Saturday at the Bowl…the guys were already on the water when I arrived (Bill Jeff Frank Scott and the Wolf in the 4.7 zone, Hulse on a kite) looking moderately powered. My gut said “5.3”, and as I launched everyone else was coming in to rig larger sails. After one run in declining winds I came in too, exchanging the 93 FSW for the 109. Shortly afterwards Fisherman, He Who Does Not Give Up On Waves When The Wind Drops joined me on the beach with a 5.3. Determined to not once again derig in disgust only to watch Fisherman have a glory session all to himself, I launched, bobbing and shlogging most of the time, but also getting planing stretches, some smooth jibes off of head high swell, even some decent backside waveriding. Fisherman came out and for about half an hour this continued, until there wasn’t enough wind to waterstart. The rest of the gang watched from the beach, and I’m sure to them it looked like nothing, but I was happy, having scored three or four Good Moments, all due to learning the lesson of Fisherman.
Pretty smart guy, huh? Perhaps this was in compensation for my textbook bonehead move a few days earlier. At a windy sesh at Sebonac (4.5 on 77 liters absolutely lit) I was the first to leave (exhausted after being first on the water.) Driving home enjoying some muscular aches and pains my cellphone rang. It was Frank. “Are you coming back?” Not a chance…my arms were toasted. “Um, do you know that you still have a board and rig here?”
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