You would think, as long as I have
lived on the Coast of Illinois, that I wouldn't be surprised by
anything that happens around here. But then, this happened:
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| To quote Bob, from What About Bob: I'm sailing! |
Huh.
Rob, who clearly has way too much time
on his brain, has nurtured the idea of learning to sail these big
boats in preparation for round two of our lives where we charter and
sail every body of water out there including but not limited to
Gulfs, Seas, Oceans and Sounds. Oh, and Lakes of Greatness. Being the
supportive wife, I have let him ramble on about boat types, mooring
balls, tidal maps. I was more than happy to take a trip to Tortola
and earn my Sailing 101 certification. But the thought of taking the
more difficult 102-103 classes, where you learn things like
navigation and diesel engines gave me a strong desire to go shopping
and have pillow fights.
Using the 'Gilligan didn't have all
that book learning' argument, I bowed out of round two of classes,
which he opted to take at Lake of the Ozarks, a mere 4 hours away.
And, because one must
practice what is learned, I found myself the proud renter, for 24
hours, of a 26 foot sailboat.
Only that boat was
not available when we arrived. So I found myself the proud renter of
a 32 foot sailboat.
Only that boat was
drenched, thanks to the tropical depression formally known as
Hurricane Bill. It seems that an elderly boat's window gaskets won't
hold up to one week of torrential rain. This interesting turn of
events landed us in a 36 foot Catalina sailboat.
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| The Mariposa |
For those
measurement challenged out there – 36 feet is the length of a
telephone pole, twice the height of an average giraffe or five times
the height of Shaq – that would be 5 Shaqs, laid end to end.
This was one big
ass sailboat.
We rented the boat
through the Ozark Yacht Club. (Okay. I know. Brings to mind a group
of those Baldknobbers People in overalls with one strap, a hat with a
hole in it, a corn cob pipe and a whole bunch of bass boats. Well,
stop it.) The Ozark Yacht Club is just off the Bagnell Dam Strip
(where there ARE Baldknobbers in overalls plus nearly as much neon as
Las Vegas and the largest population of salt water taffy west of the
Mississippi. The club is nestled in a wooded cove, down a frightening
hill. It offers several beautiful rental cabins as well as a wine
bar, an award winning cafe, a small beach, a swimming pool and a full
service marina.
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| The Lakeside Cafe. Yummo breakfast, lunch and apre-sail snacks. Also, lovely shower facilities upstairs. |
It is also the home
of some enormous, expensive boats. All of which I was certain would
zoom from their slips and into our path as we maneuvered our boat for
the day out of, then back into it's slip.
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| I am hiding in the cabin so as not to see the huge, expensive boats we are not crashing into. |
After Bert from the
marina gave us a tour and run down of the boat's controls (it had a
diesel engine and AC/DC power although the galley and head were not
functional for our visit) we grabbed some big ass sandwiches from the
cafe and prepared to cast off. Once out of the marina and in the main
channel, I put the boat in irons and Rob hoisted the main sail.
This is when it
started.
I was at the helm,
the boat pointed directly into the wind. As the sail went up the boat
began to gently, but firmly move. I made constant adjustments to keep
our direction. We wanted to start off slowly to get a feel of the
boat's capability. It was quite clear. Mariposa wanted to sail. The
power of wind and vessel is impressive. It demands respect.
It had taken
hold of me.
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| Sails from the bow. |
Rob took the helm
and turned us to a close reach, wind over the port. I hoisted the jib
and we were off. Not too fast, but moving.
No motor.
Just wind.
There is no feeling
like it.
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| More sails. I can't help it. |
This is where the
Tropical Depression formerly known as Hurricane Bill comes in. You
see, Missouri, Texas and it's Hurricane are only one panhandled state
apart. Which means the Coast of Illinois hosted tropical depression
rain for five days straight. Including the Wednesday we were planning
to sail. In fact, it rained on us for the entire 4 hour drive. I kept
repeating 'rain before 7, stop by 11'.
And it did.
Until 3pm.
Maybe 1pm, I really
have no idea. By this point I was so wet my eyeballs were blurry.
