The Peconic Puffin Windsurfing Blog

More Press for The Wolf

The Wolf continued to dominate the media spotlight over weekend, following his dramatic rescue at New Suffolk last week.   “I hope the Giants win so this nonstop Wolf coverage calms down,” Jeff Slecta said to me yesterday (the Giants won but the Peconic Puffin isn’t done just yet!).   

In his latest interview with The Southampton Press the Wolf dazzled reporters, telling them he seeks out extreme conditions all over the world “because that’s what it’s all about”, and “no doubt” he’d go out again in the conditions that found him bobbing sans gear in the South Race (45mph gusts, swell 4-7 feet.)

 

I would ask the Wolf if he needs an agent, but I can already hear his response:  “No.  I’ve got it under control.”

Movie rights are complicated, though.  And will he want approval on casting?  Tom Selleck plays Scott, of course, but who plays the Wolf?  Eastwood is the natural choice but he could be hard to get. 

(scan of the article thanks to Peconic Jeff).

How To Self Rescue On The Water

Ted Bretter has been telling me for months about an old Windsport article that did a thorough job of explaining how to derig at sea.  He told me that it once got him out of quite a jam.  “You’ve got to find a copy,” Ted’s been saying.

Now after the Wolf’s misadventures on the Peconic (getting separated from his gear during at attempted derig) Ted reminded me again.   So I reached out to Windsport windsurfing magazine and said “Hey, a guy here says 8 years ago you had quite the article about emergency derigging...any chance you can find it and republish it?”   In less than an hour it was on Windsport’s website.

Spend some time checking out (I will be).  It is thorough.  It is Ted tested.  And it could save your gear (or your ass.)

Thank you Windsport! Good idea, Ted!

Stashing Emergency Line

You’re out on the water and a line breaks.  Inhaul, outhaul, downhaul, uphaul, harness line…something you need snaps.   You’ll be happier if you’re carrying a piece or two of downhaul line to put yourself back together.   In twenty years of windsurfing  this has only happened to me once (I’m fanatical about checking and replacing worn line) but the time it did I was two miles from the launch and my harness line tore off.   Yes I could have flipped the boom (that’s fun to do in deep water) but instead I pulled out a piece of line, tied it on, and had an improvised harness line  that worked just fine to get me back home.

When I bought a new harness recently I didn’t make a point of stashing emergency line on it (I usually have two downhauls taped behind the bar).  But after Christian’s adventure at sea a few months ago I made a point of correcting that situation (as did Christian).  He and I opt for behind the bar storage, but you can also stash line in the back pocket of your harness if you have one (I don’t want to take my harness off if I don’t have to) or put a piece in the luff sleeve pocket of every one of your sails (requires sails with pockets, and line in each sail).

Do this.   And while you’re at it, replace all your downhaul lines for cold weather sailing (now is not the season you want to use your emergency lines).  Cut off the worn portion of your downhauls and make them your new outhauls.  Check boom inhauls (how often do you do that?)   For super stud status, replace your lines with Formuline if you haven’t already, and glory in easier downhauling and longer line life.

(Looks a little silly, works great.  My purple tape and Christian's blue line both call more attention to the set up than perhaps is necessary.  I'm going to switch to electrical tape in the name of fashion!  Note the orange bit on my rig...that's a safety whistle...less than $5 at Amazon.    Photo by Jeff.)

Windsurfer Adrift At Sea Re-rigs Under Pressure

Christian arrived at the Bowl around high tide.   Scott had already been sailing for a few hours (and I for one) but we were mostly waiting for the tide to go out and the waves to come. 

“I have 90 minutes,” Christian announced, so he quickly rigged a sail, grabbed a board, and launched.   A few other guys decided to take a run as well, but after I took a minute to walk to the van for a swig of water, I could not see Christian on the water.   No biggie, the winds (sail sizes were 5.2-5.8) were up and down, so perhaps a waterstart was proving elusive.   After a few more minutes there is still no sign of Christian.   What did he do, sail into a black hole?

