My teal should be called "Surf"
FBBB --
As I've mentioned before, the space between the stern and the aft
thwart makes a nearly perfect spot for my daughter Margaret Ellen to
stand or sit while I row our teal "lil'winnie", and we've made many a
foray into Lake Montauk and now that the crowds are gone, the mighty
Atlantic. Yesterday we finally got Mom to join us and the three of us
went out at Ditch Plains, Margaret and I in "lil'winnie" and Amy on a
surf board.
Now keep in mind, my wife is *terrified* of the ocean. She didn't
grow up with it, doesn't know how to read it, can't swim all that
well, and doesn't like getting her face wet. But once Margaret and I
had pulled off the beach, she could do much but face her fears and
follow on the surfboard.
The main break at Ditch Plains is a nearly perfect spot for
beginners. The waves line up in a very predictable way, there's a
deep channel just to the West where the waves don't break. With a
little advice, even the most feeble beginner can paddle out "hair
dry" and remain that way. We rowed out through the channel and Amy
followed until we were even with the line up but about 30 yards west,
bobbing over the small swell watching others stroking in where the
waves were breaking. Margaret was particularly amused to see her
mother out with us, giggling the same sort "that's not right" giggle
that a dog driving a fire truck might elicit.
After about a half hour of bobbing and paddling, Amy decided she
might like to try to catch a wave rather than just paddling in. Ditch
is also nearly perfect in this respect. The waves rise up very, very
slowly and break very, very gently; the tops just sort of trickle
down the face rather than plunging top to bottom. However, Amy didn't
like the idea of making her first attempt in front of a crowd of
people and asked if we could paddle about 500 yards West across the
cove to the next break called "Poles."
Poles also has a nice channel, but the line up is slightly less
obvious and the waves breaks slightly harder. Balanced against Amy's
enthusiasm these didn't seem like great obstacles to success, so I
put my back into it and started pulling towards the West. Along the
way we saw bluefish and bonito slash the surface and Amy managed the
entire trip only one rest stop. Soon we were bobbing up and down just
east of the break, and I was trying to line up some landmarks on the
shore to help Amy find the peak.
At this point Amy was pretty nervous. She wanted to try and catch a
wave, but her imagination was working overtime on worst case
scenarios. I was trying to reassure her when I checked my own
position against the shore.
"I think we're a little too far to the West," I called to her, then
looked over to see a wave rearing up 15 yards outside of me. I was
too far West and too far inside as well. Not at all the place I
wanted to be in a row boat, especially not with my daughter aboard.
Now this might seem arrogant, but I wasn't panicked. Concerned? Yes.
But panicked, no. I spun the stern to the wave and begin to push into
it. It was just cresting when I decided it was time to stop rowing
and brace for impact. I dropped the oars and jumped the stern. The
crest didn't put water aboard and I thought we just might make it
through when I felt the familiar feeling of surfing down the face of
a wave. I was backwards, face to face with Margaret and we were
shooting down the face. If we didn't broach we might even make it
back to the beach "hair dry." I shifted my body weight to starboard,
trying to keep the port chine from digging and flipping us. It worked
and the next moment I could feel we were actually getting clean ride
on the right shoulder. Any moment the bow should rise up the face and
we'd be in the clear.
But it didn't rise up. We were tracking across the face of the wave,
right in the sweet spot -- what surfers call being "locked in." The
curl of the wave was peeling over right over Margaret's head. Her
first wave ever and she's getting tubed. Unfortunately she didn't
understand how our coveted our positioning is and started to cry.
After a couple more seconds the wave petered out. I had lost the oars
in the wash and we'd taken a little water, but otherwise we were
fine. I took Margaret out of her spot and settled her down. She was
shaken and cold, but stopped crying. Without oars we were powerless,
so over the side we went and she rode me to shore like a dolphin.
This always gets laughter and giggling, this time included. I hope
that means she wasn't too badly shaken. The owner of the local surf
shop was on the beach with his daughter. When Margaret's a little
older he can tell her how she got barreled on her first wave.
Amy had lost sight us when we caught the wave and didn't see us again
until we were deposited in the channel on the inside. She managed to
get in "hair dry" and came over to watch Margaret while I swam back
out to the boat.
I dumped the water and loaded the surfboard onto lil'winnie and rowed
everything back to our starting point while Amy and Margaret walked
up the beach. Once we got back home and into a warm tub Margaret
regaled us with the adventure -- the only intelligible words being
"boat", "go", "oh no" and "I don' wanna" When we went back down to
the beach today, she ran over to the boat, and seemed to be retelling
her tale of adventure on the high seas, complete with broad hand
gestures and waving arms.
My previous experiments with lil'winnie suggested that she wasn't
surfable. Either she'd broach or turn out of the wave. Perhaps it was
just a matter of trim. We'll see how eager Margaret is to continue
experimenting.
