“Did you see my ____?"
“Did you see mine?”
Such was what could be heard in the air at Lac Bay in
Bonaire, and not because we were staying at a former nudist colony, where
everyone saw your ___ if you stayed there. No, the Did You Sees were all about friends enjoying
ideal conditions and pushing their windsurfing limits. Sailing with our friends Lily,
Wilson, Dana, and Andy, the women were closest to new frontiers.
There was Dana, in pursuit of planing duck jibes, exploding
in her attempts (more on Dana in a subsequent post).
There was Lily, who on her last day hit a jibe so near
picture perfect that she declared the session over. “Now I can go home on a positive note! Otherwise if I try another and fail
I’ll be thinking about what I did wrong the entire flight back to New York.”

There was my lovely wife Sally (Jibe Sally Jibe), who, armed
with some tips from Andy Brandt, was getting closer and closer but still
finding a Bonairian jibe elusive on this trip. An inches-away-from-successful attempt late in the week
caused her to ask if we could count it as a jibe. It was a moment of weakness. “Take one more run, then we’ll go in,” I suggested.
She did. And
she hit her jibe. Jibe Sally
Jibe!
I saw Thandi (Long Island ABK regular) who just started
windsurfing a couple years ago, on a speeding beam reach clear on the other
side of Lac Bay, by the mangroves.
I thought “I’ve got to step up my game! The women are kicking ass!”
That’s because they’re tougher.
Did I say I’d write more about Dana in a subsequent
post? The heck with that. I was giving Dana some duck jibe
tips, most of which sounded like “you don’t need to carve like a bat out of
hell!” (how many people need to slow down?) when during a particular attempt
the attending spectacular crash left her hanging out in the water for a
bit. I jibed and came back
to smiling Dana, thinking she was just taking a moment to enjoy it all.
“I hit my side pretty hard,” she said, smiling. Her eyes said “I think I
just broke a rib” but the smile stayed.
So we hung out in the water for five minutes, until she felt
up for trying to sail back to the launch, which she did. That night over dinner she
was still feeling a bit dinged, though talk of sailing the next day took
place. Smiling.
After her return to New York we got the news. Dana’s got a great smile, but the eyes
had it: Two broken ribs.
“I hope they heal fast. I want to go skiing in four weeks!”
For myself I had a few Did You See My’s. Hit a good (for me) backwind
jibe, and then heard a shout from Andy Brandt! Hit another one that was fairly good, seen by several
of the New York contingent on hand. And I went for a duck jibe at full speed in
which I somehow stuck the clew straight down into the sand, the subsequent
explosion from which cleaned my clock, my plow, and everything in between. This my bride Sally saw.
So the next time I tell her I exploded, she won’t think I’m
big talking.
(Top: Dana with the smile, tearing it up before le crash. Bottom: Sally anticipating her jibe.)
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