Date: 06/19/2007/Depart: 1015 Sea Ranch SPI / Arrive 1345 Sea Ranch SPI/Wind: SSE 8-15/Temp: 86 deg F/Water: Blue/Seas: 6’/Skies: Clear

So CB spent the night here. “What’re the chances of sailing?” he asked

……Ohhhh, about 100%.....

We ate dinner at the Palm Street Pier on the Island, and I noticed that Night Magic is tied alongside again, its black hull punctuating a black night across the Laguna Madre. Curiously cool breezes blowing across the water as we enjoyed blackened shrimp salads and a couple of icy cold Coronas….The talk turned to sailing and seadogs, of which Rocky, the owner of Night Magic definitely qualifies. Recently he had taken as crew a local massage therapist nee Captain (or at least claims to be), a local blonde named Mariam. Much to the chagrin and acrimony of his wife and co-owner, Linda.

Linda didn’t like the arrangement, and so she hauled the boat back over to the Port Isabel fingers until Rocky promised to find new crew. I guess he has, ‘cause the boat’s back over at Palm Street Pier now…..

The Palm Street Pier really gets to rocking on weekends and holidays, but we pretty much had the place to ourselves Monday night. Cliff, the bartender, whom I’ve known since he was a kid, when I used to drive him and the twin sons of my best friend from Edinburg over to the Island for surfing, long before they even had drivers licenses, sat with us at the table reading a magazine and catching up on things…..

Waking up Tuesday, the wind seemed to already be piping up, and we hurriedly left the house, dropped the twins off at Project Puente (they get to swim, do science and all kinds of fun summer stuff) and headed over the causeway to the Island. Enroute the phone rang, and it was the commander.  I told him I was taking ‘Div out for a stroll.

“Oh really?” he quipped….”I thought you were one of those sailors who just stay tied up to the dock all of the time…..I was beginning to wonder if you were ever gonna sail again?”…

Now I was getting irritated……

He continued; “Yeaaaaaa…..I figure instead of getting a bigger boat…..maybe you oughta get a bigger anchor”…..he snickered.

OK, OK, if you want to play this game…..I’ll go along with it. I knew the commander had to work, teaching his summer marine bio class over at the lab, right near the Brazos Pass, and I already had a plan.

Since we had been staying on the boat, it took a while to stow all of the things and get her ready to get underway. I went topside and rigged up the number one headsail and the baby, hanking them on getting everything prepared, uncovering the main and mizzen, checking the halyards…..

Finally, things seemed ready, and I fired up the Westerbeke, and with a bit of jockeying, slid out of the slip. It only took a well executed half circle to clear the end of the dock and chug out of the channel, turning south.

Putting the nose into the wind, the crew raised up the main, while I got the mizzen hauled. Then it came time to put the jib into the wind, and CB raised it up on the halyard, and to my dismay, it kept going right on up. It was then that I noticed that I had the sheets attached to the tack end, and it wasn’t even fastened to the deck.

Down it came, and some quick sleight of hand corrected the problem.

Pushing the boat over on a starboard tack, I crowded the shallows near the Coast Guard station before lying a Port tack into the Brazos Channel. Two more tacks, and we were in the open Gulf of Mexico, crashing headlong into closely spaced six footers. I kept it on a broad reach to the northeast, and dug out my cell phone, calling the Coastal Studies Lab…..

“Hey Gib……go tell David to look out of the back door”, as Olivia reeled and frolicked in the warm blue day, a hint of white bubbles gently shooshing by her well heeled port rail. I knew it would make an envious sight....

Eat yer heart out commander…….

Giving CB the boat, we sailed out past the sea buoy averaging six knots, all of the canvas flying, drawing wind like a living animal, breathing and heaving, the buildings on the island receding into geometric patterns on the horizon.

The seas were a bit more than comfortable, but CB appears to enjoy this, he hasn’t spent a whole lot of time out there, so I guess it’s still a novelty.

D was not feeling too well, having gulped down a half a Stugeron earlier in an attempt to quell the queasiness, and the heat was not helping either. I doused her with the spray can periodically as she gamely hung in there, laying down on the bridge deck.

After about another hour, we spun the boat around and headed for the entrance buoys. Waves breaking on both sides, we entered the pass on a reach, on an incoming tide, slipping happily along, past George Colley on Fins to Feathers, and on into the channel, past the cruisers anchored at Childrens beach, starting the iron genny, heading up into the wind and dousing the sails.

A flawless trip to the slip, and we stowed all of the canvas, bagged the jib and baby, and stowed the sheets.

Digging out all of our living stuff and arranging the interior, I called the commander, but of course, he was relentless. Probably still mad at me ‘cause I was unable to make the return trip with Ciclon…

…ahhhhh, but despite popular opinion, yes, I really do sail…