Thankfully, there was no lightening and the wind was quite gentle
which was a good thing as we were already under sail. (Safety Police
alert – Rob had done his captaining work and triple checked the
weather, reviewed our plan with the marina people. There was a radio
on the boat. We had raincoats and life vests at the ready.)
For nearly four
hours we shared the lake with two other sailboats and a couple of jet skis. The lake was calm, the wind fairly steady but gentle. We
topped out around 3knots. Not very fast, especially for a big boat
with it's sails full out. But plenty fast enough for someone who is
incapable of judging distance on the water and has an over-heightened
fear of destroying someone else's very expensive boat, dock, house on
the shore.
As Rob pointed out
many many times, I can drive a car. If something is coming at me in a
car, I turn. Same with a boat. But here's the thing. A boat doesn't
have a break. I can't slam on the pedal with both feet and STOP.
Sure, I can turn the boat into the wind (in irons) or just drop the
sails and it will stop (nearly)dead. I have had a lot of experience
doing this, by mistake.
I spent an equal
amount of time grinning like an idiot because I was so happy and
wishing I had a prescription for 1million Xanax because my anxiety
over destroying something was higher than the 40 foot mast.
This is something I
may need to come to terms with.
The desire to
continue on past one more cove, around that next corner was strong.
So was the wall of rain we could see further down the lake.
We returned to the
marina without incident. Unless you count my sudden urge to BUY the
boat, which just happened to be for sale.
I got over that as
Rob listed the number of things needing 'upgrading' and the cost of
each.
Our hope had been
for a full live-on-a-boat experience.
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| interior shot. sort of a floating camper in need of a little love. |
As the boat was not
outfitted for showers and cooking, we used the club facilities. (No.
Not an outhouse and garden hose.) The Ozark Yacht Club provides it's
members, and boat renters, a fully equipped club house. We had our
choice of several private bathrooms – each extremely clean. The
club also has a full service kitchen and a club room connected to a
long balcony with tables and chairs. (These amenities were not part
of our access, which is not to say I didn't 'investigate' them. All
very clean and void of anything made of corncob.)
We had dinner at
Lil' Rizzo's, an Italian restaurant about 15 minutes away. We have
eaten here several times on trips to the lake, each time finding the
place completely by accident. I can only believe that Lil' Rizzo's
is actually a mobile figment of my imagination which just pops up
when I am starving. House salads, light, flaky, herb-y dinner rolls,
spaghetti with meatball, supreme pizza, a glass of wine each – yum!
On the way back to
the boat we stopped and grabbed desert at Pete's Market– chocolate
covered graham crackers.
Rob and I both
spent time in the Ozarks as kids. We have both skied the lake behind
power boats until our arms were ready to fall off and our hands
couldn't let go of the tow rope then passing out dead asleep in
shared cabin bedrooms or tents.
That was the kid
us.
The grown-up us
spent the remainder of the evening on deck with a glass of wine,
reading and just enjoying the quiet lake. Oh, and this:
Because of the
threat of rain overnight, we opted to sleep on the fold-down table
bed in the center of the boat where we had a fan. We chose to ignore
the fact that the metal mast (lightening rod) ran through the corner
of the bed by Rob's feet.
Our morning looked
like this:
Rob went on a
coffee run and I sat on deck with my book, watching a fish jump and a
duck quack its way around the shore. One of the best mornings ever.
And that's when it
really happened.
I know now. Deep
down, so much that I actually read and enjoyed an article about
installing a water maker on a sailboat, that this is something I want
to do. Not because someone else wants it.
But because I want
it.
That is an amazing
feeling.
Sort of like
sailing.
Of course on the
way home, this happened:
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| The Mississippi Ocean. The Arch can be seen mid-right, if it were SUNNY. |
Who knew the Coast
of Illinois would actually become a real Coast...
For the purpose of
full disclosure – I have no financial gain to be made from any of
the mentions above. Sadly. I would even be willing to be paid in boat
rentals. And those flaky, herb-y dinner rolls.
Check out the
Sailing Page – there is an awesome video documenting our evolution
to sailors, courtesy of my Dad. Thanks Dad! Oh, and one of my
favorite songs – Morning Coffee - by my brother, musician, Karl
Schloz.
