| Just before last weekend, long-time pal Ray Badini talked me into going sailing with him for a day. Protesting that the sunshine and cool weather better suited a photo safari in a shaded wooded area, I eventually gave in. I suppose as the VISIT FLORIDA Outdoors Expert it made sense to gain a greater appreciation for an activity so many people in Florida enjoy.
The plan involved a tour around Panama City's harbor, and off we went to where his boat "Free Lunch" bobbed in a sailboat basin.
"This will be a relaxing day," Ray proclaimed, "with gulls flying around us, gentle waves slapping the hull and maybe even an entourage of porpoises dropping by to say hello."
I nodded with a patronizing smile. Boarding his small sailboat, I rightly perceived that I'd be assisting with the maneuvering chores, a prospect not encouraging despite his promises of just my doing this or that when needed occasionally. Less than five minutes after shoving off, we had to "tack," which is sailboat-speak for going in a direction other than what's desired in order to get the wind behind us so we could eventually arrive where planned. However, after 45 minutes of crab-walking across wave crests at a painfully slow pace, the wind direction changed. We now tacked in yet another compass direction, heading away and farther from our desired destination.
I'd had enough of this folly. Pointing 180 degrees at the now-disappearing strip of coastline originally targeted for landing, my finger waggled as I waxed on about our running in place, chasing our tails and other appropriate barbs about our lack of progress.
Ray just laughed it off. "Doug, just relax. The whole idea of sailing is to enjoy the ride, not the goal or worry of arriving somewhere."
Enjoy the ride? Soaked from head to toe, the entire right side of my body stiff from frequent shifting to counterbalance an ever-rising hull that constantly threatened to capsize us, my eyes stinging from an infusion of salt spray, I silently grumbled.
Meanwhile, I strained to cling to a line securing the sail while Ray's foot rested precariously on the rudder as he simultaneously held another line in check, with both of us ducking each time the boom swung as the heading adjusted. The safety and tranquility of a terra firma experience filled my head as I noted Ray's aura of contentment. We passed other sailboats at times, and I also noticed the occupants to be upbeat and totally at peace while similarly crouched at angles to the horizon and seemingly oblivious to the discomforts I was enduring.
By day's end I figured we'd sailed about 20 miles in order to finally reach a cove less than three miles from the sailboat basin. My body ached. But the successful return combined with memories of admiring the bay at a slower rate of speed than a bouncing power boat did stick in my head.
Ray noted my ambivalence. "Doug, we just spent the day on the water using free energy – no gas or oil costs. No loud engine noises spoil the sounds of nature. You were able to quickly learn the rudiments of sailing. Admit it, you liked it."
I still wasn't so sure, but then I surprised even myself when I blurted out, "Hmm, just how much are those sailboats selling for these days?" |
