Gordo discovers the popcorn stash (busted!) ... small post-sail reward for his first jibes

It was Gordo's turn for flat water windsurfing therapy this week, since Robby had his Oyster Bay  a.k.a. "Duck Pond" lesson last week.

Arrived to find Bayville Joe Elvis and Rick Simons ripping it up.

More wind than we wanted: windy enough to get a big board planing with a 4.7 at times. Well it was a big board and a giant Curtis skeg.

Almost too much wind for teaching, so we tried beach starts first, and when it calmed down a little, Gordo switched to uphauling, sailing away and basic jibes—and managed just fine.

Ah the joys of teaching on flat water. A lot easier for the kids — or anyone — than the psycho chop they'd been getting on every visit to Heckscher.

"Just one more time ... just one more time," and before we knew it, it was 7:15.

Sometimes you gotta ride 'em anyway, cowboy

Gentle slope,  handlebar's eye view.

After a nasty attack of pericarditis (two weeks ago) and a simultaneous flare-up of the pinched nerve in my neck, and asthma during the week, I was a little leery of riding at all, but last week's paddleboarding was not even close to enough aerobic work and outside time for the week. 

Despite the shoulder pain from the pinched nerve, the body was screaming louder for exercise. 

The work week had not allowed for any midweek evening gym trips— [what already? am I going to have to convert from being a night person to a morning person?] 

I could not face another week without getting some lungfulls of O2 and some work for the legs. Not to mention that time we thrive on to connect with the outdoors, even if it's riding a bike.

The plan was for a few laps locally, quick in and out, but at the top of Eastern Crest, the bike said " to the hill we go." Yes, the big-ass hill. Up the North Face! It always feels good when you make it, especially if you make it alive. I tried to take a pulse reading, but it was too intense. Nevermind. 

Even a bike has a hard time not doing 30+ here.

When all was said and done, my lungs felt better for it, and I felt 5 lbs lighter. The neck hurt more, but that's what you get. The chill phase I was pulsing 96 bpm for a bit, but slipped back to a normal rate pretty quickly.

This was an ibuprofen pain ride no doubt, but sometimes you gotta ride 'em anyway, cowboy

Double Dippin' ... Glide is Good

Sunday is normally coffee in bed, sleep-in day.

But I woke to a dead calm at 6 am and ideally warm temps that screamed SUP me now! Get up and SUP!

My tired body screamed back "Nooooo!"

My mind yelled back, "this is your chance dummy. Gate fees start at 8."

So I threw on a pair of neoprene shorts, a 1mm O'Neill Slickskin, my trusty but now a little too hobo-looking Sanuks (still comfortable, and still perfect for on-off beach days) and headed for the nearest body of water. In Westchester, beaches were closing after the storm, but here there had been no such word. Drysuit2 said the water could be sketchy.

The gate was open, just a few folk up, and it was 8 minutes from home to on the water. That is one of the the beauties of SUP: no wax, no rigging, just grab board by the uber-convenient new double recessed Fanatic handle, grab the paddle, put on booties, croakies on the Rx glasses, key in the leash pocket and go.

Down at the water's edge however, the storm runoff and sewage discharge told a very different story than the idyllic tranquility of the glistening flat surface. Guck, grime, sludge, and bits of who-knows-what in the water.

No problem, knee paddle through it to cleaner water and get vertical there. Don't fall in at any cost.

How fish live in this stuff is beyond me.

But I paddled into schools of menhaden (bunker, herring) and bluefish. (Again, don't fall in, or plan on maybe getting bit!). The water quality improved only slightly as I paddled into "the fleet" — the local yachts at their moorings.

Boat named Under Toad, Friendly III, and a Beneteau 46 pointed SW, I headed for the channel avoiding the fishermen at the North end, who were getting some bites. Outbound seemed to move faster, and took 20-25 minutes ... inbound seemed slower but actually wasn't.

On the return trip, the incoming tide, like a moving walkway give you the impression you are moving in slo-mo, but are actually going faster.

Recovering from some injuries and a serious inflammation 6 days ago, I promised myself to paddle easy. The 9'6" Fanatic stroked pretty well for a rockered wave board on flat water. Just enough reserve volume for a little glide, and glide is good.

Out by the channel the water was cleaner, but not my much. I figured 40 minutes was enough for the first time back after the inflammation. Much as I would have liked to practice some high-intensity surf paddling, and some spill-risking tight turns, I stuck instead to the non-strenuous relaxed paddle I promised myself.

ROBBY'S FIRST SAIL

Was way off the wind it seemed, but that's OK. The main thing was he finally got the sail up and held it long enough to get in motion, and actually feel a little of the triumph of sailing one of these tiny vessels.

