The wind was picking up, and dark clouds were forming far on the horizon. I began to rig my Laser 4.7, tying the knot fastening the mainsheet to the boom. I experimented with a new knot I learned, straying away from the standard stopper. The coaches arrived and explained that the wind would be twenty knots: fast, yet manageable Once on the water, we sailed out of the harbor. In the distance, the same dark clouds loomed closer, like the jagged teeth of a monster. Scrutinizing them, I thought, “If a storm is coming, the coaches will send us back, right?” 

We neared the wavebreaker, a dark mass of seaweed-covered stone protecting the harbor from nature’s wrath. Suddenly, my boat keeled to starboard due to the strong wind in the open water, nearly knocking me over. I threw myself out onto the port rail, hiking out as far as possible, using every ounce of my weight to counterbalance. In the half-hour it took us to reach the wavebreaker, the storm had progressed towards the shore like a panther stalking its prey. I was buffeted by five-foot waves and howling winds. At five foot two, I was barely able to keep the boat from capsizing. The coaches were attempting to rally the team for a race, rather unsuccessfully, because nothing could be heard over the crash of the waves and the wind. Nothing could be seen but flying sea spray. I began to panic: my hands trembling, tears rolling down my face, and my breathing shallow. I despised being powerless, and now I was freezing and blind from the unrelenting spray with waves buffeting my boat, and yet, still too afraid to sail back. 

Then, when I thought the situation could not get any worse, it did. I jibed downwind. The boom rocketed to port. Then, as if in slow motion, I saw the knot tying my mainsheet come undone. My boat capsized, knocking me into the freezing water. I noticed that I could tie a knot on my main sheet. With fumbling fingers, I achieved my goal. But nature was merciless, and I imperceptive. As I was tying the knot, the colossal waves tipped my boat farther to starboard, causing it to turtle. At that moment, I believed that no one would help me, that this misery would last forever, and that I and my boat would sink. “Where did I go wrong?” I thought. Then, in the darkness, I found light, remembering that I could right my boat, that it would not sink! I dove under, shoved the centerboard, and climbed onto the hull. With all the strength I had left, I pulled the centerboard. The laser righted, and I sailed to the coach boats with renewed purpose. “I’m going back!” I yelled at them. They did not argue. The waves, which hindered us before, now allowed me to surf downwind. I was no longer afraid, for I was safe, in control, and most of all, enjoying sailing. 

The rain and wind had ceased as we arrived at the club. A few people took out their phones and gave an exclamation of shock. I took out my own. A notification in bold text was hovering on the screen: Danger! Tornado Warning. We had sailed in tornado weather without even realizing it and without the coaches’ warning. I had made the right decision. A few weeks later, when a similar storm shadowed the shores of the Long Island Sound, I was prepared. I was not cowardly and learned to enjoy the torrent of wind and sea spray that nature wields like a sword because of my experience braving the storm.