I asked Jeff if he could see him.  No, he can’t, but he has binoculars in his truck, and goes to get them.  The winds were lightening and I was contemplating rigging big gear to go out and look when Scott came planing in (on a 5.8 and bigger board).    Scott, have you seen Christian?   Yes, he has, he spoke with him.

Well what’s happening?

“he quickly rigged a sail...”

     -The Peconic Puffin, two paragraphs ago.

What was happening was Christian was down in the water with a sail that had popped off the mast.   Whilst rigging it quickly the mast tip insert apparently never was seated properly in the mast, and when Christian made his first jibe the sail popped right off.   So now he was in the water rerigging it.   “I told him if he can’t manage it he should roll the sail up and paddle in,” Scott continued. 

Looking out on the water it didn’t look good to me.   For the most part I couldn’t see him at all, but every once in awhile his head and board would bob above the waves as he drifted towards the reef to the west.    Ah, the reef.   The reef where waves will surely make any rigging effort much more challenging.  The reef where on very rare occasions we have seen a ...fish.   Discussion about calling the Coast Guard begins.   Someone says “five more minutes” and I am counting the seconds silently in my head.   I want to see Christian toss the rig and start paddling in...this is way too exciting for me.  Fortunately we are no more than two miles from the Shinnecock Coast Guard station.

Then his sail popped up, Christian waterstarted, and sailed in to the far side of the Bowl, where Jeff met him to help carry his gear back.   

“That’s what you do with your 90 minutes?” I asked?  I am always helpful.

Christian explained that in order to release enough tension in the mast to slide the sail back to the top he had to undo the whole shebang.   He keeps his downhaul line in the extension for neatness (as do I) so he had to separate rig and board (using the uphaul to tether the two for safety.)  The outhaul had to be released.  At one point the mast foot became unthreaded.  But he got it all back together.   Here is an excerpt from an email from Christian this morning:

"Things I learned: I'll never stuff my downhaul in my mast extension again.

I will be looking to buy a new UJ with a longer thread than the Chinook. 

I will be double double checking the male mast head insert in future (duh). 

I will once again ponder the need to carry extra bits and bobs when sailing. Scott pointed out that once upon a time Dakine used to have little pockets on all their harnesses. Makes a ton of sense.

Thanks guys for keeping an eye on me. The sailing in a group system worked perfectly. After I spoke with Scott I never once thought that I was at risk, which allows for a clear head when having to loosen everything you've got tightened some distance from shore. The photo says it all as far as the support that was there if necessary.

Thanks too Jeff for helping carry the gear. I needed a rest at that point!"

Amazing.   Here’s what I learned:

1.  I used to carry an extra piece of line behind my spreader bar.   When I replaced that bar a year ago I did not transfer the line (held in place with duct tape).  I’ll be addressing that before the next session.

2.  Keeping the downhaul shoved into the mast base extension is an elegant way to keep the foot area clear, but it requires rig separation if you’ve got to release the downhaul at sea.    What I’m not clear about is whether it’s possible to get a good angle to reapply downhaul tension with the uni still in the base, but I’ll be experimenting to see.   I think there’s a good  chance I’ll return to stuffing excess downhaul line into the bottom of the sail.

3.  Call 911 if you need the Coast Guard.  Jeff says also:  Coast Guard Search & Rescue for south shore Long Island to NYC: 718-354-4353.  Coast Guard Search & Rescue for CT & north shore Long Island: 203-468-4401

(Top:  Jeff mans the binoculars while CD, Scott and I imagine what we'd have tried out there.  See the waves breaking on the reef in the distance, to the right of the sign?  That's just about where Christian drifted before he successfully sailed back to the beach.  Bottom:  See the speck?  He's alive!  Photos by Keith Schultz.)

What Happened To Joe Rocco?

