Monday, August 29, 2011

A Little "Tickle"

I recently returned from a fishing trip in NW Montana just outside Glacier National Park.  It was a “guys” trip and seven of us stayed in a remote fishing lodge high up in the Bob Marshall Wilderness area.  No cell phone coverage; no cable TV; no internet.  The trip was amazing.  For six days we fished some of the most beautiful and less traveled rivers in the entire state, perhaps in the entire country.  While hiking early one morning, I came to within twenty feet of a large black bear eating huckleberries from a bush just off the trail.  I witnessed a bald eagle soar high overhead before descending for its morning breakfast plucked out of the river.  We caught record setting bull trout and beautiful native west slope cutthroat trout.  However, what I didn't realize, because I never gave it much thought, is that the excitement of catching a fish is universal.  This is true whether you are fishing Montana's pristine rivers, or a muddy farm pond in Oklahoma.  It is true whether you are passionately obsessed with fishing and make a point to do it every day, or you only fish occasionally.  It is true whether you love to fish, like to fish, or could care less whether you ever fish again ... In all cases there is - what I like to call - a little “tickle” deep down in your stomach that you feel at the exact moment a fish strikes.  A vibration starts below the water’s surface, travels up the fishing line, through the tip of your rod and down every “eye” to the reel and finally your hands.  This happens in the blink of an eye, and at that very moment the hair on the back of your neck stands on end and adrenaline is released into your blood as your senses become highly attuned as you engage in battle. 

On this trip I saw this first hand watching my father-in-law, who has been fishing in Montana for over 50 years.  His love for the state and its beauty is infectious and he desperately wants to share this love with others.  I also experienced this "tickle" many times myself as I fished the crystal blue glacier runoff of the Middle Fork of the Flathead River.  But, still, I don't think I appreciated the moment of this experience.

This past weekend my family had an open date with no commitments (a rarity in a household with two active kids).  So we packed up and headed to Grand Lake.  The forecast called for no wind, so on Saturday I planned a working day on our sailboat - installation of new interior LED lights (blog post about that later).  Gray had a different plan, he wanted to go fishing.  Frankly, I wasn't too excited about it.  But, his big blue eyes are hard (very hard) to say “no” to, so I worked until early Saturday afternoon and then we headed to the Blue Moon bait shop.  Minnows were the bait of choice for an afternoon of fishing off the dock.  The heat was oppressive and the fish had retreated to deeper and cooler water.  With no bites in over three hours, we reeled in and went swimming.  As we floated and splashed about in the late afternoon sun, it was clear that Gray had not given up.  He decided that our luck might change if we rigged up lines and left them out after the sun went down.  That was the plan and we executed. 

After dinner, Gray went down to the dock to check the lines.  Through binoculars, I watched from the lake house’s back deck.  I was hoping to see if either of the fishing rods was "twitching."  Gray checked the first and he yelled up to me "Dad, the bait is gone."  He then walked over to the next pole and picked it up and the rod tip immediately bent and almost pulled out of his hands.  Now focused on his face, I saw his mouth fully open and big blue eyes bugging out with an astonished look.  As he regained control of the rod, he looked up at me and began to yell, "Dad, I got one ... and it's big."  A smile spread across his face as he began to reel in line.  In that instance, I realized that he was experiencing the "tickle."  And, as I began to appreciate the moment of his “tickle” I noticed that I had a little one too.

Friday, August 19, 2011

I Bought A Boat

Recall I was lamenting the fact I could not find an opportunity to sail other than in/ during my ASA sailing classes?  Well, little did I know that our lake neighbor, Mike, had been bitten by the sailing bug too.  At the same time I was taking sailing classes through ASA, he was taking parallel courses through International Yachtmaster Training.  Mike’s wife, Lee, is from Thailand and they usually visited annually in late fall and early winter.  When they went Mike would carve out a week or two for his sailing classes.  Also, Mike had friends with sailboats on Grand Lake.  Hmmm … Further, one friend, in particular, had a boat for sale!  Hmmm … She (s/v Tontine) is a 1980 Catalina 30.  She has been very well taken care of and loved dearly over the years by her previous owners – Pat being the most current owner.    
Whether it was a finely planned and orchestrated move by Mike and Pat (knowing I was severely bitten by the sailing bug) or coincidence, I was invited out one afternoon for a sail.  Mike and I brought provisions (i.e., beer, summer sausage, cheese and crackers) and we met Pat at Tontine on a pleasant Wednesday afternoon.  It was late May, 2009, and the wind was light and the air warm.  When I boarded Tontine I was surprised at the massive room below.  I soon learned that Catalina 30s had a reputation for being a “big” small cruiser.  In fact, she seemed as big as or bigger than Sea Bella – the 34 foot O’Day that I sailed on in my most recent sailing class.  Before we even left the dock, I was in love and my mind was spinning with rhetorical questions: How much is he asking?  How much is the slip fee?  How much is the insurance?  And, so on. 
The sail was nice as we ghosted about the lake, tacking, gybing and simply enjoying a beautiful day.  As the sun was setting, and after securing Tontine back at her slip, Pat invited me aboard his new boat, a 40 foot Catalina – Tontine II.  She was immaculate and I was intoxicated with the romance of sailing and owning my first sailboat.  On the hour long trip back to Tulsa, I was giddy and could not wait to tell Suzi about Tontine and what a great deal it was, notwithstanding the fact that I didn’t even know the asking price yet.  As you can see, it was a perfect set up as I had a serious case of the “I have to have it” disease.
Well, a short couple of weeks later, after brief negotiations (Pat was in no hurry to sell and knew, by my state of mind, that I was disadvantaged) and a marine survey, I was the proud owner of Tontine.  I decided to keep her right where she was ... same marina ... same slip.  She was comfortable and we were both happy. 

