It’s tough ‘not’ to go sailing. There goes the fleet preparing for the night’s red-cup racing event (that’s Red ‘Solo’ Cup, you know the song).
But, I just pulled the starter cord out of the motor, I’m single-handing tonight, and that storm that was thirty minutes ago as many miles away is now roiling (yes ‘roiling’, crossing ‘rolling’ with ‘boiling’) into view. Will it go south and away? Will it veer north and hammer the lake? Whirling twirling wisps of dark smoky moisture in the air preceded by a stillness that is as ominous as the classic horror flick films.
OK, I’ll put the mains’l cover back on. Secure the lines, and pull the motor off to haul to the repair shop. And, …vindication! There is that cold chill that comes from the downdraft of the oncoming fury, making me shiver and smile at the same time. I made a good choice…
(The next morning… on the yacht club’s FB page) “What a great time we had as the storm blew south of us!