The Peconic Puffin Windsurfing Blog

Six Years Ago By Comparison...

...there I am at South Jamesport, chasing the ever speedy Scott in the distance.  In a shorty.  Not a DRYSUIT!!!   I am ready for summer shortboarding.

CORRECTED DATE! New Film on Windsurfing's Origins (by an OG Puffin!)

Jace Panebianco (a Peconic Puffin since 1993) has a new film out on the origins of windsurfing, Broken Molds.  The film:

"is the complicated origin story of windsurfing; from its humble beginnings to becoming the fastest growing sport in the World.  This is the story of a family drama challenged by cancer, lawsuits and broken friendships. Broken Molds shows how windsurfing gave birth to many of the sports on the water today. 

Featuring; Gerry Lopez, Laird Hamilton, Matt Schweitzer, Kai Lenny, Robby Naish, Jamie O’Brien, Zane Schweitzer and the world's best water athletes."

It will be screened this Friday, November 26th at the Parrish Art Museum in Southampton.   Tickets must be purchased in advance...no ticket sales at the museum are taking place.

New light is promised to be shed on windsurfing's history.   The geeks among us generally know the 101...that Newman Darby invented a windsurfer around 1966, which failed commercially, then about five years later Jim Drake and Hoyle Schweitzer independently came up with a much better version that was a commercial success (Drake later said he thought of himself not as the inventor but the re-inventor).

We shall see!  In any event the trailer promises some heavy water action filmed recently, and interviews with some amazing waterpeople.   So check it out!

Fifteen Minutes of Joy

The forecast for Friday looked great...big time southerlies but catch them while you can!  Christian and I both drove out from the city.  "I'm at exit 57....where are you?"  "50!"    Beam reaching on the LIE to get to our vans, our gear, and the promised Excellent Sesh.

The destination was Hart's Cove, where Scott and the Wolf were already tearing it up.   Two minutes before I got there a torrential downpour annhilated the wind.   Christian arrived first to find out, while I arrived a few minutes later.  All we could do was laugh.  These things happen to windsurfers.

Christian proposed lunch in Hampton Bays.  We headed east until we crossed a small inlet and saw whitecaps.   The new plan was to go to Christian's Secret Spot on Tiana Bay.  We arrived to honking winds, and parked where he said was best.  "Just be careful opening your front door...the wind can really yank it."   Okay I thought.

I parked.

I opened my door.

The door was ripped out of my hand and partially off its hinges.  I managed to push it shut, but the bits that had made it a working door were tweaked.  The door would not reopen.   It was time for more laughter, and to avoid thoughts of the body shop that would be needed later.    

Christian estimated the wind as 4.2.   I didn't want to have to rerig up, and the forecast was for the wind to die, so up went my 4.7.   Got several enjoyable runs in, taking advantage of some very Meschutt like ramps (on SSE!)

Soon Christian joined me.

Soon the wind died AGAIN.  Well, we did get about fifteen minutes.

To quote the great Mark Skelton of Cape Hatteras:  "Windsuffering".

All we could do is laugh.

(Photo, typography and editorial by Christian.)

A Man After My Own Heart. Steve Marks R.I.P.

Steve died last week. 

I met Steve on the day I first attempted windsurfing.   I was uphauling an old Original Windsurfer, pulling the uni out of the board and jabbing it into my shins again and again, but I had a great time anyway.    When I was finished, walking out of the water with bleeding legs and a big grin, this guy walked up to me and said “A man after my own heart.  I’m Steve.”

We started sailing together in 1992 as members of a share house on the Little Peconic.   By the end of that year we declared the house to the “The Puffin House”, and The Peconic Puffin newsletter began as a weekly in 1993 for eleven years.   Steve is the only person, including me, to have a copy of every issue.

He became my windsurfing mentor…in a group of well meaning waterstart-blast-crash speed crazies he was interested in jibing (the story is told in The Legend of Frank and Lauralee…Frank who we lost earlier this year.)  By 1994 he was my best friend, and things stayed that way for three decades.   We sailed from sharehouses together, then when he bought his own place on the water for his young family he rented a room to me and my girlfriend (now wife of 24 years), and after a dozen years of that my wife and I bought a place close to them.

By and by I learned to jibe (thank you Dasher) and Steve and I began pursuing any and all manner of freestyle and refined technique with Andy Brandt and ABK.   We were disciples for whom nothing was too crazy, particularly in light wind.  We weren’t particularly good at it, but we had the best times.

Over the years the personal geography changed, and we went from seeing each other weekly to a couple times per year, with covid really throwing a damper on things.   But we got to sail together for the first time in ages about six weeks ago…the blog post I did doesn’t really capture its importance, but of course I thought we had many more sessions in our future.  We’re past due for a trip to Hatteras, what would have been our 15^th Pamlico Pilgrimage.    That will never happen now.  Nor will we catch another Mets game.   Nor will I watch him give away his darling daughters should the days come when they get married.