YIBB,
David
CRUMBLING EMPIRE PRODUCTIONS
134 West 26th St. 12th Floor
New York, New York 10001
http://www.crumblingempire.com
(212) 247-0296
As I've mentioned before, the space between the stern and the aft
thwart makes a nearly perfect spot for my daughter Margaret Ellen to
stand or sit while I row our teal "lil'winnie", and we've made many a
foray into Lake Montauk and now that the crowds are gone, the mighty
Atlantic. Yesterday we finally got Mom to join us and the three of us
went out at Ditch Plains, Margaret and I in "lil'winnie" and Amy on a
surf board.
Now keep in mind, my wife is *terrified* of the ocean. She didn't
grow up with it, doesn't know how to read it, can't swim all that
well, and doesn't like getting her face wet. But once Margaret and I
had pulled off the beach, she could do much but face her fears and
follow on the surfboard.
The main break at Ditch Plains is a nearly perfect spot for
beginners. The waves line up in a very predictable way, there's a
deep channel just to the West where the waves don't break. With a
little advice, even the most feeble beginner can paddle out "hair
dry" and remain that way. We rowed out through the channel and Amy
followed until we were even with the line up but about 30 yards west,
bobbing over the small swell watching others stroking in where the
waves were breaking. Margaret was particularly amused to see her
mother out with us, giggling the same sort "that's not right" giggle
that a dog driving a fire truck might elicit.
After about a half hour of bobbing and paddling, Amy decided she
might like to try to catch a wave rather than just paddling in. Ditch
is also nearly perfect in this respect. The waves rise up very, very
slowly and break very, very gently; the tops just sort of trickle
down the face rather than plunging top to bottom. However, Amy didn't
like the idea of making her first attempt in front of a crowd of
people and asked if we could paddle about 500 yards West across the
cove to the next break called "Poles."
Poles also has a nice channel, but the line up is slightly less
obvious and the waves breaks slightly harder. Balanced against Amy's
enthusiasm these didn't seem like great obstacles to success, so I
put my back into it and started pulling towards the West. Along the
way we saw bluefish and bonito slash the surface and Amy managed the
entire trip only one rest stop. Soon we were bobbing up and down just
east of the break, and I was trying to line up some landmarks on the
shore to help Amy find the peak.
At this point Amy was pretty nervous. She wanted to try and catch a
wave, but her imagination was working overtime on worst case
scenarios. I was trying to reassure her when I checked my own
position against the shore.
"I think we're a little too far to the West," I called to her, then
looked over to see a wave rearing up 15 yards outside of me. I was
too far West and too far inside as well. Not at all the place I
wanted to be in a row boat, especially not with my daughter aboard.
Now this might seem arrogant, but I wasn't panicked. Concerned? Yes.
But panicked, no. I spun the stern to the wave and begin to push into
it. It was just cresting when I decided it was time to stop rowing
and brace for impact. I dropped the oars and jumped the stern. The
crest didn't put water aboard and I thought we just might make it
through when I felt the familiar feeling of surfing down the face of
a wave. I was backwards, face to face with Margaret and we were
shooting down the face. If we didn't broach we might even make it
back to the beach "hair dry." I shifted my body weight to starboard,
trying to keep the port chine from digging and flipping us. It worked
and the next moment I could feel we were actually getting clean ride
on the right shoulder. Any moment the bow should rise up the face and
we'd be in the clear.
But it didn't rise up. We were tracking across the face of the wave,
right in the sweet spot -- what surfers call being "locked in." The
curl of the wave was peeling over right over Margaret's head. Her
first wave ever and she's getting tubed. Unfortunately she didn't
understand how our coveted our positioning is and started to cry.
After a couple more seconds the wave petered out. I had lost the oars
in the wash and we'd taken a little water, but otherwise we were
fine. I took Margaret out of her spot and settled her down. She was
shaken and cold, but stopped crying. Without oars we were powerless,
so over the side we went and she rode me to shore like a dolphin.
This always gets laughter and giggling, this time included. I hope
that means she wasn't too badly shaken. The owner of the local surf
shop was on the beach with his daughter. When Margaret's a little
older he can tell her how she got barreled on her first wave.
Amy had lost sight us when we caught the wave and didn't see us again
until we were deposited in the channel on the inside. She managed to
get in "hair dry" and came over to watch Margaret while I swam back
out to the boat.
I dumped the water and loaded the surfboard onto lil'winnie and rowed
everything back to our starting point while Amy and Margaret walked
up the beach. Once we got back home and into a warm tub Margaret
regaled us with the adventure -- the only intelligible words being
"boat", "go", "oh no" and "I don' wanna" When we went back down to
the beach today, she ran over to the boat, and seemed to be retelling
her tale of adventure on the high seas, complete with broad hand
gestures and waving arms.
My previous experiments with lil'winnie suggested that she wasn't
surfable. Either she'd broach or turn out of the wave. Perhaps it was
just a matter of trim. We'll see how eager Margaret is to continue
experimenting.
YIBB,
David
CRUMBLING EMPIRE PRODUCTIONS
134 West 26th St. 12th Floor
New York, New York 10001
http://www.crumblingempire.com
(212) 247-0296