Dead Men Tell No Tales

I am alive to tell the tale of my sailing adventure last night. I feel lucky, but at the same time I feel like I tempted fate, yet again, or survived something from someone's bucket list, but not mine.

It was the basic beer can sailing race. Wednesday night is a Santa Cruz yacht harbor gentlemen's race, although I question the gentlemen aspect from time to time, but that's another story. It was typical at the start and at the finish, but in the middle, it was atypical, because for the first time in my life, in plus or minus five years of this not so serious Wednesday night keelboat racing, we almost... capsized. And I mean it.

Last night's sail demonstrated the very reason why I don't bring friends who think it would be fun to tag along on my Wednesday night sailing expeditions. Are you an excellent swimmer? I often query to the tenacious ones. This is my attempt at reminding them that the ocean is a powerful and chilling force that can swallow up even the best of us, as we recently saw during the gathering of the sailors in SF for this years America's Cup practice runs, when an amazing yacht racer was lost in the grip of her freezing underwater hold. It reminded all of us, crazy as we may be, that sailboat racing is NOT for the faint of heart. Yet those of us who love the sport keep coming back again and again and again. It's a little like an addiction. We know it can kill us, but we keep coming back for more.

For about ten long seconds last night, I think it's safe to say that each of us was thinking we were going down. Even our captain commented in the midst of the intensity, "...we might be doing some swimming tonight." 

He is an excellent sailor, Captain Steve. I have sailed with this man in some major league bad weather, often with some sketchy crew (myself included). We have sailed in high winds and low, rough weather, fog, large fast swells, and long sickeningly slow rolling ones. We've been keeled over so far I've sometimes had my doubts if we would successfully tack, and we've sat still in the heat awaiting a bit of a breeze to get us going again, only to hear the rumble of the engine that had to power us back home. After all of these trips, I have felt safe in his boat, Sagittarius. 

It may come as a surprise, but last night's sail was also one of the best of my life. We had the perfect crew for what was to befall. It was so windy many of the sailboats had given up by the time we had successfully rounded the first mark, heading downwind, spinnaker up, and smoothly heading south towards Capitola. Everything was going smoothly, but we were cruising fast, as the combination of the waves and wind kept thrusting us forward. By now, most of the crew at the foredeck had dawned their foul weather gear, and they were looking like they needed to, as we pounded the surf, swiftly moving through the Monterey Bay, behind ten or so of the front runners.

Then something incredible happened. The powers of nature began to mess with our 38 Cat. We began to bob and roll, a little at first, but soon we were hitting some rolling white tipped waves, as the wind continued to relentlessly push us in a crosswise direction. All of a sudden the boom came crashing across the cockpit. It felt as if we were trying to jibe, but we weren't. Sagittarius tipped to the starboard side, and I watched the clew side of boom skim the ocean, and the spinnaker deflate and edge towards the same side. Our more experienced sailors sprung into action. Count to three and the jib was furled in. Two more beats and the spinnaker was pulled back on deck. In three more seconds, we were back on track, and someone argued, "No one's going to do any swimming tonight."

As we returned, it came a little as a surprise at the calm beauty of the Santa Cruz harbor. I like to think I was not alone feeling relieved this time to be returning no worse for the wear, chatting about how the boat's hull needed a scrub. I have no doubt, and I know I'm not alone, in the knowledge that each one of us will all be back, yet again, for more. 

Tuberoses in Bloom

Today I watched the movie, Disneynature: Wings of Life, and just couldn't help but notice the beautiful pollination attractors in my yard. I do so love a good flower. Always have. I can remember getting in trouble as a youngster for plucking them out of other peoples yards, walking around my home town as a teenager with a daisy chain adorning my head, and just recently being thrilled when receiving a lei of tuberoses upon our arrival on the Big Island at the airport in Hawaii. Now after listening to the voice Meryl Streep, speaking the words of a flower in first person, I am again enamored with the lovelies that are often so taken for granted. Sometimes, even by me.

It happens that we are precisely at the time of year when tuberoses are in bloom in my gardening zone. They bloom perennially during these warm days and nights in late July and early August. I was seduced to plant them many years ago because I believe their scent is complete bliss and makes me feel relaxed and content. This time of year I try to take the time to pay a visit each day, if only for a couple of seconds, to inhale their luscious perfume first hand. It becomes almost impossible for me to pass by without stopping and pinching off a bloom to float in a small glass of water inside my home. I think: it's true what people say... the best things in life are free.