This day was one of the summer's most memorable - at least for me. It was wet, windy, and the first time I had ever experienced significant seas, and it was thrilling to have the chance to learn how to manage myself and Ariel in such conditions - especially with such an experienced skipper and teacher as my father aboard. I picked his brain about everything I could think of as we sailed toward St. Joseph: mostly a bunch of "what-ifs" since I tend to be somewhat of a cynic. We chatted about all kinds of scenarios and he would explain to me what he would do and why. What a thrill! Even writing about it now, I'm excited and can't wait to get back out on the water.
I was impressed with Ariel's sea-kindly nature. I've heard several people use that term, but never truly knew how a sea-kindly boat behaved until this day. Ariel's stern would gently rise to meet the following seas as the waves would slide and boil beneath her, their white, foamy backs rolling on into the distance as wave after wave surged by. As some of the more obnoxious waves slapped Ariel's quarter, nudging her sideways, she was mannerly and easy to correct, her jib, the only sail up, pulling her along by the nose and leading her toward home. The greatest difficulty - and the most uncomfortable episode - was caused by "Scuttle", our inflatable dinghy. With the wind blowing a steady 28-30 knots, the dinghy repeatedly threatened to flip, launching off the crest of each wave and landing with a slap. We knew it wouldn't be long before the wind caught her and flipped her over. Sure enough, she flipped. I did my best to haul her alongside Ariel's leeward quarter, waited for a lull in the waves, then heaved the upwind side up into the wind - all the while hanging over the side, clinging to Ariel with my toenails. The effort of just holding the upsidedown dinghy alongside was exhausting, and it took me two tries to finally get it righted. When she flipped for the second time, that was it. I hauled it up to Ariel's stern, hand-over-hand, and lifted the bow onto the stern pulpit. With the dinghy inflated, it was too big and had too much windage to drag it over the sternrail, so I pulled the plugs and dragged the limp mass into the cockpit, rolled it up, and lashed it down on the sidedeck. The energy required was incredible; I was winded and beat by the time I had wrestled it aboard. But, wow!, what an experience!
It's hard to believe that a lake can get so churned up. Most people probably laugh at Great Lakes sailors, imagining them as nothing more than sailor "wanna-bes" who don't have the guts or experience to do real sailing. Perhaps. Lake Michigan is not Cape Horn or the North Atlantic, but this was thrilling anyway and I (we) loved it. And, frankly, that's all that matters.
