The Wolf was on the water right away, planing off of the New Suffolk beach on a 5.2 and eighty something liter board. Shortly afterwards I was out on a 5.5 and Hulse was kiting the jibatorium behind the sand bar, whilst Bill, Scott, and Jon Ford spent time alternately rigging and holding skippers meetings.
Then it died, fast. We stood around and bitched.
"It HAS to come back," I said, ever the optimist.
"What did you, start sailing yesterday?" shot back Mr. Hulse, opting for old-school windsuffering misery.
"I took a half day off for this?" queried Scott to the heavens.
"I'm going stand up paddling," said Jon Ford.
"I got a good hour," said the Wolf. Of course he did. He's always out there first.
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