Joe Rocco, "the Mayor of Heckscher" died windsurfing Hurricane Irene on Sunday.  To meet Joe once was to have a great new windsurfing friend, generous with information, stoke, spirit, you name it.  The new article in Newsday begins "Joseph Rocco, the only Long Islander to die as a result of Tropical Storm Irene, was a friend and mentor to many in the local windsurfing scene, said those who knew him."  And he could sail!  So what happened?   In the Yahoo Long Island Windsurfing bulletin board, his very dear girlfriend Marianne tells this story: 

They drove to Shirley and found one windsurfer already there (James), sailing a 4.1 on a 78 liter board.   They took wind readings of 20-28 mph.  Joe rigged a 3.7 for his Dill, and Marianne rigged a 3.2.   Joe launched to take a few runs “to see if it was too much for me to handle.”  Marianne took another wind reading, and got 45-50.   James came back in as the winds were now too much for him, and Marianne decided not to launch.

Visibility was limited.   A nearby spectator with a telephoto lens on his camera said it looked like Joe was separated from his rig and was following it to shore.   Marianne and James tried walking along the shore to meet Joe where they thought he’d come in, but the beach was mostly gone or covered with debris so they walked down the road.  The police and EMT’s showed up, went out with James to look for Joe, and told Marianne to meet them at Brookhaven Hospital.

Neither the EMT’s nor the hospital was able to resuscitate him.  Marianne said Joe’s head “was very badly banged up, nose probably broken, bruising around his entire upper face.  Something had obviously hit his head very badly and he hopefully didn’t even know what hit him. “

Joe was a skilled windsurfer.    My guess is that he hit a piece of debris floating just beneath the surface, and was catapulted badly into something large and hard in the water.  Floating debris is the hazard we usually don’t think about when storm sailing.  I know I wasn’t looking for it at Mecox during my session, even though I remember things floating around out there after storms in the past.    

Like Rich Simons said in the Yahoo group, this could have happened to any of us.

(photo of Joe on a better day courtesy Bill Doutney)

Crashing Into Jeff (While Jeff Shoots the Video)

It started out as my best wave ride of the day.   It ended with my nearly taking Peconic Jeff's head off.   It all began when Peter and I caught a nice head-high wave on the outer sand bar.    Jeff was about halfway in toward the beach shooting video and taking photos, so my only Jeff thought was "surf well and maybe you'll get a picture!"

I'm not very good in either direction but I'm worse on backside, so when I found myself comfortable and balanced (for me) and feeling in control going left, I was excited.

Usually I find myself too far to the bottom of the wave, and when I managed to bottom turn a bit and get back up the wave for a cutback, I was giddy.   With my eyes riveted on the ten feet of water immediately in front of me, I carved back down the wave.

With my eyes riveted on the ten feet of water immediately in front of me, I am unaware that I am now bearing down on Jeff, who is capturing it all.   He sees my face pointing towards him and assumes that my eyes are along for the ride.

A moment later I see him as he swings the camera down (for I don't know what reason, because he's not yelling at me to be careful.)  I'm going to plow right into his head.   I shouted Jeff's name (leaving off "Peconic" for brevity) and jumped off the board, hoping both to turn it to the left (to miss his head) and lighten it (in case, as I was sure it would, the board hit him.)

The board crashed across the tail of Jeff's board, immediately to the wave side of his head.   Then the wave, which still had plenty of gusto, rolled both boards into Jeff, and then the three of them into me.

There was a good deal of floundering on my part before I got back to the surface.   Incredibly no blood was gushing from Jeff's head.   At first glance neither board was damaged (which seemed impossible,) so shaken and with concern for our gear (and me apologizing a mile per minute) we returned to the beach.

Incredibly, the boards had some minor scratches but no damage.   I was nauseous for about an hour...I KNEW I was about to seriously injure a friend, and the endless moment kept replaying in my head.  Jeff's been very gracious about this.  Me, I feel I was lucky. I haven't been on the water since, but I believe that when I return I'm going to be paying an enormous amount of new attention to people in the water all around me, as I do windsurfing.   A newbie level of awareness doesn't cut it.  Hell, a newbie level of awareness should still be better than mine last Sunday.  Writing this post has brought the feeling of nausea back.

Here's the video Jeff shot.   It all happens pretty fast so I slowed it down.   Keep watching and it plays again in real time, complete with my shout.

