A small thing in the Wind

Sailing on the Seranade

It's always fun to sample new sports and hobbies. I've long dreamt of growing into a true renaissance man, master of many things. Thoughts of specializing in just one skill or play always seemed rather boring. But there is a clear and simple limit to renaissance dreams: time and money. It is difficult finding time for an expanding set of interests, and finding money to fund them.

I'm a sucker for new sports and hobbies: "scuba diving? That sounds great! Kayaking? Sure, how much can I buy one for? Rock climbing? So I just need a harness, some rope and what else?" Basically I guess I'm just a sucker. I've become almost leery of friends who want to take me on adventures. "Hang gliding? Sorry, it sounds like its too much fun -- I can't afford to discover any more fun."

Recently though a buddy got me, really got me. He got me interested in a sport that is the black hole for money . . . sailing. It sounded harmless enough, I'd just fly out to Maine and spend some time on a boat -- drinking and telling bad jokes. I did not count on sailing being so addictive. I knew I would enjoy it, but didn't expect it to hit as deeply as it did. And I got a pretty first class introduction to it, my buddy chartered a small jet to take me from Colorado to Maine!

My preconceived image of sailing was of standing at the prow of the boat while it knifed through the waves, pushing out my rugged, manly jaw and baring my teeth into the wind. Pulling alongside fishing boats and buying lobster for pennies; finding yachts with their decks covered in bikini clad women, that sort of thing. Also I've often read stories of guys who go on extended sailing trips and have their minds so taken by the sea they cannot stop sailing. How about the guy in the around the world race who rambled in his logs about being God, and then stepped off the back of his boat never to be seen again.

Well, I didn't lose my mind anymore than it's already lost. Neither did I see any bikini clad women. The lobster cost more than a few pennies, though it was still quite cheap. I did try baring my teeth into the wind, but found it really wasn't very exciting to do.

What I found on my first sailing trip does not fit any of the dime-store adventure clichés. Instead I saw a sport so rich that it seems almost crude to write about it. A sport I saw just enough of to realize I know nothing about it. When I did stand at the prow of the boat I felt less like a marauding pirate than a small thing surrounded by big forces.

Sailing is being surrounded by beauty. I've always loved the ocean and the sky, but did not expect to find the boats themselves so beautiful. My friend's boat is a work of art, thirty-two feet of detail crafted out of mahogany and teakwood. Falling in love with a buddy's boat feels like it might be as much an intrusion as falling for another mans wife, but I hope it's a bit more acceptable! Being inside the boat, the soft gas light warming the wood, is like being inside a womb of mahogany. The rocking motion that I feared might cause sea sickness instead lulled me into happy relaxation. It was wonderful to sit down below deck, surrounded by the sculpture of the boat, good wine and conversation. Just sitting around on the boat was almost as fun for me as the actual sailing!

After getting off the boat, everything still seemed to rock for three days, it was not unpleasant but it felt real. The first day we were back on land I kept finding myself staggering, I must have looked like a drunken lout. Come to think of it I did spend some of the time as a drunken lout, and looked like one since one due to the lack of shaving or showering. I leered at the first women I had seen in days and found a voracious appetite for food and drink once back on land. Not having much experience in leering I probably just looked silly, but I did gain seven or eight pounds on the trip. All of this was only after less than a week of being at sea, what would a few months have done? I can now understand now some of the reputation that sailors get is probably well founded!

It's strange, but as I sit here sipping my wine and writing about sailing, I'm again feeling the world start to rock slightly! I'm having a sailing flashback I suppose. I've only been back ten days and I already miss it terribly. I miss the fast days of moving on the water, and the slow evenings surrounded by a boat that felt alive around me. On this trip I discovered the wind for the first time, something I thought I knew before. I also found a relaxation and peace that has eluded me for years now. After such a short experience I don't dare talk about technical aspects sailing, I have a lot to learn there. I can say however that sailing is a paradise, if you haven't done it and get a chance . . . do it.

(Old Footer) Todd Murchison lives in Pagosa Springs, he is a Ski Instructor in the Winter and hopes that this rocking feeling stops by then! He dedicates this piece to the Serenade and her master, Dan.

**************** When I wrote this many years ago, I think it would have been coarse for me to include Dan's full name in the published article, gossip column stuff. But now he is gone <3 The Serenade's Captain was the singer Dan Fogelberg. He was a wonderful man and good friend. Over the years down in SW Colorado, we spent hundreds of days at his ranch drinking red wine and talking about physics, skiing (he was a good skier, its how we met), politics and beauty. He died some years ago from Cancer, and I was in Vermont full time by then - and I'd not seen him for about two years - I didn't even know he was sick. I just suddenly got a call one day that he was gone. I know that as we age, we all see friends and family die. But this was the first good friend I've had die. So it still hurts a bit to see this article again. But it is remembering a lovely moment with him.