There will be no more days together.  We had a lot of good ones.

(The top photo is circa 1996.  We are in the middle of nowhere on the Delmarva Peninsula, getting gasoline on the way to the Outer Banks.  Note Steve's puffin t shirt.   The bottom pic is from 1994.)

West Meadow Sunset

Monday afternoon West Meadow went off.   Jeff Usher took this shot of George Pav getting his final run after a great 4.7 session.

Ludicrous Speed

Usually when a big gust blasts through the surface of the water gets rougher.   Not this time.

We’d been on the water at South Jamesport for a couple hours (Pav, the Wolf, Rob, Artie, the Rat….that’s what he said to call him, Ken, Joe and others) in what for most of us was 5.3ish conditions.  Some lulls, some solid gusts…good.   Artie and I were sailing together outbound when suddenly conditions were full 4.7, while the water stayed flat. We found ourselves sailing sick fast.  “Ludicrous speed” Artie would say later.   I was fully focused on not catching a rail, as I was ****ing FLYING withg just the fin and a little board in the water.  Behind me I could hear Artie howling.   The blast finally backed down, and there were jibes and a return to the beach for me.  Yowza.

It was a beautiful day overall, the big warm southerly and not bad ramps for SJ keeping everyone entertained.  Several noted this might be the last warm session of the year…time to break out the 4/3’s and drysuits to keep us shredding for the next six months.  Count me in!

(Top:  Ken throws some spray.  Bottom:  George Pav freestylin'.   Photos by The Art of Windsurfing.)

Return to East Landing (kinda)

Monday was a holiday (formerly Chris Columbus Day, now Indigenous People Day).  As opposed to the mass turnout we'd had two days earlier, t'was just me, Chimply Lord Scotworth (the Earl of Kielt) and Kurt.   I rigged 5.4 and my 109 cheater board, and planed all over the place while the other guys rigged.  Scott launched, and the wind promptly died.  Oh vell.  Kurt somehow managed to get planing on his 89 liter board and a 4.8.  FOUR EIGHT!   That's efficient.

But the wind soon died and we called it a day.  Scott regretted the drive (longer for him) but I was glad to get some more.  C'est la sesh.

East Landing Chronical

"The Chronicler writes history," Bruce said to me.   That's crazy talk given that I write the blog.   But so be it!

Saturday at East Landing we had quite the turnout.   People I knew (Scott Rob the Wolf Artie Jan Bruce Pav Me) and people I didn't know, many of whom were speaking French.   I would say it was the biggest French speaking turnout at a session in several years quelle magnifique!   I rigged a 5.4, and everyone else rigged their version of same, whilst the wind went up and down, up and down.   

"We caught the best of it" Jan said to me, and she was right...one nicely powered stretch of about 45 minutes when all was lull-less and good.  Folks chose to swap out boards rather than re-rig.  This worked for me...I started out on my 109 but spent most of the sesh on Ye Olde 93.

This is my history of Saturday.

ABK Clinics for Foiling, Wingfoiling, Windsurfing

Andy Brandt is at it on Long Island.   Here's the latest from ABK:

 

Wingfoil Clinic

September 16 Thursday Napeague Bay 1-6pm $250

 

Expect more WingFoil Clinic dates TBA

 

Windsurfing and Foiling camp

Tiana Bay September 24-26. 3 day Camp $495

 

Go to ABK Boardsports site to sign up!

Please Stop Driving Over My Gear!

This was a first.  And a second. in the municipal parking lot at South Jamesport (Scott's fave because it specifies "no permits required") Jan and I were rigging for moderate conditions...me a 5.4, her a 4.7.   Suddenly a car with two little old ladies drove through...through and right over my mast!  Jan said "did they just drive over your mast?"   As I said yes a SECOND car drove over my mast with the front tires, then stopped.  A smiling driver said "Are you Michael?"  And then "Did I just drive over your mast?"

"Yes and Yes" I replied.   I was meeting Dilay, previously unencountered LI windsurfer and moderator of the LI Active group on Facebook.

Back to my mast.  It had just been run over twice!   Or three times (or 1.5 depending on how you figure these things.). But there had been no telltale crack of damage or destruction.  Examining the mast it seemed fine.   This was due to the unusual surface of the parking lot, which is square stones with grass in between.  Through sheer luck my mast was only on top of grass, so between the soil giving and the mast deforming, t'warnt no damage.  Hurray.

So we sailed.  Jan and I had a couple moderately powered runs when Scott and the Wolf arrived.   I was on my cheater 109, but the last run turned out to be full powered so I grabbed my 93 instead.  Good call!  Soon Scott, the Wolf, Marty, then Dilay and finally Bruce were on the water as well, and for a couple hours we had proper 5.3 SJ conditions before it died.

A pair of reckless cabin cruiser captains crowded Dilay...not an issue we normally run into...and Jan interposed herself to keep the boats at bay.   Must look out for the rare idiot at the helm.

(photo:  my mast was happily lined up between the stones.)

