I hadn't sailed in four months. Every day that I coulda woulda shoulda I was nowhere near. Then pure luck...driving east to take care of some homeowner shit the phone lights up. It's Scott..."4.7 at Sebonac...come join The Wolf and me!" Instant change of plans...
Arrived an hour later. Sunny, beautiful, whitecaps. The Wolf was already packing it up...he'd been sailing for hours. But Scott agreed to stay a bit longer. And of course Frank was there, which meant Frank was sailing (and sailing and sailing). I remembered how to rig, got into my wetsuit, beachstarted at the freshly dredged shoreline (my right foot stood on dry sand...the nose of my board in the water had five feet of water beneath). I launched.
OH GOD WINDSURFING FEELS SO GOOD SOO GOOOOOD. The pleasure spread through my arms and back and legs. Reached for about 300 yards and then jibed to make the long starboard reach into deeper water...when the wind died. No no no. Shlogged back.
"It'll come back" Frank said.
"I've only got twenty minutes" I said. This was true. I really did need to be somewhere else.
Ten minutes later the wind came back. It was a repeat of the first launch. Plane out in joy, shlog back.
Still, I felt good. Much better than when I had arrived. The 2019 season has begun for me, however briefly!
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