Don’t drink too much coffee

Darrell Pendergrass shares for the Ashland Daily Press his introduction to sailing:

The idea was that I would sail aboard the Chewbacca during Bayfield Race Week (Bayfield, WI) and write a first-hand account of my experience. As I was not even 30 years old, I thought it sounded fun. It couldn’t be that difficult. I was wrong.

The sky was dark and overcast on this day 30 years ago, rains spit angrily from above, and Lake Superior was wild. I arrived early and had several cups of coffee. On the boat I was given rain gear and asked if I could swim. “Yes. I can swim.” “No,” the captain said. “CAN YOU SWIM?” I had no intention of needing to swim, but I assured him that I would be fine.

Now, I had never met any of the crew before. I had never been sailing, either. I had no knowledge of sailboat racing. I had no idea what was going to happen. I knew nothing.

But now I know the Chewbacca races to win; they aren’t looking for participation ribbons. Now I know that sailboat racing is akin to having dozens of houses with sails and little ability to steer, going as fast as possible from one buoy to another within confined spaces.

Now I know there’s a lot of yelling and hollering of instructions between crew members, between boats and seemingly at the heavens above. And when you’re going into the wind, and zig zagging back and forth, there’s a good deal of climbing back and forth, up and down and across the deck of the boat. It’s chaos. I know that. Now.

And I know now you shouldn’t drink a lot of coffee before racing sailboats.

At noon there was a break in the racing. Which was good because I needed to pee, badly. The weather was still rough, and the lake boiled. We were bouncing around pretty good. I informed the captain what needed to be done. “Go over the side.” Well, between the proximity of eight or so strangers, the juggling of the boat, and the fact that some ‘shrinkage’ had occurred in the cold and dampness of the morning, that wasn’t going to happen.

So, I asked if there was an actual bathroom down below. The tiny bathroom had what amounted to a small PVC plastic pipe that came up from the floor with a small bowl mounted on top. I got my rain gear off and surmised that I wouldn’t be able to do this standing up as the weather and the lake had me careening off the walls. If I can only get turned around and have my backside on that bowl, I can get this mission done. Which is what I prepared to do.

At about the time my butt was to hit the bowl the boat took a giant lurch to one side, and I fell onto the toilet, snapping it off at the floor. Sprawled out on the floor, with my pants down, I had broken the toilet to smithereens. Oh no. Oh no. Disaster.

I turned a lever to get the water to stop coming in. I put my rain gear on and went up and informed the captain what happened. After a minute or two of panic on his part he got back behind the wheel of the boat and yelled for everyone to get ready to race, which we did.

I had not peed at noon.

After an afternoon of more screaming and yelling, sails up and sails down, climbing and anger, sea spray and broaching twice — which required me to dangle like a marionette from the railing — I had no idea how the Chewbacca had done. Truthfully, I didn’t care. My mind was afloat with other thoughts.

Back at the marina, I crawled from the boat to the public restroom and relieved myself of two gallons of coffee and the pain of embarrassment of the day.

End of story. Or so I thought.

Years later, I was covering an event at the Washburn Cultural Center. There was a modest crowd of people enjoying themselves with artwork, and wine and conversation. Everyone was having a good time. Except for this one guy, who kept staring at me, sort of menacingly I thought. Each time I turned around, I would find his eyes upon me, until eventually he approached.

“Remember me,” he said, looking closely into my face. He even pulled his hair back so I could see his profile better.

“No, I don’t. Sorry.” I spoke.

It was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled. “I’m the captain of the Chewbacca.”

Oh man. I sheepishly grinned at him. “I remember.” It was briefly quiet.

“I tell everybody that story,” he chuckled.

I haven’t sailed since and I’m not sure I ever will. But if I do, I’m not drinking any coffee beforehand.