 

Safety, and an otherwise fine session at The Bowl

None of us had windsurfed in waves since December.   Sweet long lefts were breaking 4-6 feet at the Bowl (with the occasional meaty seven-footer rolling through to really catch your attention) in side off winds.   The Wolf was out first, and he was back first, as he’d hit the water with his drysuit less than fully zipped.

This is hugely uncool.

Allow me to be alarmist for a moment (John is, was, and always will be fine, but please indulge me):    We’re sailing in water cold enough to induce hypothermia and kill anyone.   The drysuits change it into a playground, but only if they’re working.   Imagine launching with an unknowingly unzipped drysuit…you have a good run out, jibe off swell a few hundred yards out, and catch your first wave.   You don’t fall, remain unaware of your unzipped state, jibe on the inside and now head way to the outside where you see some big beautiful waves setting up.   Jibing a quarter mile out you fall, and take on three gallons of ice-cold water.   Realizing that you never zipped up (as you shout, crosseyed in discomfort) you set up to waterstart as fast as you can.  But the wind is a bit light, so you can’t get any power in the sail at all when you’re in a trough, and as some swell brings you back up into the wind, twenty extra pounds of water in your drysuit prevents you from getting back up on the board. The cycle repeats.

After a minute of this you are in trouble.  Maybe it’s three minutes before one of your friends (on shore, taking a break during the lull) comes out to check on you.    Now you are unable to sail, and your friend has to figure out how to get you on your board and somehow drag your icy ass back to shore before your heart stops beating.  (Hey while we’re having so much fun reading this post, hop on over here and read a bunch of stories about hypothermia deaths in cold water.)

Okay, you say, will you please relax?  Who hasn’t launched with an unzipped drysuit, Mr. Editor of the Peconic Puffin?  Haven’t you?

Of course I have.  We all have.    And like most all of us most of the time all I ended up with was a cold back and a quick scare.   But sailing in the ocean things can get complicated.   And at the Bowl yesterday with the currents swirling near the jetty, the winds up and down and forecasted to turn increasingly offshore, the Wolf’s little episode put safety front and center in our minds.

So to the great disappointment of the two seals hanging out on the inside and rating our jibes, we called it a day after a few hours.   “I’ve sailed the Bowl for twenty years…I know when to quit,” said the Wolf.    And we all resolved to double check our drysuit zippers in the future.

About that fatal shark attack

I’ve spoken to quite a few windsurfers since the terrible news about Stephen Schafer, the kite surfer in Florida.   There’s probably nobody who’s ever sailed the ocean who hasn’t had The Fear at one time or another when a waterstart wasn’t coming together.   We all hear about the overwhelming odds against being attacked by a shark, though we also know those odds don’t take into consideration all the things we waterpeople do to drop our silly asses in front of sharks.     Locally on Long Island you rarely hear about a shark siting (my one experience at the Bowl last June notwithstanding.)   But still, we know we’re taking a variety of risks out there, and this is a ringing reminder that sharks are on the list, however remote the odds.    According to news reports, the kiter Schafer was known to believe in the buddy system…friends were puzzled to learn that he’d been out alone.

This merits particular attention given one amazingly positive note about the incident: A local lifeguard named Daniel Lund spotted Schafer floating in the water 400 yards off shore.   Lund paddled out with a rescue board, saw that Schafer (still alive) was surrounded by circling sharks, and went in to get him anyway.

What commitment.  What balls.   Let’s hear it for Lifeguard Daniel Lund.

Beyond Lund’s heroism, it’s worth noting he was able to approach a badly bleeding person in the water, drag him onto a board, and paddle out of there, even with sharks all over the place.    This is all the more reason to value the buddy system:  if one of us somehow manages against the odds to get hit by a shark, the rest of us have every reason to believe we can get in there and get our friend out without becoming victims ourselves.

That's my .02

R.I.P. Stephen Schafer.

(If you're not familiar with the blog of windsurfer/kiter/marine biologist James, this happened in his local waters, and you may want to check out the several posts he did on the incident.)

