Friday was hot. Brutal hot. The kind of hot that interrupts normal thoughts. I was riding along, heading for the lake and watching some SUV or truck who looked like they might be about to do something stupid and dangerous when suddenly my brain would misfire and, "Damn its hot!" would echo inside my helmet. The marina was just as toasty.
I was opening up Nomad, hanging sun covers and such, when I noticed friend Jeff unloading two wave runners off a trailer, putting them over to Gale Force and tying them off in his slip. A little while later and I was cooling off by following him out into the lake on one of them. I've never been on a wave runner before but every time I tried to slow up and figure out what I was doing Jeff would blast past with a evil grin on his face. What else could I do but thumb the throttle lever to full and keep up? The lake was choppy and the ride at 50+ miles an hour might be best descried as "sporting." We ran the length of the lake to the marina at the dam, (free gin & tonics awaited us at the boat of old friends of Jeff) had a fun visit and then headed home before dark. Another "full throttle blast" the whole way. I'm guessing I will be sore for a couple of more days!
On Saturday afternoon Nomad slipped her lines and we headed off for the raft up and fireworks show. It was a slow drift across the lake in light winds and when we turned south we drifted to a complete stop; sails limp in the still air. We tucked them away and brought our little diesel on line. It might be a bit of a stretch to suggest that we "powered" down the lake, but the little engine that last year couldn't, this year can. It thudded away for more than an hour to deliver us to cove 1. Rafted up the party ensued and the fireworks were great. Around midnight mother nature provided a second display of fireworks as a cold (well cooler anyway) front swept through. This morning all the boats were facing NW rather than SE and the winds were peppering the lake with whitecaps.
Though nowhere near 50 mph, the sail back to Boulder could also be described as "sporting." With a reef in her main and flying the working jib Nomad danced for home at better than 5 knots. The lake was lumpy indeed and soon we were tossing spay all the way back into the cockpit. Even with a reefed main there were moments when we heeled close to 30 degrees. Nearing home we started to plot how to get the sails down. As well as our little engine has been running we didn't think it could push us against the wind and waves that had really built at the north end of the lake. We would need the sails to get us home. In addition the boats that got home ahead of us, (that would be all of them) were clearly struggling a bit as they stood well off the point, trying to hold bows into the wind, to get their sails stowed. Instead of following the crowd we sailed close to the point, dropped the sails as quickly as we could using the engine to basically hold us still against the waves and wind, and spun the bow toward the calmer waters of the cove as soon as the canvas was secured. It worked well and a few minutes later Nomad motored serenely into the marina and back into her slip after 24 hours away from home.
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