As soon as I got out in the breeze, the reduced sail inflated and it didn’t look so bad. It pulled me forward but much more gently. Also I began to plow sideways through the water! After a second’s head scratching I put down the daggerboard and it “bit” the water. Viola! Like magic, the sail above and the keel below balanced out. The boat moved forward. A few seconds later I remembered to drop the retractable rudder and steering went from “basically a suggestion” to “laser focus”.
I left my little protected area and entered the lake proper. The first few lessons of a sailboat are “make it move” and then “survive” but the next step is “make it take you somewhere you want to go”. This is a big ask but I diligently pursued the new goal.
Maps told me there was a campsite far across the lake; accessible only by water. When planning this trip I’d considered sailing out there with all my camping gear. I’d bailed on that idea and camped within sight of my Dodge. Oh how glad I am that hadn’t been overconfident. The launch had been messy and the sail across the lake had been anything but dull.
At the middle of the lake, the waves were choppy. The wind was uncertain. Also, the lake was bigger than I’d thought. Regardless, I crossed and approached with the wind blowing me into shore. There was a little dock there. I wanted to practice “approach a dock without banging into it”. As I got closer I noticed a tent. I veered away.
If some canoe camper was there, I’d harsh his calm just barging in like that. (These spots were meant for canoes and kayaks. Very few motorboats were out there and only one maniac had a sailboat.) So I swooped past the dock with what I like to think was a semblance of control. I was 6’ off the dock, moving at about 2 knots, and more or less in control of events; call it a “touch and go” practice landing.
No sign of the camper though.
A quarter mile later I found him. There was a wide muddy reedy bay and the wind was pushing right into it. Stuck in that mess was a fat fiberglass canoe with two paddlers. They were arguing. Clearly the wind had blown their ass into the mudpit and they were weighing options. Or rather, they’d chosen the option of bitching at each other.
“Need help?” I shouted, despite having no idea how I could sail into that mud, toss them a rope, and then sail back out against the wind.
The woman looked hopeful but the man scowled. (Need I mention who was bitching at whom?)
“Nah, we got this.” He grumbled.
Relieved, I turned to tack into the wind; narrowly dodging my homicidal boom and also smartly starting the passage away and back upwind. I might have looked pretty cool. I like to assume so. I can’t see myself sail so how would I know?
I didn’t know about this when I made a sailboat but yes, they can indeed sail towards the wind. Not well though. You go against the wind by taking it at an angle, using the sail above and the keel below to harness the wind to go precisely where the wind doesn’t want you to go. (This is absolutely unlike the reliable solution of using a motor.) It’s a skill I didn’t initially have. I’m starting to get the hang of it. I tacked into the wind for a bit then flew downwind to start the process again. Each repeat was a change to improve.
With a few nautical successes under my belt I was feeling like a pirate viking. I did a triumphant orbit of the lake (which took an hour or more) and then headed for the direct center of the lake. I saw some fishing boats (motorized) out there and thought I’d do a fly by. This didn’t end in tears… but it did tempt fate.
The wind was strong and unpredictable, as always. But the waves got much higher. I had no idea why. Then I realized my daggerboard and rudder were plowing through a sea of submerged weeds.
Shit! It must be shallower in the middle than the periphery of the lake. Who plans for that? Hastily, I retracted both daggerboard and rudder, but only partially; I still needed control. This did wonders. My boat has a “shallow draw”. (Meaning it needs hardly any water to float.) This allowed me to zoom right over a mess that would mire a deeper keel sailboat. I also squished across stuff that would hopelessly tangle a motorboat’s prop. Cool!
I zipped right across the little Sargasso Sea happily peeking over into the water looking for fish. I saw a few and desperately wanted to invite them to lunch.
I really miss fishing! I haven’t yet gotten so bad ass that I can sail and fish simultaneously. I thought about my anchor. I could drop it and then pull down the sail. Presumably, the anchor would hold me in position. Perhaps, I could somehow cast a line from within the wet crowded laundry basket of an 8’ boat filled with sail. With luck I could catch a fish, reel it in, re-hoist the sail, and head for camp.
Suuuuuure.
I could also spin a top on my nose while riding a unicycle.
On the other side of the Sargasso Sea the fishermen were reeling in gobs of weeds. They looked disgusted. Also, they looked a little harried. The wind and waves were beating them pretty hard.
I emerged in deep-ish waters and immediately put down the daggerboard and rudder, causing the boat to behave a lot better. Then I tacked into the wind, dodged the boom that tried to kill me, pointed back across Sargasso Sea, and managed (barely) to retract most (but not all) of the daggerboard and rudder. Slick! (I take no credit for the design. I just followed the directions. But it is fun to enjoy the smug feeling of having built retracting stuff in advance. It saves my bacon every time I use it and I’m like “man, I’m glad I built that!”)
As I came crashing back into the shallow stuff the wind picked up and things got messy.
The fishing boat cast right in my path. (I was still a long way off.) I wanted to veer away so as not to spook their fish. However, with shallow rudder and daggerboard the boat was like “huh?” and just kept doing whatever it was already doing.
The wind picked up more and now I was going almost sideways. Whoops.
“Sorry if I disturbed the fish, I can’t steer too well in this wind.” I apologized.
“It’s fine. Neither can we.” The fishing boat people replied.
Indeed we were both going sideways, more or less playthings of the wind.
“This is bullshit!” One of the fishermen complained. The other was busy with a knife, cutting weeds off a hopelessly bound prop.
“Yeah, it’s a challenge.” I agreed.
By this time one fisherman’s cast had reeled in another harvest of weeds, while the other was angry at the prop and swearing. We passed, both of us sideways and out of control. I shrugged my shoulders; at least it wasn’t just me.
Once outside of Sargasso Sea, having arrived there mostly by chance, I dropped the daggerboard and rudder. Once I’d regained control I pointed for my inlet/safe space and tried to outrun the treacherous wind. Not long after, I heard the motor fire up and the fishermen tore off for the safety of the nearest bar stool. I never saw the canoe again.