Haste Makes Waste

July 14, 2012

 

Haste makes waste — and probably a pretty crappy sail.  I dashed out of the house later that I wanted to, because I knew — I just knew — that my family would just roll their eyes and object if I suggested going for a sail today, whether alone or with someone else.  But I resented it, because I knew that today was only going to be good for a few hours until the wind died down.  At some point, my wife said “Well, if you wanted to go sailing, you should have said something!”  Well, yeah, but I was sure somebody or three somebodies would object.  So, I dashed off to the marina and got ready to go out, for the first time in a couple of weeks. 

 

The current wasn’t helping me in the slip, and I tried to think through which lines to release, etc., for awhile, before I just did it, thinking I had figured out the system.  Of course, this wasn’t the case, and I next spent time trying to keep the boat from slamming (well, bumping harder than I would like) into the pilings as I left the slip.  Next time, I have got to use those spring lines more effectively.  The current was so bad, that I was turned around once I got into the fairway, so, I decided to just back down the fairway.  Anybody looking at me would have thought I was nuts, but the current was such that trying to turn around wasn’t worth the hassle. 

 

I did finally get out onto the river, and began making my way toward the bay, of course finding myself without wind in about 60- 90 minutes.  And while I was sailing, I found that I was out of practice in terms of smoothly tacking and working the jib lines.  After about 90 minutes or so, it began to rain, and while I really wanted to keep practicing, I also didn’t relish being rained on while trying to connect dock lines, at least not alone.  So I lowered the sails and turned on the iron wind. 

 

Getting back into the slip was a little tough, but I managed to avoid making any necessary dings on the freeboard.  Of course, by this time it had stopped raining.  I hate rushed sails.

 

 

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