Commodore's View
As an officer of our club, I’m given a book that, hopefully, relates all the wisdom and experiences of those that have gone before. One of the things it doesn’t address is perks. For those of you that aspire to goals of office in NFCC might want to cut this column out and refer to it from time to time. So far, the perks of office of Commodore have included two free dinners, with bar tabs attached. In retrospect, I think that someone is VERY lucky that I’ve pretty much quit drinking. That could have been expensive. The only drawback to the free dinners is that I had to find another tie. Mine is looking pretty tired after twenty five years, I was going to get another, but my son got one for Christmas so I can borrow his. It has the Tasmanian Devil all over it.
Another perk, that I’ve just recently discovered is I get to ride on the boat with the Race Captain and be a real P-I-T-A if I want. Bubba was gracious enough to make the offer (or was that ‘foolish enough’), so I took him up on it. Folks, for those of you that didn’t come out for the Spring River Race, you missed an entire hemisphere of weather in a single day. I didn’t. This El Niño winter had me lulled into leaving the foul weather pants hanging in the closet, and I remembered how cold it can be in wet denim. But then it turned into a shorts and short-sleeved afternoon, complete with light air. It seemed like every time Bubba had made up his mind about a course, the wind would shift. Once the race was started, the wind almost quit. It was interesting to note that it was the first time that I’ve ever seen multiple starts be absolutely clear starting lines. I’m pretty sure that none of the first start boats had cleared the line before the second start was called.
All that in mind, I’ tired of winter, I’m ready for the warm evenings of spring, coming later each week. I’m especially ready for the nights when the moon is full. Sailing the river under a full moon is an experience like no other. Of course, my idea of a full-moon sail isn’t the standard approach. For me, the ideal full-moon sail is one of silence. No LIVE AT LEEDS or Jimmy Buffett in the tape deck, or even a radio station blaring. No chatter of talk-jocks or patter of sports color men. Not even talk among crew. Absolute silence, with the exception of the whisper of the breeze against the sail and rig, and the power of the hull sliding through the water.
But I’ve been told that the sound of the power of the hull is actually the barnacle farm getting a good feeding. Nevertheless, other than the natural sounds of wind, water and vessel, silence makes a full-moon sail an occasion for deep soul searching and profound philosophical revelations. The deep soul searching comes from wondering when the new charts are coming out with all the new river marks in place. The profound philosophical revelations are much more profound if left unspoken. Once they are spoken in the light of day they tend to lean more towards "all cats are grey in the night".
Then again, either Jimmy Buffett or LIVE AT LEEDS is fine with me sometimes. This month, you’ve got the St. Paddy’s Cruise, and the Fernandina Race. Take advantage of them folks, they’re going to happen whether you show up or not.