No boating news today, unless I choose to report that on Saturday, we went out sailing in the 420 on the Delaware River. If I avoided telling that story, it would be because of the outcome of that voyage, so to be honest, I guess I have to come clean.
We sail the 420, a small (about 14 feet long) racing dinghy about once a year. I hadn't even set the mast before we arrived at the boat club on Saturday. It took a good 45 minutes to untangle all the lines and rigging and figure out what they were for. Then, when the mast was stepped, we still had to get the sails in place and wheel the boat on its trailer down to the water's edge.
The beach at the club is small to medium sized rocks worn smooth over the centuries of tides going up and down twice a day. There is a modest slope to the beach. The tide is about six feet here on the river. We caught it falling at something higher than mid tide.
The wind was brisk -- maybe 15 knots -- which made significant the fact that in the last year, the hiking straps had rotted away.
Monica held the bow line after we had slid the boat off the trailer into the river. I tried to get the boat lined up so we could jump in, lower the rudder and the centerboard as we floated into deeper water and get sailing.
Instead, the boat got sideways to the wind and I wound up on my butt sitting on the river bottom.
The second try we got it right. Instantly, we were tacking north toward the Pennsylvania side of the river. We didn't go that far but came about and tacked downstream, into the west wind. For the next ten minutes, we tacked constantly, maybe once every minute. And every tack proved a struggle. Keeping the 420 upright was a bear.
Eventually, I decided to run with the wind. But that meant I had to straddle the centerline in a crouch. Otherwise, if both of us were on the windward rail, we might have capsized into the wind.
The bottom line: the sail lasted about fifteen minutes. I'd had it with all the athletics and was ready to get back aboard dear Robin.