 

 

Uni Dos Break

I've never had a uni break on me.   Always believed in the safety strap (prevent rig separation, emergency sail home) but had never actually needed it.

Sunday at Mecox with OG Puffin Steve (Peconic Puffin since 1993) conditions were marginal 6.3.   I launched first, and was mixing jibes when I could plane with tacks and helitacks when I could not.  Steve was still rigging on the beach when one of my heli's felt odd.  Was the boom loose?  I checked...no it was fine.  Found myself shlogging then looked down...what the heck was the base of the mast doing so far downwind of the mast track?

Ah.

So I shlogged gingerly back to the launch, where I showed Steve my severed tendon.  He looked at me...the reason he was taking so long to rig was that he'd found his own uni had split.   Never happened to him before either, and he'd been windsurfing since the 1980's (I started in '92).  Go figure!

Waiting for Henri

The plan was to have a glorious day of high wind sailing on Sunday.  Instead we are battening down the hatches and hoping the roof doesn't get blown off our house, or the place flooded.  Hurricane Henri.

Good luck to all people in the path of this storm.  Good luck to us, too!

Wind Socks Have Wind Speed Indicators

 

I did not know this.  Article on Wind Socks sent to me by longtime reader Mark Paine...thanks Mark!

Liquid Smoke

At one moment during the up and down madness of Elsa's winds, it kicked in a solid 40+.   Note the garbage can in front of the car in the photo...that can had been 50 feet upwind a moment before.  We watched as the whitecaps were ripped apart by the gust, and then when things settled down decided to rig (rerig for Scott, who already had a 3-something on a mast.)   4.2 for the Earl of Kielt and me, 4.1 for Christian, whilst the Wolf opted for 3.7.  Good calls all.

Things didn't start out this way.   Pouring rain with no wind in the morning...would Elsa be a washout?  Then the meters to the west started jumping and Scott headed to Sebonac.   He texted "3.7!  It will last for an hour!"   

I jumped in my van as the trees overhead went from calm to buffeted by 30 mph gusts.   Arrived at Sebonac to find...wait for it...no wind.    But a wall of clouds was coming so we were patient, then rewarded by flying garbage cans and then 4.2 gusting to 3.7 (I probably should have been on the 3.7).

After 90 minutes of good times I smashed my hand in a blown jibe (boom/hand/board/blood) and so got to rip downwind overpowered in big chop with one hand.   Good times.   In the parking area some of the guys were taking a break, and we watched some boating fool launch out of Bullhead Bay ("alone" Christian observed) head out about three hundred yards directly into the wind, then tried to turn around ("this isn't going to be good" several of us said").  He then proceeded to turn 360 degrees twice (freestyling?) before heading back, now wearing his life vest.  Good decision.

Artie arrived as I bandaged up and the wind dropped some.   "5.4" he guestimated, and I concurred.  "Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to rig and fly."  Artie rigged and flew, while I grabbed neosporin and large band aids.

Finally, Returning to South Jamesport

"You know how many times we've been here this year?" Scott demanded?  I did not.

"Three!  This is the worst year for South Jamesport!"

Possibly true, but Scott, George Pav, the Wolf and your editor were out on 5.3's and small boards (93 for me, 85 for Scott por ejemplo) and the water was warm and friendly during the Friday afternoon sesh.

For my previous windsurfing session I'd had to wear my drysuit (cold at East Landing) as I don't have a 5/3.  This day at SJ I was needlessly wearing a 3.2 because I hadn't yet loaded my shorty into the van.  Could have worn one though!

A fine late Spring afternoon, and my first session with Lord vanderWolf in ages.  Good to see the Old Man of the Sea!

A Memorable Session at East Landing

I don't think I've worn a drysuit on Memorial Day weekend before, but my choices were that or a 3/2, and 3/2 wasn't going to cut it.   It was nuking and about 50 degrees in rain at East Landing...when I arrived Scott was tailwalking in, to rig down to 3.7 whilst Christian kept it together on a 4.1.  Pav was leaving, while Artie and Joe Nat arrived right behind me.   Tiny sails it was, and I rigged my 3.7 for only the second time.

This time it dialed in.

East Landing at low tide has beautifully spaced swell with smooth jibing areas outbound...I planed fully through my second jibe (normally I'm happy just to stay dry when the sails are three meters.)  And the jumping was good on both tacks...I had a few nice long ones on port, and tried to imitate Christian's S turns up ramps on starboard.

The wind died (LOL) after an hour of my being there ("what did you do to the wind?" Scott demanded of me.)  I rigged up to 4.2 and life was good again.   Rigging up to 4.2...that's a problem to have!

As the tide came in the spot became quite bumpy, and I'll confess to my shoulders frying pretty quickly.

Next time the forecast is NE I'm heading to East Landing for low tide.

P.S.  re the drysuit...it was for the howling cool air.  The water was warmer than the air...summer booties, no thought of gloves.  Give me 70 degrees air and on comes the 3/2.