Steve Had Every Right To Clobber Me

Steve had every right to clobber me.   He whacked me in the hand with his mast when his helitack came undone.     You may ask why he’s throwing a helitack so close to another windsurfer.   The answer is the other windsurfer was believed to have already tacked, but instead was in fact crowding Steve.   That other windsurfer (me) knew he was crowding him (a little voice in my head said “tack already and give Steve room”) but instead I sailed like one of those inconsiderate jerks.

So I got clobbered.

In the scheme of things windsurfing with Steve, this was particularly fair.   The last time I crowded Steve, I rammed him.   It was several years ago...he was resting in the water next to his board and I’d decided to jibe around him, except that instead I sailed right into his board.

Then I did the exact same thing again a year later.  The idea was that by jibing close to him I’d remind him of my boneheaded move the year before, and that this would be amusing.   It didn't work out that way.

And I’m supposed to be his friend.

So there we stood in the water at Mecox on Saturday, with one side of my hand in pain and the other side numb,  Steve, ever the neurologist, was interested in the pattern of numbness.  I was more curious about the pain bit.  

I got better.   And I’d gotten what I deserved.

The thing is, I still want to jibe near him…   

(The knuckleheaded author of this blog displays said head shortly before the incident.  Photo by Remy McFadden.)

I did not crash into Bob today

I did not crash into Bob today.  However my board did.   As I jumped off of it half a second before the crash, does that still count?

I think it does.  Damn.   Okay, I did crash into Bob today.    I was in the middle of a wide jibe…I had looked behind me before initiating the turn, but obviously I did not look thoroughly, because a few seconds later I was about to ram Bob.   I couldn’t turn and couldn’t stop.   Letting go seemed like a way to hit the guy with 20 pounds of gear as opposed to 20 + 165.   Nobody was hurt and nothing got damaged.   I think we were lucky.

It was a fine day at Napeague otherwise.   Sailing alongside the ABK clinic on a 6.2,  while Peconic Jeff worked on vulcans, Robert started nailing waterstarts, Jill Marr tackled duck jibes…just a bay full of windsurfers getting better.

Except me.    Knucklehead outside the clinic, I should have been in it so someone could slap me upside the head and say LOOK ALL THE WAY BEHIND YOU BEFORE YOU JIBE.

Kitemare In Tropical Storm Fay

WKRG.com Video

Trying to kite in Tropical Storm Fay in Fort Lauderdale, this kitesurfer nearly dies when he's slammed into a building. Imagine windsurfing full speed into a brick wall.

Kites can not be depowered like a windsurfing sail. Kitesurfing is a fine sport, but it is not as safe as windsurfing.

(Video courtesy WKRG. Here's a link to the Miami Herald report about the accident. Kevin Kearny is listed in critical condition.)

Almost Lost At Demo: The mikedabaker Story

I've heard quite a few Long Island windsurfers rave about the wavesailing at Democrat Point, or “Demo”, on the western tip of Fire Island.   But every time I hear talk about Demo, invariably there's also a story about someone getting into a jam...if the wind drops or your gear breaks, word is that the currents will take you to Portugal.  I asked about this in the Long Island Windsurfing Forum, where (along with encouragement to try sailing Demo) I was told that I needed to read the story of "mikedabaker".

I read it.

Wow.   It is as vivid a description of a windsurfer in trouble on the water as I have ever read.   I asked Michael “mikedabaker” Vitti if I could run his story in this blog, just to share it with a few more people.   Mike graciously said yes, so here it is.

(Note: People I've spoken with who know Mike have stressed to me that he's an exceptionally fit athlete and surfer.  In other words, a less fit and wave-savvy windsurfer might not have made it.)

Mike's story:

Oct 13, 2004, 2:00PM.   I got to the beach and the wind had just lightened up.   I waited.  Soon the sun came out and the wind picked up and the sand was blowing.   Ran back to my van and rigged the trusty 4.7 and the 99 liter board.

Decided not to wear the dry suit as my plan was to make this a quickie session, so I put on my wetsuit.  I was kind of tired from doing trail work the previous morning and sailing all Saturday afternoon but those waves looked juicy and I wanted a piece of them.

