From: Luigi Semenzato (luigi@paris.CS.Berkeley.EDU) Subject: The Clearing Winds Newsgroups: rec.windsurfing Date: 1992-12-10 17:11:41 PST THE CLEARING WINDS Copyright (C) 1992, Luigi Semenzato Two whole months of not sailing can be so bad for your health! We had all the usual symptoms: apathy, paranoia, schizophrenia, coma, occasional hiccups, and weight gain. Finally, yesterday we got the first serious storm of the season---and on a Sunday, quite convenient. The wind was from south-south-east, and the Alameda beach seemed a good choice. We loaded my Civic under the pouring rain. We took my car because the heater works. After all, it's December. You don't need a calendar to notice the vomitous Christmas music in the shopping malls, or the widespread carnage of young pine trees. A street near the beach park was badly flooded. In the excitement of the occasion, I accelerated. The first plane of the day! Anyway, the underside probably needed a rinse. We parked and walked to the beach. A few sailors were in the water, but only those with extra-fancy equipment ($$$) seemed to be planing (I am not giving brand names because my sponsorship did not go through). `It's not so good' said Klaus, drops dripping from his eyebrows onto his drenched down jacket. `It's not good now because it's raining so hard. When the rain stops, the wind will get stronger. The clearing winds are always good.' `Yeah. Maybe.' It wasn't too hard to convince him. We changed in the park toilet and rigged on a muddy lawn. In his wetsuit and neoprene hood, Klaus looked like a walrus. He even has a moustache. The tide was low and the beach sloped very slowly. It was a long walk to the water, but at least it was on sand. Then, it was a long walk in shallow water before it was deep enough for the fin. When I was ready to jump on the board, I felt like I had done enough exercise for the day. I paused to catch my breath and saw a seal swim by. I snapped the sail, and the seal turned around to look. For a second we gazed at each other, with the secret understanding that only we creatures of the sea can share. The wind improved, but the rain did not stop. When it was light, it washed the salt off our faces. When it fell hard, it felt like skiing in a blizzard without goggles. Painful, and could not see anything. Occasionally a heavy drop would hit the neoprene hood right on the ear: SPLAT PINNNNG. The ear would whistle for a minute. `Let's race!' said Klaus. He always likes to race. I usually prefer to practice jibes, but this time they were so lousy that I gladly accepted the challenge. In the excitement of a fully-powered chase, I did not notice that it had stopped raining. The wind kept increasing, at a faster pace now. After a crash-jibe at the end of an offshore reach, I figured I should downrig. Klaus was already headed back. I followed. The wind and I started debating about who really owned the sail. My speed was vertiginous. As I got closer, I realized that the fin was in deadly danger. I could not tell how deep the water was---not very deep I feared. I wanted to quit while I was still ahead, but was not sure how. I remembered Kirk's vivid description of his bone-snapping bailout. I let the wind win the debate, jumped off the board, and did a very smooth butt-landing. What skill! Whatever energies I had left I used up taking the equipment back to the beach. The wind now was claiming ownership of the board as well. I had to lean against it and could walk only very slowly. I stopped and detached rig and board, to carry them separately. A stupid idea: the wind was strong enough to lift the board. I could not let go of either, nor put them back together. I was stuck. Fortunately a walrus came by. `Hurry, hurry, let's downrig and go' the walrus said. He spoke English: not too well but not bad for a walrus. `I need some rest' I gasped. `Come on, you rest while you downrig.' So I did. I took it easy and was back in the water ten minutes after Klaus. The clearing winds were almost over. I got one planing reach out with the small sail, then the wind quit. The clouds had broken on the Peninsula, and the rays of a low sun hit the San Francisco skyline, sharp and shiny like a forest of crystals. I couldn't even waterstart. I swam and pushed the board, estimating 45 minutes to arrival, until a few late puffs saved my evening. Even though overall the day had been good, we were a little disappointed. As we were loading the car, I said: `Well, at least it's not raining.' And it kept not raining for the next three seconds. We tied the boards on the rack in a hurry, while Klaus kept repeating: `Luigi! You are such a moron! ``At least it's not raining!'' You are such a moron!' Driving back, I started telling Klaus about the problem with large drops hitting the ear but I was having trouble with my English. `You know, when a drop hits the... ehm... what's the word for that thing on top of the head?' `The forehead.' `No, I mean...' `The nose.' `NO! The rubber thing!' `The lid!' `THE HOOD!' It feels good to be smarter than your friends.