8 hours later, after the morning's SUP, I loaded the car again and we headed to Oyster Bay. Nobody on the water except a few sail boats way upwind. Just barely enough breeze to move.

While we rigged we chatted with Kiter Frank who was hoping the air aloft was moving faster than what was touching down on the water here. No such luck ... another 5 mph was what he needed to get the 12M kite generating enough lift to pull him onto a plane.

Robby began to get it pretty quickly this time. The flat water here versus 1-2 foot chop at Heckscher allowed him to get his first two rides in with a measure of stability. I SUPd around giving my usual blend of confusing instructions ;) It's 18 years since I graduated windsurfing instructor program in Ocracoke, and it's never easy teaching a big fella on a small board. Every inch of foot placement matters enormously to balance. It's a game of inches; sometimes half inches. But he's getting there.

From here, he can focus on tacking and jibing and consistently starting with a more efficient sailing posture—the all important, butt in/shoulders back, and rake the sail across the center line to engage the wind.

From the NYT: Your Biking Wisdom in 10 Words — Interactive Map

http://www.nytimes.com/newsgraphics/2013/06/07/bicycle-routes/index.html

Your Biking Wisdom in 10 Words — Interactive Map

An interactive map of reader advice and popular bicycle routes in New York.

Appetizer, Main Course, Windsurfing Two Course Meal

 Well we knew it was not exaclty going to be a calm SUP weekend, nor a smooth surfing situation. No, it was spring's finest in early summer. A strong thermal followed by a raging cold front.

 Zev, Westchester George, Thandi, Marianne, Frank, Jon Sassone, Pete R., Titus, Basha, Mike Burns, Lauralee, Jill, Jeff T., Terminator Bruce,  George M., George M Junior, Sleepy Joe "Bayville" Elvis, Rich S, John S, Bellport's DDM Phil, Arty (Adrian), Marty, Leonardo, Ira, Lenny the Squid, and Thandi's students...and many more.

 And my student, Robby, who travailed and who I defintely owe a flat-water session, because this weekend could easily have been named "Chop Fest 2013, or, "Chop Happiness," depending on how much mashed potatoes you like with your Great South Bay water.

 For instance, any of us who were caught in Jill's prodigious wake — mad woman, speed demon, wave generator — as she made ferocious cross-chop the size an equal of the incoming wind chop, were humbled by her unhesitant windsurfing prowess.

 It was great to see the Marr boys getting their wind on. George Jr. was flying by the end of the day. Heads-up people. another Marr is coming.

 Uncharacteristically of me, I rigged big both days. It's good for the soul, if not good for the teeth. But I only took the mast to the face once, and it did not dislodge any fillings, although the lips stung for a while.

 The real reason I rigged big though — a) I wanted to try some new sails, and b) I listened to Pete Roesch.

 Wanting to try new sails is not a good reason to use a sail you know is probably bit large. Listening to Pete means you will probably be rigging a sail size fit for Godzilla on 'roids, or ready to enter a PWA event.

 But it mostly worked out. The 6.3 Ezzy on "appetizer" Saturday, was a bit much, but it spilled wind like a champ and sailed a 1/3 -size small — like a 6.0.  And the 5.0 Ezzy on wild front Sunday hung in there very steady. I like the sail a lot even if the boom cutout is insanely high.

The 6.3 also sailed a little small for its size, but I will have to experiment with its tuning for light winds. Overall I still prefer the Gaastras that sail big for their size but are stable and deliver plenty of low end. The big difference — Gaastras I've owned were light and used a lot of monofilm, the Ezzys were heavy and built to last.


 Haven't sailed a small 90Lboard in a few years at wound out wind. So it was a shock to deal with the rapid acceleration.

 In heavy air, you are tempted to hang back on the tail, which will bog it. Straighten it out and it flies in a second. But the risk of going over when you do is high. The beauty is, when you press the tail you can control the speed a little, and the Ezzy 5.0 allows for oversheeting downwind, to kill the power a bit.

 Ramps for jumping were plentiful on the outside and I got the best air I have aired in years. I look forward to more.

 Jibes still leave a lot to be desired. OK everything to be desired. All my boards (except the glass one)  have lots of rocker, jibe tight, and I prefer a long drawn out jibe, so I have some adjusting to do. Bring on the adjustments...that's part of the beauty of this sport—along with the people.

 At one point near the end of my Sunday, I said to myself, "there's only one thing missing from this scene and that's Lenny." Guess who turned up a few minutes later. Just look for the green PFD and hood in the middle of summer and you have the Squid. Don't blink, though. He moves fast.