I sailed straight out, making a bee line for the outer sand bar,  jumping all the way.   As I approached the impact zone I noticed it looked really gnarly, and contemplated jibing away from them and heading for the inside bar at Cedar Beach.

As fate would have it I decided to go for it.  Since the wind was side off the waves were really hollow, and I spotted some really vertical ramps to send me skyward.  These combined with the incredible speed I was traveling made it seem like I was getting launched into orbit.

I jibed outside and came into the breaking waves for some down the line sailing.  Caught two good rides then suddenly I fell in trying to escape the froth of a previously broken wave.  I gathered my gear together to position myself for water starting, then turned to look into the mouth of a freak rogue hollow wave that was sucking and about to dump right on me.   As I was sucked into the mouth of the beast I held tight prepared for the mother of all Nantucket sleigh rides.

I had one hand on my foot strap and one hand on the end of my boom as I went through the rinse cycle.  It felt like my arms were about to get twisted and ripped off so I let go and tumbled along hoping my board wouldn't get too far away. I popped up and swam for my board as fast as I could before another wave came to clean me up.

I quickly assumed the water start position and out of the corner of my eye I saw a slight looseness to the sail and figured oh well, I got another hole in the sail.  “That's good.” I thought, because I was overpowered anyway, but upon closer inspection I saw the whole panel was gone.  “No big deal,” I thought, I'll just luff/limp back in with whatever is left of the top and bottom of the sail.

As I tried to waterstart again I noticed something looked really wrong with this sail.  I waited for a lull in the waves constantly breaking on my head to finally get a good look.   Crap!   The whole sail was ripped straight across the top of the boom, including the heavy fabric seam along the clew edge.

Okay, that sail is useless.  I laid the mast on the tail of the board and started paddling towards shore.  45 minutes later I realize I'm not making any headway.   I'm still in the impact zone and getting pummeled.

Okay this is a bit more serious than I had thought.   Time to get rid of the sail which was now acting as a sea anchor.  Time to take everything apart in between wave impacts and slip the sail off the mast.   Said a few words to my old faithful friend…"adios amigo" as i watched the sail head south in the outgoing current.  

And speaking of outgoing current, I was not far behind.

I was close to the fishing boat when this all happened, but now I was pretty far away. I saw a windsurfer sail out to just about where I was and I gave a wave indicating I was okay and he jibed and headed away. I kind of figured the Coast Guard was going to be called due to my predicament.

Now I am out past the outer sand bar, and I quickly put my one piece mast on top of my board along with my boom, then I climbed on top and started to paddle more earnestly without stopping as I knew I had to get in front of the breaking waves so they could help push me towards shore.

My first attempts at riding the bigger waves in towards shore ended in complete failure as my gear and I were tossed about.  Trying to belly ride my board with the one-piece mast and boom on those huge waves you see out by the buoys was a ridiculous attempt in futility.

Numerous times I was separated from my gear and eventually I told my mast and boom goodbye.   But every time I got rid of them they would float back to me like scared little kittens wanting to come back on board.  “All right, I'll take you along for a little while but if you start to screw things up for me...your outta here!”

As I drifted along I never saw land getting any closer. I was only able to stay in the outside sand bar's breaking waves.  As I neared the second buoy…a red one…I decided to tell my mast and boom to get the hell out of here.  I just couldn't ride the waves in with that mast hanging to one side as it would always turn me to the side and I'd roll sideways and capsize.

But they always floated back to me...get the hell outta here!   I gave in as I was adding up the replacement costs.  But I vowed to ditch them if I was still swimming past sunset. I had my eye on the Fire Island lighthouse and was glad to have that beacon to guide me in when it got dark.

Finally I learned how to ride the waves in and adjust for the mast hanging off the end of my board.   Now I had my sights set on demo.  Paddling a little more seriously with head down and deep strokes, I tried to get close enough to catch a big outside set to push me in closer.

