“That guy’s going to mess with you.”
I said that to Van as I was looking aft. I had been chillin’ on the rail, scanning ahead and to the sides for wind when I heard swearing and a rather salty exchange of words behind us. Two boats, unknown to me, full of younger sailors were having it out. It is fair game to cover a competitor and mess with his wind supply but it is usually done within a racing division, I mean, why waste energy screwing someone else over when you are not racing against them and you have more important things you need to do in the race you are running, which was the heated and colorful point of the guy in the smaller boat.
The guy in the bigger boat, let’s call him Dick, wasn’t in our division either and had set his sites on our boat next. This young turk was so sure he could take us out.
I gotta tell you Van, he’ll be 78 in October and has spent most of those years racing sailboats, is so calm and competent there’s not a boat in the fleet that wouldn’t take him as their helm, Van was wearing what my old man called a sh*t-eating grin as it became a game of cat and mouse tactics. It was not Van’s first race. In the end Van smoked the other guy, Dick.
Life is good!
(And wasn’t that a big ole CF* on the third start. I am so glad I was not driving…and I am so glad I was there to see it and be in the middle of it trimming sail. 😀 )
*CF – WWII Military Term
GAH! Cats all up in my frying pan.
That’s not a euphemism for anything and I’ve locked the little pecker-heads in the basement.
It could be worse. I had a rescue from the mean streets of Saginaw. Marsallis would wait until we turned our backs then jump up on the stove, stick his head in the pan while the fire was up and the bacon sizzling and then he’d make off straight to the tub with his kitty booty.
R.I.P., Marsallis. He died of natural causes. No, seriously. He did.
This is the hard-working, dedicated crew of Majic. She always wins and she’s so pretty we don’t mind…most of the time. It’s a funny thing, this envy/pride. She kicks our asses, but, dam, she is OUR home based ass-kicker. We are all proud of her when she goes out to represent MYC on the national scene. The Chicago-Mac race is international level stuff and she took 3rd this year. No mean feat, that.
These are twitchy boats and weight placement is important. When the boat ‘heels’ you need all the weight on the top rail to keep her from tipping over. Unless you are the one at helm after you do your assigned job you get your butt to the rail and become ballast/counter weight.
The sailing sport is a ‘salty’ one in that we have great names for this sitting on the edge; ‘rail-meat’ or ‘rail-b*tches’. Everyone on this boat and in this picture is a superb sailor. You don’t get on a boat of this class without knowing your stuff. Sitting on the low side rail in a low wind race night can be tedious, sitting on the high side when the winds are up is why we sail. It takes your breath away.
Majic is a Sydny 41 and her captain is William Hoyer.
Meanwhile, on Lake Erie:
I took this down once but life is short and we all need a good laugh so I’m putting it back up. Check your source! And let’s give the O.P., original poster, all the love!
“Upon a crystal river of light.”
Autumn is spectacular in Michigan, it is a balm for the soul when our short summers close. This is up on Hart Lake, in the town of Hart which sits at the northern end of the Hart-Montague Bicycle Trail. If you like the slow life of a small town this may be the one for you.
Miner’s Ledge, Pictured Rocks, Lake Superior
The cold crystal waters of Superior framed by the north woods. I love the Great Lakes and had the pleasure to paddle Superior’s Painted Rocks and camp on Grand Island before the rash of tourist attractions detracted from it’s beauty. It was calm on this day.
Ice-Water mansion? From Gordon Lightfoot’s song, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. I love my Lakes but they will rise up and take you, leaving nothing but memories for your loved ones.
Edit: Below is a link to a tribute to Captain McSorely and his crew of the Edmund Fitzgerald. It makes grown men cry and fills you with respect for the power of Superior and the seamen who work on her:
Port Washington, Wisconsin South Pier Head Light, seen from under the singularly designed North Pier Head Light:
Two weeks ago we raced across Lake Michigan from Muskegon, Michigan to Port Washington, Wisconsin as part of the 30th Annual Clipper Cup Race, a distance of 66.9 miles. It is a lovely port and their North Pier Head Light is, I believe, the only Art Deco style lighthouse on Lake Michigan.
Just as on our side of Lake Michigan pier walking to enjoy the sunset from a lighthouse is a popular pastime for tourists and locals.
I am late with last week’s challenge. I didn’t know whether to go with Monarch Butterflies or with bees. They are Earth’s delight and we are killing them in my life time. I spent a sun filled fall day chasing the last few around our asters last fall. I can grow anything but my milkweed patch died.