I didn’t sleep so well. I thought i’d disguise myself as gear again and just slip between the trampoline and the tarp, but the mosquito bloom and the dead air nixed that. I eventually threw caution to the wind and popped the tent for a few hours of unmolested repose. Camping in Jack Nicholas Park?! You’re under arrest.
Sitting on a log in Jean Klock Park and it’s starting to rain. I’m half in half out of my wetsuit. Tried to launch at 10:30 am but the wind turned into fitful eddies as a big storm approached. The robots were raving about lots of lightning, 60 mph winds, hail… Ho hum. I might slip the top of my suit on now, wind is picking up – uh oh…
As I was prepping for my first launch a pigeon landed on Hello World. I had seen this very same pigeon rescued from the Big Lake the day before by a sweet woman. She had released thr bird in a pile of driftwood near the boat. Now the bird was back, maybe wanting to come with? She hopped to my gear pile and started hunting around. The Panda licorish I tossed over didn’t generate much interest. I chased her a little to see if she could fly, and lo she could. She seemed almost tame tho. I grabbed a handful of oats and tossed them next to her woodpile. I saw her pecking politely at them as i walked away. I think her name is Jean Klock.
On my first launch attempt Carol showed up and waved me back to the beach. “It’s going to storm.” said she. “I gotta go!” replied me. She sat on the beach and watched my slow motion exit sans wind. The robots were saying things like “small boats are advised to seek safe harbor until the storm passes”. After 30 minutes of these warnings and no motion, I started to feel like a sitting duck. Carol’s gone by the time I get back to the beach. A sprinkle, some gusting, a flash or two and the killer storm is finished. My steady sw switches on while i’m rerigging and some nice folks offer suggestions for mooring in Chi, Monroe Harbor.
Off the beach and into the strong wind, 15-20 knots. Jammed tiller prevents getting on the wire. With coaxing it’s slightly unstuck – enough to dance on wave crests, to be a giant striding over liquid mountains. Singing on the wire!
Just south of west and south east, great long tacks of 5 miles out and the 4 miles in. Bike comes loose, scramble and a quick fix in the wild waves. I approach the coast knowing that i’ve not made much southern progress. I have no idea where I am. A grand entry riding the wire right up on a private beach, Pete gets out of his chair to greet me. Pointing to the vintage 16 parked on his beach, I announce, “I am here to deliver a special message – sail that Hobie!” I ask him what town we’re in. “Grand mere, ok, so the state park is right there? Don’t forget that Hobie. Ciao.”
I depart Pete’s domain and ponder several more hours of tacking. It’s already 5:30 pm. Grand Mere here I come!
Meet Mary on landing and she talks about kids having legal autonomy. A couple wanders by with an enthusiastic water dog and I get to toss the ball for him. He’s trained to circle for dead ducks. I do a quick survey of the forest topside – mosquitos and mushrooms, beauty! Out and back again, time to quit. Pat, Mary and Theresa are my last visitors. Konk 10 pm.