Challenge 48: Learn to Sail

Wind Advisory

“Alright guys, I want you to take a look at the bay—see how fast those ripples are moving?” The entire sailing class was standing on the edge of the dock, huddled against the wind and struggling to see what our instructor was talking about.

“Can you feel the strength of the wind?” Yes, apparently my jacket is more “wind-resistant” than windproof. “We’re right on the border of when we let Sabots go out, so be careful.” Sweet.

We gave each other nervous eyebrow raises, braced ourselves for the impending capsizes and shuffled back to our boats for setup. I’m not going to lie, Jamie’s wind advisory and the icy waters of spring had my aversion to speed at an all-time high, so when she released me onto the bay, I got caught in irons almost immediately.

As a class, our goal was to make our way around a triangle course of flags, tacking upwind and then practicing our jibes coming off a beam reach. It seemed simple enough but the wind proved too powerful for our ragtag group of novices.

After the third near capsizing, I turned upwind and tried to find a beat. I would get a good, steady pace going, and then for no reason at all, I would drift into irons. It was like my tiller was of little use and my boat had a mind of its own. What was worse, in my struggle to find the right speed, I had gotten severely off course and was now drifting out of the safety of our cove and into the busy expanse of Mission Bay.

“How you doing?” Jamie pulled up in her speedboat, and tried to hide the grin on her face.

“I’m stuck. I can’t seem to stay out of irons.”

“I think you might be too aggressive with the tiller. Point it toward the sail, and then when you feel the wind start to catch, move it gently back to straight instead of throwing it there.”

I tried it her way while she watched and at first, I was successful. But two seconds after my boat would get going, it would drift right back into irons.

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re doing everything right; it’s got to be the boat.” Jamie circled me, studying my amateur setup and finally idled her engine.

“It’s your leeboard—see how it’s angled forward? It needs to be straight down.”

“Ooooh, when you said to make sure we pushed it all the way, I thought the further the better.”

Jamie just laughed and shook her head while I adjusted the leeboard and then she offered to tow me back upwind. I was embarrassed at being rescued, but that disintegrated the minute we entered the cove and I saw it dotted with the whites of five capsized boats and my classmates waiting for her help. Jamie groaned, rolled her eyes and left me to fend for myself.

I felt a little sheepish at having taken so much of her time, so I did my best to stay out of trouble for the rest of the day. I stuck to the triangle course she had set up, completed an accidental jibe or two and managed to be one of two people in my class who stayed out of the water. But I couldn’t get over the feeling of klutziness every time I tried to turn.

I would either pull the tiller into my hip because I sitting too far back in the hull, I would hit my head with the boom, or I would trip over myself while trying to shift my weight. Sometimes I would do all three at once. I was convinced there was some magic technique I was missing, but when I asked Jamie all she said was, “That’s normal. It’s only your second day. You’ll get it, it just takes practice.”

I felt the need to explain to her that I don’t take kindly to learning curves and prefer instead to be instantly “good” at everything I try, but I swallowed the urge and thanked her for her time.

On day three, I felt more in tune with the boat and the wind, and tacking came like second nature. But now that I was comfortable, I wanted to go faster.

Jamie was confident in our skills so she led us out of the cove and through the channel of Mission Bay, under a bridge and almost out to the ocean. Our class putted along as we watched bigger, faster boats overtake us and zip along the water. Their turns were tight and dramatic and their crews had smiles plastered to their faces.

“How do we go faster?”

“You find the right sail trim and a beat or a beam reach, and try to stay there.”

“But what if we’re doing that already?”

“You get on a bigger boat with a bigger sail.”

Oh. So the real answer is: pass beginning sailing and then go on to the more advanced classes. Which is what I did, I passed. There was a sense of triumph on the last day when we completed a scavenger hunt and I was able to move my boat efficiently in the direction I wanted to go. I knew where to guide the tiller by feeling the breeze on my cheek, and moved in strategic angles from point to point instead of trying to “will” my boat there.

I couldn’t believe that in twelve short hours, I already felt like I had a good foundation from which to build a successful hobby. I also felt more confident knowing I could handle a vessel by myself on the water. In two weeks, I start the advanced classes where they take us out on Holders and we get a taste of sailing with a partner. I can’t wait! Perhaps I’ll talk one of my non-sailing girlfriends into learning with me.