I'm close now as I could see the jetty.   Suddenly I felt the ocean falling beneath me and looked behind me to see the mother of all waves about to break behind me.  I quickly shimmied my weight to the back of the board to prevent pearling and felt a rush of white water crash upon my back.  I had a death grip on the rails of my board because if I lost the board out here I would be pulled out to sea again with no floatation and that would be really bad.

It was quite a ride in, bouncing along with the white water and steering myself from a wipe out.  Soon the wave flattened out and I schooched forward to drive the nose of the board down the face of the wave so I could keep this ride going.  Now I'm heading straight for the rocks of the jetty but I'm not going to let this wave go.  I'll smash right into the rocks if I have to.
 
The wave reformed and I steered the rig to the left but the waved jacked and dumped me off. I surfaced after going through the turmoil and my gear was gone.  The current was pulling me out and I'm swimming towards shore hoping for another wave to push me in.   I turned around and saw another big one behind me. I was able to swim fast enough to catch it and body surf in, finally touching the sand but only getting sucked out for another tumble. One more wave pushed me in and I happily was finally walking on sand.  I ran down the beach and gathered up my gear, then looked back at Overlook. I saw a boat coming out of the inlet with flashing lights and figured it was the Coast Guard. I knew I needed to contact them to call off the search so I ran down to a fisherman and asked him if he had a cell phone to call the Coast Guard and call off a search for me.  "Where did you come from?" he said  "Out there" I pointed.
 
They wouldn't call off the search until they verified that I was the right person they were looking for.  After they determined I was the right person they asked how I was going to get back and I said I guess I'm walking.  They offered to send a car...like I'm going to say no?
 
I looked over at Overlook again and I saw tons of flashing lights on the beach....I was like uh oh...this is turning into a big thing.   Next I see a Suffolk police helicopter and another smaller coast guard boat. I noticed that the Coast Guard cutter first went to the last place I was seen and traveled the same route I had drifted and was soon off Demo searching.

Boy these guys know there stuff...I would have thought to look elsewhere due to the current.

Finally I see an ATV and two police vehicles coming down the beach and I was offered a ride.   I apologized for getting everyone involved but they were glad that I was found alive.   It doesn't always work out that way.

Lessons learned:

-Sail with a buddy

-Use one of the strobe lights that strap to your arm. I had mine in my van...it works better if you actually wear it.   The waves were 6-9 feet and you're not visible without the strobe light.

-Stay in shape or stay near the shore.  That was one long paddle...about two and a half hours of non stop paddling in addition to the numerous wipeouts.
 
-Offshore or sideshore winds will make it difficult or impossible to swim back.  Combine that with an out going current and you have a deadly combination.

Thanks to Stan and Lou for making the right decision to call the Coast Guard if I was out for a longer period of time it would be good to have that back up especially if it were after dark.
 
I've already started to write a thank you letter to the Suffolk Marine Police and Coast Guard."

*****

(Three years later it's still a vivid memory for Mike.  After reading an advance copy of this post he wrote the following:)

" The waves that day were about logo to mast high on the outside. Water temps were in the low to mid fifties. Air temps were upper fifties. I made it back to the beach just before sunset.

I was very strongly motivated to reach the beach on my own power, after I saw the helicopters and coast guard boats. I thought they would charge me for the rescue! How dumb was that?

Also an interesting side note:

I wore my light weight wet suit so it would make me colder faster and force me to only have a quickie session...because...I was supposed to pick up my kids from school and I didn't want to be late! If i was snug and warm in my drysuit...I wouldn't want to cut my session short.

Because I never showed up to pick up my kids at school...it set off a whole chain of phone calls, which reached my wife who happened to be on a business trip....I WAS BUSTED!

Instead of being glad to find out I was still alive...my wife didn't speak to me for a week!  My kids were used to it though cause I've arrived to pick them up from school late and still in my wetsuit several times. Once I had to go to the principal's office in my wetsuit to pick up the kids, who were being entertained by the office staff."

