On the river

I went sailing Saturday for the first time this semester. As always, it was liberating.

The Commodore had sent an email detailing the day's agenda as well as sailing conditions.

It was the first sail of the semester, so we expected many newbies and prospective members.

But when I arrived to the meeting place for the carpool, only one other person was waiting under the tree.

Eventually, another one showed up, and after much waiting, so did an officer with a car.

Once we got to the marina, two other people arrived in a separate car. But the throngs of engineering students and bikini-clad undergraduate girls were absent.

Granted, it was freezing. The girls only came to swim and flirt with the older guys and rarely came back a second time anyway. Several of the officers were crewing a regatta at a yacht club. Most of the students hadn't shaken off the winter stupor they had settled in over break.

So it was just us six and the J.

We rigged the main, filled the gas tank, resuscitated the motor, and went on our merry and windy way.

The wind was so strong we had to reef the sails. The boat proved difficult to maneuver, and we almost ran into both a cliff and a dock several times.

We decided to sail several miles downriver to a pier restaurant accessible either by boat or by a hundred-mile inland drive.

Plastic sheets had been lowered around the patio and propane heaters lit. Eventually, after a mug of steaming hot chocolate (which, if watery and bland, was at least a useful handwarmer) and several minutes huddled around the flames, our teeth stopped chattering and we stripped layers of clothing to be more comfortable.

After a delicious, if expensive meal and a long discussion during which we discovered that, for the first time in club history engineering majors were in minority, we reluctantly put our layers back on and headed back to the boat. After a much shorter length of time, we arrived back to the dock and moored the boat.

We warmed up in the car and silently drove home. We were exhausted.

Sailing is both a cold and warm weather sport.

In summer, when the sun is shining and the air so hot that you can feel your skin baking, it is a relief to capsize the boat and engage in pirate fights between crews..

In winter, when the wind is blowing, the waves are crested with white, and the cold is making your lips and fingers turn blue, it feels like freedom to steer your ship with the wind until you collapse from exhaustion.

Sailing is my private heaven, where I know everyone with the bonds that form between the members of a crew working together to master the elements and fight for their lives.