Watch out, world...I'm back on the water. After two months of landlocked exile, I returned to windsurfing yesterday, sailing with Bill at Mecox. Beautiful 6.2 conditions, and a jibatorium perfect for remembering how to do this darn sport. We ripped back and forth for an hour before Bill had to leave for a sailboat race.
As we stood on shore talking about how great a sesh it had been, a woman walked up and asked us how bad the water was. "What?" we said (or words to that effect). She told us how the toxic algae had given her dog pneumonia and so on, pointing at the signs that we had walked by several times, oblivious:
Don't you like how my gear is on the other side? Oops.
Mrs. Puffin arrived as we discovered the situation...she was going to rig and join me on the bay...but we thought better of it and instead repaired to our house, where my better half launched with a 4.5 on the inlet, to practice pivot jibes and tacking. I changed at the house (didn't want to track any Mecox contamination into good water) and as I stood on our beach watching Her progress, she dropped the sail and pointed at my board shorts. Which were on inside out.
The kook is back.
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