(Aside from being an avid windsurfer and surfer, Michael Vitti is the president of CLIMB (Concerned Long Island Mountain Bikers) and is busy building mountain bike trails and a BMX tracks. He helped lobby successfully to get the first mountain bike trails in New York City parks. Mike says "These parks had a problem with heroin and crack addicts. We're changing the predominant use in these parks from one type of junkie for adrenaline junkies!"   Check out CLIMBonline.org Mike was once a baker at a health food store, and was known to show up at sessions with muffins to share.)

(photos of Mike on better days courtesy Ely Spivack, and h2omen.com.)

How Well Do You Check Your UJ?

I worry about gear breaking...in particular anything that would leave me unable to sail back to shore, and expecially anything that might separate me from my board (perhaps you caught my rant about two bolt bases.)   I've been fairly lucky in regards to uni breakage (it's only happened to me once...my safety line held, and I didn't trash the deck sailing back to shore) and I inspect my uni's regularly, but after reading a post by Andreas Macke about how he found quite the crack in a tendon, I need to improve my inspection technique.

Check out his story and see for yourself.

(Photo of Andreas' torn UJ swiped from his blog, G-42.)

Fanatic's Footstraps Are Too Narrow

My feet are size 10 1/2 (American) and standard width.   In 16 years of windsurfing I've never had any issue with footstrap width, whether I was sailing barefoot, with booties, with winter booties, whatever.  Until I bought my new Fanatic.   The board (which I otherwise love) has its footstrap inserts set too narrow for comfort unless I'm sailing barefoot. 

Is there a standard width for footstrap inserts on production windsurfing boards? Apparently not, based on some measurements I took on Sunday.   Consider these widths, in centimeters:

JP Freestyle Wave 93 (2006) 16.5

JP Freestyle 109 (2005) 16.2

Naish 8' 11" (2000) 15.5

Fanatic Freewave 78 (2008) 14.25

So my JP Freestyle has almost an inch more room than the Fanatic.

What to do? It's easy to compensate for on the back footstrap (just run the strap one extra hole for booties, and two extra holes for drysuit booties) but is not so easy on the front straps.   I tried running the outer screw one hole forward of standard placement for extra room...this worked fairly well for reaching and jumping but I did notice the increased angle when jibing...it tripped up my footwork a bit.   Between the additional increase in width needed for my drysuit booties and a desire to run the straps at their conventional angle, I took things much further, and now run my front footstraps all the way to the "outer" set of holes.   (While this may sound nuts, remember that this board's straps are factory set to be almost an inch narrower than JP's for example.)   I think the next step is to place a large washer under the outer screw, to take up some of the extra footstrap room.

I'm also going to experiment with aftermarket straps to see if I can improve the situation.

As soon as the water warms up I'll probably restore the board to it's "factory settings" and only sail barefoot.   I love sailing this board* but I'm just a little annoyed with dealing with the footstraps.   I got lazy about extending the rear strap to accomodate heavy booties, and paid for it a couple of weeks ago when I got stuck in the strap during a fall, and tore a ligament in my foot.

(Photo: The footstraps now span both sets of holes. This actually works well when I'm in thick booties, and I have regular width feet.)

Foot Sprain

DEFINITION
Violent overstretching of one or more ligaments in the foot.

SIGNS & SYMPTOMS
Severe pain at the time of injury. YES
A feeling of popping or tearing inside the foot.  TEARING
Tenderness at the injury site. HECK YES
Swelling in the foot.  YES
Bruising that appears soon after injury.  YES

RISK INCREASES WITH
Runners, walkers and those who jump in such sports as basketball, soccer, volleyball, skiing, distance jumping, high jumping, windsurfers who do not widen their footstraps to accomodate thicker winter booties and then go for sweet air.

POSSIBLE COMPLICATIONS 
Prolonged healing time if usual activities are resumed too soon. DAMN!

AVERAGE HEALING TIME
Mild sprains--2 to 6 weeks.
Moderate sprains--6 to 8 weeks.

Boo hiss!  A windsurfing injury was not on my to do list.

(I'd include a photo of the most excellent bruising, but you don't want to see it, I promise.)

Information from MDAdvice.com.