I was last to arrive.
"What's the sail call?"
Scott said 3.7. I said I had a 4.2 and a 3.4. He did not blink: 3.4 was his call.
"But it doesn't look that windy!"
Scott rolled his eyes. This happens often. He puts up with me. "Walk down to the water" he said.
I didn't get three steps before I was in the full blow. Sh** it was windy. And the wind smelled like sh** Bullhead bay was being dredged, with the outflow into the Peconic, and the currents being what they were were were launching in mucky water that reeked.
"Motivation to not blow a jibe" Frank would later say (after his customary 90 minute nonstop sesh.)
Scott and the Wolf had already been out. Frank launched, and Jan, Bruce, Christian, John Natalie, Arty and I rigged and went. Or attempted to. My first launch I was fully overpowered...my sail was bucking like it was misrigged. I sailed a few hundred yards and then just layed the rig down. Kicked it around and sailed back. Jan was right behind me. Word was that if you made it a quarter mile out things calmed down some. But soon everyone came in and hid behind the dredge pipes waiting for the wind to back off...to 30.
Finally it did, the Wolf launched, and I said "if the Wolf is sailing then so must I!" Scott agreed.
I launched, and was okay for about a quarter mile. Then it came up again. Back to Stink Beach to give up, and watch others tailwalking (except for Frank. Frank is different. Frank on his 4.2)
Would have liked to cut that wind in half and had two days of 20!
(Top: Arty, Jan, the Wolf, Scott and Christian shelter in the lee to contemplate monster gusts. Bottom: The Wolf says sometimes walking away means you get to sail another day.)
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