot range and I needed the slight puff to
lift my 175 pounds off the surface. I had read about the moment in numerous
moth blogs but until I experienced it I didn’t really understand. In
every other boat I’ve sailed, the faster it went the more noise it made. The
crashing through the waves, the splashing of spray and foam, the creaking of
the rig, the hum of the board or rudder and the occasional flogging of the sail
– these things are the hallmarks of power and speed. Until now. As the Hungry
Beaver rose from the water and accelerated, the noise that meant a boat was
going fast went away. Silence. Wonder. Amazement. A quiet shusssssssssh as the
foils sliced through the Pasquotank River. I was immediately smitten.
Bill has gotten it right. His foiler was immaculately prepared and constructed so that even I, a 52 year old high school teacher, could scamper aboard and feel in control. During one sustained puff I was hiking full out off the rack, steering and holding the sheet with one hand as I dangled my other hand down and dragged it through the water, all the while being foil-borne 24 inches above the river. Compared to Bill’s earlier Bambi Meets Thumper, an extremely narrow low-rider, his new boat is forgiving and stable. The large diameter wing longitudinals and the Styrofoam he stuffed in the outer bit of the tramp allowed me to stay hooked in whenever the wind died and threatened to capsize me to weather. At the next puff I just needed a couple of quick pumps on the sheet and I was out of the water and moving smartly. Easier than waterstarting! Bill had told me that the area of the hull around the daggerboard was reinforced so that if I needed to stand on the hull to right it after a capsize, that was where I was to step. I never used that technique. Actually, righting and climbing aboard was much easier than my 1970’s Magnum moth design.
I’m now committed to having a foiler of my own. With Bill’s and Gui’s assistance, I started on the road to foiling last weekend. I’m working on the blades now and I’ve gotten a quote for a new KA sail and Burvill mast. I hope to start the hull before the holidays. By next spring my seductress will have her way with me.
Stay tuned.
Post Script:
Bill has gotten it right. His foiler was immaculately prepared and constructed so that even I, a 52 year old high school teacher, could scamper aboard and feel in control. During one sustained puff I was hiking full out off the rack, steering and holding the sheet with one hand as I dangled my other hand down and dragged it through the water, all the while being foil-borne 24 inches above the river. Compared to Bill’s earlier Bambi Meets Thumper, an extremely narrow low-rider, his new boat is forgiving and stable. The large diameter wing longitudinals and the Styrofoam he stuffed in the outer bit of the tramp allowed me to stay hooked in whenever the wind died and threatened to capsize me to weather. At the next puff I just needed a couple of quick pumps on the sheet and I was out of the water and moving smartly. Easier than waterstarting! Bill had told me that the area of the hull around the daggerboard was reinforced so that if I needed to stand on the hull to right it after a capsize, that was where I was to step. I never used that technique. Actually, righting and climbing aboard was much easier than my 1970’s Magnum moth design.
I’m now committed to having a foiler of my own. With Bill’s and Gui’s assistance, I started on the road to foiling last weekend. I’m working on the blades now and I’ve gotten a quote for a new KA sail and Burvill mast. I hope to start the hull before the holidays. By next spring my seductress will have her way with me.
Stay tuned.
Post Script:
So, yeah, it's sort of an
addiction, a seduction, an urge that needs a periodic fix. The fact that my
boat will probably never win a Gran Prix level regatta is rather irrelevant. In
fact, I get the most pleasure just blasting across Willoughby Bay, my local
piece of water, and coming ashore tired but satisfied -- even more so if
nothing broke or if the latest fix seemed to be an improvement.