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Time Marches On

Summer is over. Gray and Kiki return to school tomorrow to start their 4th and 9th grade years, respectively. I am sad as I know that with the end of each summer both come ever closer to the responsibilities of adulthood. I desperately want them to experience - to the fullest extent possible - the privileges of youth AND appreciate it. That may be an oxymoron ... Perhaps the power, privileges and beauty of youth may only be appreciated after it (youth) has faded. Among my many "jobs" as a parent, I must help my children understand this reality. Is that even possible? On the one hand, I want their noses in their school books absorbed in study ... not only succeeding in school, but excelling. On the other hand, I want them to travel, experience life, the world and not be confined or limited in any way by societal (or my own) expectations. Are MY desires oxymoronic? How do I know the right answer? Or, is it better to have questions than answers?

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Continuing Education

Well ... in May 2009 I jumped feet first into my "Quest To Sail."  In less than thirty days following my Basic Keelboat ASA class (which I passed with flying colors) I enrolled in the Basic Coastal Cruising and Bareboat Chartering ASA combo class.  Other than the time sailing in my "basic" class, I had a combined 0 hours practicing my new sailing skills.  Seriously!  I was excited (about learning to sail and about the new classes) and very frustrated (about not having an opportunity to sail).  I didn't have a sailboat and I didn't know anyone with a sailboat.  Further, there didn’t seem to be any sailing clubs in NE Oklahoma that catered to members without boats.  How was I going to actually practice and internalize all that I was learning in my sailing classes?  Reading sailing magazines, from cover to cover, can only get you so far.  This was all going to change; I just didn't know it at the time.  Anyway, I started my new sailing courses with the same school and instructor.  Once again it was mucho information packed into a relatively short weekend AND I loved every minute of it.  It was also a "liveaboard" class, so the students (me and a young couple from Arkansas) slept on the boat (a 1984 34 foot O'Day, "Sea Bella").  Capt. Debbie was great and I have grown fond of this petite woman who dispels any notion that you have to be big and strong to handle a large sailboat.  She has, as most “sailors" I have come to know, an endearing personality and an interesting story about how she fell in love with sailing as well as the independence it gives her.  Sea Bella has been well cared for over the years and it was a pleasure to be on board.  Also, I was amazed at the difference between the 26 foot boat - Tiki - I sailed in my basic class and Sea Bella.  A difference of 8 feet in length and almost 2 feet on the beam didn't sound like a big deal, but it made a HUGE difference.  Hmmm ... on Sea Bella, I was actually able to envision what it might be like to live on a sailboat.  In fact, the first night on board, I stayed up way to late, reading posts and replies from the "Liveaboard" forum on "Sailnet."  Sea Bella was also my first experience with wheel steering and I loved it.  All weekend the wind was a "perfect to learn on" 10 to 15 mph and it was May, so the Oklahoma weather was still nice with the summer heat at least 6 weeks away.  The highlight of the weekend was a Saturday night sail.  Most of the motor boat traffic had cleared and we almost had the lake to ourselves.  It was 11:00 P.M. and I was getting hungry as we skipped dinner in favor of sailing longer.  I was at the helm and took note of the full moon as it rose up out of the lake to our starboard.  I was mentally and physically exhausted, but I did not want the night to end.  No one had spoken for 10 minutes, maybe more.  I welcomed the silence as I enjoyed the pleasure of sailing.  It was almost perfect.*  I deeply inhaled and tried to mentally capture the experience.  The moon grew smaller as it rose over the horizon.  Sadly, it was time for me to relinquish the helm to another student.  I went forward and sat with my back resting against the mast.  I stared out over the ink black water.  The only sound I could hear was the gentle "laps" against the hull as we ghosted along.  I looked up and found the Big Dipper.  I could see the faint haze of the Milky Way.  I lost myself in thoughts and dreams of sailing on my own boat with my wife as we made an evening passage.  We were in the middle of an ocean, any ocean, and not on Grand Lake, Oklahoma.  I was startled back to the present as the jib began to luff.  We had turned into the wind so that it could be furled.  I stood to help lower and flake the mainsail and a hint of sadness crept up inside me like I felt as a child on the last day of summer break.  I didn't want the night to end … I didn’t want the class to end.  It was the only means I had to sail, or so I thought...

*It really was perfect.  But my thoughts of sailing are now so heavily intertwined with experiencing it with Suzi that I simply wished she was there to share the night.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Where can you find beauty?

It is easy to “find” beauty when I look out over the turquoise ocean from the cockpit of a sailboat securely anchored after a long day’s sail; as I sit next to my lover watching a slowly setting sun paint swaths of fire red, burnt orange and deep purple paint across the sky’s blue canvas; when the muted hallway light silently brushes my daughter’s resting face as I secretly watch from a crack in her bedroom doorway as she peacefully sleeps; without the stress of work or a deadline.  This is not difficult.  But, I envy the person, most often a child, who sees beauty where I cannot: a simple tree whose branches undulate in the warm summer breeze; a lonely glowing ember from the remnants of a neglected campfire; a mutt dog found on the street and given shelter.  It is true that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I believe, as the “beholder”, I should be open to find beauty in places where I would not otherwise have thought to look.  I should seek beauty in new and different experiences.  Where can you find beauty?