Good Ridin, & Dead Man's Toe

Sand was flying sideways.

The day after ...  looking SW from Lighthouse Rd.
Manhattan in the distance. A sharp west wind kicking up. 

Seagulls were flying sideways,
boards were sliding sideways.

It was mostly all good.

Cold, but brutally good.

"I got two dead man's toes" said Dr. Phil the dentist (well at least I think Phil's a dentist when he's not teaching race car driving.) "That's what Joe Rocco called 'em," Dr. Phil explained.

And the reasons for the condition? Damn cold water, no booties and numb feet.

"I'll see you next year, I think that's it for me for the year," said Dr. Phil. But he's gotten his money's worth and gotten blown up on a 5.0, only to find it was really solid 4.2, for him, by the close of business.

The wind had been sketchy to start. And Terminator Bruce went with a 5.4. I'm glad he sailed, but and a grand overpowered time, but it was the final downwind run that unfortunately ended with a bad spill, spraining his ankle. Painful; looked like he was growing a tennis ball on the side of it. Ouch.

There was no shortage of wipeouts. The big, loud splashes were the punctuation to a day "going off" on the wind scale.

But it was a small crowd, maybe 15 all day, at all different parts of the day coming and going.

Arty, Marty, Leonardo (the canine 'cat' sailor), Terminator Bruce, lil' Frank (another of Chuck's friends), Jill, Pasha, a couple of other guys from Eastern europe who I don't know, Dr. Phil, Upwind Mike, Jeannie, Chris, Eugene, (who I hadn't seen in a decade, I reckon), the pilot chappie, another few of peeps I don't know, and a bloke wearing not much more than a rashguard and boardshorts (brrr.) who was getting blown off his 5.8 and wished for a smaller sail.

I loaned him a Zeta 4.5, that I had packed just in case Lenny needed a rideshare. The rashguard man wound up sliding several beaches downwind.

With binoculars we spotted him flapping his way back to shore. We've (mostly) all been there done and that, but a 55F day in late October in cold water is not the best time to try it. "El camino del conquistador vanquista" the walk of the vanquished hero, I think Ely called it, back in the day.

I had put the 4.7 on a big (99L) F2Style 255 board and a 9.5" wave fin to go investigate his situation.

But it turned out there was no need. I went with the setup anyway. Sail too flat, fin too small for anything but the gusts (but man did that fin loosen up the board nicely and give it a silky feel in the gusts.) Will have to try that again sometime.

But to stay powered, I switched to a 10.5" Fox wave fin, until the wind kicked up a few more notches.

Leonardo the Shep's dogwagon, giving shelter to
a vintage F2 Sunset Slalom. The boards on top could go
inside, but Leonardo has bragging rights
 for interior dog bed space.

Finally, making some jibes. It's amazing how you lose that skill if it's not hardwired. The last two sessions had been overpowered or underpowered, and not a whole lot of effective jibing got done. This day however, delivered ramps for a few jumps, and small waves for hard carving. And those are key ingredients for a real fun session. 

Another boost in the wind arrived as forecasted, and it was time for some more downhaul (had to doggone undo the whole shooting match to get another 2 cm of mast base of adjustment) ... and some more outhaul. Oops too much of the latter. It's killing the power. I undid the clew, shortened the boom a notch, and put almost the right amount of shape back in the pocket Good to go for another rack of runs.

But there was plenty more wind where that came from. Tailwalking time. I had the Open Ocean 8'4" 82 liter bump and jump board dug into the beach, so it was a simple matter to switch. It had been years, but the old Brian Hynde creation worked it's magic. It was hard to stop, except the wind was pushing the 4.2 end of the spectrum by now, and there was not a lot of grip left in the left paw.

I injured the neck a while ago and that arm has been 15% off ever since.

How many times do you hear your arms and a hand saying "that's it we're finished," you say "Ok that's it; last run."

It's now a "must" to hook in right away and take the load off, or you're looking at a dumping, and a couple more wrestling matches.

But you make it back, you rest a little in the shallows, and you're good for another one, and another one, and another one.

Turn the heater up full blast. Chilled to the core. That was not a warm experience, not easy, but the same thing next weekend would work just fine. I feel a jibe coming on.

Come Sunday, it was riding time.

Sunday bike ride: Looking back up the Sound to the
Northeast. Still a few sailboats who will no doubt
keep their sails flying all winter's fair windy days. 

No way was I getting another wind session in.

But a quick hour and 15 minute (13 mile or so) bike ride was on the menu for fitness catchup.

It had just had one of those weeks where getting out of work and getting to the gym was not happening, and there was ground to be made up.

As a neighbor said, great day for riding, and aside from the building west wind, and Sunday afternoon traffic, she was absolutely right.

Didn't have a lot of juice left in the legs after yesterday, but the endurance was better, and managed some solid pedaling and hill work all the same. The 9/29 "Ride with the Squid" in oyster bay was paying dividends.

It took a while to find a tailwind but the ride home delivered along shore road for an easy 17 mph on the flat. Like all fun rides they start out with pain in the knees and sore legs, and they usually leave you feeling as energized as a fine fall day.