Nacraphilia
by Les Valsquier
distributed via email, 1995
Snowed hard all night, probably eight inches on the pasture, drifting over a
foot, wind blowing hard. Built a snowman, nine feet tall good snow, it'll
melt soon. Catamaran looks lonely, out of place with drifts concealing tramp
and trailer. Wind howls through the big Doug firs, branch cracks and crashes
in the woods, very gusty. Brush the boat off, slide her back off the trailer,
weighs 345, slides freely once moving but hard to budge at first. Get the
boat pointed down across the pasture, lower the rudders to cut in the snow
behind, raise the mast, scared now, sails seem too much, finally get up the
nerve raise the jib then the main, nothing. Sheet in, bounce, nothing. Get
off and push, boat starts sliding, jump on, foot tangled, heart pounding real
frightened, get feet free hike out all stop, nothing. Adrenaline rushing
through my ears like a train, hands shake, look around see who might be
watching, nobody, all alone. Sweating now, curse myself anything for a
thrill, big gust whistles through rig, jump off push and run, dive over the
lifting hull, feet dragging must depower, no chance we're off. Damn! Need the
trap and harness, hull still rising, dumped the jib sheet, slacked the main
down, no avail, hyper space. Mind racing now, snow has no friction at speed,
Nacra 5.2 hulls are beautifully designed to slice through water with
parasitic drag, no drag now, must slow down, can't turn, rudders bouncing
useless behind. Finally wind subsides slightly, evened out, won't capsize on
hard ground, feeling good. Should have worn goggles, snow blasting in eyes,
rocketing down the pasture real fast, like a skateboard on a buttered tile
floor, no friction. Can't slow or stop, sails all out, giving more power
apparent wind clocked up to tight reach, enough horsepower to fly this thing,
no friction, can't stop. Cows in the meadow below begin to notice, get
agitated, sense the impending disaster. Bail off, hang on for dear life,
pull, dig in heels, hull starts up again, must get back on, scramble, curse.
Big ledge and ditch leads to road, jump the ditch, boat heels up hard, feels
ready to fall over, hike out feel big, think heavy, over the road, heading
for fence now, warp 3 Cap'n make it so! Snow flying everywhere, cows running
for cover, the bows slip under the fence, barbed wire shrieks then gives with
a bang, recoiling, thankfully. Deeper grass here, snow is lumpy, almost pitch
pole, slower now, stop.
I can't wait for summer.
Les